#the word pops up a lot here but in a symbolic sense i guess

[sealrock]

gate - for the generator drabble prompt!

cw: discussions & depictions of blood, violent death

(ty for the ask @gatheredfates!)

Two tombstones sat before me, weathered by harsh rain and blistering heat. This is my last stop for the week. I need not look at the faded inscriptions, for I knew who lay underneath the baked earth of the High Seraph's acre. Another tombstone in a forgotten corner of the field belonged to someone I once knew, someone who had gotten too close to my sister. I already gave my respects to him; I told him that his son, my nephew, was growing into a beautiful young boy who took after him. It's such a shame Nestor never got to see him. Father murdered him. Nestor was never a family member, but Mother treated him like one of us. I convinced Father to allow him a proper burial here, for it was what Mother would've wanted. Briseis will thank me later when her time comes. In about a week, that is.

Since I was a little girl, the vision of five empty graves troubled my thoughts. My father stood in front of them, shovel in hand. I gingerly knelt in front of my mother's grave and let my parasol rest beside me now that noonday sun had passed, the clear blue skies now a rich and vivid mix of reds and oranges. I emptied my bag of supplies, no longer heavy enough to strain the muscles in my shoulder now that I offered services to every tombstone. No one in the family would dare travel here during the dryest part of the day since the trek to the graveyard was taxing enough on the body without running the risk of heatstroke. But the threat of dehydration never stopped me. It's my duty to tend to the graves of the dearly departed, all seven and ninety of them. I clean the graves, offer food and drink, and weekly prayers for each, even if I only know a handful. Most have been here since before I was born.

"Hello, Mother," my words came out in a hushed tone, as if not to disturb the eternal rest of long-gone strangers, "I brought more Galbana lilies for you, fresh from your favorite florist. This year has been good for the flowers, I believe. They're much redder than usual."

I pushed the thought of how much they reminded me of blood from my mind. I used to see visions of blood as a child, gushing waves of blood that flowed from the grand entrance of my home towards the gilded gate that separated us from the outside world. My loved ones walked through that gate, not knowing what fate would hold for them, no matter my attempts to stop them. It became an unconscious habit of mine to walk through the gate first as if to spare someone else I care about the pain of death. People have called me overly superstitious, but they'd fail to understand the reasoning. It's futile of me to try, but try I must.

My mother, a beauty beyond compare with the name Hecuba, was ready to storm through that gate after one final argument with my father before he shoved her down the staircase. Her long and thick black hair obscured the disturbing crookedness of her neck. I was only eight years old when that vision, a 'shimmer' as my mother called it, troubled my dreams a few days before the incident. My mother knew what was about to occur, for she also had the gift. She accepted her death with a sad smile as I sobbed the tale to her, gathering me up into her arms and squeezing me tight. If I focus hard enough, I can still smell her elegant perfume of citrus and spices, and suddenly I'm a little girl again, safe from the outside world as long as I stay close to her.

I brushed away the dust and dirt from her grave and uprooted stray weeds. It's the least I could do for her, for she could rest assured knowing that her only surviving daughter was tending to her final resting place. I placed the lilies on the surface of her grave and lit a few incense for my prayers. My elder sisters lay next to her—well, one sister did. The body of the eldest remains missing from the wreckage of her final voyage at sea. My father fell to his knees and unleashed a deep, mournful wail at the gate of the manor when the tragic news reached him. My sister's treasured medallion necklace, a nameday gift from our father when she was twelve, was all that remained of her. His tears were genuine then, and he was beside himself more than he was at his wife's funeral.

I knew she wasn't dead, for I receive visions of her to this day. Even all these years later, my father refused to believe me. After a harsh slap to my cheek from his heavy hand one night, I was told to never speak of Andromache again. Andromache was dead, that much was certain since we had the memorial service, even if her grave held an empty coffin.

Andromache... My dear sister. That was the name she chose for herself. The inscription over her empty grave holds an identity she discarded, the identity our father spoke of with swelling pride and affection. The firstborn of our family, the spitting image of Priam, Andromache had our father wrapped around her finger the minute she came screaming into the world. Deiphobus and Idomeneus were too young to remember her, but Briseis and I idolized her as children—she could do no wrong in our eyes. As much as we adored our sister, Andromache ran away soon after our mother died. Her death had the worst impact on Andromache, and I caught glimpses as to why as I sat through my piano lessons the day leading up to the accident: fleeting images told me that Andromache witnessed everything. Father had forced Andromache to make it seem like our mother took her own life by leaving her to hang from the balustrade. Poor Deiphobus, just five summers old, found her body an hour later; his scream rings clear in my head to this day.

For two years, Andromache couldn't take the guilt of her actions, and her vow of silence ate away at her insides. She assumed we would hate her for participating in the act, for not saying anything about how our mother died. I didn't blame her; I told her what I knew and that Andromache had nothing to fear. But she left anyway. In the dead of night, she slipped through that rusty iron gate with nothing but a saddlebag of meager provisions and kissed my heated forehead goodbye. Andromache wouldn't look at the stream of tears that stained my distraught face as I frantically begged her to stay, my trembling hands pulling at her tunic with all my might. I told her she would die in deep water; she just smiled at me—the same way our mother did. She whispered this to me before vanishing into the inky blackness of the night, her hand gently pressing against my ribs, my racing heart pulsing against her palm:

"I will always be here with you, little sister."

Barely a fortnight later, we learned of a boat to Limsa Lominsa capsizing after a treacherous storm, a boat my sister was last seen boarding. My father would rest his tortured brow against the gate after each search party ended with empty hands. I never thought she had survived. The fact my vision turned out to be wrong gave me hope that Andromache would return someday. I wish to see her again. I desperately wish to see her push open that gate and pretend nothing happened. I want my big sister back.

"Forgive me, Andi, for I did not bring anything for you this time. Please accept my prayers of safety and good travels in exchange."

I conducted the same routine with the empty grave: I brushed away the dirt and pulled the weeds. I poured the drink and prepared the food. It's methodical and mechanical work. I forgot when I stopped crying. It must've been once I married my good husband and welcomed my beautiful son into the world. I no longer have time to cry. All I can do is sigh over how the two most important people in my life missed out on two wonderful moments I couldn't share with anyone else. Most people in my family believed me spoiled, that I clung to my mother's apron strings too tightly or hid behind my sister's towering form the older I grew. I can't help that I miss them. My brother Deiphobus, my equally clingy younger brother who thinks himself wise, chides and chastises me like I'm still a child. Idomeneus has no recollection of the people we talk about—they're ghosts without a face to him. 

Once I cleaned the graves, I began my last prayers, my hands squeezing the meat of my thighs beneath my dark-colored dress. The desert birds and insects seemingly fell silent around me in respect. A cool summer breeze fluttered through the low-hanging branches of a great willow tree, the scent of mourning incense tickling my nose. I prayed to the High Seraph that my loved ones were at peace; I failed them because my warnings were unheeded. A task like this would've fallen to the eldest child—that would be Briseis now. I'm not as close to Briseis these days, as much as it saddens me to say. We drifted apart through the years as I became a second mother to our brothers while she pursued other interests. Briseis wasn't ready for the strain of responsibility. And so she fought back against our father's rules at every turn. That's how she ended up with Evander. That was one of the many nails in her coffin.

I've become more of a surrogate mother to Evander and his brother Patroclus than an aunt these last few moons. It's in my nature to care for others—it keeps me from rattling my mouth about my 'hallucinations,' I suppose. Despite how far we've drifted, I still care for her. She's the only sister I have left. There's a patch of dirt next to Andromache's fake grave, and soon, it will be home to two more coffins. The images disturbed me: my sister and brother-in-law assailed by an unknown intruder. Black blood poured from their gashes and wounds, their faces twisted in terror. The trembling form of a shell-shocked Patroclus nudging them to wake up rattled me the most. He would be witness to the bloodletting.

I cannot do anything to stop it. They will come through the gate within the week and argue about something to Father. Father would punish them with death. I cannot warn Briseis, for I know what she'll do. Briseis will smile at me, half sad and half patronizing, and hug me gently. She's oblivious to what would happen to her. Her children will be orphaned and made to fight each other like dogs. The murders will never be solved, for I do not know who killed them. 

I sighed as I got to my feet, my dress covered with sand and clay. It's dusk now, I've tarried long enough. My husband will grow worried if I arrive home after dark. I must prepare myself to look after more graves of the ones I love soon. I have no other choice.

[rnschneider]

ever since the night i changed weapons, i’ve been having the same dream about my brother. i have no clue why it’s been recurring, and i don’t know i feel so sick every time i wake up from it, but.. it doesn’t hurt to at least try and put it all into words.

so, i’m in the city, roaming through the streets as per usual, but rather than stalking through alleyways at night, i’m just freely going down in what feels like the afternoon. even in a dream, i can feel the sun’s rays on me like a warm embrace, and even if i start to sweat a little, the feeling is still nice.

thing is, i can hardly pay attention to the sensation once i realize what's on the walls of all the buildings i pass by. missing posters. all with an eerily detailed image of him—jaiden leblanc. about twenty years old. african male. six feet tall. last seen with a large wound stretching across his chest.

i don't know how much sense it makes for the injuries tara left him with to be a part of the missing report, but it only added to my guilt. knowing i left him bleeding to frolic off with tara, even if resonating with her actually feels like our souls were working as one, he's still my brother. i still abandoned him.

regardless, i start running. i run as fast as i can, and i don't even know what from. my eyes are shut, and i can hear my feet frantically hitting the concrete as i try to get away, get out, get somewhere—

and then the sounds of concrete stop. or more accurately, i hear grass instead. i open my eyes again, and find myself in a field. i have little desire to turn back around towards the city, so instead, i look up.

at first, it's simply a tree sat on a hill. then, i look up further.. and it's balloons. large balloons. big enough to hold a person. big enough to hold.. fuck.

i scramble up the hill and try to climb up the tree. i don't get high, but it's enough to grab onto a piece of string and hop down the tree to yank a balloon down. i'm panicked. i pull, and i pull, and i pull, and eventually, i'm staring at a silhouette in a yellow balloon.

without me even saying another word, it pops. it's jaiden, obviously. i don't know if it was luck or fate that brought him back to me here.

i stare at him. he just.. stands there. i remember his "expression" perfectly.. in quotes because his locs hide his eyes. i don't try to push them away from his face. i don’t think i should touch him at all.

normally, he always has some kind of smile on his face—a sneer, a grin, a smirk—but now, it's completely blank. i vaguely recall a look of fear on him when i caught a glimpse of his face as tara attacked him, but i was too caught up in the rush of something new and cool to even bother taking a second glance.

his face only gets worse as he starts coughing violently. instinctively, i want to back away, but my body refuses to move, even as i feel the blood he hacks up onto me staining my top. it's disgusting and disturbing—but like a car crash, or maybe a tornado, i just couldn't find it in me to look away.

his coughing isn't getting any better. i guess tara's attack did a lot of damage to him. he always seemed so strong on our missions, compared to me always being tired and drained—is this what he was really like all along? without a meister, no, a vessel to cling onto?

the display starts to get upsetting, and as jaiden starts to double over, i find it in myself to step back. i turn around to run back into the city, but something stops me in my tracks and i feel nauseous.

of course. if this really was a dream, why wouldn't there be some twin symbolism? as my brother falls, it makes sense for his sister to go down as well, and i realize for a second that our souls can never work as one, because that would imply they aren't already one in the same.

this guilt, this pain, this self-loathing doesn't just come from myself, and the cacophony of coughing helps me realize. even if i left him, i can never really abandon jaiden. we're stuck with each other. and as a pool of blood forms beneath me, it's not myself that i see in the reflection. it's him. and with that terrifying realization, i wake up, doomed to repeat the cycle again the next night.

[theressomethinghappeninginparis]

I live.

That's, for now, all you need to know. I fell down a rabbit hole and I need to compress a lot of information I have gathered and make it...make sense. So, if you have a plan or ideas, get back to me, I'm happy for all clues and hints. In case you fear for your safety, do it anonymously. I'll just think there's more than just me digging up dirt from history.

Transcript of the first and second page: On the left you see a scan I found online. I did an image search with the LV initials and then this popped up. It's not old, it just has old symbols on it. There, the writer claims there is one (1) remaining ancestor of the Lux Veritatis (now I'd like to know when this was noted) and there's a sigil(?) and I feel like making up things. I don't know what that is, it could be an Angelic Alphabet or another secret language or just a symbol entirely. Below, there is the language I have seen several times up to now, it reads "The death syllable, the one word command which can close down a life". I'm not sure of the circle is a word- it could connect words?

The author of the notes is someone who has this profile picture of a woman in black gloves and short black hair. Her nickname is "PassionforReseachion" and she has uploaded several scans I found in a folder accessible after I found the first note via picture search. I'm unsure if she accidentally did that or not, but I don't care too much, I'm on the train and have time.

Transcript of the third, fourth and fifth page: So, of course our train stopped and we're delayed, yet that gives me plenty of time to even download pictures within five minutes. Great! I got the possibility to print some out and you can't guess what they are. These are scans of the Obscura Engravings. I am not joking. They look like some paintings I found in Carvier's office and Werner's books. They are sketches, the Engravings were sketches coming prior to the paintings, and the Lux Veritatis are mentioned here again. And this is from the Middle Ages so- they were known, and maybe around. The first painting sketch is an angel watching over a finished battle; the second is death talking to a woman; the third is a choir of angels coming down to earth.

Transcript of the sixth page: Two other scans are missing or non-existant, since we have five paintings in total. But, you know what? The artist of the sketches is known! There is finally an older depiction of the Engravings with the missing two. The artist is Jehan de Gruas, who made paintings, which were then painted over. He could have been commissioned by Eckhardt and the Lux Veritatis painted over them. Eckhardt would probably paint evil forces into the art, something not everyone could handle or even touch, so it could be something like a containment.

Transcript of the eighth and ninth page: This person that has such a collection of files I think most would dismiss as a fantasy novel's plot could be important, couldn't she? But how important? If she knows about the Obscura Paintings and the Lux Veritatis chances are she also knows Eckhardt- and, if she is still alive, maybe Lara Croft, too. I also gathered the following on a man I have never read about. The notes on him are as follows:

he travelled with his parents from Europe, to the US to the Middle East

he has French citizenship

and he has a nickname, "Demon Hunter"

That is almost all. I also know (or think to know) his father was Konstantin Heissturm and he was never seen again after 2001. It was rumored that either he divorced his mother of was murdered by someone since he was in let's say secret circles. The mother's name is Marie Cornel and she disappeared as well. My idea is that these two people had involvement with the Lux Veritatis in one way or another and that made them a target of Eckhardt, who aims to kill them after they declared war on all evil, especially him. So, he also aims to kill Kurtis- who changed his name and is nowhere to be found, officially. What the author claims is that he was born on the 26th June in 1972 and is a single child. He is apparently a mercenary and works by himself; and is tied somehow to the alchemist because of his bloodline. I wonder if he knows what is going on at the moment? He surely has to...is he looking for Eckhardt too? Like Lara?

I need Luddick to get back to me at some point, and get all the information he has. And is willing to share. I might be able to lure him out with my supposed knowledge of Heissturm...

[austarus]

HR Wells x Reader - Reversal of Denouement

*A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to its rightful owner.

**Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

***I’d also like to thank @grimtamlain-writes​ for being my beta reader.

Word Count: 8251

MASTERLIST

A low groan left HR's lips. His body felt numb, his chest ached - tingled as his heart beats steadily. Is it beating? The darkness of his eyelids eased the stinging coming from his mind – it wasn’t so bright. The headache formed there. His body screamed at him as the novelist made the slightest of movement. His left shoulder in particular had protested in desperate agony. He couldn’t move it very much, the area succumbed to restraints of some sort. HR’s throat felt raw as his body throbbed, the blood coursing meticulously through his blood vessels. The sound of a soft voice greeted his ears, but his eyes refused to open.

"I... you, HR... even if... see it." The voice was so familiar, so gentle. So sweet. "Should... better." A drop of water hit his numbed hand, static still prominent there from the little movement his body had done. “I wish…” The dark-haired doppelganger could only understand fragments of what the speaker was saying. He felt a pressure on his hand, tender skin holding onto his before something tickled his forehead. Feather-light. What was it? Who was it? A few moments passed and he heard nothing, the novelist only assumed that the voice’s owner had left. He didn’t want to be alone right now though, not with the darkness.

It had become unbearable.

Since... Since when did…? How...? Oh. Right. Savitar... Am I dead? Is this where spirits wait for their turn to pass into their designated afterlife? Have I really...? Events from earlier resurfaced to his mind, his senses coming together. Right, had to protect Iris. For Barry – it was my fault Savitar had gotten to her. My big mouth. Even if Barry didn't really see me as a helpful friend. At least... At least I proved Savitar wrong, who ironically is a version of Barry. That's hella twisted. He huffed out a breath before venturing back into the calmness of sleep. Maybe a little more rest will help?

***

HR cracked an eye open: this time, harsh filtered light had greeted him. The novelist grunted in pain, adjusting himself slightly to assess where he was. What day was it? What was the time? How long have I  been here? A yawn left his lips this time, his throat and mouth as dry as a desert.

“Well look who finally decided to wake up?” HR’s eyes met Cisco’s, who stood with a tablet in hand. “How’s sleeping beauty feeling?”

The Wells doppelganger cleared his throat. “Like I’ve gotten assaulted by an Amtrack bus, and not the good kinds.” HR’s baby blue eyes scanned the room, landing on the flower vase that was set on a table near him. Blue forget-me-knots and pink hydrangeas stood proudly in their vases, nurtured well. HR felt his heart swell, his eyes not daring to leave the delicate petals that accented the med bay in better tones. Cisco handed him a cup of water to which HR downed it immediately.

“Amtrack does trains.”

“Not on my Earth, Francisco.” The author couldn’t help but ask, his eyes lingering on the flowers once more. “Did Tracy bring those?”

Cisco pursed his lips, an odd look present on his face. He wanted to tell HR, but… “No. Um, she didn’t.” Tracy had been visiting, though it had become some sort of a nuisance to all her complaining at this point. She hadn’t even known HR for that long, anyway.

“Oh?” His shoulders dropped subtly in disappointment. “They’re beautiful, I was just wondering and…”

“Let’s just say, a special someone’s been… dropping by and bringing a new flower each day. That’s all you’re getting from me, Aurora.” Cisco reasoned with the Wells doppelganger. The mechanical genius knew, but it wasn’t his place to say. It killed him, but… “I wouldn’t move around too much, if I were you. You’ve got a fractured shoulder and that chest wound. I’ve been told to relay the message that you’re to be on strict bed rest until that shoulder further heals.” HR lowered his gaze to see the cross-body sling. He clenched his slinged hand and unclenched it to bring some feeling into the limb.

“What about my chest?”

“Miraculously, that’s been healing really well since day one.” Cisco kept the talk real, showing the injured doppelganger the schematics and pictures. “You got lucky that it missed your heart by a centimeter.” A stab wound like that should have… I wonder if she knows that I know.

HR blinked at the seriousness in his injury, the looming idea of death from his decision. “How long was I out?”

“A week and a half.”

“What?” HR’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I-”

“HR!” Tracy’s sudden voice pierced the room, stunning Cisco and triggering an ache in HR’s head. The grad scientists shuffled over to him, both forgetting that Cisco was in the room. “HR, my love, how are you? Are you feeling okay? Is there any pain?” He continued checking his friend’s vitals and adjusting dosages to the IV and morphine administered – as per your request. The room was growing ever louder with HR and Tracy. Tracy embraced him, minding his injuries as she continued to fuss over him. It made the Wells writer smile, yet… his heart didn’t swell as much as it used to.

Odd.

Cisco sent you a quick text while the two were preoccupied, but you were already at the Labs. You stopped just outside the entrance, the wall and dimly light hallway obscuring you from who remained in the med bay. They wouldn’t be able to see you from where you stood.  A shaky breath left you as you clutched the Freesia flower in hand. Your heart shriveled in your chest as you backtracked. Hearing his voice is enough. After all, with Tracy around you couldn’t be near him – those dirty and hateful looks she’d send you. Best to keep my distance, I guess. You couldn’t help but sneak a peek at him though, the man who had unknowingly captured your heart and would never reciprocate your love. You pushed down the lump in your throat. Hastily, you sent Cisco a text to check on the flowers. Silently, you trailed away from the med bay and to the upper levels of STAR Labs. I wonder if he liked the flowers. Standing at such altitude with the wind blowing lightly had calmed you a bit. Looking down at the flower, you gripped it tightly before you began to pick off the petals one by one. The little moments you had with the goofy novelist surfaced to the forefront of your mind with each petal you held. Your little curious escapades. The little talks. The nights you’d visit him when Tracy wasn’t around.

“He loves me, he loves me not,” You murmured, a stray tear trickled down your cheek. The freesia symbolizes unconditional love and honor. “He loves me, he loves me not,” Your voice cracked as more tears fell. “He loves me, he loves me not…”

***

A frown presented itself on HR’s lips as he tilted his head to crack his neck. The crack relieved him tremendously. It didn’t make sense. The novelist mused to himself, setting aside the current chapter draft he was working on. The voice I heard was… different. It didn’t sound like Tracy’s. HR couldn’t get that voice out of his mind – the tenderness that was laced in the tone of that voice. Nothing like the slight shrill in Tracy’s. He eyed the flowers once more that day, their presence was prominent. If Tracy hadn’t brought those, then who had?

The team had helped situate HR in his room in order to vacate the med bay should another imminent event occur. He had overheard Cisco tell Wally that you were preoccupied with something in Star City – a bit of disappointment twinged inside him. HR had taken up doing bits of physical therapy for the rest of his body without moving his shoulder as much. His shoulder and arm remained in a crossbody sling. The flowers sat on his bedside counter; he tended to them as best as he could with the limited movement he had. Tracy protested that they don’t need to be around, but the novelist was vehement on keeping the plants. HR won’t deny the fact that he had gotten annoyed several times with her around when he needed thinking space for his writing. He couldn’t write with noise and nonsensical chatter, especially if it’s mainly coming from someone who doesn’t want to really listen to his input. She’d go on and on about her scientific research and such, but wouldn’t hear a word from HR regarding his writing. The longer the novelist was confined to his room for rest, the more he had time to think – to contemplate. Yes, he liked Tracy, but… it just seemed that she didn’t really see HR. She does all the talking; she doesn’t really ask about how I feel about things or ask me about my life, even things about Earth-19… It’s like she doesn’t see me for anything other than a pretty face. It’s not even my face that Tracy sees, just Randolph’s. Was I too quick to jump at the first person who showed interest in me? Had I rushed into ‘forever’ with her?

He tabled those thoughts for now. HR reached for his laptop; one hand opened it to start it up. While the device loaded, he grabbed his black-clear glasses and set them on his face. If anyone saw him as such, they wouldn’t be able to tell the physical difference between him and his handsome, yet grumpy doppelganger. Except for the eyebrow scar, but that was obscured by the glasses. HR did a couple of searches with a concentrated look. Surely, it was the person with that… angel-like voice.

“Hydrangeas,” HR whispered as his eyes skimmed over the text that had popped up. “The hydrangea represents gratitude, grace and beauty. It also radiates abundance because of the lavish number of flowers and the generous round shape. Its colors symbolize love, harmony and peace.” The Wells doppelganger scrolled further. “Pink hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotions.” Interesting. HR continued his research, glancing at the other flower type that resting in the vase. “Forget-me-nots symbolize true love and respect. When you give someone these tiny blooms, it represents a promise that you will always remember them and will keep them in your thoughts. They are also considered a symbol of fidelity and faithfulness.” A particular link caught his eye, he clicked on it. The novelist read to himself the text once more, “Based on Christian lore, the story about forget-me-nots is that God was walking in the Garden of Eden. He saw a blue flower and asked it its name. The flower was a shy flower and whispered that he had forgotten his name. God renamed the flower as forget-me-not saying that He will not forget the flower.”

HR swallowed thickly; contrary to popular belief around here, he wasn’t stupid. Sure, he wasn’t a science-based genius, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t an expert on other aspects of life and had basic common sense. The author was emotionally intelligent and intact with the world around him. These flowers weren’t picked out on accident. But who would do that? Who doesn’t want me to forget about them? The dark-haired man shook his head slightly as he shut his laptop. A surge of sadness welled inside him at the notion of ‘being forgotten’. Who had he done that to? He’d get to the bottom of this mystery in due time. Right now, I need to jog my memory on what I was writing. A hand found a rough draft paper, his eyes scanned over the words he had typed out. His brows creased as the written notes he’d made on the paper as well. (Y/N) … I had… What had I been writing about again? The novelist read each line, each note he had made no drafts and scratch paper.

The hairs at the back of his neck stood up as realization hit him the more he had read on. The drafts, the notes, all of it – the little novel he had been writing regarding his adventures. But this particular part of his story – the ‘angel’ in his story. The one who stuck by him since coming here, the one who had given him a safe space… And the one he hadn’t seen since waking up. How could he forget? HR lowered the paper; his eyes became half-lidded as guilt shot through him. Before Barry had gone to the future and gotten hints of Tracy with her Speed Bazooka, HR had been working on his book. A book that he had pushed off to stick with Tracy and help in any way that he can to make the speed weapon possible. He had gotten distracted from doing the things he loves. A few conjectures arose in his mind as he slipped his glasses off, one arm end pressed to his lips. His heart hammered into his chest; you were among the last faces he had seen before passing out that night.

The irony. How could I forget that (Y/N) was the ‘angel’ in my story?

***

“Look at you, up and at ‘em.” Cisco strolled into the lounge with a cheeky grin. The mechanical genius didn’t take HR for granted anymore, not with the stunt he pulled. No, Cisco willingly checked up on him – not just for you, but for himself. HR had truly become one of his close friends in the end, especially with all the advice about Gypsy. “What are you cooking up this time?”

“Just an omelet with a side of bacon and toast, Francisco,” HR turned to the mechanical engineer who continued to tinker away at the schematics to get Barry out of the Speedforce. He offered Cisco some with a gesture only for the scientist to politely decline. “I haven’t seen (Y/N) anywhere. Um, is she also…?”

“Oh, you know how she’s like. Either up in the vents or chilling in her birds’ nest on the roof. And on that note, our resident hummingbird has become quite the firecracker.”

HR raised an eyebrow at his friend. “How so?”

“She punched Savitar square in the face then decked him multiple times over when Barry brought him in. Harry had to be the one to pull her away – well, more like carry her away kicking and screaming bloody murder at him. It sounded badass; wish I had been there to see it.”

The Wells doppelganger gritted his teeth at the mental image of Harry carrying you – touching you. The thought ruffled his feathers for some reason.  HR expertly masked his irritation, turning the stove off and assembling the food on his plate. “Why?”

“Because he hurt you, HR.”

“…”

“He almost killed you.” And that was unforgivable, especially to her. “We almost lost you. She almost lost you.”

A rough sigh escaped HR as Cisco had sent him a knowing look before exiting the STAR Labs lounge. The Earth-19 man chewed on the inside of his cheek. Only a fool would misunderstand Cisco’s subtle intentions. HR knew what he had to do – he’d been reflecting on his time here, thinking about the people around him, about the relationships he’s formed. The novelist glanced outside – the sun shined, the birds chirped, and the trees rustled with the wind. 

And the world continues to move on.

***

“When are you going to tell him?”

“…” You tensed at the abrupt voice. You snapped your head up, eyes darting to find Cisco approaching you with pocketed hands in his gray-black jacket. He wore a Bulbasaur shirt. The clouds surged by with the intensity of the breeze. Your hair blew over your shoulders slightly. Tilting your head, you turned back to watch the city. Days had passed and you refused to see HR, content on what Cisco had been telling you. He’d been recovering tremendously well, but… you didn’t really want to hear about what he and Tracy were up to. It wounded you. “Tell who, what?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about, Ms. I’m-going-to-put-my-feelings-in-a-box.”

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

“Ohohohoho, no. I am tired of the love eyes, the lingering gazes, the pining. It ends.” Your best friend came to sit down next to you with that frustrated look on his face. “I know you have powers.” Your heart stopped in your chest at his accusation. “I know you used your powers to heal HR.” You bit down on your lip, not wanting to validate his statement. Cisco saw “I analyzed the wounds, looked at his healing at a microscopic level. I’m not Caitlin, but even I can pick up a few things. His cells were excelled to heal, but there were residues of your genetic markers at the wound point. You stitched his wounds together, cell-by-cell. My point is: why didn’t you say anything? Your powers are a-”

“-A curse.”

“What?”

“They’re a curse.” You threw a hard look at Cisco, making sure your hands wouldn’t touch him. “I can’t be playing God, Cisco. And… it’s unpredictable, volatile. I could either heal the life in my hands or take it away. I could rip someone ‘cell-by-cell’, Cisco. There’s no ‘in between’, not this time. He got lucky with my powers. He got lucky I didn’t make things 100% irreversible.”

“But why didn’t you say anything?” Cisco eyed the gloves you wore; it wasn’t the season for leather gloves.

“Because I didn’t want to give anyone false hope.”

“You don’t want to give yourself false hope, you mean.”

“…I can’t even heal a plant, Cisco. No matter how hard I tried, it wilted further. It’s a curse.”

“That’s not guaranteed every time, you know. It takes practice – discipline to get your powers to work with you instead of for you.” He nudged your shoulder with his, turning his gaze to the flock of birds drifting through the wind. “You know, he broke up with Tracy.”

“Ok?”

“Happened a week ago. She didn’t take it well and let me tell you. Tracy Brand was livid – the rage and yelling were off the charts. I think she has Harry beat. I knew it wasn’t going to last anyway, it was too superficial to begin with.”

“Uh huh.” You tried to sound uninterested, but deep down you were relieved. You heard a little ring in your ear. You wondered…

“She’s gone, won’t be coming here anymore.

“Ok.”

“So, go make your move.”

You turned abruptly to face him. “Cisco, have you thought that maybe HR doesn’t want to dive into a relationship right away? That… maybe he needs space to focus on himself?” All were things you had contemplated for yourself before.

“And what better way to do that than with a new roommate.”

“Excuse me?”

“Surprise, you’re getting a temporary roommate while we fully fix up things around the labs. I volunteered you since you have the space and the patience to deal with HR.” Your blood froze in your veins.

“Francisco Ramon, I am going to-”

“-Thank me, you’re going to thank me.” He had already breached away before you had the chance to strangle him. Heat rushed to your cheeks at the idea of HR living with you, even if it was a temporary living arrangement. You scolded your heart for beating loudly in your chest. One hand gripped tightly to your other. An audible sigh escaped you as your mind played with the idea.

Shit, what am I going to do?

***Day 1***

Cisco blew out an exhausted breath, setting down another box on top of a box in the guest room. You and the mechanical genius had been breaching back and forth with HR’s things as said novelist was crippled. His arm would take about another four weeks to heal. About 20 percent of shoulder fractures are displaced and may require some type of manipulation to restore normal anatomy. Occasionally the rotator cuff muscles are injured or torn at the same time as the fracture. Fortunately for HR, his rotator cuff muscles weren’t as damaged. This can further complicate the treatment. Therefore, in that time, HR would just be handling the lighter stuff, bless his heart. The novelist entered the room with his black backpack slung over his functioning shoulder – it was the last thing that he could carry.

“I think there’s one more box left,” HR pointed with his thumb towards his back direction, the breach closing behind him.

“I’ll go get it, not a problem. Why don’t you two get started on unpacking, huh?” HR shrugged with one shoulder and stepped away to set his bag down by the bed. Cisco threw a cheeky look your way when HR had his back turned, his eyebrows wiggling. ‘Have fun love birds,’ the scientist had mouthed at you. You flicked him off with a deadpanned look. Instantly you dropped it when the Wells doppelganger turned as Cisco snickered before he breached away. He gave you a confused look, but you waved it off.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For allowing me to stay obviously. And for all the help since I’m, well, a bit tangled up at the moment.”

He was referring to the cross-body sling that clung onto him like a spider. HR rubbed the back of his neck, and you didn’t miss the way his bicep flexed at the motion in that gray short-sleeve shirt. Calm the fuck down, it’s just a toned muscle. You’ve seen things like that before.  The puppy-like smile HR sent you had your cheeks warming up. The gentle smile that made your heart melt all over again. You cleared your throat as you reached for a box. “It’s no big deal, HR.” Undoing the tape seal with scissors, you opened the box- and the first thing you see are a pair of handcuffs accompanied by a silky black blindfold.

“What’s in the box?”

A little noise left you as you shut the flaps of the box, trying to seal it again. The flaps remained downward in the box. “Nope, nothing. Just some clothes here. I’m going to get that one box from the living room.” You had backtracked right into the door, your nose throbbed in response at the collision. “Ow,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing the skin.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine,” your response was quick, but not rude. A deep chuckle made its way to your ears as you scrambled out the room, your heart hammering in your chest. Your thoughts scolded you for being so awkward and flustered around him. Be cool, just chill out… The man you’re hopelessly in love with is just living with you temporarily, it’s not like anything will amount from this. You picked up the last box in the living room, hoping that just clothes would be in here and not anymore kink toys. I mean… I have toys, too. AW SHIT, I HAVE TO HIDE THEM!

HR’s eyes never left you as you made your panicked exit. He let out a little breath before shuffling over to the box you had been attending to. Immediately, he face-palmed hard when he had opened it with one hand. His face felt impossibly hot at what you had seen. She must think I’m an idiot or something. His mind thought back to when you helped him shop for some new clothes then it had gotten ruined from a meta. His hand fell away from his face, the image of your kind grin imprinted in his mind. I am an idiot, though. A fool.

Once Cisco returned, you three continued unpacking HR’s things for the time he’d spend here. The labs were still in ‘piss-poor’ shape according to Cisco and that he’ll need to consult with Harry and Wally regarding repairs.

“HR, how are you showering?”

“Um, like a normal person?” A dumbfounded look crossed HR’s features as he set the plate of sandwiches down. The novelist had knitted his eyebrows at Cisco. He had taken up to experimenting in the kitchen when he wasn’t writing. The tea and coffee were still brewing in your kitchen.

“No, I mean with how your shoulder is injured,” Cisco snuck an evil look at you, you returned it with a glare, “must be hard handling it alone.” You knew exactly where this dumbass wanted to take this conversation, so you stayed silent as to not get caught in the crossfire.

HR thought to himself for a moment. “Just a bit, but I’ve gotten used to the mild discomforts and pain. I can mostly reach everything thanks to my long limbs. But I think the nice thing is that it’s an internal issue, not an external one. An external injury or wound would require me to really have help with showering that way the area doesn’t get infected or irritated with the contents of soaps.” A laugh fell from his lips, but his mind wondered what his friend was playing at while you were around.

“I’m just saying, if you ever need a hand well,” Cisco trailed off with a smirk, chomping on his third sandwich.

Oh, I see. Devious, but a futile effort. “I’ll make sure you’re the first one I ask for help,” HR teased with a smirk of his own for Cisco to drop his in disgust. A cough escaped you, which had HR’s eyes land on you. Your eyes met for a moment before you deviated your gaze. HR felt hypnotized for a moment. Hm… The engineer quickly recovered from HR’s snide remark.

“Alright kids, I’ll be going now. The labs require some diligent work that I, a capable and distinguished engineer, could only do.”

“Yet, we still have the occasional security issues,” You sipped your tea once the snarky comment was out. HR stifled a chuckle, but you heard it. The corners of your mouth lifted slightly at the notion.

“Hey, that’s not fair. They always come up with something new to invade our space by.” Cisco pointed a finger at you, mocking a hurtful expression on his face. It dropped into a sneaky smile. “Make good choices and always use protection, you two!” He breached away before you could throw your cup at him.

***Multiple Days Pass***

Through his time here, you noticed HR fueled to write what’s on his mind in the guest room. You could only assume that he continued his adventure story. Sometimes he would venture out for some coffee or take a walk to give his creativity a break. Keeping that in mind, you gave HR the space he needed as well as all noises to a minimum. You knew he liked the quiet atmosphere to pour his heart and soul into words as he did research for a scene. Pulling your jacket on, you compiled a list of groceries before you stepped out of your apartment. Locking the door, you headed out to the store picking up a few necessities as well as some snacks for HR. Like Harry, the novelist can easily lose himself in his task – which meant that he tended to forget about eating and such. You found a bag of Jitters coffee beans, adding it to your cart of items. Buying some snacks and fruit, you’d leave a note in the kitchen of the snacks when he emerged from his writing cave.

On the way back, you stopped by at Iris’ studio to check up on her. A few groceries for her as well were in hand. Cecile and you did your best to visit Iris. But you can’t deny that you blamed her to a certain extent. Had she spoken up once she had left Savitar’s place disguised as HR, HR wouldn’t have been hurt that night on Infantino Street. Surely, she could have contacted her father or Cisco or something. The transition could have been smoother. HR wouldn’t have been… The journalist was faring; she pushed through the pain and as Barry had told her ‘to keep living’. So, Iris did. She hadn’t been herself since Barry went into the Speedforce – she pushed too much, the smile wouldn’t reach her eyes sometimes. You sympathized; she lost the love of her life. But you almost had too.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine, just… taking it one day at a time.” You nodded at her response, a small smile on your face. “How are things with you and HR? I heard of the temporary living conditions.”

“It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m in my bubble and he’s in his doing his writing.”

“Right. Nothing going on whatsoever?”

“Iris.”

Iris set her cup of hot chocolate down and raised both hands in mock defeat. “We all saw it. We all see it.”

“See what?”

“How smitten you are for him.”

“I’m not-”

“-Don’t say you’re not. If you weren’t you, Harry wouldn’t have to pry you off Savitar before you clawed his eyes out.”

“…” You just looked into your tea, the honey that settled at the bottom. Iris placed a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t look at her.

“The heart will want what it wants, (Y/N). Pushing your feelings into a box and denying it out loud won’t change things.”

“I know.”

And my heart wants him, over and over again. Even if he can’t see me.

***

HR tapped his pencil against the desk at a steady pace. His mind wouldn’t focus on the words in front of him, on the scene he wanted to set. Instead, it kept drifting further from it. Further towards you: your eyes, your smile, the kindness that you held; the serenity that your existence held as the world continued to turn and chaos had unfolded at each turn. HR didn’t see much of you while he was here, the novelist missed your company. You were here, but you weren’t really here. You were either in your room or at the balcony with a book or on the couch with your Switch. He didn’t want to bother you, but… sometimes HR just wanted to sit beside you and pull you close to talk. To hold you in his arms and ask you about your day, to understand what you were thinking. HR cracked his back in a stretch from where he sat on his bed, being mindful of his injured shoulder. It didn’t hurt as it had originally done a few weeks back. The Wells doppelganger noticed that you were careful to avoid touching him or him touching you. Not even a hug that you used to graciously give him. You were especially guarded with your hands. A rough sigh left him as he threw his pencil down. The frustration was setting in, he was getting nowhere. You consumed his thoughts. HR wondered if you were revolted by him but doesn’t verbalize his thoughts to you. He didn’t think you’d give him your truthful answer. Maybe she is revolted by me. She did find the cuffs and the blindfold… No, she knew about the cuff stage thing well before that.

The sound of the front door greeted his ears followed by the soft tune of music. A frown made its way onto his face. Might as well take a break. HR stretched once more when he fully stood up, a little noise of relief left his lips. He cracked his back once more before smelling himself. For safe measure, the novelist sprayed a bit of cologne on himself and turned off the candle he had on. He mentally noted to take a shower after dinner since his last was yesterday. He liked the feeling of being clean, to be honest. HR carded a hand through his hair. I need a haircut soon, too. Yeesh, I feel like I’m letting myself go. Once I’m all healed it’s back to proper cuts and the labs’ recreation room. He wanted to go back to lifting weights and doing yoga for body stability purposes – especially now because of his shoulder. HR rested a hand on his chest, the wound had healed completely, but a scar remained. Upon entering the kitchen, he saw the groceries on the table and heard you whisper along with the lyrics. The music was set to a low level that your whispers were audible enough. He watched you sway a bit with the tune.

So please don't break my heart

Don't tear me apart

I know how it starts

Trust me I've been broken before

Don't break me again

I am delicate

Please don't break my heart

Trust me I've been broken before

The guitar tune pulled at his heart, feeling the raw emotion behind the lyrics. He eyed you for a moment. HR cleared his throat to make his presence known, he knew you didn’t like to be snuck up on. However, a little gasp left you from where you were. “You went out shopping?”

You looked up from where you crouched to put away the cereal. “Uh yeah, we were running low on some stuff.” You shut the cabinet and went to the other items you had bought. The music continued to delicately play.

“Need any help?”

“Um, sure. Uh, just set these into the cabinet on the left.” Normal, be normal. He’s not going to eat you or anything. Distance is good. Distance keeps you safe. You didn’t meet his eyes, the eyes that’d pull you in and never let you out – your heart shook with him here and the song that played. You were hoping HR wouldn’t come out while you prepped dinner to have a sort of peace of mind. The next song played before you could stop it-

My last made me feel like I would never try again

But when I saw you, I felt something I never felt

Come closer, I'll give you all my love

If you treat me right, baby, I'll give you everything

“I like this song,” HR started as he was finishing up with putting his side of the groceries away. Another guitar-like song that brought out the soft feelings of love and rejection. HR mused to himself if fate had planned this out. If this was some sort of sign or a cruel joke… You had stopped yourself from clicking the button to skip the song at his comment. You don’t know what possessed you to let him indulge in another song that you’ve cried to late at night. “Hey, I can cook dinner tonight. I have something I’ve been wanting to try. I’m not that crippled so I can manage with a few cookware.” HR chuckled to himself, a goofy grin on his face. Your heart leapt in your chest; his grin caused a small smile to pull at your lips. “You can wash up first?”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes meeting his icy blues. You felt your cheeks warm up slightly as the nerves crawled up your spine. “Oh, ok. Cool, yeah. Can’t wait to see what you cook up.” You nodded, ducking your head away and shuffling out of the kitchen with that shy smile on your face. You missed the longing look he had sent you as you fastened your steps to head to your room.

God I love that smile. What goes on in that little head of yours? We used to be so close… before Tracy came into the picture. HR pulled out the spices and the chicken breast. He shook his head and proceeded to prep the food with his one useful hand. I need to consult Francisco.

***

“We need to talk,” HR’s voice broke the silence in the side lab of the Cortex. He had breached to the labs using the Breach Extrapolator after he had showered and such. His damp hair was pushed back in HR’s normal style.

“About what?” Cisco raised a concerned eyebrow at the writer, stopping what he had been doing.

“(Y/N).”

A nervous laugh left Cisco as he went back to attempting to make the necessary modifications to the Speed Bazooka. Tracy was reluctant to help the mechanical engineer after the breakup. “What about (Y/N)?” Cisco put down his screwdriver. “Did you do something weird to her?”

“What? No! I- we used to be closer. We always talked, we’d hang out after a long day here at the labs.”

“Uh huh.”

“And, maybe it’s just me, but things have changed.”

“How so?” Cisco was wondering what conclusion HR was leading himself to.

“Things changed when Tracy came into the picture.”

Cisco made a little ‘o’ with his mouth with a little nod before closing it. He pushed a rough sigh past his lips, he was getting really tired of this puppy love game. “Why do you think that?”

“Francisco, she flinches when I get close – almost when I touch her… Does she hate me?”

“I think you and I know the answer to that one. But I think the real question should be: Why do you care so much? Why does it bother you? Do you love her, HR?”

The novelist tensed a bit. “…” HR pursed his lips as Cisco walked around the table that the speed weapon was mounted on. Blueprints were scattered on one table while the glass board held variables and equations he could not decipher. “What?”

“I said what I said,” the mechanical genius smoothly responded. One look at HR and Cisco knew that he was baffled by his forward words. But they needed to be said. “Now run along and use that head of yours to think about what your heart wants. Barry isn’t going to get himself out of the Speedforce.”

***

Cisco’s words mulled through HR’s mind as he breached back to your apartment’s living room.  Only the lamp light on the side table was on. HR’s eyes landed on you, who laid on the couch with the book you had been reading on the back ledge of the couch. The novelist took off his shoes and set down his bag. He had detoured to the bookstore, looking for the next installment of your current book. The Wells doppelganger had assumed you didn’t buy it yet as it was vacant from your bookshelf. The gentle giant stepped silently closer to you; the dim light cast over you like a glow. There were slight bags under your eyes. She hasn’t been sleeping well lately. Spotting a large and fluffy blanket near, HR grabs it and lays it on top of you. He remembered you mentioned to him prior that you easily get cold, especially at night. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, HR contemplated something before his body moved impulsively. The novelist placed a gentle kiss on your forehead; his lips lingered for a few more seconds. Pulling back, HR watched your chest rise and fall.  He turned the light off and stumbled over to his room with his phone light guiding him. He knew what he was going to write. Cisco’s question pestered him enough though.

Do you love her, HR?

HR took one look out his door before shutting it, his heart squeezed tightly in his chest as he whispered, “Goodnight, my angel.” Only the shadows that lingered were a witness to the fondness laced in those simple words.

***

You woke up with a start, you hand instantly smacking right into your chest. Heavy breaths left you as your nerves were in overdrive. Cold sweat beaded your skin as you gasp for air. It was another night terror – the same one for a few weeks now; a new way in which you caused HR’s death. Swallowing thickly, you screw your eyes tightly shut and whisper the mantra that calmed you down. After a few minutes, you started to regain control of your breathing – the thoughts that ravaged your mind finally ceased like the tides subsiding after a tsunami. You blinked languidly, hating nights like these. They weren’t rare, but they weren’t an uncommon occurrence. Deciding that you needed to step out for some air, you did so with the intent of getting a glass of water from the kitchen. Your fingers found the lights for the dimmers in your room, setting it to its lowest setting for you to see yourself out.

Cracking the door open, you were instantly met with the scene of HR passed out on the couch again. He’s been doing that for around two weeks now, the couch his new base of operations. His mouth was slightly open as little snores escaped him. A lovestruck smile crossed your features at the sight. Papers were littered around him, on the ground, and on the tables. Must be the manuscript he’s working on for his final draft. I hope I can read it at some point. Coming back from the kitchen with the water in hand you couldn’t help but stop to admire the sight. You noticed the glasses still perched on his face. Moving as silent as a ninja, you inched closer to pull off the glasses from his face. They’ll break if he keeps them on while he sleeps. Then he won’t see for shit when reading things. You nibbled on your bottom lip as your eyes drifted to the papers. One peek won’t hurt anyone. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Seating yourself on the ground, you leaned your back against the foundation of the couch. You were opposite to where HR’s upper body was. If there were any telltale signs of him waking, you’d hightail out before he could fully wake up and process what you were doing. Picking up a small stack, you started sifting through them. Your mind became engrossed with the words – the beginnings of the story he had spun about his adventures as to how he came to Earth-1. Then… mentions of an angel eluded you. It couldn’t be Tracy, could it? I know they broke up, but… on the other hand, it doesn’t mean that he can’t say that she was his angel at the time. Like a character development thing leading to their break up?? Well fuck, I don’t even think he’d mention such a personal thing in his book. I know I wouldn’t… would I? I don’t know. A little smile danced at your lips while you read on about the synonymous things regarding Team Flash that you failed to notice HR rouse from sleep.

“Do you like it?” Lethargy intertwined his words. A stunned noise left you as you clutched the papers. You turned to see HR rubbing his eyes before gazing at you.

I could get lost in those eyes if I stared too long.

“Uh, yeah, its- it’s really good,” you stuttered, setting the papers down in your lap. Embarrassment of getting caught gripped you. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind you taking a peek. I don’t have anything to be ashamed of in it.” HR shifted his lithe body to sit next to you on the ground.

“Oh.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s not that important, I’ll be ok.”

“If you say so,” HR’s shoulders sagged slightly. “I’m here if you want to talk.” You nodded at him, whispering a little thank you. HR ran a hand over his knee, he took a glimpse at you who stared at the papers. He noticed what chapter you hand been reading – the angel was making an appearance in the story. The hair at the back of his neck stood while you thumbed the words on the paper back in forth, just lost in your mind. Your hair was messy from sleep, the bags under your eyes were still there. It killed him how you wouldn’t confide in him anymore. But he didn’t push you. You would open up to him if you wanted to or not, even if he wanted you to do so as so his mind can be at ease with knowing what’s going on with you. Cisco’s question sprang up in his mind once more before he licked his lips, his eyes watching you. “I do.”

You gave HR a strange look. I do, what?

“Tracy wasn’t her.” Realization struck HR the more you whispered with him.

“Huh??”

“I heard this voice before I woke up.” The novelist fully turned to you with intense eyes, the enlightenment in them – the fire that burned brightly. “The tenderness in it could rival any tasteful delight in the multiverse.”

“A voice?”

“Mm, it made me think that only a heavenly deity would have such a voice.” You remained silent as he spoke. “I never got to hear that voice since my coma… until now?”

You tensed at what he was insinuating. “Now?”

“How could I forget?”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“How could I forget about you?” The baritone huskiness in his voice made you melt with the way he said those words. You swallowed, trying to calm the butterflies that raged in the pit of your stomach. “The flowers that were left – beautiful, delicate, yet meaningful. You left those after visiting me.”

“…”

She didn’t deny it. “But you never visited when I was awake because of Tracy.”

“She hates me.”

“And I was too blind to see that until I broke up with her, she threw quite a fit.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you must have loved her so much that it would be hard to let go.” She was your angel, after all.

“She didn’t even know me. Truly know me.”

“… Did she hurt you?”

“Slightly, but the bruise is gone.” You and he were silent for a moment. Only the sound of a distant car horn was heard from the streets. “You didn’t deny it.”

“Deny what?”

“The flowers, the visit…” HR licked his lips as a rough breath left him. His nerves were climbing, but he needed to do this. “Cisco told me what you did to Savitar when you saw him. How angry you were that Harry had to pry you off him – I was so angry.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know then… but I know now.”

“And?”

“Tracy was never the one written in my story – she didn’t care. She didn’t see me for anything other than a pretty face obsessed with coffee. You did.” HR tucked your hair behind your ear, carefully gauging your reaction. He saw how you tried not to flinch away from him. “Do you hate me?” He asked as he retracted a hand from you, happy that he was at least getting through to you.

“Never could I feel such a way towards you.” You hesitated for a moment before testing the waters. You started to explain, “I- the night you were stabbed by Savitar I… I just broke. I pushed Tracy away, I had Barry rush you back to the labs. You were dying, unconscious on the gurney and… I got to work trying to resuscitate you. I had Cisco take care of Tracy while I worked, I needed space to think clearly, but I couldn’t. When- when the others were preoccupied with Iris’ appearance, I used these powers.” It was now or never. “I was desperate. Your life was hanging by a thread- I didn’t think it was going to work, but nothing else was working. You were bleeding so much. But I had to try. I…” Your glassy eyes locked back on his, your hands pulled close to your body. HR understood now why you never tried touching him. Why you are avoiding getting too close. “Cisco found out, he confronted me. But these powers, life isn’t guaranteed. They’re volatile, unprecedented – regardless of how I feel in the moment the balance can tip between giving a life and taking one.” There was a tightness in your chest as your voice cracked, “I’m cursed, I could hurt you.” I’m dangerous.

“I don’t think you will.”

“You don’t know that!”

“But I do,” HR reached a hand out to hold yours. Tension filled your heart as panic started to settle. “You wouldn’t let yourself hurt me. It would pain you too much.” HR squeezed your slightly shaky hand, his other hand still bound by the cross-sling. “My life is in your hands.”

“How can you trust me so much?”

“Because love cannot be built without a foundation of trust.” He placed a sweet kiss on the knuckles of your hand. “And understanding.” He took the other and kissed it, baby blue eyes shifted back to yours with such intense emotion. The adoration that filled the author to the brim for you. Just for you. Only you. The one who saw him for everything and anything that he is. His safe space – the one other thing he wanted to be for you as well. He wanted to eliminate any fears that resided in your heart, the pain and doubt that remained.

“Do you hate me?”

HR cupped your cheek tenderly as he leaned close, your heart wanted to stop as blood rushed to your cheeks and ears. Your half-lidded eyes shut slowly as his lips skimmed over your own. “Never in my life, angel,” the novelist whispered as he captured your lips in a tender and sentimental kiss.

Never in my life could I hate the one who my heart has yearned for.

[lebrookestore]

tape 5: play

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x reader

Themes: angst, ex! au, college-ish au, small town au. It goes back and forth a lot

Warnings: heavy angst, bittersweet ending, swearing, its very sad, chenle is a jerk

Wc: 6k

Playlist: 2 kids by Taemin, Gone by Rosé, Instagram by Dean, I still do by Why Don’t We, Believed by Lauv

Taglist: @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @chicksung @1-800-seo @blueprint-han @jenosslut @cupidluvstarrz @kkakkdugi @sweetlyjaem @vera-liscious @leetaeyonglover @kunrengui @unknown5tar @kisshim @intokook @mrkcore @coco-riki

Summary: A year after your boyfriend moved away, you find yourself sitting in your room with five tapes, earphones, a cassette player and what you hoped, and feared, was closure.

Authors Note: hello! this fic was supposed to be a small blurb but then i got inspired and lo and behold its a full fledged fic! I can’t believe I wrote this in two days sdfjfjkfjk. Feedback would be very much appreciated for this, since I’ve never written anything like this before ;-;

Midtown, almost got a place out of midtown, Instead I took a plane out of this town, And missed out on us 

~

It was a sunny Saturday morning, as you pulled into your driveway, coming back from the store. 

Parking the car and getting the bags, you walked up to the door, knocking it and waiting. You were met with your mother’s smiling face as she took one of the bags of groceries from you.

You lived in a small sleepy town, and attended the college there as well, which meant you still stayed with your parents. You were fine with that, you liked living there, and you could forgo the stress and anxiety of having to re adjust to a new place.

This was your home. It always had been.

Of course, you had been on holidays to other places, you had visited the other town, but when it came to it, you had always found yourself back where you started. There was no other place for you, there never would be.

It was the truth, but it held something bitter.

Then again, you had enough going on already, with being in your freshman year, straight out of high school, college life was very different. You had been to a total of two parties so far, courtesy of your best friend— Lia— dragging you with her. 

You had enjoyed them, but it wasn’t something you would voluntarily participate in again.

The workload was something that had definitely changed, bogged down with mandatory lectures and assignments, tests popping up like a bad smell, you had more than enough to occupy you.

“Something has arrived for you!” Your mother said, almost excitedly, “It’s on the table.”

You helped her put away the groceries, walking to your living room, eyes falling on the package sitting on the table. It was somewhat shabbily wrapped, with tape haphazardly stuck on it to keep it together, and a tag pasted on the top.

Picking it up, you pass it from your right hand to your left, feeling its weight, reading the little tag. It held your address, your name and another name you hadn’t seen in almost a year.

Your mind ran at a hundred miles per minute, wondering why it was here, why his name was on it. It made no sense to you.

“Darling? Are you okay?”

Your mothers voice snapped out of your reverie, nodding slowly, “I’ll be in my room, finishing off a project”, you said carefully, trying not to show any sort of emotion as you climbed up the stairs of your house, two at a time, making sure not to drop the package.

Closing the door, you place it on your bed, reading over the tag again, a bitter taste filling your mouth. A name you hadn’t thought of in a year coming back now. It was so random, so absolutely unnecessary.

You curled your fingers around the messy brown paper, tearing it open as your mind reeled. The crackling sound filled the silence as the contents of it make itself known to you.

A shoebox.

It’s dusty, a dark blue colour with a line of red running at its side. There were two holes on either end, lined with metal piping and you could just about make out the nike symbol on the top. You brushed your hand over it, the dust coming off easily and sticking to your fingers.

Why would he send you this?

His name sticks out on the tag like a sore thumb, reminding you of what you lost, mocking you. Always content with where you are, hmm? His voice comes back, as clear as day. It’s as if he’s standing there, giving you his chesire cat grin as he spoke the words.

Zhong Chenle.

Lifting the lid off the box, you’re thrown into confusion. A cassette player, a pair of earphones, and five tapes. Picking up the player, you smile briefly at the dramatic set up. He could’ve called you, or sent a message, so why did he take the pains of sending you something as old and unnecessary as this?

Then again, it had been a year since he stopped picking up your calls, since you stopped trying to call him.  A year since all contact had been cut off, as if he had never existed in the first place.

Sometimes you wondered if Chenle had been a hallucination. An imaginary friend.

Friend.

The questions filter in. Why? It had been a year, so why had he sent you this now? You had finally told yourself you were over it, that you didn’t need an answer, but somehow as soon as you did that, you found yourself sitting in your room on your bed with what could be it.

The tapes were numbered in permanent marker in his messy handwriting, from one to five, indicating the order in which they were to be listened to in. You picked up the first, slotting it in the player and waiting.

You didn’t know what you were waiting for.

You pressed play. There was crackling, but only for a moment, until  it went silent. Maybe this was all a mistake, maybe this wasn’t even happening. Maybe-

i] tape 1: you deserve to hate me

Hey

His voice cut through your spiraling thoughts as you froze in place. He sounded the same as you last heard him, a little muffled due to the recording but the same. At the same time he sounded like a stranger. There was silence for a moment again, before he spoke up.

This is stupid isn’t it?

You felt the urge to answer, but your mouth went dry. It had been so, so long, and even though you had adequate time to get over him, it suddenly felt as if you were treading unfamiliar territory once again. 

I-I don’t know why I’m doing this. I think it’s because I feel so horrible, I need an outlet. I guess speaking it into existence and recording it makes is my outlet. Making it all real.

But that’s fucking terrifying.

You don’t think you’re following, confused once again. 

Y/n

You hear him take a deep breath right after your name, and it sends a chill down your spine, hearing him say your name once again. You had almost forgotten how it sounded.

I don’t know if you’ll ever hear this, or listen to it. If you don’t I’ll actually be glad. You don’t deserve to, I’ve been a jerk to you. I’m sorry. I hope you hate me, I definitely deserve it.

I’m moving in two months.

The realization hits you, this had been recorded a year ago as well, two months before he left without a word or warning. It was old, he was here when he recorded it.

You didn’t quiet know how you felt, not yet anyways.

And you won’t know until I’m gone.

I’m moving to Korea, and I refuse to tell you, even if it makes me the bad guy, even if it feels worse, because that’s my dream. 

I got signed by a record label after sending them that demo I did —remember it? We both went to the studio together, you listening outside as I sang. You were right by my side, all the time.

Except now when I record this, except when I leave. 

I refuse to tell you, because the moment I do I know it’ll be real, realer than it is now as I say it. I don’t want to see the look on your face when I say I’m going, I know it’ll make me want to stay, but I don’t want to stay.

You knew exactly what he was talking about, you could recollect that day clearly. There was a small studio a little outside the town. That day, he had booked it for two hours to record a demo, his singing mentor with him and you tagging along.

It had always been like that, the two of you against the world, until, of course he left.

I physically can’t stay, I hate it here Y/n. It’s not for me, I want to get out, that had always been the plan. I want to get out and be free, I want to achieve my dreams. Maybe it’s selfish, maybe I don’t deserve a minute more of your time, but I want it all.

That’s why I’m not going to tell you —so I can have it all, at least until I don’t have you.

But you, you don’t deserve this, do you? Of course you don’t, but I suppose you’re the one with the shitty luck, you’re the one who ended up with me and now I’m going to hurt you. 

He laughs a dry, breathy laugh. It was half hearted, as if he was trying to get himself to believe the situation was funny. 

It’s not your fault I-fuck I’m sorry.

You heard a click and the tape died off, he had stopped recording there. The first tape was finished, and honestly, you didn’t know how to react. One part of you wanted to feel nothing, you wanted to put the player and the five tapes back into the box and send them away, or lock them in your closet to never find them again.

But the other part of you wanted to know more. You wanted to know how he felt, what went through his mind during that time. You wanted to know just how you lost Chenle, the first boy you ever loved.

Suddenly you felt overwhelmed, vulnerable almost. It was as if someone had opened up an old wound and left it open.

You got to your feet abruptly, pulling the earphones from your ears and dropping them on your bed, taking a step away and blinking rapidly. You couldn’t get caught up in the past, you couldn’t put yourself through that again.

But it was hard when the past was in your present.

Wasted, and all of my regret, I can taste it, If I had a time-machine, I would take it, And make it back to us

~

That night you couldn’t sleep.

The box sat on your desk, right next to your laptop, staring at you. You turned around on your bed, looking the other way, only to be met with the white of the walls.

You never liked the colour white.

It was too plain, too open for interpretation. It never had a solid answer. You liked stability, you wanted something permanent. You were the type of person that needed that reassurance.

Perhaps that’s why you were happy where you were, you didn’t find the appeal in starting over, because that meant nothing was certain. You stayed where you were because everything was already laid out for you.

It was like a colouring book in your little town, the lines all set out, everything drawn for you. Change meant you had to sketch everything from scratch. What if you messed up?

Needless to say, it was a good thing you weren’t an art major.

“This is ridiculous”, you whispered to yourself, sighing at the fact that you were now talking to yourself. You rolled over so that you were lying on your back, staring at the ceiling. The glow in the dark stars shone with their dull green light. You remember the day you had put them up, with Chenle.

You shared a lot of memories with him.

“Fucking hell”, you hissed, sitting up, swinging your legs off the edge of your bed and walking to your desk, sitting on the chair. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you picked up the second tape, inserting it in the player and putting the earphones on, waiting for it to begin.

ii] tape 2: milk before cereal

I know I’m making some terrible decisions, I really do, but if there’s one thing I stand by, its the fact that milk definitely goes before the cereal.

Why am I talking about this?

Well, because today you came over, Y/n, you came over and the two of us were watching a movie, and in the middle of it, you decided you wanted to have cereal, specifically frosted flakes.

So what do we do? We have cereal because I can’t say no to you. You’re welcome by the way, honestly, I deserve the boyfriend of the year award.

A moment of silence.

No I don’t. I really don’t.

You bit your lower lip, shutting your eyes. It was the way he switched, the way his demeanor changes so suddenly that made you want to scream. Sometimes it felt like he was telling a story, one you knew and loved.

Only for the next moment to bring you down to reality, reminding you that all stories don't have happy endings.

Anyways, we got the cereal and you objected when I put the milk first, saying that it was wrong, but how? In what way? Here me out Y/n, I shall tell you why I’m right, even If I’m not actually talking to you.

You couldn’t help but scoff at this, shaking your head at Chenle. He had always had a flair for being dramatic in the littlest ways possible. It was endearing.

Putting the cereal first means it sits in the milk for longer! If you put the cereal last, you can have it crunchy! Isn’t that ten times better? Unless you’re one of the devils spawn and like soggy cereal. If so I’m hypothetically breaking up with you right here right now.

Ah...bad wording. I keep forgetting I have to break up with you. I don’t want to, is that selfish?

You deserve the truth, if only I was strong enough to give it to you. Staying silent is so much easier.

It’s not lying, not completely anyways. I’m not lying if I don’t tell you at all. I suppose it’s a half truth then, with the truth hidden in plain sight. 

*click*

Lying. That’s what he did, even though he spent the last few minutes of the tape trying to justify it, he lied. He trampled all over your heart without a single warning.

You had trusted Chenle, having known him since you were thirteen. He had completely destroyed that trust. Something like that couldn’t be fixed so easily, not even if he had sent you these tapes.

Then again, you didn’t know why he sent them.

You retreated to your bed, turning away from the tapes, the words and memories they held, facing white once again.

You had met Chenle when the two of you were thirteen, in eight grade math. The boy was failing the class, and one day you found him sitting early morning in class, with his head in his hands as he groaned over some sort of equation.

You had offered to help, and the smile he gave was the brightest one you had ever seen, he was practically grinning from ear to ear. That was the beginning of your friendship, and the two of you were inseperable.

Ninth grade it was confirmed that the two of you were best friends, sitting together, complaining about teachers together, going places together so your parents didn’t need to tag along.

In your last year of high school the two of you started dating, and when you had told your parents, they were ecstatic, confessing they had always thought the two of you would end up together.

He was always there for you, every time you needed him. You could give him a call and he would be outside your door. If you were feeling insecure or scared, he was always there to hype you up.

You had been best friends before, you were lovers then, and it was amazing. You loved everything about being with Chenle. You loved everything about him, from his toothy grin to his obnoxiously loud laugh.

You loved the way his eyes sparkled when he had an idea (which, for the most part, were absolutely terrible. Needless to say the two of you got in trouble a lot), when he sang for you when you stayed over, the way he would always make sure you were never cold.

You loved him.

It was written in the stars, you were meant to be, it was the perfect combination. Chenle was the right person for you- the perfect person.

A year later you woke up with him gone, no texts, no warnings. He had just gone, leaving you alone.

Right person, wrong time.

Monday came around sooner than you thought it would, the weekend passing in a blur as you walked out of your first class, spotting Lia leaning against the wall outside your class, scrolling through something on her phone.

She was an exchange student, not originally from your town, but had fit right in. Sometimes you wished you could be like that.

“Oh! You’re out! Listen, there’s a party on Friday and you’re coming with me”, she stated. It wasn’t a request, it was a fact, you were to go with her. In her own words, ‘if I didn’t exist you’d probably have no social life.’

To be fair, she wasn’t wrong.

You nodded defeatedly, walking with her down the hallway, “I assume you want to go because of the cute new guy?”

She glared, but didn’t refute your accusation, “His name is Mark”, she said, “And that is none of your business.”

You snickered, “Oh it so is, you like him don’t you? Is this going to be another one of your crushes?”

Lia was notorious for having a new crush almost every week, being a very flighty person, her mind changed before you could even say her name. This was a bit of a problem, considering you went to her for advice a lot.

Her indecisive nature was not the best for that.

She rolled her eyes at this, “He’s cute, why not? Wonder if I can get him to dance with me at the party. You’re going to be my hype woman-”

“And the sober buddy?”

Lia ignored that.

“Also there’s this new singer”, she said, handing you one of her earbuds, “apparently he came from here!”

Taking one of the earbuds, you were hit with a familiar voice. It sounded amazing honestly, catchy, everything a song needed, but it was the voice that hit you. You didn’t even need to ask Lia for the singer, swallowing the lump in your throat and glancing at her phone, which confirmed your suspicions.

Filling with some sort of dread, your hands immediately went to hold your hand, specifically the bottom where the cassette player and the tapes were. You had been carrying them around with you, as if scared they would disappear if you left them alone.

“Isn’t he good?”

You nodded, not daring to answer as you bit your lower lip, “Hey Lili, I need to use the washroom so see ya later”, you said, handing her the earbud and taking off in the other direction, pushing open the doors to the washroom and getting into one of the stalls.

You had stalled listening to the next tape all Sunday, you didn’t even know why, but hearing him sing, that fact that he had actually made it, it struck something in you. You wanted to feel proud of him, but all you felt was bitter.

Was it a coincidence that this new singer had come out- Chenle himself- right when you received the tapes?

Pushing the top of the toilet down, you took a seat, taking the player out and plugging in, you pressed play for the third tape, waiting for it to begin playing.

tape iii] ill miss our dates

Remember when we went for that field trip? Ninth grade? We sat in the back of the bus together avoiding the stares of our teachers when they told us to sit down?

Then they pulled us apart? Yeah, mean fuckers.

Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about, I just felt like reminiscing for a sec there, but today we went of a date! Well, I mean we got ice cream and then went to the park, but hey, it was fun.

You smiled. He had always jumped from one topic to another without any meaning to either. Sometimes it was a frustrating habit, (you had been on the receiving end of these useless conversations several times, which ended with you glaring at him exasperatedly), but for the most part, extremely comical.

I’m going to miss that. I’m going to miss you. Your little smile — have I ever told you just how pretty your smile is? Your eyes light up and crinkle at the sides and its something I don’t think I’ll ever forget, even when I’m gone. 

You clutched the cassette player, marveling at the irony. He was talking about your smile, but why did you want to cry?

It’s a month left now, and I want to make the most of it. Tomorrow I’m taking you to the amusement part and then next week I’m surprising you with dinner. I guess doing things for you —for us — makes me feel better, like I’m compensating.

You deserve the world Y/n, and I want to see that world while you’re happy where you are.

You don’t deserve having to deal with me.

*click*

Your eyes burned, because you remembered each of those events. You had been so happy, so overjoyed at them. They burned with tears because there it was again, that reminder that you were destined to be stuck right where you were, because you were that idiot who was content.

But if someone, anyone, asked you at that very moment if you were happy, the answer would’ve been an outright no.

1 YEAR AGO

~

“Hey Chenle?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you want to leave?”

The boy thought about this for a second, before smiling wistfully, “Don’t you want to know how it is outside home?”

“But everything I need is here.”

Your eyes held a question, you were genuinely baffled by his reasoning, the way he was so stuck of getting out. You studied your bewildered expression, shaking his head. “You’re lucky”, he said finally, “You know exactly what you want.”

“Of course I don’t, but I know what I need Chenle, and that’s all around me.”

He shook away his other thoughts, “Hey maybe we’ll go exploring the world together some day. 

You blinked, “You want me there with you?”

He nodded, grinning widely, “I want to take you along, Imagine, it’ll be fucking awesome, and hey this time there will be no teachers to separate us. We can even stand in the bus-if we’re taking a bus, that it.”

You laughed, “Maybe”, you mused, looking back down at your phone, “While I don’t exactly see the appeal, it would be fun to be with you.”

Chenle’s smile faltered, but he didn’t let it fall completely, wrapping his arms around you and sighing, closing his eyes and whispering something just loud enough for you to hear.

“Maybe.”

Why did it feel this way?

Chenle was right- you didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to feel this way at all. It had been a year, so why did it affect you?

Why was it all happening at once?

You clicked your tongue, eyeing the player with contempt. You felt pathetic for being curious, for still feeling so attached to old news. It wasn’t as if it was going to change anything, so why?

Why did you still want to know?

Curiosity killed the cat. You wondered if knowing would somehow kill you.

No one was at home currently, so you sat in the living room on your couch. The items you were trying so hard to ignore were sitting on the small table in front of the couch, as if waiting for you to pick them up once again.

You wondered if you should tell Lia and ask her opinion about the situation. She may not be that helpful, but hell, she could help you burn the tapes if worse came to worse.

Sometimes you wished you had never met Chenle, that your history with him could be erased from your memories. You wished it never existed because fuck, it still hurt.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and pressed play.

tape iv] firsts with you

Do you remember our first kiss?

We were eighteen, in my room, playing Jenga. That was a year ago, oh god, I can’t even imagine, how has it been a year? You were wearing one of my shirts and jeans, your hair was in a ponytail. The two of us were sitting on the carpet on my floor.

You had successfully gotten one of the wooden pieces out of a risky area of the tower, but then it was my turn, it feel to the ground, destroyed.

I blamed you, and you laughed, and our banter continued. We argued and at one point I started tickling you to get you to shut up, because honestly-Jesus Christ Y/n you’re fucking stubborn.

Anyways I ended up on top of you and the two of us were laughing. You looked so pretty, hair messily scattered around your face as you attempted to get out of my hold. 

I leaned down and kissed you.

Your throat closed up as he spoke. Your eyes stung and you raked your hand through your hair, biting down on your lower lip. The way he was speaking about it, as if he would do anything to go back, it struck something in you.

Because if you had the chance, you would go back as well.

You tasted like that strawberry chapstick you liked to wear. I could tell you were surprised, because you didn’t kiss me back for a good two seconds  —which, by the way sent me into a panic for a moment there.

But then you kissed me, and fuck, it was like everything had stopped. I couldn’t think for a second, it was like the world had started spinning around me, and the only thing that was keeping me grounded, was you.

Was it supposed to hurt like this?

You sucked in a sharp breath, fingers fisted the material of your shirt as you tried keeping your composure. You didn’t want to cry, but he was making it so, so hard for you. 

You remembered how it felt when he kissed you, you were legitimately so confused, was he really kissing you? Your best friend, the boy you had loved quietly for so long, kissing you?

Chenle was your first kiss, and it was the most perfect first kiss you could have ever asked for, even if you were on the floor, with random Jenga blocks scattered around the two of you.

The smile you gave me after I pulled away, I wish I could remember it forever. It was goofy as you burst into giggles, and asked me, “What was that for?”

I blinked in surprise, wondering how you seemed so normal, when for me everything had changed. I had kissed my best friend, the one girl I care the most about.

I must have looked like a tomato oh god.

Instead of waiting for my to answer, you sat up, pulling me into another kiss. This time it was me who was unprepared. The kiss was messy, it had no structure or plan, but I realized in that moment, that I really liked kissing you, and I wanted to do it more often.

You became my girlfriend.

The wistful tone he was using was starting to affect you. You had loved Chenle, almost too much. You could almost feel that nostalgic happiness you felt that day when he kissed you for the first time, the disbelief and joy that wrapped around the two of you. 

A wave of sadness followed that nostalgia.

Our first date was so fucking awkward. We were at that little cafe you loved, you ordered a cheesecake and I got a smoothie, and then we sat in silence for a good five minutes.

It really shouldn’t have been that painful, considering we knew everything about each other already, then again that might be why it was awkward, I had nothing to ask you about.

So naturally I brought up school and that started it, the two of us complaining about the amount of assignments we had, and Mrs. Choi’s annoying squeaky voice- I swear to god that woman took a second for each word.

But I digress.

Slowly our conversation felt normal again, it was just us, eating cheesecake and drinking smoothies, together.

That wave of sadness crashed down upon you like a tsunami, trying to snuff you out. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, you were struggling to keep yourself together. You were struggling to stay afloat, you had lost any leverage you had that was holding you up.

You couldn’t fight the waves.

My flight is in two hours. It’s four in the morning and we’re about to walk through the door and get to the airport, but I wanted to talk to you once again, even if we’re not really talking.

I’m pathetic.

You’re sleeping, in your bed at your home, you don’t know I’m going because I’m the coward that refused to tell you the truth. I’ll be gone by the time you wake up and then you’ll know.

You’ll know how much of a waste of time I was.

And then you were angry.

You were angry because he had no right to just come back into your life like this, no fucking right to make you cry. He wasn’t even here, but somehow he had managed to make you fall apart just with his words, with his voice.

He had no right to tear your world apart, the little composure you had standing. You had finally accepted the fact that he was gone, you had moved on, and even tried to forget.

But here he was, making sure you could never forget.

You hated how selfish he was, how absolutely fucking oblivious. He had no clue, not even one as to how you felt when he just disappeared from your life, as if he never existed. He had broken you and here he was, breaking you again.

With trembling hands, you stopped the tape from playing any further, angry tears making their way down your face as you flung the player across the room. You had no intention of listening any further, you didn’t want to, you didn’t care.

Closure hurt more than him leaving.

You buried your head in your hands, letting yourself fall apart, but just this once.

tape iv] continued [unheard]

I’m sorry Y/n. I’m so fucking sorry. 

You don’t have to believe me, because I’m leaving anyways, so I suppose that cancels out my apologies huh? I’m the worst person you ever met. I’m not stopping, I’m not going to leave you a text.

Because I don’t want to hurt you anymore.

I’ll be gone before we could ever be.

Should’ve believed in us, while we existed, cuz now the whole things fucked, and just a figment of my imagination

~

Time heals all hurt, and reminders bring them back, cutting through your skin like a knife, making you bleed.

A week later, you found yourself sitting in your favorite cafe, the same cafe Chenle talked about in the last tape. You ordered a cheesecake and a smoothie, inserting the fifth and final tape into the player.

The last time you did this, you were left hurt and distraught, promising yourself you would never go back to listen to him again. You had put the shoebox in your closet, hiding it behind your clothes that hung from the rack.

Yet here you were.

You didn’t bother finishing the fourth tape, you didn’t see the need to. 

This tape, you observed, was newer looking, with less scratches on the plastic, even the marker on the side looked more recent, a little rushed if you went into detail. 

The cheesecake and drink arrived, and you took a bite, pressing play.

tape v] play

Hey.

He sounded a little different too, older perhaps. His voice was smoother, but he sounded unsure of himself. It sounded as if he was trying to figure out how to approach the topic. He was being cautious.

It’s been a while. I...I don’t know why I’m doing this. There’s no point- you’re not even here. I found these stupid tapes yesterday in my dorm when I was cleaning out and gave them a listen.

Silence.

I envy you, Y/n. I wish I was like you, happy wherever I was. But I’m not, and I probably caused you great unhappiness while trying to search for my own- but I was happy with you, so happy it was ridiculous.

I sabotaged that.

You sighed, realizing you felt nothing. You were tired of crying over Chenle, you were done doing that. Instead you felt empty, like you had been tired out, like it didn’t matter anymore. At this point you were to get it over with, to finish it off on  clean ending note.

My song comes out next week, and it’ll be done. I’ve made it Y/n, I’ve gotten to where I wanted to be, the place I had worked so hard to get to. I’ve sacrificed so much for this and it’s all been worth it- except one thing.

I don’t expect you to listen to my song, I just wanted to tell you. I..I hope you’re proud of me. Even if I was a jerk, I hope you can be proud, at least a little bit, because then I’ll have finally made it.

I miss you.

The same words are at the tip of your tongue, I miss you, I miss you so fucking much, but they never came out. They didn’t have to, it would be useless. He would never hear them.

Instead, you swallowed them back down.

And even though I made fun of you for staying home, I hope you’re happy like I am, I hope we’ll meet again one day. If we do I challenge you to a game of Jenga, loser buys the winner ice cream.

I-fuck this is the hardest part- but I hope you’ve moved on. One of us has to.

*click*

You don’t take the tape out of the player, you don’t touch it at all. You feel oddly calm as you take another bite of your cheesecake, savoring the strawberry reserve that it came with it. You could almost imagine yourself at eighteen again sitting opposite your new boyfriend.

You missed it, the memories that came along with it. That was it, you missed the feelings you had.

But you were okay. You would be okay right where you were, because that’s where you belonged. It hurt, yeah, but it had hurt back then as well. Now it was just a dull ache, all that was left was regret.

Regret that it didn’t work out, regret over unspoken words and unnecessary pain.

A familiar song filled the cafe as you smiled somewhat sadly, leaning back in your seat and closing your eyes.

“I’m proud of you Chenle”, you whispered, “Because you did what I couldn’t”

You left the cafe a little later, with the cassettes in your bag, an empty plate and the smoothie sitting on the table, untouched. After all, that smoothie wasn’t for you.

There was nothing to wait for anymore. You had loved and you had lost, Chenle was a stranger with your secrets and a familiar voice and that was it. 

You had forgiven him a long time ago, even without him being deserving of it. Now with all the loose ends being tied up, it felt like you could finally let go of him, you could finally move on.

And forget.

[babytaes]

the grim reaper(my home)

summary:  Everyone depicts the Grim Reaper as a bad character, but he didn't kill you. It's just a trip to the afterlife, and he's actually being helpful by walking you there. Consider what it would be like if you had to travel alone. As she battles through life, Jay meets an unexpected figure, yet she doesn't seem to be terrified of him when he comes knocking on her door, why?

paring: jay x female reader

genre: angst, slight fluff

word count: 6k

warnings: profanity, ummmm rock chic jay.

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖘: click me before reading!

➳ part of the drunk & dazed series

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

I wish that everyone knew how their lives ended. It's essentially a game of guessing what will happen to you. Don't even get me started on the subject of Heaven and Hell. You've heard it all, the misery and the heinous methods in which people go out.

But why did death come knocking on the door at such an early age? You'll never know why they chose this age.

You didn't have your entire life laid out for you, nah, what a waste. Seeing it, however, was strange.

Well, there's him, or whatever entity they're referring to. The Grim Reaper.

You didn't notice him until things began to go wrong for you. A black object flashed in and out all of a sudden.

It was more predictable than unexpected.

Usually you would see him after work but I guess he had other plans. Despite your exhaustion, you flopped down on the couch and pulled out your phone to conduct an online search.

You giggled as you aimlessly scrolled through your phone and eventually peeked up to see a dark figure seated across from you.

As you laid your phone down and peered at the figure, you said, "So he finally wants to show his face."

“Don't tell me you can see me right now?” he cocks his head and looks about before returning to you.

“Well, I've only seen glimpses of you for the previous few weeks, but now I'm seeing you in all your glory.”

“Shit” As he hurriedly shot back into the dark shadows behind him, he widened his eyes.

“Wait a minute, don't leave.”

He was still there, hidden from view. He wasn't ready to leave yet. As you moved over to the door, you rolled your eyes at your phone and grabbed your apron. As you put your shoes back on, you exclaim and awkwardly wave your hand in the air before closing the door.

“You better be here when I get back, and keep in mind that we have business to discuss."

He rolled his eyes at your strange conduct as he smiled gently before vanishing back into the dark abyss, now entirely gone from your home.

---

“So Jay, what's on the agenda in Reaper business?” He noticed his old acquaintance gleaming at him as he peered up from his chair.

“Well, Jake, the previous several weeks have been a complete nightmare. They paired me up with this tough guy who was fighting for his life. As he continued, he rolled his eyes.

“It's been quite tranquil since they reassigned me to another case, but something strange happened today. I inadvertently made myself obvious to her, but she was unconcerned.

“Weird.” Jake shook his head and cocked his head to the side as he called out to him.

“So, two pieces of information I just got: it's a girl, and she appears to be somewhat odd. When you get back, I'd like to hear more about this."

As you put on a strange expression, he smiled at the boy as he spoke about jobs he had recently gone on.

“Yeah, there's something odd about it,” 

“I also—wait a minute, Jay, I recognize that look.” Jake pauses in his speech for a moment as he approaches you and analyzes your body.

“Please, dude, take a step back.”

He hears on the intercom times for a meeting today for all Reapers to attend, and he laughs at you. Jake makes a peace sign as he hits the door's slab and vanishes from view.

Sitting back in your chair, you raise your feet and begin to formulate a strategy.

“What am I doing here? I'm a doer. Let me just return to her and have that conversation she requested.”

He steps into form and vanishes back to the house he used to be in, softly cheering to himself.

Surprisingly, he can hear your voice but not yet see you, so he emerges from the shadows and takes a stroll through your home, taking in your life.

He saw photos of dogs and people he assumed were family and friends, as well as one thing that attracted his attention.

As he approaches it, he enters a familiar room and sighs as he makes his way to the gleaming object. It was a bracelet with scribing on it of some type.

When he reaches out to pick it up, he feels a searing feeling and drops it swiftly, muttering a torrent of curse words.

“What the hell was that?” When he looks closely, he notices symbols that resemble a cross.

“Fuckin Christ,” 

“Do all Reapers barge into your house and search through their belongings on the spur of the moment, or is mine defective?”

Jay, who has jumped up in panic, apologizes by turning around and raising his hands. When he glances up, he notices you resting on the door frame, arms folded, staring at him.

“Well, let's just put this inconvenience behind us and have that conversation you wanted to have, hmm?”

“All right, let's go into the living room, and by the way, your style is really fashionable. I had no idea you people dressed up so well to steal souls. Are there any employment openings?”

As he comes to a halt in his tracks, you turn your head to face him and stare at his unmoving form.

“Hellooo, please don't tell me they gave me a defective one. Jeez”

For a brief moment, everything came to a halt as Jay regained his bearings. "That was strange. Why am I blanking out because she's so strange?”

With a shake of his head, he smiles at you and walks into the living room, where he sits across from you, still perplexed as to who and what you are.

It wasn’t human-like.

“Thank you, no one seemed to realize that the original reaper gear wasn't cutting it for me. Also, I'm presuming you're a young adult, so you know what I'm talking about.”

You pull closer to him, laughing at his words, and lay your elbows on your legs, intently listening to him.

“So Grandma was right, you guys do exist. Tell me more; you know I don't appear to have much time left, so give me your answers.”

He let out a chuckle as he hastily covered his mouth, daring not to be affected by the earth.

He'd been doing this work for quite some time and appeared to be quite confident in himself and his abilities.

But there was something about you that made him feel comfortable and at ease, and he didn't feel like he had to hide, very apparent when a patient screamed at him or when they insisted death hadn't arrived yet.

It was strange, but it was great not to have to put on a show. Outside of the Reaper, he almost forgot who he was for a moment.

Maybe this one could get to know you, the cool yet elegant Jay. Not the dark version of himself. Even if his ultimate goal is to accompany you to the hereafter.

Maybe, just maybe, in that slim possibility, he'll take advantage of this opportunity to learn more about this person and why they're so interested in you.

---

“Before we jump right into this game, I have a question for you: why aren't you terrified of me?” As he stared at your blank expression, he spat out.

“Well, as I already stated, my grandma was a firm believer in the unknown. Even though she is no longer with us, she has taught me a great deal about the supernatural and unknown.”

You got up and walked over to the kitchen, motioning for him to follow you before opening the refrigerator and taking some fresh fruit out.

Jay promptly stood up and walked over to the chair, where he sat, watching your every move as you leapt onto the counter and turned to face him, before placing a mango slice into your mouth.

“All right, my turn, what's your name and what's my illness?”

Jay coughed and sat up straight as he removed a piece of paper from his pocket and read it loudly before setting it down.

“Y/N Y/L/N, you've been diagnosed with Heart Disease, and things aren't looking well for you. I know you haven't been to the doctor in a while, which is also perplexing. And my name is Jay.”

You place the fruit down next to you and cross your legs before responding to his comment, shaking your head up and down.

“Well, that's true; it runs in the family, but I'm not concerned because time is never on our side, and we all have an expiry date, which I believe is approaching soon. Right?”

Jay knew you just had one week left, but he didn't want to break your cheerful mood, so he waited.

“Well, I can't tell you when you'll die just yet, but your time is running out. I'm sure it's terrifying, but-”

Before concealing your lips, you chuckle loudly. Jay snickered as he looked up at you.

“Man, you're such a strange person; how do you manage to be so confident and direct? I'm becoming a little afraid, and I'm the Grim Reaper.” You leap from the countertop and walk over to him.

You cocked your head to the side and placed your hands on his face, pushing your face towards him. As you smile, his face flushes, and as he pulls away from you, he coughs before moving his hand to encourage you to continue.

“You have nice eyes, you know. Okay, now I'll tell you my story. Instead of countless questions, I believe it would be simpler.”

He just nods his head and lets you continue talking about your life.

---

As we all crossed the bridge into the next city over, you glanced out the window at the water. You'd always enjoyed being near water. It brought up memories of trips you and your grandparents took together.

When you arrived at your location, you grabbed your suitcase and exited the vehicle, leaving your parents behind.

“Are you sure you don't want to join us?” As they drove out of the parking lot and onto their vacation, you shook your head and waved farewell to them.

Even though you were 17, you still enjoyed going to your grandparents' house because it provided a sense of security that you didn't have at home. So you'd take them in a heartbeat.

Looking up, you notice Pops standing at the door, arms outstretched, waiting for you.

“There is my favorite grandchild.”

“Gramps, I'm your only grandchild,” you said, laughing as you took him in your arms and grinned as you stepped into the house.

“Oh, that's right.” He takes your stuff and starts to take it to your allotted room while laughing together. “Your Grams is out back,” he shouts as he approaches the top.

‘Thanks” When you walk out to the backyard, you'll find her sitting in her iconic chair, surrounded by books, muttering to herself. She puts the book down and leans in to hug you as she stands up.

“Aww, I've missed you so much. There's just so much you can talk about with your grandfather before he falls asleep. Please have a seat; we have a lot to discuss."

There's a sensation you've been missing, a sense of belonging to a place you once called home. They were the only ones who could supply you with a sense of safety and security, and you couldn't get enough of it.

“We talked about witches and wizards the last time we were here. Now we're dealing with Reapers, or more precisely Grim.”

When she stated those two words, your eyes lit up; it was a favorite topic of yours that she brought up frequently, but now you had more time to delve deeper.

“Let's get started; we've got a lot of ground to cover. Allow us to see The Unknown by opening our eyes. “Are you wearing your bracelet?”

“I never take it off,” you say. You shook your right arm and returned your hand to hers, shaking your head.

As you were swept away in a dark mist together, you grinned and took her hands in yours. Even though they appear to be ordinary, decent folks, there is something you should know about my grandparents. They are one of many people who have gained entrance to the supernatural realm, a place where anything is possible.

You tried to inform your parents, but they were skeptical of fairy tales. They tried to prevent you from seeing them, claiming that "they will stunt my growth," which is ridiculous because I've learnt more from my grandparents than from my parents.

Regardless of how hard they tried to stop you, you always managed to find your way back to them. We were linked, and nothing could stop you until YOU chose to let it. That day, however, never came.

You found yourself in a boat, holding your grandmother's hand, as it carried you across a vast chasm and into town. You come upon another boat that appears to be some kind of creature with a scythe. As he traveled down the river opposite you, strands of golden hair protruded from beneath his hood.

“Wait, don't tell me that person on the river was you now that I think about it?”

“I think it was, man, that was a long time ago,” Jay laughed and shook his head. Also, I had no idea you had access to that world?”

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get back to the story.” As you spoke, he grinned.

“All right, honey, let's go; we can't linger for too long.” You both stepped off the boat and walked into town, taking in the sights. As you climbed the slope, merchants' stands and buildings crept up on you. It was weird to see individuals of all kinds here, going about their daily lives in the same way that those on the surface did.

You see vampires, werewolves, angels, and even ghouls all lingering together and with one another as you walk side by side with your grams. Despite the fact that they all had their own lives to live, they could join together to gather supplies and meals.

What a wonderful thing

You both entered a familiar building, and your grandma greeted the old man behind the counter.

“Oh, my favorite customers. What brings you down here and how is life above the surface? Another book you have in mind.”

Your Grams smiled as she let go of your hand and approached the man at the front of the bookstore, “you always know Melvin.”

As they conversed, you strolled through the big store on your way to the second floor. Before reaching the top, you yell out to Melvin.

“I'm hoping you'll let me take one.”

“Anything for my sweet Y/N, go ahead and look, there's a new one up there.” You hurried up the steps and across to the Book Wall, grinning ear to ear. From baby dragons to spell books, there was something for everyone. Anything you can imagine Melvin’s shop had it all.

When you took one off the shelf, you were greeted by a young boy who stood next to you. You couldn't tell if he was your age since down here, time moves at a different pace than it does on the surface. Still he looked quite young.

It was pleasant to see the creatures up close, even if you had never met them before. You stepped away from him, afraid of his reaction, and made your way to the chair sections. You sat down and picked up a book titled "The Origins of Reapers."

“How did you get here? I've never seen a girl human down here before.” You looked up from your book to see the boy you'd seen previously, frightened that he'd do something. You closed your eyes and shook your bracelet in front of his face.

As he waited for you to settle down, he laughed and sat next to you.

“I'm not going to harm you; all I wanted to do was ask a question. My name is Jake, what is yours?”

“My name is Y/N, and my grandparents have access to the world, so I tag along occasionally, may I inquire what you are?” you said slowly as you sat up straight.

He shifted in his seat and grinned, his face more dog-like. How could you be afraid of him?

“Well, don't be afraid of me since I'm a Grim Reaper in Training. I'm fairly innocuous. It's nice to see a human down here; normally, we only see humans when it's their time.”

You hear your grandmother calling from downstairs before he can continue.

“Coming”

You return his gaze and apologize as you rise, book in hand, and make your way to the stairwell.

“It was a pleasure to meet such a lovely human; please pay a visit to the Reaper Realm when you return. Simply request Jake.” He gave you a wave before yelling at Melvin.

“I'm leaving Melvin; my book is on your desk up here.”

As you return your attention to Jake, you hear Melvin's remark, but he vanishes into thin air as you descend the steps. Your grandmother expresses her gratitude to Melvin for the choice and exits through the front door.

“Are you all set to depart, sweetie?” With a shake of your head, you bid Melvin farewell as you close the door and return to the boat, where you sit down and take your gram's hand in yours.

"Let's go home," says your grandmother.

---

“So yeah, I've been traveling there with them ever since they introduced me to your world.” You came to a halt in the middle of your walk and coughed, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“My grandparents died a few years ago, and I haven't been back in a long time because I used to only go with them. It was doubly difficult because they both died on the same day, and she was telling me that she could see him on that day. I'm hoping she meant the Reaper, because they were the last thing to see them leave.”

You grabbed his arms on the spur of the moment and violently shook them.

“I know you must have records someplace, but could you please assist me in locating them as part of my dying wish? At the very least, let me see where they went; I need to know if they're okay.”

So this was the true you, the one in desperate need of a reconnection with the Gone. You received your response and devised a plan.

“Hey, don't worry... I'll see what I can do.  But there's no guarantee. I wasn't on the case at the time, so I'll have to do some digging, but I'll try.  “Can you tell me their names?”

Wiping tears from your eyes, you rose from your chair and dashed to your room, calling him over.

When you opened a box from under your bed, there were wonderful memories from you and your grandparents inside. You attempted to obtain more, but everything was returned to the Underworld, leaving you with only this.

Jay knelt down and picked up a photograph of you and them. They were regulars, and he had seen them around town. Hopefully, in the short time she had left, you could help her.

“Elizabeth and Albert Marvin were their names. I'm not sure if there's anything else I can do to assist you, but please do your best." As you hurriedly covered your mouth with your palm, a harsh cough came from your throat, and your chest began to throb as you placed your hand on your heart.

It was obvious that time was not on your side. You rise off the ground and walk over to Jay, looking up at him. You wrapped your arms around his frigid body, engulfing him in a hug.

Jay stood there awkwardly with his arms down as he gently moved you off and returned to the couch area.

“Like I said, there's no guarantee that I'll find them, and who knows, they could not even be alive. But I’ll try my best. It was a pleasure to speak with you, but I must depart because we are running out of time.”

He gave you a beeper before vanishing.

“Please page me on here if you need to reach me; I'll do my best to respond. You look after yourself.” 

You waved farewell as he left your house and returned to his, where he continued his exhaustive investigation.

He didn't want to let you down because he felt such a responsibility to you. He would complete whatever task he was given. He would do anything for you if he could see that smile on your face.

“Let's get down to business.”

---

 “Jay...Jay wake up” As you awoke slowly from your arms, you felt a push on your shoulder. As your eyes adjusted to the bright light, it took some time to figure out who was interrupting you.

“W-What exactly is it, Jake?” You and Jake have been coming in every day for the past five days, attempting to find a solution to your problem. Jake may have discovered something despite the difficulties.

“So, I just had an epiphany,  last time I saw Y/N she was at Melvin bookstore, so let's see if he knows anything about them.” You leapt from your chair and snatched a jacket as you ushered Jake out the door and toward Melvin.

For you and y/n, things were starting to look up.

Maybe you were going to do something good for one of your friends souls.

As you and Jake approached Melvin's business, you inhaled deeply and opened the door, eager to hear what he had to say to you.

Melvin's attention was drawn to the bell sound, and he looked up from his spectacles, saying, "Hey youngsters, what brings you here?"

“Well, we had a question for you regarding an old friend of yours, does Elizabeth Marvin ring a bell?” He pulled a photograph from his back pocket and presented it to him; his face darkened as he held the photograph in his hands and smiled broadly at it.

“Oh, my favorite customers. I don't have much information, but the last time they were in here, they were in a hurry and seemed concerned. “We have to make the crossing,” Elizabeth kept emphasizing.

As you and Jake turned to each other, you both had a frightened expression on your faces.

“Don't tell me they took the Crossing, shit,” says Jay You turned around and proceeded towards the door, thanking Melvin, while Jake grinned and waved farewell before heading out the door. He discovered you slumped against the wall, head down, groaning.

“Jay, please don't thin-”

“Keep your mouth shut Jake, because you know no one survives the Crossing without a guide. There are just too many wicked spirits out there, and you and I both know that getting to the finish is impossible. Jay growled as he stood up and kicked whatever was closest to him.

“Ugh, why did I do that?” 

Jake approached his friend and patted his back, unsure of how he would react. It was a small gesture. He knew it was impossible, but he didn't want his best friend to know. They still needed to be encouraged.

“I'm going back to headquarters to see what else we can find; meet me back there, okay?” As he watched Jake go from his sight, Jay nodded and thanked him for his assistance.

He didn't know what else to do, so he had to break the dreadful news to you. It turned out to be for the best. He was good at one thing: conveying bad information to others. What an ironic Reaper. With a shake of your head, you prepared to go to Y/N's flat.

Here goes nothing.

Jay was gone in a flash of dust and now stood in a familiar location, squinting as everything appeared to be different. Jay spotted clothes strewn on the floor, dishes scattered in the sink, and the bathroom's random lights flashing.

He was so preoccupied with the status of the house that he didn't see that your time was slowly eating away at you, that you were holed up under blankets in the bedroom with chest discomfort and dizziness that came and went.

Your once-young body was losing its ability to hold on to life. As you coughed loudly and grinned as you motioned for him to come over to you, you looked up and noticed him standing in the doorway.

You quietly sighed as you slowly climbed up, your hand resting on your chest.

‘So-so any news captain. “I need something to take my mind off the pain.”

As he prepared his message, Jay didn't make eye contact with you as he lifted your blanket over your body and patted it down. This felt different than relaying bad news as the “BIG AND BAD GRIM REAPER” As he was going to burst your bubble, something inside ached. What do people refer to it as? Sadness.

What exactly did you do to him?

“So, Y/N, please wait until I finish before you speak.” He took a big breath and continued, his lips curling in. “We've at a dead end; Jake and I spoke with Melvin, who indicated they were discussing the "Crossing," which in Grim Reaper lingo means "no go." That's a place where no one ever returns; it's only conceivable if you have a guide, which I'm not sure they did. They could be lost or worse, stolen by a spirit, for all I know. I-, I'm sorry, but I'm not sure.”

He heard your voice and looked down, avoiding eye contact. "It's okay Jay,"   He jerked up and glanced at your frail form, perplexed and terrified. In the light of your candle, he could see better, but death was creeping up on him. He just had a day  before he had to take you. He wasn't pleased with the situation or with you.

“It was a big ask, but I'm happy you and Jake did your hardest,” you said, a tear streaming down your cheek. That's all I requested, and despite the fact that it didn't work out, I liked the gesture, so thank you.”

“Thanks for doing business with you,” you said with a grin on your face as you extended your hand to him. As you looked him in the eyes, he took your weak hands in his and gently shook them.

“What, do I have something on my face? I don't want to appear unkempt.” You laughed and reached for your hands to be unlatched from his grip. Rather than releasing go, he drew you closer to him and kissed your gentle lips.

As you released each other, he wasn't thinking; in reality, he was panicked.

“Um- I don’t know what that is but I have to go. Sorry, I'll pick you up tomorrow-” “Please don't go,” you said as you took a big breath and clutched his hand. If I'm being honest, I'm afraid, and I could use some companionship before I take my final breath.”

“Sleep well y/n, we have a long walk tomorrow,” he said as he sat down on the bed and took your hand in his again before turning off the lamp. When you felt a squeeze in your palm, you smiled and laid over, allowing sleep to take control.

---

You were startled awake by Jay, who sat across from you, peering at the clock, as though intently staring at it.

You scooted up and waved a hand in front of his face to grab his attention, but he continued to stare at the clock.

“You have a few hours left, you know? Sorry, I was just doing some math." He turned to face you as you stumbled out of bed, grasping the bedside table before lifting yourself up like a drunk woman.

“Oh, well, it appears that my body is shutting down. Fun.” As you pushed him out of the room, you gave him a thumbs up.

“Let me get dressed; I want to look my best for when I DIE!” Jay was startled and furrowed his brows as he walked slowly to his seat, pondering why this generation was so eager to die.

You put on a cute hoodie your grandmother gave you and threw on some pants. As you fumbled about for shoes, you heard Jay ask a question from the other side of the door that made you pause.

'Are you going to call your parents or someone else?'

When you think back on your life, you were in theirs, but not much of them were in yours, which made you resentful of them. You didn't dislike them; you just preferred to spend your time and energy with people who made you feel at ease.

Your grandparents made you feel that way and you didn't have time to waste on people who you could care less about.

“I guess I'll send a text over.” Huffing, you took out your phone and entered your message into an already-created group chat.

"Hey guys, I'm not feeling well, could you come tomorrow?" you say.

(read 10:25 a.m.)

(typing bubbles)

(bubbles disappears)

Mom: This is such a last-minute thing, but your father and I are leaving tomorrow for a business trip that will last a week. Maybe when we come back. I'll send Sylvia over because I gave her the day off. “Be careful.”

Throwing your phone you yelled aggressively as you looked around your space. Even while you're dying, they don't give a damn about you. What is fucking family anymore?  You took one final look at your bed before stepping out and calling Jay, as if you didn't care any longer.

“Hey you good, I heard screaming but didn't want to interrupt if you were nude or something,” he said, looking up at your hesitant face. As you passed him on your way to the door, a smile crept across your lips.

“Oh shut up, come on, I got a request.”

Jay got up and walked past you as you turned to see your whole life stored away in a small space. Even if you didn't know where Jay would lead you, you had a feeling it would be better, right?

“Goodbye” As you walked slowly to your car in the parking lot, you grabbed Jay's hand in yours as you closed the door. As you held his hand even more, you felt it tense up.

“Hey what was that for?”

“You whine a lot, don't you? Come on, I've got a few more dying wishes before you take me and send me off somewhere, let's fucking go.”

He saw you let go of your hand as you walked to the opposite side of your car, hopped in, and turned on the ignition.

“Are you sure you're up for this? I don't want you passing out on me.”

Jay rushed next to you as he reached for your shoulder as a cough steadily burst from your throat, causing you to grasp your chest in anguish. You shook your head and gave your body a couple shakes as you waved your hand at him.

“I'm good, you know the exact time, so give me a heads up whenever I'm close.” “Anyway, less about my condition and more on the fun we're about to have.”

You put your foot on the brake and drove out the parking lot and on your way to the boardwalk that was a good distance away.

“Sit back, it'll be around 2 hours before we get to my favorite spot.”

Jay offered you a troubled expression as he laid his head on the window, pondering the time you had left while gazing out the window.

*8 hours left, you had eight hours left*

---

Coming up over the infamous hill, you notice the blue seas and immediately begin to brighten up as you repeatedly punch Jay in the arm.

“Jay... Jay... JAYYYY loook were here,” He grabbed your hand and swung it the other way before slowly turning to face you before your final punch. Don't bother Reapers while they're asleep; they don't get enough sleep as it is, and constantly bringing souls is exhausting.

“Please stopp I heard you the first five fucking times.” As he turned back to face the water, he rolled his eys and chuckled a little. The way the waves drenched the salty surface back and forth was more than simply water; it was an artwork.

Even though this might be your last moments on earth, you were glad you found someone to spend them with as you saw Jay's look. You put your hand on his shoulder and signaled for you to depart.

He stepped out of the car, mesmerized by the quiet waters, and walked over to your side, his gaze never leaving the sea.

“It's strange, I've seen my days of oceans before, and I've probably gone to all of them many times, but this one feels different. For a little moment, I forgot I wasn't human. Oh that remind me”

Jay rotated in a circle as he appeared to you dressed in more fashionable attire to placate the human crowd. He clutched your arm as he lost his footing for a second, then raced forward towards the boardwalk, thanking you.

“Hurry up, I didn't transform into a normal male for nothing, I want to see what you folk do up here.” He sneaked a glimpse at you as you laughed heartily at him, and before he knew it, you were running past him, his hand in yours, and on your way to the boardwalk's many attractions.

Spilled ice cream cups, lost money from arcade games, the sides of yours and his faces scorching from a lack of sunscreen, and not to mention the continual brushing of each other's hands were all part of the day. You took Jay's hand as the crowds filtered off the boardwalk and brought him to one of your favorite areas, the sand. As you approach the ocean now that the sun has lowered somewhat, it feels chilly.

As you stand in the cool ocean, letting the waves wash over your feet and taking a deep breath, attempting to relax, you feel a touch on your back. When you open your eyes, you notice Jay standing next to you, his gaze fixed on you. You laughed and placed your head on his shoulder; he didn't flinch or react this time.

He'd become accustomed to it and even loved it.

“How much time do we have left? Will I miss the sunset? Please say no.” You drooped your lips and glanced towards him, anxiously awaiting his response.

“Don't worry, you'll have time,” he said, taking your hand in his and pulling you down further away from the water as you both watched at the ball of light travelling toward the horizon.

The dazzling and flaming sun began to be swallowed by the sky as nightfall approached. The sky suddenly fills with beautiful, rich colors ranging from soothing blues to powerful reds and bright oranges, and finally thin, melancholy clouds.

Jay drew you closer, which surprised you, but you didn't mind because it was getting colder and fewer people were leaving the beach, leaving fragments of people strewn about. Jay drew your attention to himself before relaying the news to you.

Allow me to speak before I say what I truly need to say; these past three weeks have been incredible and eye-opening. I had no idea there were individuals out there that battled and were as brave as you. I understand how difficult it must be to go through all of these changes, but-”

A tear trickled down your face as you coughed, interrupting his speech.

*10 minutes left*

“Oh don’t start crying,” “All I wanted to say is thank you for allowing me to experience something different than my typical routine,” you joked as you pushed his chest. I don't get out very often, but tonight was enjoyable; I hope it distracted you from your worries.”

As you clasped your chest and pulled Jay out of worry, a fast cough attack hit your system.

*5 minutes left*

“I-i woul-l-d love to talk more about our fond memories but my chest is hurting and I think you need to get to the point.” You unbunched his shirt from your fist and let him continue, smiling despite your pain.

He embraced you in his arms because he was afraid he wouldn't have enough time to relay everything.

“Fuck it” 

He drew you in and kissed you again, this time more passionately than before. Your heart skipped a beat as heat rose from your stomach to your chest, and you weren't sure if it was a legitimate emotion or your condition was approaching. As you drew him closer to you, flinging your arms around his neck and smiling, the fragrance of salty sea water filled your nostrils. This moment, the taste of him… It calmed your racing thoughts and made you feel as if your heart was slowing down.

*1 minute left*

As you backed away from his kiss, your eyesight faded in and out, and as you looked about, your vision in the inner corners of your eyes started to go black. It was occurring, and your time was running out. You staggered into Jay's arms as he spoke into your ear, looking back at him.

“See you on the other side Y/N”

---

When you first awoke, you peered around at the dark waters, then looked up to see the real Jay. His Scythe's blade gleamed in the moonlight, and his velvet hood blew in the breeze. Not turning around you heard his voice, distinctly differently than before.

“Get ready, we're closing in on our dock.”

You slowly stood up and felt a prickling sensation on your wrist as you noticed your bracelet was lightly shining, something it had never done before. Perhaps it was the moonlight reflecting off of it.

You observed three figures standing at the dock through the mist and tried to figure out who they were. You didn't realize it until you got off the boat.

“Gramps and Gram, what?” Your voice trembled as tears streamed down your cheeks. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

“Is this a joke,” As you grabbed them in a deep hug, a hand pushed you closer to them.

“We missed you pumpkin.” You turned around and went towards the dark figure, making sure not to hit his Scythe as you drew Jay into a hug as you got snot on his coat.

“I thought you said you couldn't find them,” you remarked. “I had given up hope.” His face was obscured by a black gloom, so you couldn't see him.

“Um, sorry but could you change back to your normal self, just this once.” Jay reappeared in his usual body, simply regular old Jay, in a split second.

“I apologize for forgetting about that, but please don't thank me. It was all my pal Jake over there.” You turned around and raced over to Jake, hugging him and almost shoving him off the dock.

“Thank you thank you so much, I owe you one.” “Don't worry about it,” he said as he stepped back.

After letting go of him, you returned to the location where your grandparents were standing and took their hands in yours. It was time for you to leave, and all you had to do was walk away.

As tears streamed down your cheeks, you came to a halt and turned around to face him. It didn't take long for you to run back into his arms.

“I'm not usually this way, but I'm glad I found someone I can call a friend.” Jay, I hope we run across each other. Thank you for everything; I just wanted to let you know that your efforts are appreciated.”

You let him go and wave to him after pulling him into a goodbye kiss. You hear him calling out to you.

“I think I like you Y/N?”

“Well, I think we should talk about that the next time I see you.” You turn back and continue on your journey, giggling at his childish antics as you fade into the darkness.

As he and Jake hopped back into the boat to return home, Jay's smile never faded.

“I told you so”

“Oh shut it.”

He'd finally found that thing you'd always talked about, that haven where you felt so comfortable that the rest of the world couldn't possibly come crashing down around you. He was overjoyed to have discovered his HOME and vowed to do everything in his power to ensure he never lost it.

“See you soon Y/N.”

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣

➳ Navigate to the Maze

[dwlrmoon]

Astrological Analysis: I.M "Duality"

An astrological analysis of I.M's solo album "Duality" & how his astrological placements manifest through the songs. Changkyun said that he poured his entire soul into this album, so I thought it'll be really cool to dissect the songs in the astrological lens because I'm in love with his artistry.

REMINDER

Observed & analyzed through western tropical astrology; we are missing information due to lack of confirmed birth time, so I can only deliver using the traditional 7 planets (mainly the personal chart) without a house system.

DUALITY

Having the album entitled "Duality" with songs expressing this topic (esp. the title track) reminds me of his Aquarius placements, mainly the Sun. I.M has his Sun in detriment, meaning that his Sun is "weak" or uncomfortable in that sign. As the sister sign of Leo, Aquarius symbolizes celebrities, fame, the star in tarot, as well as hopes & dreams. Aquarius can represent notoriety & infamy while simultaneously having the stereotype of the loner or outsider, not wanting to be perceived or "understood."

Using traditional rulership, Aquarius is ruled by Saturn who also rules Capricorn. If Capricorn rules authorities & conformities, Aquarius is the rebellious younger sibling refusing to conform & rather revolt, deviating from the norm. I.M placed his artistry in precedence; convincing SSE to use God Damn as the title track despite the profanity requiring him to release this album digitally in addition to him creating the tracks in his own style that may or may not be in line with k-pop or Monsta X.

GOD DAMN

In true I.M fashion the song & MV are very concupiscent, & since I already talked about the duality that is expressed through this song, let's talk about the MV specifically. Pisces rules escapism & addiction & his Pisces Venus was very on brand to go with alcohol as the imagery of getting high to hide from his frustrations. This piece is highly self-reflective & he encourages listeners to read between the lines, it's quite Saturnian in nature. I also love how the lyrics have that duality of hating & loving whoever/whatever that is ruining/comforting him—I really associate this with his Martian Moon (him assigning Misbehave as the song that represents him is so... Aries Moon).

HOWLIN'

No more taming 'bout my color I swing 'till I get, what’s the problem? Problem I ain't follow simply what I see I go follow what I need 'Cause I see that I'm loyal Imma go on my speed, even I'm slow

The 1st verse reminds me a lot of his Saturnian + Martian energy—no more wanting to be someone he's not, doing his own thing without care of what others may think. However, the last 2 lines really highlight the fixed modality of his Aquarius: I love that he says he's loyal even if he goes on his speed which can be slow; he doesn't care as long as he gets there.

I don't celebrate 'till I make it till the end Ain't time for the 'hol up' You want me be a shade but I'm made for a big wave Ain't time for the 'hol up'

This song has a lot of Saturnian themes esp. the chorus. It reminds us that Saturn rules time—he doesn't succumb to the challenges & distractions or "hold ups," rather focusing on his goal & only celebrating once he reaches the mountaintop. Saturn is karmic, it takes its sweet time to give you your rewards that you must work laboriously for. He knows he's made for something bigger (Aquarius), & with his perseverance (fixed), determination & passion (Aquarius Mars + Aries Moon), he will be rewarded despite all the struggles (Saturn).

Don't call me, I'm drivin' I just wanna keep on ballin’ Even though when you are hatin’ Woah Grab me when I'm fallin’ 'Cause I make myself so lonely You know that I'm howlin'

However, Saturn can be extremely isolating & Aquarius is akin to the underdog. Of course we don't know where his placements are, but his Pisces Venus contributes to that isolation. He feels lonely & he knows that, but he inevitable makes himself lonely which Aquarius natives can do when they develop that mentality of me v.s. the world sometimes. Keep in mind that Aquarius rules community yet the outsider, showcasing that wanting to be alone while wanting someone to be there for him. Saturn is burden & he's a lone wolf used to being alone carrying all that burden himself.

BURN

The night has become cold and now it's a meaningless fight I don't wanna waste my time on the past time Endless shot, let me head to the top I don't wanna waste my time on the past time Burn the accumulated emotions, burn Burn everything without leaving anything, burn

An Aries Moon anthem? I find that Aries placements love having fire/burning imagery if not in their songs then in their MVs. Aries is Martian, cardinal & fire by nature, which means that Aries Moons may get irritated fairly quickly—a quick temper? But they get over it super quickly, kind of like blowing off steam & then letting it go right after. The Moon rules our emotions, & I think the lyrics speak for itself here. The allusion to the fight is very Martian as well.

I'm mixed and complex, yeah I don't know myself well, eh Yesterday I couldn't empty it out, yeah I'd rather burn it, yeah The tears that fell are oil Make the flame burn higher Pour it out, no more regrets Burn it all up and high, yeah

I really enjoy I.M's introspective & intrapersonal nature; he always says he doesn't know himself well & accepts that rather than fighting it. He accepts all facets of himself, & that's very refreshing. The 2nd verse made me chuckle a little bit because the first 2 lines look Aquarius while the rest is Aries. Not to mention he has an Aquarius Mars conjunct Sun, so, more Martian energy there. Cardinal + Martian give me that attitude he portrays very well in this song—throw some more oil, let it burn more so that there'll be no regrets. Another Aries placement who wrote something like this? Yoongi.

HAPPY TO DIE

I could die right now, yeah I can never lie, yeah You bring me to sky Let me be yours till I die When you say goodbye, yeah Bury me on your heart, yeah Don't you say that word Could you keep it till I die? You brought me back to the real love I wanna get lost here forever

There is so much to unpack in this little song... The chorus is a mixture of Saturnian commitment & Aries headstrong, passionate reckless energy motivated by his romanticist Pisces Venus. The title itself, the whole concept of this song, is fundamentally Pisces (his DSC would be really cool to talk about here, if we had the birth time, but we don't, so).

We're childish like we were when we used to play back then I let go of rationality as if I'm drawn by the wind I don't know what this feeling is Even if I try to pretend I don't know, everything seems to be obvious, yeah I don't know, I like it the way it is I don't know me well, I don't know I guess it's not a lie that I really like you I'm happy to die right now

Verse 1 truly has my heart in a grip. He has a rational & intellectually-minded Saturnian Mercury & Sun, yet once he's in love he gets enamoured & childish, rendered completely irrational. It's giving me Aries meets Pisces—of the moment, idealistic, just overwhelming emotions taking control of his Saturnian mind, which I find funny because he has Moon square Mercury.

Things of mine might go away and shape Will just change, but don't you change When I'm low, could you make me not alone? I could die right now if we were just this crazy about each other

Pisces is sentimental & can represent past lives, that feeling of being stuck in the past? Pisces Venus is visionary & idealistic, they're more in love with the idea of love than love itself sometimes. Here we see that theme of isolation again, his Aquarius could play a role here, but his Pisces placements are also desperate to be loved. The last line, like said before, is utterly Pisces because Romeo & Juliet is known to be a Pisces type of relationship, plus with that Aries Moon... it just makes sense since Aries Moons love the rush & passion.

시든 꽃 FLOWER-ED

Somehow I have no strength to resist I stay right where I am It's not like I'm longing for someone But I'm standing there

Personally loving how his songs gradually grow more & more Piscean? The overwhelming emotion of yearning with no one to long for is so Pisces/Jupiterian Venus in general. Like I said, they're idealistic & in love with the idea of love more than anything—not the happy kind of love either. I notice that Jupiterian Venuses play with the theme of wanting a lot, mainly because they are ruled by the planet of expansion. Distance is a huge theme in Jupiterian signs, & they idealize that.

When you step on me like it's nothing I desperately want you to come back and hug mе I deeply remember your smilе that laughed at me While I was being illuminated by you

Because Pisces placements love the idea of love & the feeling of longing for someone they can get into the habit of sacrificing themselves, hence their association with the hanged man in tarot. They are too focused on the fantasy of love to take off their rose tinted glasses.

I don't really blame you I know your days by my side Have faded away Please don't disappear, oh

The hand that held me, the eyes that captured me are all blind The scattered hands, the shining eyes are gone

I don't know what else to say here, like, I think you guys understand how these verses really depicts his Pisces Venus very well... With a Venus conjunct Saturn it can really emphasize isolation & rejection as well—this aspect feels like they are deprived of love, so they crave it desperately even if it hurts them which is a theme of Pisces. Him titling this track "withered flower" in Korean is so Pisces Venus of him overall.

[binniesthighs]

1-800-Be-Mine | reader x minho | sfw

happy valentines day!! this lil fic of mine is something very new and different from what I’ve tried before and I’m so so excited to share it with you!!

Pairing: self insert, gender neutral reader x lee minho

Genre: fluff, sci-fi, futuristic au, valentines day special! 

Tags: strangers to lovers, sci-fi au, futuristic au, blind date au, AI au with a twist, mentions of food and alcohol, featuring hyunjin, tiny heart-shaped confetti of comedy and rebelling against the man lol, fluffy growing feelings 

Warnings: Minho’s character in this is an adorable, charming, feeling, AI robot. haha idk if this is a warning but it might not be everyone’s cup o’ tea, if so, that’s why I’m mentioning it :) 

Tagging: @stayhavens​ thank you for allowing me to be a part of this event ❤️

Word count: 7.1k 

“If it’s the color of your shirt that you’re worried about, I don’t think that he’s gonna care.” 

“--I can’t believe that you’re putting me through this. I didn’t even ask for...whatever the hell this all is.” 

“You’re getting worked up over nothing, Y/n. This whole thing is literally the lowest commitment thing that you could ever do on Valentines Day.” 

For the twentieth time, you held up the shirt and hanger over your torso in front of you streak-stained mirror. It shouldn’t have mattered much, or even at all, but here you were, wondering what color a synthetic human would like on your body the most. 

With feet in the air, your best friend swung his feet with pointed toes and eyes glued to his phone. 

“Quit looking at me like that.” Hyunjin didn’t even need to rise his head up to feel your glare. “He’s programmed to forget about you the second that your time runs out, so, I really don’t know why you’re wasting your time over this.” 

One more time, you switched the creamy white satin for the wine-red velvet. 

“God, this is so depressing.” The shirt hangers clinked together where you threw them down on your bed. “It’s all your fault too.” 

“I can’t see why you aren’t excited for this!! I literally made it so he’s perfect for you. There’s like, a 0% chance that this is gonna go badly. You could spit escargot into his lap or get his tie stuck in the car door and he’d still think that you’re the best thing ever. You can do no wrong.” 

“That’s the point...” 

The floor started to look a lot more appealing in your despair. If you were making a dramatic show for yourself or for you friend, you had no idea, but somehow it felt a little better letting your body sliiide down the side of the wall into a little pool of half-done make-up and hair still damp.  

“Stop throwing a tantrum.” Hyunjin scolded. “You have to be there in 45 minutes.” 

“What if I...just don’t show up?” 

“Then, you’d be robbing me of $360 and the most expensive gift that I’ve ever gotten for you. And, you’d break my heart. I don’t wanna be heartbroken on Valentines Day. I’d hate you forever.” 

“Nooooo you wouldn’t.” You tossed your forehead into the palms of your hands. 

“I’d hate you for a month probably.” 

“Don’t you have somewhere that you need to be?” As expected, your hands were smudged a bit from the tiny dusting of eyeshadow that you had added to your lids. 

“I told you already, she doesn’t get off until 8 so I’ve still got time. Besides, I already set everything up back at the apartment. I’m in no rush.” At last, your friend cast aside his phone on the mattress with a bounce. “Get up. I’ll help you. You should still look nice anyway...even if he doesn’t care. This night is about you anyway.” 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Is satin supposed to feel scratchy...? What? Satin being itchy? ...You must be going crazy if you think-- 

“--Annnd we’re here!” 

The wheels of Hyunjin’s less than glamourous car skidded in front of the hotel with an obvious screech. He was never one for being a good driver anyway. With the pull of his hand through is blond hair he nodded his head for you to open your door. 

“Time’s ticking. It’s nearly 7.” 

“--Jin--” 

“I’m not explaining it again. Just go do the damn thing. You’re overthinking it. Like you do with everything...” 

Your best friend rolled his eyes which were blue today: a part of his own Valentines Day outfit: that of which he looked much better than you thought you had. He had slung his arm over his steering wheel looking on, and even more impatient with you by the second. 

“Is it a fucking crime to be nervous??” 

Hyunjin laughed out sharply. “You’re so cute. ~Especially when there isn’t anything to worry about.~” 

You flicked him hard on his perfect arm covered by his perfectly planned and billowy white top. 

“Would you like to go out there and meet him if it’s so easy?” 

After a subsequent eye roll, your friend reached his long arm to pop open the car door on your side. “You’re not going to make me drag you, are you?” 

“I can get it myself.” You growled, shoving his hand away. 

The February air was crisp, and just cold enough for your breath to appear lightly in front of your face. Immediately, you started to regret everything: the itchy satin shirt (which you guessed probably wasn’t satin) the stiffness of your styled hair, and the way that your feet felt in the pair of shoes that you had broken out just for the occasion. You had even put perfume on; something that a “strictly deodorant” person as yourself found to be suffocating and odd. 

Do Mirrors even have a sense of smell? 

On the busy street, cars whipped past with headlights of yellow and red, and the bustle of the holiday evening buzzed on the sidewalk with couples marching down the way arm and arm and hand in hand. The energy of the evening seemed vibrant almost as if the whole world seemed to be slightly more awake. The plastic heels of ladies in their best shoes clicked past. 

“Good luck!” 

Hyunjin mustered up the most genuine smile that you thought possible for him to craft considering it wasn’t genuine in the slightest. 

“Text me about it tonight--or--actually, not tonight, I’ll be...” He obviously winked, “...busy tonight.”  

“You’re disgusting!!” 

You slammed the car door in Hyunjin’s snide smirk while he laughed out a “Love you!” before speeding away without a care. 

The remnants of old snow caked up in the corners of the hotel where Hyunjin had arranged the date. The hotel itself was very old fashioned looking, almost like it had come right out of one of those old movies he would tease you for liking--it was probably why he had chosen it, you thought to yourself. There was a large golden marquee with a strand of lightbulbs tracing the edge all around it much like an old-timey theater, which gave the name for the hotel. At the doorway made of the same golden hue, there were attentive bellhops in matching blue velvet uniforms and leather gloves that they blew in to to keep their hands warm. 

When you thought more of it, the night was a bit colder than expected, so you pulled your coat closer to your body. Hyunjin had suggested that you wear your pea coat, however it’s warmth factor wasn’t something to write home about. He had something about how it had made your arms look good...as if he would care anything like what your arms looked like. 

You pulled out your phone with your cold fingers to find the information that Hyunjin had sent you. 

Name: Lee Minho 

Model: Generation Four 

Specifications: Personalized 

Service time: 7pm-12am 

Instructions: Meet at the front entrance of the the hotel The Grand at exactly 7pm where the Mirror will be waiting. Mirror will look like: [see image] 

You hovered your hand over the little see image tab. Before, you had decided that you didn’t want to see the picture, and rather leave it as a surprise. That was the thrill of a blind date, right? For a moment, you rationalized it as peeking so that you knew what he looked like so you could find him. You hovered, and hovered... 

“No, I shouldn’t...” You whispered out to the open air while you shoved your phone back into your pocket. 

“Excuse me?” One of those attentive bellhops had snuck behind you and rose a caring hand to your shoulder: an action which made you jump. “Is there anything that I can help you with? Are you waiting for someone?” 

“Oh.” You straightened yourself. “Yes, I am waiting for someone. They’ll be here really--” 

“--Is it me that you’re waiting for?” 

He had strolled right up to you, and you could barely form the words on your mouth to say “yes.” You had heard the stories about Mirrors before, but as far as you had known, this was your first time ever seeing one this close...and you wouldn’t have even known that he was any different from the flesh and bones that you knew you had. 

He was devastatingly handsome; the kind of handsome that models were. Every single one of his features seemed to be carefully planned and calculated down to the little freckle on his nostril and his nose bridge of a perfect angle. Even his physical proportions seemed to be perfect: his arm muscles curved in wonderful angles under his black suit jacket that had one button at the front. He was dressed simply: merely a black tux with a white button up underneath and a deep navy blue tie. His chocolate brown eyes were a bit unique, looking even slightly cat-like. 

Not like you had a type, but if you were to have one, he definitely would have been it. 

He smiled upon seeing you, and coolly adjusted his silver cufflinks which you noticed had an insignia on them that looked a familiar: it was that picture of the eye with the spokes around it, the symbol of 3rdEyeCorp. As expected, everything in life seemed to come with a branding: even synthetic humans. 

“Should we go inside?” 

His voice was gentle and soothing, the kind of voice that you knew could lull you to sleep or convince you to do things that you wouldn’t want to. It was a voice that could put you at ease, and you wondered if that was intentional. Perhaps Hyunjin had told them that at times you could be neurotic. 

You finally squeaked out a, “Yes.” then followed him towards the soft glow of the magnificent building. He had slipped over past you to open the door, letting you enter first. 

“Oh...thanks...” 

As you passed him, you could have sworn that he smelled like some kind of citrus scent. In fact, you didn’t know that he could even have a smell. This was but one of the many questions that had been plaguing you for the past couple weeks since learning of Hyunjin’s plan. 

It wasn’t that he smelled like a person: that kind of earthy scene mixed up with the lingering scent of shampoo on hair, or a bit of mint holding to the corners of your mouth after you had brushed your teeth right before you exited the door. Still, you didn’t mind the citrus, it was better than nothing at all, you assumed. 

He walked up to the maître d with perfect posture, and it was then when you noticed that you were slightly shorter that he was. His suit was pressed, and a line ran down the back directly over his spine. 

“2 for L/n?” He said properly, and it felt strange hearing your last name come from his mouth. 

“Right this way.” 

He looked back at you, almost as if to see if you were doing okay. He held a little glint in his eyes that looked careful, caring even. From the very few words that he had said to you, he still maintained a composure about him that was...human. He was comfortable. 

The three of you reached the table with the ironed white table cloth, small bouquet of red roses and two flickering tea candles. The lighting of the room was dim as all restaurants such as this were, and there was a light hum about the room coupled with the occasional clink of silverware on China. There was a fireplace to the corner of the room, and the dense smell of expensive wine hung in the air. 

The maître d placed down the menus. “Your server will be with you shortly.”

You thought the small action a bit comical. You were the only one who knew his secret. Still, he nodded with a polite smile. “Thank you.” 

The satin fabric on your shirt scraped at your bare chest, and you attempted your slyest attempt at making a tiny itch look nonchalant. He picked up the menu with a few of his brown strands dipping over his eyes. You studied him as he looked it over, not having a clue why. You thought that you had heard somewhere that his kind couldn’t eat. Perhaps he was a new model. 

“I’m sorry. I haven’t formally introduced myself yet.” He put the menu down with a little embarrassed smile. “I must’ve forgotten. I’m Lee Minho.” 

“I know.” Your cheeks felt hot. “Uh-and I’m Y/n. But--you probably knew that too.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Smile lines crinkled under his eyes. It was the first imperfection you could find about him. 

“Yo-you too.” 

Minho reached out a slender and pale hand for you to shake and you stared it in a moment of fear. You had never touched a Mirror before, much less wondered what they felt like. 

“I don’t bite.” He chuckled out a small laugh that was much too cute for his own good. His shoulders then appeared to relax and he allowed himself to slouch. “At least, my model doesn’t.” 

You choked out an ugly chortle at the joke. “Ah. I see.” 

“You don’t have to be scared of me. I promise that I feel like anyone else.”

You took it, jumping a little at the sensation. He was warm--not exactly like you expected him to be cold and metallic however. The skin of his hand was cracked and grooved as normal, and it was squishy as if you could feel the muscles that would be underneath. 

With a warm grin, he soothed you saying, “See?” 

‘Oh...mmhm.” You shook his hand firmly. “Holy shit that's really creepy.” You muttered the words as softly as you thought you could have. 

“Creepy?” He laughed out again. “Should I be offended? No one has ever called me creepy before.” 

“Oh! Um, s-sorry, I didn’t mean--” 

“--It’s okay! I was just kidding. I completely understand. Especially if this is your first time meeting someone like me. It is your first time?” 

You nodded drawing your hand back with the warmth from his hand still lingering on yours. 

“Let me know if there is anything that I can do to make you more comfortable. Seems like...we’re meant to be too.” 

“--Meant to be?” You nearly dropped your cloth napkin to the ground. 

“I mean, based off of your profile, they thought that I would be best suited for you. And you know...the programming and all that.” 

“Oh! I guess so...” 

Next, you thought it best to busy yourself with that glass of water that was looking very oddly refreshing. 

“I meant to tell you as well that you look very nice. I think that color suits you very well.” 

Drops of water got caught in your throat, “T-AHEM-this?” You pinched at the fabric. 

Minho’s eyes widened at your sputtering coughs, signaling to a waiter to come fill your glass once more. 

“Sorry, was I not supposed to say that?” 

“No! No no, it’s...you’re fine. I was just a little surprised.” 

“Surprised? Why?” 

“I just didn’t think that you would...nevermind.” 

Even though you had nearly choked yourself seconds ago, up went your water glass to your lips once more. 

Minho fidgeted with his bangs with his pinky finger: a surprisingly vain little task. Under the dull lighting of the whole room, he did look very handsome; almost much too handsome to be in such a place with you. All at once, you became suddenly aware of the irregular patterns of those eyes peeking at you from their own tables with haughty and whispering words on their lips. 

“You look...very nice as well.” 

“Mm thank you.” As charming as ever, he gave a smile back. “This is my first time wearing this. I actually picked it out myself. I thought that you would like the color.” His pale fingers ran down the silk indigo tie. 

“You thought about it too??” 

“Thought about what?” 

A snide smile crept over your mouth. Hyunjin could eat his words. 

“Well do you? Like it?” A curious little smearing of worry painted Minho’s brow that was once again must too cute for his own good. 

“I-I do like it.” 

In all honesty, Minho would have looked good in anything, you thought, no matter how ridiculous. Under the thin white cotton of his shirt, you could see his toned pectorals as well. One pinch to the side of your leg was just enough to scold yourself. 

He looked around himself in a bit of a silent wonder: from the rafters of the high ceilings painted in gold leaf, to the speakeasy on the far edge of the room with the posh looking bartender.  

“I always thought that places like this were kind of stuffy.” He wrinkled his nose. 

“You...what?” 

“There's always someone at one table wondering if they look better, rank higher, or are more successful than the person at the other. Don’t you think the same?” 

“I mean...I think they do keep looking us?” 

“Ah. I noticed that too.” 

Minho looked around himself carefully, then leaned in closer towards you. “Do you think that they know that I’m...you know?” 

You snorted out a laugh covered by your hand. “What? No? How could they?” 

“A hunch.” 

“Can you even get hunches?” 

“I may be a robot, but I can still read a room.” 

You hushed him, “Shhhh! Say that any louder and then they’ll really know.” 

A waiter in a black apron sauntered up to your table with a thin moustache and a big of a sagging face. He looked a bit less like a real waiter and more like a cartoon one. 

“Good evening. Have you finished looking over the menus? Perhaps a bottle of wine to start you off? We have a new house merlot that I would highly  recommend.” He reached a spiny finger to point at the name on your menu. “It would pair particularly well with our specials tonight. Seeing as it is Valentines day--” 

The droning of the waiter continued on, and you had noticed that Minho wasn’t paying any attention at all. Rather, he had settled his gaze on the flickering of the candles, and the yellow light sparked in his pupils. For mere seconds, you could see something a bit different about them: a extremely thin circle of blue-white light around his irises.  

The waiter pulled out his pad with an expectant gaze. 

“Uh-yeah, I-I’ll take that. That--whatever-you-just-mentioned.” 

He appeared puzzled. “You wish to start with the special orange Crème Brule first?” 

“Ah-no! Sorry, can you..” You cringed, “Repeat what you just said?” 

He rolled his eyes, but did respectfully as he was told while you sunk further into your chair with Minho’s teasing smirk. This time you listened to the specials, even though you decided you didn’t even want one, but rather picked one of the cheapest items on the menu. That was one of the drawbacks of paying for your date: he had no obligation to pay for your meal. 

The waiter looked even more puzzled when Minho said he wasn’t ordering anything, but shrugged, burying his pad back into his pocket saying, “I’ll be over with the wine shortly.” 

“Do you want to know something?” Minho leaned back in once the waiter was out of an earshot. 

You treated yourself to yet another sip of your emptying glass, and nodded. 

“There’s at least four others like me in here.” 

“Four? How can you know?” 

“I think I’d know my own kind when I saw them.” 

“I would never be able to tell.” 

The waiter returned, showing the label to the wine to both of you before popping it open and pouring it into glasses with the twist of his wrist. Two drops from the crimson top stained the little napkin he used. 

Minho’s hands toyed with the stem of the glass, but didn’t take a sip. 

“That’s why they call us Mirrors.” 

“How do you mean?” 

“Because you’re supposed to see yourselves in us.” 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Your body had started to warm with the energy of the room after long, and your appetizer of escargot had arrived. Oddly, since Hyunjin had mentioned it before, it embedded in you an odd craving that you couldn’t satisfy until you had some. By now, you had realized that Minho likely wouldn’t have been eating with you, but it was strange: even the other Mirrors in the room appeared to be. 

“I’m assuming that you can’t eat then?” You popped the buttery taste into your mouth.  

“Yes. It doesn’t make sense for my...biology. If you can call it that. I can’t digest food nor do I have the mechanisms to do so.” 

“Maybe we should have done something that didn’t include food then.” 

“I do have something though! I know that eating alone like this can be uncomfortable.” 

He grabbed inside his inside suit pocket and pulled out a wallet: thin and black leather. It had almost nothing in it save for what looked like a iridescent square. Over top of it was the same logo on his cufflinks. He flipped it around his fingers like a playing card. 

“What is it?” 

“My dinner.” He sated matter-of-factly. 

“You’re gonna...eat that? Maybe you shouldn’t--”

He placed it neatly in front of himself, pressing the surface and it morphed into some kind of three dimensional polygon shape of pixels, both large and small, until it settled into a perfect copy of your dish that you had sitting in front of you. 

“It’s holographic.” 

“Of course it is.” 

“Newest in tech at 3rdEye. This is my first time using one. They thought it would be a good idea to send the prototypes out with the Mirrors tonight for the beta test. What do you think?” 

“It’s very...realistic.” 

“It’s pocket sized, and it can really transform into anything that you could want, but of course...its still not really solid. Perfect for me though.” 

He took a bite of his escargot with an equally holographic fork. 

“I imagine that it tastes very good.” 

“You can’t taste things?” 

“Unfortunately, no. Since I don’t need to eat, don’t know why I would need to. I’ve got all the other senses though.” 

The house merlot was bitter on your tongue and full bodied. You couldn’t imagine what your life would have been like without taste. He chewed on, and somehow the action really did seem comforting. 

“You’re very um, open about yourself. You know...talking about yourself so bluntly. I feel like some people when they do these things, they just want to keep on that suspension of disbelief as long as they can; pretending that you're--” 

“--A real person?” 

You hadn’t intended on it coming off as insulting, and a “sorry” formed on your lips. 

“--I’m not offended. And, you’re right. Most people do. But, I could sense that you were different. I don’t have a problem telling you about me. Something told me that you would like to know.” 

“Something?” 

“Enough about me though, lets talk about you. You’re a doctor aren’t you?” 

“-For animals. Nothing too crazy. I’m working up my way to have my own practice some day. For now, I’m just doing nurse type stuff. Giving immunizations, checking teeth and stuff like that.” 

“I read your thesis. The one from your pre-vet. I thought that your research was very interesting. How come you didn’t continue on with animal behavior?” 

His string of questions made you crack out into laughter. Never had anyone you had ever dated said that they had read up on you. 

“I can’t believe that you just said that.” 

“What? I had assumed that you might want to talk about something that interests you like that.” 

“That was...so long ago, I don’t even think about that paper anymore.” 

Minho took some of his wine down with a polite dab of his napkin to his lips. 

“How about hiking then? Or those Frank Capra movies that you like? Which one is your favorite?” 

“Stop, stop. This is--” 

His eyes widened. “Did I misspeak again? Your friend said that it would be okay if we did the proper research--” 

“--Just...sorry, it’s strange that you know everything about me already and we’ve hardly just met.” 

“I’m not following.” 

“Can you just...forget like, everything you know about me for a minute? This is supposed to be a blind date isn’t it?” 

“I can do that.” Minho tightened his tie. 

“How about we talk about something else?” 

Minho nodded in agreement with a determined tiny grin. “I can tell you about what I do?” 

“You have a job?” 

Your prompt waiter appeared with a giant silver platter which glinted in the light of the numerous dancing candles around it. The ceramic plates clinked into the glasses assorted on the table, and he lastly offered out freshly grated parmesan for your pasta. You said “when” and he was just as quickly out of your way, but not after granting the both of you one more questioning glare. 

“Yes.” 

Your date flipped over his holographic square, and soon it transformed into another spitting image of your meal. 

“I’m supposed to tell you that I’m a college professor of ornithology but since we’re being blunt here, my job is working for 3rdEye, and doing basically whatever they ask of me. Including this. And actually...” He twisted a string of noodles around his fork. “...I think that it’s going pretty well.” 

A quick giggle erupted out from you. “I’m glad that we’re being honest because you do not look like someone who teaches twenty somethings about birds.” 

“But if I had said I did, would that have made you like me more?” 

“Maybe. I’m sure that they picked that because I did graduate research on migration and flight patterns.” 

“Likely.” 

“Maybe I should have stuck with animal behavior. Then we would have had more to talk about.” 

A silence filled the space between you as you tried your best to eat your pasta with as much grace as you could. Of course, you were still one to get it on your lap and the table cloth, but luckily you had a napkin to protect you. Your date on the other hand, ate as if he was eating with the queen herself. For several moments, you really did allow yourself those brief moments of ignorance: you really were just two people, sitting in a fancy restaurant on Valentines Day, eating a meal together, on a date, as an normal two people would do. Every few moments too, he would look at you with a type of gentle adoration in his eyes too. 

And it felt nice. 

It really was as effortless as Hyunjin had said. You would be eating your words on this one. 

At last, you had scraped out the last chunks of tomato and vegetable bites from your shallow dish, and you sat back which a sense of drowsiness clinging to your eyes. Over time, you had slumped deeper and deeper into your chair as you felt your body warm with the fireplace. You didn’t mean to look, but your watch had read just past 9 o’clock. 

“That all tasted good.” Minho sighed, and slumped along with you. 

“I thought you couldn’t taste?” 

“Ah. You’re right. Well, I enjoyed eating that with you. Did it taste good?” 

“It did.” 

“Should we get some of that orange Crème Brule from earlier?” 

You folded up your napkin on the table. “You mean should I get some of that Crème Brule? I’m the one paying here remember?” 

“Are you?” 

With the stretch of your arms, you answered, “Not today. I don’t have that doctor’s pay...yet.” 

“But shouldn’t you eat something sweet on Valentines Day? Isn’t that also what its about?” 

You laughed, “I don’t know where you heard that, but no, it doesn’t.” 

“Ah, I see. My understanding of the holiday is very jumbled. Holidays are like that for us. The sort of emotional attachment to them is hard for us to understand. I’ve watched millions of hours of films to understand them...but--” 

“--Millions?” 

“Yes?” 

“That’s…insane.” 

“Not for me.” He said with a happy little grin. “Should we be leaving?” 

In one motion, he swept up his shirt sleeve, just over his wrist where you had expected him to have a watch. Instead, a faint blue glow emerged on his skin making letters and numbers that you couldn’t read as well from upside down. 

“Hm. 3 more hours. What else would you like to do with our time together?” 

»»————-　♡　————-««

The winter cold bit at your ears while the two of you walked together down the busy urban stretch. Even later into the night the giddy excitement of friends ambling down the streets and couples linking to eachother with tipsy happiness could still be found everywhere. You barely knew him, but you still felt in some way compelled to reach out and interlock your arm with his as those other couples did. You had a half a mind to reach out to him, but another half a mind to keep your arms wrapped around yourself. 

But, as if he had read your mind, he reached out his hand behind him to quietly slip your arm into his. 

“Put your hands in your pockets.” He asked, and you did so. “I figured that you must be cold, so...my body heats itself too, makes me more...you know.” 

He was warm. Much warmer than your entire body felt had felt then, but still you noted that the tips of his ears and nose had turned pink. 

“Where to?” He questioned next. 

“I-I’m not sure. I didn’t think this far.” 

“I could pick?” 

“You know where to go?” 

He was silent for a moment, then nodded. “There’s a place that I wouldn’t mind going to. Do you know how to skate?” 

“Ice...skate?” 

He huffed out with a tiny smile, and you noticed that when he did, no visible molecules could be seen in front of his face. 

“Do you? I can pick something else? It’s not everyone’s skill.” 

“N-no. I can do it.” 

You don’t know why you had said it: perhaps you felt as if you had something to prove to this inhuman person, or you really did want to go there with him, no matter where it was. 

You had never learned how to skate in your life. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

The ice rink was lined with pink and white string lights: likely a Valentines Day decoration. Plastic hearts made of fuzzy tinsel also decorated the edges of the rink and sparkled under the lights. It had been built into the center of a public park, and bodies huddled in winter coats sat together on the benches to the side, waving at those they knew when they slipped past. Tinny music played over the outdoor speakers: it was some pop song that you had heard before, but didn’t know the name of. 

Minho laced up your skates for you, and even then you noticed that his knuckles had turned pink too. 

“Are you...cold?” 

“Oh! This?” He turned his hands around. “No, I’m not. it’s just another one of my humanisms.” 

“Humanisms?” 

“Something to make me look more like you. When it’s cold outside my body senses it and does this.” 

“I see.” 

Even if you knew that he couldn’t possibly feel things in the same why, he was damn convincing--and you couldn’t help but think it was unbearably cute as well. 

“Done! You ready? You can take my hand if you want?” 

You stood wobbly as a deer taking its first steps. Walking on the blades was much more difficult than you would have guessed. He didn’t need to ask twice for you to grab hold. 

“I’m assuming that you know how to do this?” 

“There’s a lot of things that I know how to do.” He winked. 

The second that your feet met the ice, you felt your heart start beating into overdrive with your anxiety of falling. Over the ice, it too felt colder, and that didn’t help much either. With one hand you clawed to the side of the rink, and the other dug into Minho’s arm. 

“I thought that you said that you knew how to skate?” 

“I lied. I’m gonna fall on my fricking face and its gonna be the most embarrassing thing ever. Worse than spitting escargot into your lap.” 

“Spitting escargot? What?” 

“Just--can you help me?” 

He tittered with an adorably warm laugh and grabbed back at you firmly. “I won’t let go.” 

Even the toddlers in their little training bumpers were more skilled than you. Minho was patient, and coached you through the skills of the left and right motions of your feet and getting into a rhythm. You still flapped your arms around wildly like a wobbly penguin, but he was eventually able to coax you away from the wall.

“See! You’re getting the hang of it!” 

“Really?” 

Minho nodded profusely, letting go of both of your hands to hold just one. “Stop looking at your feet and just look at me. You’ll trip yourself up focusing so hard.” 

Other couples whipped past you, and you thought it best not to look at how easy it was for them. 

“I-I think that I’m doing it!” 

Minho’s eyes lit seeing you start to swing your feet back and forth. In that pink lighting of the rink, you could see that thin ring of light around his eyes once more. Even though it was unnatural, you still thought that it looked beautiful. 

“WATCH OUT!!” Came a distant voice from behind you. 

Before you had a second to turn around, a fuzzy blur came barreling into you. Two small bodies: a couple middle school boys chasing each other, came colliding with your teetering body, forcing you to fall to the hard ice with a terrible thud. 

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” One of their pre-pubescent voices cracked. 

“I-I’m fine...I think.” 

Your air had been knocked right out of your lungs and your butt ached with a sharp pain that you hoped you wouldn’t be feeling for days. Both of your hands were wet with ice from the contact. Minho quickly offered you his hand up.

“-You okay?” He brushed ice off of your coat. 

Truthfully, you were horribly shaken, and your chest shook, but you lied once more. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.” 

“No you’re not.” His worried eyes studied you. “Lets get you something warm to drink okay?” 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“One hot chocolate please.” 

Minho fiddled with his wallet, picking out that same iridescent square from before. As soon as his fingers touched it, it glimmered into a credit card. 

“It can do that?” You had uttered, but he gave you back a cautious glare. 

The man at the little coffee stand took it without question, and somehow, it worked. 

“$3.15″ He monotoned, and gave the card back. 

The white Styrofoam cup warmed your hands instantly, and the chocolatey steam delighted your nostrils. 

“Thank you. You didn’t have to.” 

“It’s no problem. I wanted to.” 

You took a sip, but a strange silence befell over your date, and he furrowed his brows. 

Under his breath, he repeated the word “...wanted?” 

The further that you walked along the river together, the less that you wanted to take another look at your watch where it peaked out from your coat sleeve. You imagined that it must have been nearing almost 10:30--optimistically. Instead, you took long and purposeful sips of of your drink and indulged in the way that the heat would seep down from your throat and all the way down your body. 

Onward, one of the great and massive bridges of the city blinked with an array of multicolored lights: some from cars, others from the way that it was decorated to look a bit like shining stars. Under the lights, the navy-black of the river reflected the fractals of light. The walkway was nearly empty of people except for the odd couple sitting and cuddled up by the edge of the water. The water should have been frozen, but it didn’t appear to be giving up just yet. 

Your companion had drawn quiet with eyes cast down to his walking feet. You had half a mind to reach out to him... 

“Is there anything you would like to do?” Your question filled the quiet, but you didn’t expect him to stop in his steps upon hearing it. 

“Are you asking me if there is anything that I want do to?” 

“Yes...?” 

Minho was again quiet, then turned to look at the vast expanse of the cityscape in front of you both. 

Suddenly, he began, “Valentines Day is a holiday that has to do with loving, doesn’t it?” 

You stammered at the question in your confusion, but still answered. “Yes.” 

“You express love on the holiday? You show people that you love them, and that you care for them. Right?” 

“I think so...but why are--” 

“--What do you think that it means to love something?” 

Distantly, cars honked, and music boomed out from drawn down windows, and it floated in the evening air. 

For you, loving was something that was second nature. It was little bits of happiness, fuzzy feelings, but it also ached, and felt like being lost. How could you possibly begin to describe what it meant? 

Minho’s eyes were full of intrigue and even maybe a twinge of desperation. Could Mirrors even hold such a thing in their eyes? 

“I-I’m not sure how to cover it all, but, I guess that I could say that loving something, or someone, is to want them. You want to be around them, you want to see them laugh or smile, you want to make them feel that you care. I don’t think that it is much more complicated than that. 

The man appeared even more confused, almost like he had been computing his own mental calculations right before his very eyes. Then, all at once, his eyes softened. 

“If loving something is to want it; to have desire, desiring is the first step? Love must be simplier than I thought that it was, and maybe...I think that I can do it.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Minho swept up his hands in yours after casting aside the cup to the ground. 

“You asked me if I wanted to do something. But the thing is...I don’t think I’ve ever wanted do to anything ever before in my life. It was just, what others wanted of me and what I colud do for them. Not me.” 

Realization swept over Minho piece by piece, and soon it all unfolded for you too. 

He drew your arms and hands around the back of his neck to pull your body closer to his. 

You might’ve looked before, but his lips looked soft and unbelievably sweet: like melting snowflakes, whipped cream, or the fuzzy flesh of peaches. 

“I do want something.” He said at last. 

“Minho...what are you saying?” 

“I-I can’t tell if what it is that I’m feeling is some kind of algorithm, or I’m just...you’re so...different.” 

“I hope that you’re not just saying this all--” 

“--I’m not! I’m not. I promise...an-and Mirrors can’t lie.” He laughed out. “How can you make a machine that’ll lie to you?” 

His hands crept up your sides, and all the way up to cup your face in his hands.

He was impossible. In every way, but he was real. As real as the warmth from his hands and as real as the way that his mouth appeared to wet with saliva and how you could count the tiny moles on his face. 

“Well, what is it that you--”

He had drawn your face close up into his, then closed any space that divided the two of you. Your lips parted with his into a meeting of his plush lips that were even softer than you had imagined. Even though you knew he couldn’t taste it, you flooded the taste of chocolate into his mouth, and your body shivered in the way that he ran his tongue over your bottom lip. He wasn’t intrusive, but rather curious, and thrilled. Any semblance of him that was any less than the skin that you felt on yours faded, and you poured yourself all back to him. His fingers held fast to the sides of your face while he kissed back every with every bit of him that he could. Even in the one moment when your eyes had fluttered open, he held his eyes closed, to focus only on you. Your own wondering hands laced into his fuzzy locks. 

Each and every kiss that he painted across your lips was laced with indescribable want: something that he shouldn’t have even known, but you could feel it. He echoed the smile that you had pressed into his lips. 

“I just want to be with you tonight. Just a bit longer. No more timers.” Minho whispered onto your mouth, barely breaking. 

On the one hand, his request terrified you. A Mirror, one who you thought to be unfeeling, pre-programmed, an empty shell, wanted you. But still, you couldn’t control yourself from wanting him back, and everything about him that you knew and didn’t know. Wanting him, was the simplest thing you could have done. 

“I-I want that too.” 

His smile was thankful, and suddenly every little way that his eyes would crinkle or the corners of his mouth would upturn seemed more genuine. 

Minho traced your hands to the back of your his neck where he guided them to the tip of his spine. 

“Touch here.” He guided your fingertip over what felt like a bone. “Press down.” 

You did so, and the patch of skin sunk down a bit like a button. You held his eyes which flickered wholly with that blue-white light you had taken notice of before. 

“Say “Bypass LK2510.” “ 

He held your finger down still, and you repeated the phrase, watching as the light vanished all at once, even that thin ring around his irises. 

“What did that do?” 

Minho blinked a couple time like he was ridding sleep from his eyes, then beamed with a grin that only got wider and wider. “They shouldn’t know where I am for a while. You disabled my tracker.” 

“I did what??? Can’t I get in trouble for that??” 

“Not when I made you do it.” 

In his delight, he pressed his lips back up against yours with a kind of light air that was ecstatic and hurried--it was contagious, and the feeling swept over you until you were just as giddy. You were nearly as giddy as a school child reveling in the mischief of knowing what they were doing was against the classroom rules. 

Your chest swelled with nervous excitement, but it wasn’t nearly as addictive as any drug that you could imagine. 

“Where do you want to go now?” You asked him with hands clinging to the sides of his coat. 

“Anywhere.” 

~~

[nsfw version/ending coming soon on binniesthighs!] 

[ladykatakuri]

What`s in a Name

The Bad Batch ( complete with Crosshair and Omega )

Rating: General

Word Count: 2326

Warnings: None, it is a family story about names. There is an OC in here that was part of the group as cadets though!

Summary: “So, how did you all get your names?” Omega looked at them, curious and intent on hearing the stories, all of them, on how her brothers had gotten their own unique names.

Notes: This is something i have been thinking about and decided to write because it is just fun. How did they get their names and how do they feel about it? Omega would know a lot about the guys from her time on Kamino, but i am pretty sure that information about how they got their unique names was not deemed important by either the Empire or the Kaminoans so it would not be included in any official report. Their names might be, only to serve as information when dealing with outsiders on missions, but that is about it.

“So, how did you all get your names?” Omega looked at them, curious and intent on hearing the stories, all of them, on how her brothers had gotten their own unique names.

For a moment the men in front of her look surprised. They have their own unique names and they have had them for a long, long time now. Nobody ever asked how they got them and even among regs it was not something that was important. Afterall, out of all of the clones, Clone Force 99 was different and the regs were not sure what to make of them.

“Well kiddo, I got my name as a cadet on Kamino when I was part of the Domino squad. You know we get our names from our brothers, most of the time right?” Echo looks at Omega, who had turned to look at him as he began to speak.

“Yes I know.” Omega nods and crosses her legs to sit in a more comfortable way, ready to listen to the stories behind the names.

“Well, we were not a very well oiled machine when we started out and our personalities shaped us and gave us our names. I became Echo after they began to complain how I would echo all the orders we had gotten.” He chuckles as he thinks back to those times he spent with the squad, how they went from being a chaotic bunch to a well tuned group of brothers that could take on the entire galaxy, or so it felt to them. “Fives especially loved to name people and he was the first to come up with Echo. I guess that it stuck with me from that moment on.” The recollection of how he had gotten his name has him feel somewhat nostalgic, longing for those times to be revived once more, but most of all to have his closest friend and brother back so he could talk to him again.

Understanding how this memory of old has affected him, Omega turns to the next man she wants to hear from.

Tech, still standing, leaning against the wall while tinkering with yet another project, notices the silence and looks up. “Ah, I suppose it is not much of a mystery how I got my name. After all, the names we clones have mostly symbolize some aspect of our own character. It would be more surprising if we had completely normal human names instead of designations that would suit our abilities or achievements.”

Nodding to the explanation, Omega looks at the man in front of her. “That is true Tech, but sometimes the name is not as obvious or maybe even surprising in it`s origin.”

Surprised by her logical reasoning, Tech smiles. “You are correct, but my name is no surprise. From the moment we were trained as cadets, it was very clear that my mutation had given me a high intelligence and I had a knack for technology. Because I was always working on computers and other tech while learning about anything and everything else, people started to call me that tech kid or that tech weirdo. From that point on I decided to take part of the name and just go by Tech and it is what I have been called ever since.” For his brothers, who knew him well enough, it was clear that despite his bravado, it still stung at times when he thought back to the name calling and how they had all been shunned by the regulars who were not different from all their other batch mates and brothers. Thankfully, as they aged, they also became stronger both physically and mentally and Tech grew immensely in both ways.

As Tech went back to tinkering with whatever he was working on, Omega turned to the next of her family. Only to notice a strong glare coming from the man that has never been one for stories, or many words for that matter. Crosshair just looked at her with his toothpick shoved to the corner of his mouth. Omega grinned at him as she focused her full attention on him.

With a grumble he replaces his toothpick with a new one and relaxes his shoulders for a moment. “Fine. I didn't have much physical strength at first. So I trained a lot when we were cadets and when we did blaster training they realized I was a crack shot. I trained harder and realized it was damn easy to shoot targets, no matter where they were or where I was. I became the best and during some physical testing they realized my eyesight only improved. I got special sniper training and physical training that would enhance all my skills and that is how they started to call me Crosshair.” Crossing his arms was his way of showing that story time was now over and he resumed chewing his toothpick as his attention went to his brother sitting on the floor next to him.

“You forgot to mention why the regs began to call you Crosshair for real though.” Nudging the sniper with his elbow, Wreckers laugh beamed through the hull of the Marauder. “The regs would always try to bully us, anyway they could. You know, because we are different. One night, they pushed Tech and cornered him, ready for a beating and Crosshair locked in on the one that hit him. He was standing pretty far off but he hit that guy good with his dinner plate! Hah! The reg didn`t know what hit him!” Still laughing, thinking back to how the reg fell on his back, surprised by the dinner plate that came flying from across the hallway, Wrecker wheezes as he once more nudges Crosshair against the leg. That's when they started to call him Crosshair. Cuz when he has you in his crosshairs, you are never getting out of it!”

Omega laughs as loud as Wrecker does at the story. “That is awesome! But how did you get your name Wrecker?”

“Well kid, not because I destroyed everything or something. I mean, I didn't always wreck stuff when I was a cadet.” The huff coming from Crosshair stops him from talking for a second. “Hey! I didn't Crosshair! That was later….. You see kiddo, as a cadet I was pretty careful with everything. I mean, I was already pretty big, bigger than others, and also pretty strong, so I had to be careful what I did. Then this bounty hunter came and he was supposed to train us or something. Well, he was just a kriffing jerk about it and he made fun of us all the time. Hunter told us to stay calm and not let it get to us or something, but that guy was a nasty piece of work. He changed the training program so it was way more difficult than other cadets had to do. Hunter got hurt badly when he tried to shield me and I went mad after that. I mean, the guy was laughing about it! So, I lost control and wrecked the training room trying to get to that guy. The regs heard all about it and started to call me Wrecker as an insult. But Hunter told me to use it as a name because it shows how strong I am when I protect my family.” Beaming with pride he looks at Hunter. “I guess it was Hunter that really made it my name then.”

Hunter nods at Wrecker, a low chuckle escapes him when he thinks back at the times his brothers had gotten their names. Sure, they had pretty difficult, or better said, hard times as cadets, but at least they had each other and that was the only thing that truly mattered anyway. Knowing that he would have to tell the story of how he came to be Hunter he turns towards the young girl that has been listening to it all while snacking on some Mantel Mix.

“I guess I am the last one to tell you about my name.”

Omega already settled to listen to his recollection of the time he became Hunter, nods and grins.

“Well, I guess it is mostly because of my heightened senses that people expected me to be a good tracker, what they did not expect was that I would also become a true hunter.” For a moment he closes his eyes as his mind takes him back to the exact moment and he seems to hesitate.

“You know….. that squads consist of a minimum of four clones but most times there are more in a squad, right?” He looks down at Omega who just popped a piece of mix in her mouth. Chewing, she nods at him. “Yup, i know.”

“Our squad was supposed to have some more members…….” Realizing that the full truth would be revealed to Omega, the others shuffle in their places. Echo, though not an original member of the group, knows the story and understands it is not an easy memory to share.

Tech stops tinkering for a moment and looks at Hunter. A small nod at his sarge and he continues his work.

“Tsk.” It is the only sound that comes from Crosshair, who glares at Omega, for the audacity she has dragging it all up and for Hunter who allowed it.

Wrecker, the most gentle of them all, swallows as he suspiciously turns his head for a moment. When he turns back, his eyes seem to have been wiped dry and he smiles at both Hunter and Omega as approval.

“We have desirable mutations. Something that the Kaminoans would try to add to the newer generations of clones that were bred on Kamino. But changing the genetic makeup of a living being does not always work out well. Tech could explain it al in greater detail.” He holds up his hand to stop his brother, who already looked up, ready to go into greater details about genetic mutations and enhancements and how tinkering with it could have negative or even destructive effects on the subjects.

“Some did not survive outside of the pods used to accelerate age or the treatments to enhance our abilities. In the end our squad consisted of five survivors that could be trained.”

The mentioning of the squad consisting of five members has Omega perk up for a second. This was news to her, though she expected that Nala Se had not told her every single detail about all the members of her favorite squad of clones. Especially not when it became clear she was more interested in this small group than any of the other groups.

“Bug was the last one to die on Kamino, but not from the changes that were made to his genetic makeup. He died in an accident, or that is what the rapport stated. We knew that some of the regs wanted to teach him a lesson. Bug was always curious about other people and would bug them with questions on anything that caught his attention. It annoyed some of the others. They altered a training program and disabled the safety protocol, thinking it would only wound him. But bug, training his blaster skills at that time, was shot by one of the training droids, in the chest. He did not make it…….” Hunter stops there and looks at Omega. “You remind me of him.”

Omega, touched by the remark, softly smiles and nods at Hunter, indicating to him to continue his story.

“When we heard what happened to Bug, we did not believe it was an accident. Bug might have been absent minded at times, but he would never forget to turn on the safety protocols. Tech hacked the systems and found out what really happened. I guess that is the moment I started to earn my name. I hunted the regs responsible for what happened and we taught them a lesson. We didn't kill them, but they knew never to mess with any of us ever again.”

Omega, emotional from the story she was told just now, stands up and dashes over to Hunter. Throwing her arms around him she hugs him tightly. “I`m so sorry Hunter! I didn't want to make you all sad. I just thought it would be fun to hear how you all got your names.” With a sob she pushes her head into his chest, close to crying.

Hunter gently wraps his arms around her for comfort. “It`s ok Omega. Don`t worry about it.”

Wrecker, standing up, moves towards his little sister and pats her on the head. “Don`t worry kid! It was nice to think about Bug too ya know? He was fun to have around.”

Tech, finally done with tinkering with his latest project walks by as he mentions something about checking the auto pilot. A soft pat on her shoulder to tell her not to worry about it as well is all the comfort she needs from him at that time.

Crosshair, not a man to show many emotions, especially when it comes to Omega says nothing as he walks past them. The only surprising action is a quick, soft smile for her as he looks at the young girl still wrapped around Hunter.

Echo puts his hand on her shoulder as he turns her around. “Come on kid. Let's give Hunter a chance to breathe while we go and grab some food for dinner.”

With a final warm smile for Hunter, Omega nods and turns around to leave the hull and join Echo in preparing some food for their dinner. She asked for a story and had gotten more then she expected. Just a little more of the personalities of the men she came to see as her true family, the men she loved even before they met and that she wished to be with for the remainder of her life.

@loth-wolffe@nahoney22@hellothere-generalangsty@reluctant-mandalore@moonstrider9904@chaoticvampirejedi

[elias-veturius-laia-of-serra]

Why Elias And Laia Mean So Much To Me

Okay so I’ve been wanting to write this for a while but knew it would be long and that I’d need some time to get my thoughts in order. So without a further ado here is my attempt:

Why is Elaia so important to me. Well to start off, Laia Of Serra in particular is very important and inspirational to me. She is not only a brown girl who is a hero but she is the most realistic hero I’ve ever had the honor of meeting. I’m so used to white female main characters that are badass warriors who are smart, beautiful, strong, special, that everyone is attracted to, and who fight for their people. I grew up on books like that. In which don’t get me wrong I still greatly enjoyed those stories and some of them are still my favorite to this day.

However I could never relate to those characters and it really solidified the belief that I most likely could never be a hero cause I could never fit that mold. And for the longest time I thought I was okay with that and I never really understood how much physical and emotional representation could mean to me until, Laia Of Serra.

Laia is a brown girl that is afraid, insecure, oppressed, sheltered, poor, weak, with no fighting experience, kind, emotional, girly, and self deprecating. She’s scared and second guesses herself all the time. It’s hard for her to phantom that she’s good enough to make the right choices or save anyone or anything. Which is exactly what I struggle with on the daily let alone in the middle of a war. I first read aeita when I was 17, the same age as Laia. So meeting a heroine that made mistakes, berated herself, cracked under pressure, had no clue what she was doing, let herself cry, understood that in a place filled with skilled deathly warriors she was weak, and let people trample over her. It was so relatable and heart wrenching. Especially when I’ve been wired to think girls like her are useless and typically the first to die or used as a stepping stool for the real hero.

Seeing her continue to fight with what she can and however she can made my heart soar. There were so many times she wanted to give up and feared death. However in time she grew and instead of fearing death she embraced the possibility of it in order to fight for what is right and for the people she loved. She stayed true to herself and became a badass without the need of having to kill people. Laia detested killing people especially after having to see how her people got killed all the time. She’s filled with understanding, love, forgiveness, sensitivity, kindness, and determination. No matter how many times she got knocked down she kept getting back up.

She gave and still gives me hope. Hope for who I am today and who I can grow into the future. She’s a symbol that you can be strong in other ways. That physical strength isn’t the only way to be a hero. Her bravery to face things head on, her compassion towards everyone, her determination to reach her goal, and her heart always willing to accept others is what makes her a hero. Even when it came to the final battle. It wasn’t her powers or weapons that got her to win the war. It was her kindness and understanding and love.

I understand people are disappointed that she wasn’t as “brutal” or stabby as other heroines. I love stabby women as well! But I think her depiction of strength and heroism is so important. It really shines a light on the meek and shy and scared and shows that it’s okay to feel like that. How that doesn’t automatically make you weak and how you can be just as important in the world.

I also love that Laia isn’t reduced or or shown as “not like other girls”. Laia loves to dress up, she likes to look pretty, she does think about boys, she is bossy, she is emotional, often has break downs, and she’s just so human. I find that a lot of the most badass heroines are always the ones that don’t like dressing up and finds it a waste of time, doesn’t fit in with other women, is stoic, cold, good with swords but not with words, and violent. Im not saying that these characters shouldn’t be allowed, but I feel like it reinforces the idea that the normal things a woman feels or behaves is considered weak. Not saying that all women are emotional, but we do feel. We do stress and some of us do love to put on make up and dresses. That shouldn’t be demonized or looked down upon.

That’s why I adore Laia. She’s a normal teenage girl that IS like most girls. And she gets praise and stronger because of it. Also people need to realize that at the start of the series Laia is a 17 year old girl with zero survival training skills. Elias and Helene have been training since they were literal children. Their whole lives revolves around fighting. Laia’s didn’t. So it makes sense and is realistic why she isn’t as “strong” or “skilled” as them.

To expect her to be at their level within the three year timeline between these books is impossible. I feel like people are so used to heroines that know how to fight or learn to become the most badass fighter through mere chapter montages that seeing a realistic depiction of a teenage girl that’s never fought in her life is displeasing. But I love that about her. She always becomes stronger in spirit, braver at heart, but at her core she is still Laia. A teenage girl trying her best.

Her needing help or needing a team to fulfill her goals shouldn’t be looked down on. It’s shown through even real history some of the best fighters or leaders needed a team. Needed support, right hand man, etc. Which is why I feel so connected to her and wish she wasn’t so underrated or looked down upon. Cause I feel like she’s a voice for girls like us that so desperately needed a way to be heard. She’s someone I can look up to and remember and find comfort in when times get stressful or dark.

Now as for why Elias and Laia’s relationship mean a lot to me. It’s simple. They’re a healthy brown couple and I love finally seeing a girl that looks and acts like me get praise and love. I love that Elias sees her strength and admires her for who she is. And how he actually finds comfort in a person like her. How he views her at times even stronger than him and everyone else.

Girls/characters like Laia are always reduced to a side character, the best friend, the second choice for the love interest, the death that motivates the main character, and or the character that pops in and out to give moral support. However under Elias’s eyes she IS the main character. She IS the only girl for him. He loves everything about her and was the first to believe she’s strong. He chooses her above all. Above anything and anyone else.

As a brown girl as shallow or dumb as it may sound it really does feel touching to see us described as not only just strong and desirable but loved and wanted by the warrior. The main love interest. That in his eyes this brown girl that others deem as weak, useless, boring, and a waste of time. To him she is everything. She is brave, smart, powerful, beautiful, admirable, and perfect. It means the world to me. Especially with how characters like her especially in fantasy is seen as never good enough or tossed aside.

I also love that Elias shows the struggles on what it means to be “strong”. How a lot of learning to be the best fighter happened through a lot of trauma, shame, and guilt. He does show how physical strength isn’t the only way to be strong. Which is why Laia is his balance. She is the peace and freedom he yearns for while Elias is the strength, power, and love she’s always yearned for. Where she falls in believing herself he is always the first to count his vote on her. They compliment each other perfectly. Countermelodies. True loves.

They show me a healthy version of love. One of the purest and sweetest kinds of love. Elias is always soft, kind, and patient with her. He’s proud of her even if she feels like it’s undeserved. She sees the good in him even if he feels like he’s a monster. They see each other for who they are and love that about each other. They love each other so much and I’d never seen two characters be as in love as these two are. They are utterly devoted to each other and constantly fought for their way back to each other. It’s been five years and rereading their scenes still makes me smile and feel butterflies, like it’s the first time all over again.

Even now seeing any content of them is like a shot of straight up serotonin. They are my comfort ship. Despite the stress these past five years of being with them and shipping them has brought me. They also bring me great happiness and excitement and I wish I never had to say goodbye.

Though here’s to hoping that maybe we can have an Elaia novella, at the least, in the future 👀🤞

♥️♥️♥️ Elaia Forever ♥️♥️♥️

[bump1nthen1ght]

Deep Blue Sea (Shark Merman x Reader) Chapter 1

Pairing: Gender Neutral! Reader/Shark Merman

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Soulmate AU

Warning: None

Word Count: 2682 words

Summary: You have a chat with your soulmate

Prologue

“So, you want some?”

He  takes your stunned silence as no, checking that the crab is fully dead before pulling off a leg and biting the meat inside. His teeth catch the light of the setting sun, glinting white in between chunks of crab.

“So were-”

“Soulmates? Yeah, looks like it.” He, your soulmate, cracks off another leg and begins to chew. You find yourself transfixed watching him, mind reeling with questions. He uses the sharp claws on the tips of his fingers to dig out more meat. You’re not even sure where to begin.

“What do we do know?”

He shrugs, sucking out the last of the crab leg and tossing it aside.

“Dunno, guess this mystery is solved though.” He taps his wrist and you get a closer look at his soulmate mark.

It loosely resembles a human compass, yet alien in it’s design.There’s eight large symbols, none of which you recognize, and the arrow is slightly misshapen before straightening to a point.

“I always assumed my soulmate was in the Atlantic or something, maybe even a selkie. When that thought always drove my ma up the reef.” He sighs, pressing his chin against his palm as he lays against a rock. “Wonder how she’ll take this. Maybe she’ll turn a whole new shade of blue.”

His chuckle is low, rough against your ears, but not entirely unpleasant.

You can see more of his backside as he scoots closer into the tidepool. The first thing you notice is just how big he is, his tail stretching from his hips to the open ocean. The second thing you notice are the defined muscles which stretch and flex along his back.

Okay, what the fuck.

There’s a pressure building in your temples and you think you're beginning to overload. Your fucking soulmates eyes wander, looking nonchalant as can be beforeperking up when he sees another crab. His body slithering away from you to snatch it up snaps you out of shutdown mode.

“Uh, I guess….what’s your name?” He doesn’t take his eyes off his soon to be snack, only humming to acknowledge he even heard you. “I think that’s a good place to start, don’t you?” That at least gets you a chuckle, followed by a tiny crack!

“Cruz, you can call me Cruz.” You make eye contact as he takes a long, languid bite of crab. Your furrow your eyebrows, face unimpressed. He lights up with a mischievous grin.

“Is that your real name?”

“Nope,” Cruz says, popping the p and breaking open a claw, “But I don’t think you could pronounce my name so…..”

The tension in your jaw tights as he turns away from you once more,humming to himself and letting out a soft “Oh!” as the other leg reveals quite a bit of meat. You rub your brow and sigh.

“My names _____”

“Neat.”

In high school, your mom got the yearbook epithet “biggest social butterfly.” Your dad, however, was barely presentable on picture day and a social circle consisting of the three fellow chess-club members. You were a lot like your dad in many ways.

The conversation, to say the least, seemed to float on the water like a dead fish, and you had no idea how to resuscitate it. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t natural, it wasn’t that missing piece yoru guidance counselor said it would and dammit, it’s kind of pissing you off. You’re pissed off that it’s pissing you off, because when has making first impressions ever been easy for you? Did you think this was going to be different, because what, a stupid mark on your wrist? That has no basis in logic, not even a little bit.

You refuse to dignify any emotions similar to disappointment which begin to well inside you, because it’s ridiculous. You worked hard to get to California, you’ve worked hard your whole damn life, what's stopping you from working now?

“Welp, seems I scared away all the other crabs.” Cruz huffs and places his hands on his...hips? “Been nice chatting _____, but I got dinner to catch.” Cruz looks back at you as he slinks into the water, sending a salute and a wink.

The words bubble up in your chest before you can catch them as he begins to swim away.

“Wait, but, um, I-” Your commands fall clumsily out of your mouth and barely leaves a ripple on the water. Cruz doesn’t turn around.

You feel the heat sizzling up your neck and face as you look at his back. Flashes of him, the arrow, your mom, that stupid guidance counselor paint the inside of your eyelids.

No.

“Will you wait a second!”

The scream barely echoes in the small tidepool, but it’s enough to catch Cruz’s attention. He whips back to you, eyes slightly wide. You realize just how hard you’re breathing.

“I-, just, can you meet me here? Tomorrow?” Cruz's expression stays still, only the slightest bit of confusion crossing his eyes as he raises his brow. “I want to get to know you better.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

….

….

“What time….. do you want to meet up?” Cruz looks far less mischievous and much more sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with a clawed hand and looking up at you from under his eyelids.

“How about 5PM?”

Cruz narrows his eyes.

“I don’t know what that means.”

Ah, right, merman.

“About three hours before sunset. I mean, do you know how long an hour-”

“Yes, I know how long an hour is. I’m not a pup.” Cruz rolls his eyes

Well, the sass returns.

The two of you stay in that position for a little too long. You begin to rub your arms as the cold of the sea breeze and your social anxiety slowly come back to you.

“See you tomorrow, I guess.” With a hesitant nod, his black-blue eyes looking pensive, he submerges. Your breath comes back to you in a wave as your soulmate swims into the open ocean.

The walk back to civilization is a blur, the pounding voice in your head drawing out all other noise yet barely making sense itself.

You’re not sure what you expected of the first meeting with your soulmate, but it certainly wasn’t that.

---------

The next day, Cruz is waiting for you at the tidepool by 4:55 PM, shucking an oyster with one of his claws. He looks up as your feet splash into the tidepool. You wave.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

It’s an understatement to say the silence is uncomfortable. You take a beach towel out of your bag and begin to lay it on a large rock. The task helps keep your mind distracted, but you feel Cruz’s eyes burn into your back.

“So, I guess, what are you exactly?” You say, sitting yourself down.

“Merman’s best word I’ve heard you humans use, so that.” Cruz has shifted his focus  back on his oyster, which he then downs with one swallow.

“I see, I see. Are all mer-folk as big as you?” That catches Cruz’s attention. A self-satisfied smirk grows on his face as he puffs out his chest.

“Not at all. I’m a Great White and we’re one of the…” Cruz extends his arms art in front of him, flexing his fingers and his biceps in a decidedly braggadocious manner, “bigger species out there.” He finishes his statement with a playful wink. A tiny smile crawls on your face.

Interesting. Male Great Whites are typically around 12 feet, but Cruz is only about 9 feet. I wonder why that is?

“I can see that.” Cruz shifts, ego now lifted, and lays his weight on his right elbow, facing you. “You mentioned a mother, do you have a clan?” Cruz nods.

“Yup. It’s my ma, my dad, my two older sisters, and me. Plus two other families. My ma’s parents were from this reef.”

It’s difficult for you to fight the instinct to whip out your notebook and jot all this down.Your inner scientist screams to pry into the complex social hierarchy and behaviour patterns of this new species. But the more sane part of you knows that would probably be pushing some boundaries.

“Wow, so you’re a true Californian, huh?” Cruz squints his eyes at you. “Uh, that’s where we are. The territory Santa Cruz lies in.”

He gives a low hum, reaching for another oyster  nearby. This movement is far more natural than his earlier show, but you still get a full glimpse of his cut shoulder muscle and tight abdominals. It stirs something in you.

Would he have the swimmer’s V? Okay, stop, focus.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He pries open the oyster, staring at the soft meta inside. “A member of the clan, born and bred.” Cruz brushed the pad of his finger on the shell, his voice holding a quiet bitterness, tinted somber.

Should you comfort him? He’s within touching distance, but the thought of grabbing his hand feels too intimate, soulmate-ship be damned.

Before you can make a move, Cruz throws his head back and gulps down the oyster. He shakes his head and lets out a small “Ah~”, then pushes his short hair back against his skull. Whatever emotion that was there before, it’s gone.

“Where are you from?”

“East Coast, bordering the Atlantic. So you weren’t too far off.”

“Well, I’m not just a pretty face.” Cruz winks at you, but his eye catches a scuttling crab nearby. He gets low in the water, moving slowly to catch it by surprise. You don’t hum the Jaws theme, despite how much you want to.

“No siblings, just me and my parents.” Cruz doesn’t look away, even as he kills the crab.

“Lucky. How big's your clan?” The familiar crack of the shell follows.

“We don’t really,” crack “...have those. Humans can-” crack “We typically live near each other-” crack “but don’t get that-” crack “....close.”

Cruz hums contently, but you can clearly see it’s from the crab and not your one sided conversation. He sucks juice off his fingers. Seems you’ve lost him once again.

I didn’t expect this to be so difficult.

“Have you ever had cooked crab?” Cruz perks immediately, slowly turning back towards you.

Got ‘im.

----------

You return with two warm lobster rolls, a bag of crab legs, and some shrimp scampi. Cruz’s black-blue eyes just peak out of the water, suspicious.

“So these two are lobster, actually, but this,” You shake the crab-bag, “is all crab. I thought I ‘d get you a couple things to sample.”

Cruz’s nose (Is it a nose? There’s a ridge but you’re not sure if the slits count as nostrils. Questions for later.) just breaches the water as you set the crab-bag down and settle on your rock. You grab a couple of legs for yourself before nudging it  closer to him. “Have at it, it’s pretty self-explanatory.” You say midst a large bit of your lobster roll. The whole meal was not cheap, so you decided to indulge in this treat as much as you can. You’ve had a stressful couple of days.

Cruz slowly approaches the plastic, snatching it up quickly before looking inside it. His eyes widen and there's a small smile on his lips as he pulls a long leg out. His smile only grows bigger.

“Oh, also!” You clap, pointing towards the bag and jolting Cruz out of his food-induced joy. “There’s sauce, garlic butter, shit like that in those little plastic containers at the bottom. You dip the crab meat in them.” You take another large bit of lobster roll and hear Cruz break into a crab leg. Cruz gets his mouth ready to take a big bite before pausing. His eyes flit between the lef and the garlic butter, before he slowly pulls the lid off and dips the meat in. Cruz then takes the tiniest bite possible.

His eyes, black as they are, light up. He quickly takes another, larger bite. It’s quite adorable, like a baby trying ice cream for the first time. Cruz devours the leg quickly before snapping into another sauce.

“You like it?” Cruz nods, cheeks stuffed with crab meat as you giggle.

“What kind of craf is fiss?”

“Dungeness. That’s commonly eaten by humans. They’ve got some of the highest meat value and they're all over  the West Coast.” Cruz nods, though you’re not sure he understands parts of your sentence. “They’re also pretty sustainable to fish, although ocean acidity is kinda fucking with their babies. It’s also been fucking with Red King Crabs, which sucks because their only found in like, four places and are so beautiful and also sustainable and-” Cruz has stopped eating and is staring at you. After a big, long breath in you realize how fast you were talking. You feel the what of your blush on the base of your neck. “Sorry, I’ll let you eat. I just...really like crustaceans. A Lot of aquatic animals, but crabs especially are… I’m doing it again. Sorry.” You take a large bite so you won’t have to talk for a couple of seconds, avoiding eye contact with Cruz. You’re sure your chest and arms are bright red; It’s an embarrassing symptom of when you get too excited.

Cruz just keeps staring at you. Frankly it’s the longest he's looked at you and not a nearby snack. You chew the slowest you possibly can, the brioche bun becoming mush in your mouth, to fill the silence.

You don’t see it, but a small smile widens on his face. He picks at his empty crab shell.

“I think those facts are crab-tastic.”

You immediately choke on a bit of lobster roll, pounding your chest as you sputter between mouthfuls. When your eyes stop watering, you see Cruz has moved closer to you, hand outstretched and a couple inches from resting on your calf. He jerks it back when you look down at him.

“Wow, thanks, but puns aren’t really part of my vocrabulary.” You obnoxiously wink, scrunching up the left side of your face. Cruz laughs. Not a chuckle, but a full, belly laugh.

“Well I find them quite crab-tivating.” A larger laugh bursts from your chest as he mimics your wink and shoots you another big smile.

The sharp teeth are beginning to grow on you, adding to Cruz’s boyish charm. You feel the hot blush in your chest crawl up your neck once more.

Oh fuck.

Cruz reaches for another crab leg but hits the bottom of the bag, a playful pout now on his chin.

“Here, try this next.” You hand him the second lobster roll. “Probably don’t want to get this one wet, it’ll be soggy.” With no hesitation Cruz digs in, perking up once more and going to town. His teeth serate through the bread like butter. Within 4 bites, the entire roll is gone.

“Dang, I’ll make sure to bring some more food next time.”Cruz pauses, mid-lick of the butter on his claws and looks up at you.

“Next time? You want to meet up again?” You raise your eyebrow.

“Well yeah, don’t you?”

Cruz stays quiet, no sassy comment or a sarcastic look. Just staring, mildly shocked.

Your embarrassment bubbles back, screaming you’ve misread this whole situation and the last few minutes. “I mean, we are soulmates. Shouldn’t we meet up again?”

Cruz's eyes narrow as a barrage of thoughts seem to flit across his head. His smile recedes back into a straight line, that little spark leaving his eye.

“Yeah, I guess we have too.” He crinkles up the plastic bag, shoving it against your calves. “See you tomorrow.”

A pit rolls in your stomach as he quickly moves to leave.

Did I say something wrong?

“Uh, I’m actually busy tomorrow. Can we do Thursday-er, 3 days from now?” Cruz nods, not turning around to face you before slipping back into the water and swimming away.

The pit doesn’t leave your stomach, an empty sauce container rolling across the rocky shore.

What just happened?

[twsty-lav]

yuu is no daijobu :’)

looks at god. why has thou cursed me with these brainworms. is this becoming a Thing. 

also known as the WORLDBUILDING of language-barrier-au I guess. oof. here we go!!!

.

english DOES exist in canon? like its clearly slapped on the dorm symbols + all names/unique mahou magics are romanized (reverse-romanized? idk). 

plus all the original disney movies are in english

SO THAT MEANS

English is basically the (super) dead language of this TWST au? like latin or ancient greek basically?? 

yeah sounds legit lets do that, also explains the loanwords! very cool. its like uhhhhh harry potter spells. 

(would lilia speak english? how old is he 😔)

crowley knows the most english but, like, in comparison to everyone else. (so he doesn’t speak english, rip yuu)

yuu is actually their last name, because they said how about we don’t butcher it today. also, it makes more sense to have an european first name if they’re an english speaker

first name pending bc im lazy.

How does Yuu survive classes? they dont lol

Grim is already in charge of all the magic classes but now he gets to do everything else too lmao rip. anything written??? goodbye

On the other hand yuu DOES manage to follow along in....  Mathematics and Alchemy! All very real-world subjects! They kind of do OK in Potions (+ Grim does not have opposable thumbs).

They really enjoy biology though because, like, new species? magic?? howmst. also still hates PE. nobody likes PE.

mostly because everyone in NRC is ABSURDLY fit???? Yuu CANNOT keep up. looks at jack. what the fuck

flying is cool though.........

If they take any electives, they’d probably do well in all of them. (except maybe poisonmaking? monkey see monkey do 😔)

anyways. yuu simply does Not See Humanities. Trein hates them, Ace wants 2 be them.

Yuu’s got a notebook with them at ALL TIMES. there’s a pictionary section and a word bank section. they’ve never been better at art

regularly asks Deuce for help with the word bank (ily deuce keep being awesome). Yuu can’t read, so they force other people to write for them. slap on the translation/pronunciation under it, and its good 2 go!!

the first word they asked Deuce to write was japanese for ‘cauldron’ :)

“ogama-san!” “stop calling me that”

‘beast taming’ abilities: i do Not Know Yet

yuu can’t give them orders like in canon, sooooo? maybe it’ll be like a support magic that pops up in combat situations? still thinking about it lol

possibility: Yuu doesn’t have internal magic BUT they can harness atmospheric magic (like secondhand smoke?? drain runoff?). But it needs to build up first, so they can’t use it whenever like everyone else. Only useable in situations like:

- Ghosts (are made of magic?)

- Overblot fights (Lots of magic, duh)

- just fights (after enough magic has been used)

- magishift (after enough magic has been used) 

either way their magic could be a support-style menu?? incorporate rhythm game mechanics somewhere? who knows i’m just blabbing

If Yuu doesn’t have magic, then it could be sort of a hand-signal arrangement? Yuu signals, Grim sits on their shoulder as a megaphone (that also shoots fire?).

a combo of BOTH????? cries

misc. My Yuu facts

Yuu is dirt poor lol,, they left all their allowance back home.... would have swindled kalim if he was a jerk 

Would kill a man if kalim or deuce asked them to. 

shorter than riddle, but will kill the first person who points it out. its Ace 

Crowley could only find uniforms that were two sizes too large. constantly shuffling up sleeves. 

Crowley also gave them a phone without voice recognition. Yuu says i crave the void

Ambiguously of asian descent until i figure out specifics lol. Probably an immigrant kid?

like Floyd, enjoys fun nicknames. by fun i mean puns and bad references. 

are they high, tired, or stressed?? nobody knows

still doesnt understand what magishift is. or what happened in chapter 2. 

worldbuilding hard... very sad

[dearest-kibble]

WELLL GANG IT TOOK FOR FUCKIN EVER BUT HEY HERE IT IS ABOUT 7,000 WORDS OF KAGEYAMA. THANK YOU ALL FOR STICKING WITH ME IT REALLY MEANS A LOT THAT Y’ALL WERE STILL HERE EVEN THOUGH I WAS TAKING FOREVER LIKE HOLY FUCK MAN I APPRECIATE YOU ALL SO SO SO MUCH FOR THIS AND HOPE IT’S ALRIGHT!! 

tw: noncon dacryphilia breathplay(choking) kidnapping general shady-ness  very blink and you’ll miss religious symbolism. Abuse

“Don’t mess this up Kageyama.” You wake up in an old building, seven men stand above you, head to toe in suits. And you distinctly remember reading something someday, about how the yakuza always cover their body. And about how the yakuza have a hand in human trafficking.

“Damn Kageyama, we don’t do any of that Oikawa-Gumi shit here!” The Man who's speaking is shirtless and his hair is buzzed short. He’s got a red dragon winding up his stomach and a red koi on his sternum.

“So many women were brought to Oikawa I just thought-” The man - Kageyama you assume - has black hair and blue eyes. You think he’s staring at you.

“You thought? I find that hard to believe.” A guy with glasses (do yakuza wear glasses?) sniffs and turns his nose at Kageyama. “I thought you only thought about being Oyabun.”

“Shittykawa is a liar and you all know it!”

“Still more honorable than a guy who deserted his family and has a samurai tattoo!” A considerably smaller redhead speaks up with a defiant voice.

“They betrayed me!!” His attention (if it was on you, is not anymore.) shifts as Kageyama raises his voice, flails his hands a little and starts to pace.

“Kageyama, be quiet!” A man behind you talks. The man with blue eyes immediately stops talking, the man with glasses and blonde hair laughs.

“All of you shut up!” A louder voice bounces off the walls, all five men stop talking and look to the man behind you. He’s got brown hair, short, militant and an angry-looking scowl on his face. The man next to him has silver hair, but you don’t think it’s from age. A chorus of “sorry Oyabun” echoes through the room, large, dark and empty.

“Kageyama, you will not mess this up.” Intense coal eyes stare into blue.

“No Oyabun, I will not.”

“Good because she’s under your care.” You almost expect the man with brown hair to offer you a smile, it’s the silver haired one who does.

“What?!” You turn around quickly as the voice sounds much closer than you remember it being. “I’m-” The man takes a few seconds looking at his fingers. (His left pinky is a stub) Before continuing. “Oikawa never had me do anything like that. Girls just talked to me.”

“Girls talked to you!?” A newer person, short, standing next to the shirtless one - has an energetic voice. “Why’d you ever leave?”

“Because Oikawa treats his family like shit!” And like that, the talking erupts into furious voices trying to get a word in edgewise until once more, the two behind you speak up.

“Everyone shut up!”

Once again they all fall silent.

“Kageyama, get her where she needs to go. You know what to do right?”

“Yes Oyabun.”

“Good.” His gaze is away from you, glaring at someone else as silence splits the room.

“C’mon.” He makes a show of not looking at you when he gruffly gestures for you to move to his side. Try as you might to seem calm, your joints are cold and stiff as you march to his left.

“Don’t cause a fuss okay?” He sends a sharp glare your way.

“She’s terrified Kageyama, you don’t need to scare her more.” The man with silver hair looks at you more apologetically than you’d thought a yakuza could. But as his hands rest on his hips you can see the gun holstered on his side. You look away quickly after smiling quickly.

“Yeah! Be nicer to her!” Kageyama shrugs off what the redhead says and walks towards the singular door and opens it to walk through. It leads to an empty, grey hallway - chilled and complete with flickering light. About fifteen paces ahead, there's a flight of stairs with the much-needed railing that rusts and peels in the flickering, damp hallway. There's the faint sound of city pop coming from the top of the stairs, through a bleak door with peeling paint. There are no other places of entry or exit, simply the one large, looming, decrepit door at the top of steep steps. Still begrudgingly silent, Kageyama starts up the stairs, feet falling hard on each step like drops of a guillotine. You follow numbly after him. What other choice is there really? Go back to the room with so many others? Die in a hallway while muffled music plays from a door? Your legs ache by the time you stand near the door. It’s not a high climb. Kageyama opens the door and you expect to hear nails on a chalkboard but are greeted by the soft melody of plastic love and the smell of cigarettes. The beeps of slot machines punctuate loud cheers and disappointments around a roulette table, the thwap of cards hitting the table and laughter at a bar does little to distract from the fact that Kageyama who had barely looked at you before — (Was it on purpose?)  — was staring directly at you. Pressing a hand to your face, you feel a drop of wetness on your cheek. A tear. You wipe it quickly and Kageyama turns away slowly. Eyes lingering a second after he turns his head.

“You’re slow, move quicker!” You nod in his direction though he’s already moving ahead again. The casino is loud and boisterous and though you’re sure it’s actually an illegal gambling den, many well known wealthies sit around a roulette table with a man in a suit, typical of a yakuza.

“You want a drink?” You expect it to come from a sleazy, older man wearing an old baggy suit, not the man who’s been leading you through this mess of tables and smoke and glitz. It’s fine, there are so many people around you.

“Why are you offering me a drink?” He’s turned to face you, still not smiling but eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion.

“O-Oikawa said to offer women drinks. I-” Oikawa? He might not be so bad. Still, a yakuza who didn’t run with the good kind any more so-

“No thanks.” The confusion displayed earlier on his face, deepens into a frown that forms on his lips and lines that appear in between his brows.

“What, why?” He’s actually confused somehow.

“I don’t know you, you’re a yakuza - you might drug my drink - the list could go on?”

“I'm not going to drug you" He sounds angry and mutters "Just trying to be nice, fuck." And you've stopped for only one moment but the sleazy men you thought would hound you start to crowd, either unknowing or uncaring that you are in the custody of organized crime.

"Pretty lady want a drink? Got a margarita with your name on it." It's unsurprisingly a man with cigarettes' smoke on his breath and intoxication in his step. You note he's already holding the drink in question.

"No thank you-" You begin to answer, in a politely exasperated tone that you think is quite amicable for someone whose arm is practically around your waist.

"Listen - she's with me, alright?" Kageyama doesn't stop there, despite that in your opinion, he should. "She's mine." The words send a pang of anxiety straight through your spine and into your brain before they reach your feet and as they itch to step away into a crowd, another man speaks up someone much less intoxicated, still - with a drink in hand.

"She in trouble with the Daichi-Gumi then?" They're much more informed. And Kageyama nods to the asker.

"Guess he's still got his Oikawa roots then, huh?" And that doesn't make any sense at all because he's nothing like the man you talked to and who gave you a handsome wink and made small conversation.

"Don't compare me to that bastard." And instead of the usual anger, you think it's a note of exhaustion in his voice. And the conversation ends right there, "mine" being a forgotten word in the mix of much more confusing sentences. It's relatively peaceful after that, the scowl on your captors face scaring many others away. You continue down the luxurious gambling hall and into much quieter corridors with soft sounds passing through doors as you walk down a carpeted hallway, well lit and warmer. Once again, Kageyama opens a door and walks through. For a long, fleeting, whirlwind of a moment, you are alone before remembering that if you walk out without Kageyama, you run the risk of having a yakuza family hunting for you. Hell, they'd hunt your family, you've heard about what they do to screamers. Twisted fingers, bloody stomachs and scarred backs - missing eyes if the they’re lucky. You step through the open door and into the room. It's low-lit, casting a pleasant glow on the furniture.

Kageyama is already sitting down on an expensive - looking sofa no —loveseat. He picks up a remote from the side armrest and turns on a TV installed into the wall. Loud moans and the sound of flesh on flesh boom from the speakers before he switches to the sounds of shoes squeaking as they run across a floor. He pulls a nail clipper from his pocket to trim already short fingernails. There's a large bed with lights hanging above it on one side of the room, a wardrobe - open - full of thin clothing you wouldn't be caught dead in outside of your house. There's a small table, a bottle of wine and two glasses on mahogany wood, next to a singular unlit candle. Though the sound is gone you can’t help but linger on the moans that came from the TV and how Kageyama has led you into a room with such a large bed and a shower that has no door and is only walled with glass. You forcibly relax your jaw just before you speak.

"I'm here to-" You gulp down air, trying not to look at the silk sheeted bed. "Pay a debt."

"Yeah dumbass, what else would you be here for?" If he doesn't bring up any other possibility, neither will you.

"How?" The way that he instantly looks at you, blue eyes ever intense when he speaks  makes your stomach flip unpleasantly. You know exactly how. He’s led you to this room, what else could he be expecting?

"Daichi put me in charge of you, you'll do what I say." Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

"I'm not going to do what you tell me. I'll work off my debt in this casino, but I'm not doing everything you tell me to do!” Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He blinks at you, brow once again furrowed in confusion. He puts his nail clippers down on the arm of his seat, and stands, taking off his jacket in the process. You knew it - you fucking knew it.

You shuffle backwards as quickly as possible, spine hitting the round doorknob.

You can’t go any further.

Kageyama creeps forwards, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal raging water delicately inked into the toned muscle of his right forearm, chrysanthemum petals drifting downstream from a skull at his shoulder. Down his left, where his elbow meets his forearm stands a samurai, maple leaves falling gently from the mouth of a black koi that flounders to appear just over the edge of his shoulder. On the front of his chest there is only a solitary demon - red and standing amongst black clouds which dig deep - over his nipples as the Oni stands on the cool blue with its fiery feet. He walks over to you, shirt off and tugging at his belt. With a decorated arm, he sets the white shirt on your head, careful not to touch you. What flees from your lips is a very audible sigh expressing your relief that he doesn’t seem to want to violate you.

“I’m going to take a shower. Put that away for me.” You don’t even attempt to retort as you quickly move it off your head and turn away from wherever Kageyama sounded like he was. You conveniently face towards the wardrobe and walking towards it, you notice all the clothing you had neglected to think about. Short schoolgirl uniforms, a pair of fluffy handcuffs, all sorts of exposing clothing that you think for the second time, you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in. You push sets of clothing aside to find an empty hanger, not finding one, you kneel down to check the bottom of the cabinet. You find a box full of something, flat squares that are easily torn, and one empty hanger with a leather suit that probably went on it beforehand. You instinctually turn at the sound of water hitting the tiled shower. He’s standing still, body naked through the glass and quickly you avert your eyes from him. The loud crash of falling water on the tile makes you turn, despite your knowledge of where it comes from. You can see Kageyama’s naked back through the clear glass, koi and cherry blossoms disappearing in rapidly forming fog that covers the rest of his body. Watching the glass fog with the softening sound of water on tile in the dim light of the room, a dry sob of relief releases from your throat. He isn’t going to do anything. It’s just one large scare tactic. With the realization that Kageyama is just going to unorthodox lengths to make sure you don’t run, your knees buckle and you crumple to the floor, back stable against the side of the wardrobe - and you let the tears fall.

Each bone, muscle and thought eases with the knowledge that this yakuza is just taking a shower. He’s still the good kind of yakuza - Oikawa taught him well. He just happens to be a little strange. While he showers, your face is bathed with your own free tears. Your hands cup your cheeks and you smile softly into your palms, feeling so much steadier as your breathing returns to its normal steady in and out. Picking yourself up from the carpeted floor and feeling you back crack you bring yourself in front of the TV watching as people toss a volleyball into the air. It’s awfully methodical as they toss it to each side over and over, you almost forget about the pitter-patter of water behind you. You don’t even notice as it stops and the man comes out to watch you watching the game. You barely hear the zipper on his pants - just dismissing it as some sound from the game. It’s not until he’s directly behind the couch and he asks you a question that you remember where you are.

“Where’d you put my shirt?” You turn and tilt your head to look at his dripping hair, wet pants and wetter jacket.

“It’s in the closet.”

“What?”

“It’s the only place to put a shirt.” He grumbles at your words but it’s not hostile.

“You have the bed, that’s where I normally put my stuff.” You glance at the bed again and then back to him.

“Who doesn’t use a closet?”

“Next time you’re going to put it on the bed. No point in using that shitty closet - can’t find anything in there,”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.” His eyes squint face lowering to yours. He blinks twice before his blues widen.

“Have you… been crying?” Your eyes must still be puffy red.

“No?” His nose is just a hairs’ width away from yours.

“You better not be lying. Lying to your Oyabun has serious consequences.” Abruptly he stands up. “And you’re mine now. You can’t lie to me.” His hair bobs as he nods and removes his dripping suit jacket. Once again the black koi  surfaces across the spanse of his muscular back.

“I’m…” You shouldn’t be asking, but he must mean this in some other way, right? “Yours?”

“Daichi told me to watch you,” He says dumbly. Well, If that’s all he means, it shouldn’t be bad. You’re going to ignore how his head turns slightly to look and that the lights that glint off his eyes menacingly. “You're part of the family now. My family” A slimy feeling crawls up your back at his words, not for the first time.

“What does that mean?”

“Talking back to your Oyabun has consequences.” It hangs over your head, his words and your next ones clashing in your mind before deciding on,

“Same can be said for thinking you’re Oyabun.” It’s a much less dangerous thing to say, now that you know you’re safe and he’s just a strange person.

“I will be Oyabun, and you’re part of my family. You already have to do what I say.” He’s scared you enough, he’s not going to do anything and you’re not even sure he can with patrons of the gambling den so near. You take a breath and steady yourself though you aren’t even nervous and without thinking-

“I’m not some part of your fucking yakuza family!” Your palm makes harsh contact on his cheek. He was just trying to scare you earlier. You turn aside as he stands still as a leaf in water. Clasping your hands together you wait trying not to think about the fact that you just slapped a yakuza. He turns slowly, wide eyes a lighter blue than you had originally thought.

“Do it again.” A large hand rubs at his red cheek. “Please?” Kageyama cocks his head to the side, hand still over his red cheek. You’re rooted to the ground, standing still, you're not going to move even if he said he wants you to hit him again.

“If you won’t do it, I will.” He removes his hand from his cheek, and makes a fist before stopping. “You had an open palm.” All four fingers of his left hand splay open as he inches towards you with confident steps. “It felt so nice to be touched by someone again.” Eyes like the Starry Night glare down while his face holds the least unsettling smile you’ve seen from him. You can’t do anything against a member of the yakuza, and the important thing about the yakuza floods back into your mind: the man with silver hair had a gun, why shouldn’t he?. You stand still as a statue, you will not flinch, you will not cry. He’s right in front of you, and you stare defiantly into his eyes as he stares right back. There is nothing to say and both of you are waiting for the first blow.

It lands.

Hard, right on your cheek and the sting is so much but so little compared to the gun that could’ve put a hole in your head. Your head is pushed to the side by force before you snap it back to look into his eyes.

“It doesn’t feel the same…” He mutters the words. “Maybe if you-”

“I’m not going to do anything you want me to.”

“Fine. I’ll try again.” And the hand connects with your cheek once again. If the first stung, the second was like a stab. Cold and sharp and the feeling staying much longer than you’d hope. Kageyama looks at you, whose face is still utterly defiant and pointed towards him. Though the red welt on your cheek is far more noticeable, he seems to be looking at your eyes.

“Shit.”  It’s a quiet utterance, but he sounds mildly put out. “It’s not gonna work unless you touch me.”

“No.”

“Either you touch me and I figure out why I get this weird pit around you. Or,” And he seems to have to think for a second about his phrasing. You think you hear a ‘can’t blow her brains out.’ “Or I give you to Oikawa.”

“Oikawa?” And you know this is a bad idea, you’re standing up to a Yakuza for fucks sake. “Oikawa just gets people to pay their protection tax. Hell, he’d clear my debt.”

“He’s the guy who has the top joint of my pinky, you don’t wanna be given to him, trust me.”

“Oikawa has a soft spot for women, he’d clear my debt and let me go.”

“He had me bring in any woman I found.” Oh. “A lot of them lived where he used to spend a lot of time. Called them prostitutes?” Oh no. “I think Oikawa would be happy to see you. Suga always says to try and make things better between our families.” He’s not going to get to you like this, you’ve seen Oikawa around - talked to him. The most harm he’d ever cause is when someone harassed a woman. Knowing this yakuza, he’s probably trying to scare you again.

“You’re lying. Oikawa helps women on the streets. I heard he even set up a safe house!” Oikawa would never do anything like what Kageyama said he would. He wouldn't!

“He called it a brothel.” He wouldn’t he wouldn’t. Oikawa always said to go to him if you needed help - he did.

“Oikawa wouldn’t do that! Not to me, not to anyone!” He wouldn’t he wouldn’t he wouldn’t.

“Shut up!” Deep unexplored, ocean blue eyes churn as the yell falls upon your ears..  

“Oikawa wouldn’t do that! He’s kind and he’s helpful!” You’re advancing so much closer to him, letting your guard fall.

“You’ll shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you.” His hand is gathering in a fist again, skin straining against his rapidly whitening knuckles

“No I won’t! Because Oikawa would only ever take care of a woman and treat her much better! You’re making up blatant lies to ma-” The blow lands hard on your stomach, and you stumble back on shaky feet, tripping over themselves as you try to stay upright.

“He called your “Safehouse” a brothel. He kept women there, they smiled after enough time. I won’t fucking hesitate to give you to him too.” You fall over as he speaks, air being beat from your lungs as you fall flat on your back. Even while you’re gasping for breath he continues.

“The guys call it a horrible, shitty place and I don’t wanna send you to Oikawa, he’s a shitheel. But you’ve gotta fucking learn to listen - and Oikawa always made sure they did.” But Oikawa wouldn’t - he told you that you were safe with him and his people, that they were the good kind of yakuza.

“He’s not like that.” It sounds hollow to the both of you.

“Just listen to me dammit!” His large hand is tangled in your hair, threatening to beat your head into the floor. “I’m trying not to send-” The agonizing feeling of hairs being pulled from your scalp forces you to blink back tears. You yell at him again anyway.

“You just wanna see me as a prostitute!” And your voice doesn’t break but you can feel the tug of your vocal chords pulling on your eyes.

“Maybe.” It’s strange that his eyebrows furrow at your words but his grip on your hair tightens. “I wouldn’t have to threaten if you listen and touch me.”

“I shouldn’t have to if I don’t want to!” The wet tears that might’ve shed earlier are replaced with dry anger.

“It doesn’t matter what you want. Your Oyabun told you, that should be enough.” He yanks your head up by your hair, a few strands ripping right out of your scalp with a sharp pain. “Touch me.” The pain is splitting in your head, on your cheeks, in the breath that you're still trying to regain. “I said, touch me!” And he drops you. Weight held up by Kageyama comes crashing down onto the carpeted floor and you with it. He growls, sound deep in his throat as he makes another threat.

“Fuck, I’ll even give you to the Ushijimas’ to use as target practice if you aren’t obedient. How’d you like to be shot full of holes? That better than touching me?” The words come out in a harsh jumble, spilling from his mouth like a bitter wine. “Do it. Touch me before I stop being nice and kill you myself.” This time it's a kick to your back. “Then someone from your precious family will pay your debt.”  

“How do you-”

“I make it a point to know my future family members.”  He gives you an uncomfortable smile, mouth curling up as eyes don’t shift from their stoic glare. He steps even closer, hand rising once again to make you flinch but it doesn’t stop rising as he squeezes your neck harshly. “C’mon, get my hands off your neck! Pry me off of you!”

“N..” Air is fleeing your collapsing lungs, “O” It takes all the willpower in your body to fight against the muscles in your shoulders that want to lift your arm and the tendons that control your fingers to curl around his wrist and tug. Kageyama snarls as he frees your throat. His hands reach behind him and he must have a gun. He’s threatened to shoot. His hand moves so slowly, fingers curling around something behind his back. The black of his suit jacket reflects the all too bright light, cheers and beeps of the slots muffled by thick walls. The blunt pain throbbing in your face, on your stomach. The sharp intakes of breath sending stabs of pain to your lungs and the man with dark black hair and dark blue eyes keeps his hand behind his back, his left hand tugging on his suit jacket. He’s getting the gun, it’s in the back of his pants. You feel the familiar, cold prick of tears at the back of your eyes, that only intensifies as you he squats down and you flinch softly.

“C’mon,” His hand is still behind his back “Touch me.” You don’t want to die. You don’t want anyone to bear your debt. You suck in a deep breath, heavy weight forming in your chest as you reach out your hand towards his face. He inhales a tight breath, cheek twitching as your palm inches closer and closer. When just a finger finally grazes his cheek he flinches away from it and the weight inside you gets heavier. You didn’t do what he wanted. 

You fucked it up. 

You clamp your eyes shut. Slowly - what’ll he do if you move too quickly - you begin to drag your fingers from his cheek, rough with the smallest starts of stubble. He raises his hand with four fingers to keep yours on his cheek, trapping your palm against his clammy hand and rough chin. He exhales a shaky breath, his black-blue eyes closing and head nuzzling into your hand.

Softly feeding from the hand that bit.

“Thank you,” Your eyes are wide open as you stare at his features seeming so soft in comparison to his sharp, metallic anger. He murmurs softly into your palm. “It feels... nice when you touch me.” It’s such a stark contrast from the roaring, growling man threatening to force you into prostitution. The Kageyama who’s in front of you is smiling gently while his hand - though chilled and rough - is gentle against the back of your hand. It’s too much, one blink and tears start to fall. A hiccup erupts from your mouth which you shut as soon as he pokes an eye open. Whimpers based in the bottom of your sore throat start to strain against your closed mouth. His smile widens, growing into that uncomfortable smirk with lips stretched too thin.

“Fuck, you’re such a pretty crier, y’know that?” Kageyama groans the words staring at your face, still in the palm of your hand. “It makes me hard.” As if to emphasize his point, he jerks your hand downward, to the bulge in his suit pants.

“I - Kageyama I’m here to pay off a debt,”

“Yeah, you are.” He grinds his clothed hard-on into your palm. “You’re here to do whatever I tell you to. And I said-” The back of his hand brushes against your palm as it reaches to pull at the zipper of his pants. The grip around your wrist tightens as he drags your hand down. “Touch me.” and slowly your fingers curl around the length that was pulled from his pants.

“Good girl.” He snarls the words as his fingers ghost over your clothed sex, thin panties doing little to dull the strangely gentle caress of his four fingers. He pushes the fabric aside quickly and though you’re completely dry, shoves a finger into your tight cunny.

“Haven’t touched… anyone,” He groans as your hand stays deathly still on his cock. “Like this.” He thrusts his finger into you again. Beads of precum drip from his cock onto the back of your hand.

“Stop… please,” He smiles at your watery eyes. “It doesn’t feel good…” It feels like someone breaking your trust. How could you have trusted a yakuza?

“I’ll make it feel good.” He was going to leave you alone. He was going to leave you alone. A fat tear rolls down your face. Kageyama’s lips curl into another smirk as he pumps his fingers just a little faster.

“Is this what Oikawa meant when he said I’d have trouble ‘fingering’?” He says it to himself more than to you. “Cause I don’t think I’m having much trouble.” He wasn’t going to do anything. A small scream falls from your mouth as you think — you did this to yourself. You slapped him and now… Your hold on his cock tightens. You wish you could say it was in anger rather than for the sparks flying through your body. “Stop closing your eyes.” He huffs. “Makes it seem like you’re not enjoying it.”

You aren’t. You aren’t fucking enjoying it. The way he stares at you, leering at your misty eyes and dripping nose. The way he’s got his fingers stuffed inside you. The way he has your hand wrapped around his dick. It’s much easier to think this is some dream. To pretend your breath isn’t quickening or this is just some fucked up fantasy you’d never want to be real. But it is. And the gasp you let out when you feel your pussy clench - that’s real too.

“Sounds like you do. Feels like you do. Tightening around my fingers like that?” He chuckles darkly to himself before barking, “Dumb whore! Move your hand!” Immediately you release your grip on his cock.

“Not like that.” He glares at you and uses his free hand to grab your wrist once more. Harshly, he tugs it to his mouth and spits onto your palm. “Stroke my cock.” Once more, he shoves your hand down, saliva dripping from your palm to the couch and his bare legs. He hisses at the feeling of your hand, moans as you pump your fist. “Keep doing that.”  You nod, mouth parting to gasp only for tears to fall in.

“Holy shit.” His fingers curl inside you, his cock twitches harshly in your hand. His arms woven with ink, flex as his right hand curls into a fist slowly unclenching - rising. All too late, do you notice his fingers lacing themselves around your neck pushing you down, down into the cushions. You can still breathe, he’s not meaning to choke you yet. Your head is still, and that is enough, his face inching ever closer, blue eyes blown wide - mouth parting just so slightly. His face growing closer with each second that makes your brain tick with dread.

“So fuckin pretty….” He sighs quietly. “Bet your tears even taste good.” His mouth presses to yours. He wastes no time shoving his tongue inside. It’s sloppy - like you’d’ve expected, salty saliva spilling from the corners of your lips as he drags his long, rough fingers slowly from your cunt. You whine through spit and sob as the feeling of fullness is taken from you. (though you’ve felt empty this whole time) Your hips roll on their own, grazing against his knuckle. Your cunt weeps at one final touch before you're stuck humping nothing.

“You're wet enough right?” Breathless, he pulls away from your mouth, lips pink, swollen and parted, his cheeks flushed a dark shade of cherry. He looks from your eyes to his fingers to the hand around your neck. “You better be after all that crying. My pathetic little crybaby, so wet for my cock.”

You wish you could spit in his face, wish you could scream. But all that can escape your lips are soft moans, little whines at the loss of his fingers. “Please” dances on the tip of your tongue, pirouetting its way through your teeth and tapping at your lips.

“God…” His cock pokes at your entrance. “You’re so warm…” It’s hard to ignore as he presses in, pushing against your walls so firmly, warmth making your hips roll to meet his cock as it buries deeper inside you. Your hand had been moved a long time ago - or just recently, it’s hard to tell, hard to remember. Or have you already forgotten? Still coated in spit and precum, it rests on his chest, over one of his many tattoos, you slide it upwards to his shoulder. Watching as the spit leaves a trail over his body. Pretending like it’s just water. Your eyes gloss over the forced extravagance of your prison. The ceiling is in between - the sky. Some say heaven. And your sullied hand raises to pull for the sky. When was the last time you’d seen the moon. Surely only hours ago. A rough thrust and something loud echoes in the room. You can barely hear it over the dry crust on your hand. Reaching for the above as your beaten body is defiled. For a second you can feel it, the clouds of the sky.

The sky disappears too as you’re dragged back down to earth by long fingers that squeeze more harshly at your neck. Suddenly only the constricting of his fingers on your windpipe and your pussy on his fat cock are present in your mind. Pleasure and fear hazing together in your mind to create nothing more than blank sight in your eyes and sparks running from your legs to your brain. Your hands continue to tighten around his wrist, pulling harshly as he continues to squeeze and squeeze at your throat.

“You gonna cum?” He continues, picking up his pace and pushing you further into the sofa. You try to shake your head, despite the tightening in your stomach,

“No Kagey-” He looks up from where he’d been pounding into your sloppy cunt, cock shoved right against your cervix, throbbing hashly while he raises his other hand to give a harsh slap to your cheek.

“What do you call me?”

“O-o” You can barely breath and the cock inside of you is so hot. The stinging against your cheek feels so good in the fog of shallow breath and fullness that you can’t help but moan at - when he adjusts his angle and turns you around, pushing your face into the cushions and ass in the air.

“Oyabun,” You can’t help the way your voice breaks as you sob and Kageyama once again starts to move.

“Fuck I feel powerful when you cry.” If only every word didn’t make you wail even louder.

“That’s a good girl, keep crying.” You shove your face further into the cushions, tears soaking into the fabric.

“Please,” You don’t sound like yourself. You already sound broken and halfway gone. “Just cum.” Anything — fucking anything to just end this.

Kageyama just groans behind you as the nauseating pleasure continues. Balls slapping against your clit, friction building slowly as you moan through every thrust unable to keep from feeling every tiny twitch of his cock, every vein sliding against the walls of your cunt.

“Fuck fuck fuck! I want you—” He lets out a loud shaky breath as years of frustration paint your walls.

Breathing heavily with his hands planted firmly on your hips bruisingly tight, he holds you against him. Even fuller than before — with your womb filled with his cum. His hold on your hips releases so gently before he puts a hand on your ass, rubbing it softly, stopping occasionally to squeeze lightly at the flesh. You whimper softly, “Please, no more.” He ignores you, or perhaps he didn’t hear, coming off of his first orgasm. His hands find your hips once more, far gentler than before as he speaks with labored breath.

“Everyone better’ve heard you moaning.” Slowly he begins to pull out, inch after painful inch slowly exiting your sore cunt. He slaps you again, right on your ass. You’re too sore, too used to the point of breakage to cry at the pain (or is it pleasure?) “I’m your Oyabun, they better know that.” The zip of his pants coincides with the cheering for a point in the game that’s still playing. He sits next to your fucked out body on the sofa, and rubs one hand over the still sensitive part of your ass before quickly running his hand over your spine, shoulder blades and neck, settling in your hair. His fingers stay there, nails grazing gently against your scalp. His fingers linger for a minute before he pulls your body up and into his side, propping your head against his shoulder. You stare blankly ahead, eyes glazed with tears and cum dripping from your abused pussy onto the sofa. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you as close as he can, both of you breathing heavily. Kageyama seems to recover his breath quicker than you, as his slows and steadies — head falling against your crown with tiny, quiet snores coming from his chest. Half clothed, sore and exhausted you breath in the smell of the room, barely registering the feeling of cum dripping from your cunt. Hardly noticeable with the sound of snores and the feel of a body pressed against yours. Fat, raindropped tears roll down your cheeks. And instead of your wish to pull away, to leave this room — you cannot. What would happen to your family, to you? Would the man who beat you really let you pull away from him even in his sleep?

No.

So you settle into his side, raise a hand to rest over his tattoos and wait. Eyes wide open.

---

He wakes up about thirty minutes later - pats your head - dresses and runs out of the door without a word. You're too catatonic, still on the couch, still watching men play volleyball on the television. You watch him leave, tension held in your shoulders melting — unlike the candle on the table. Realistically, it's probably thirty minutes that he’s out of the room but it feels like only a few seconds. Time flies when you're having fun. He returns with a bottle of water and a bowl of something that smells wonderfully of spices and cooked pork. He sets both water and bowl on the glass coffee table. He’s gotten one spoon and he sits next to you on the sofa, pulling your legs onto his lap, jerkily giving a message to your thighs that only serves to renew tension in your body. He continues for a few seconds, delicate hands hardened with callouses knead into the flesh before abruptly stopping and leaning forward. He picks up the bowl and lifts the spoon, a small drop of liquid spills.

“I don’t know your favorite yet so I got you mine.” He waits, watching your lips tremble. Your jaw falls and even if you were to speak, you're not allowed to. He shoves the spoon in and waits for your mouth to close. He sits there for a minute. He’s staring at you again and instead of wiping a tear from your cheek, closes your mouth with a delicate touch. You begin to chew slowly, staring straight ahead of you. The sound of volleyball fills your ears and Kageyama doesn’t speak for ten whole minutes, only feeding you curry and closing your mouth when you cannot. It’s peaceful. Even as you're naked and Kageyama is shirtless again. He takes his time making you finish your meal. Only watching set after set of volleyball on the screen.

“You like volleyball?” The hand that has settled back onto your thigh rests softly - so different to the way he was beating you before - moves to where your neck meets your shoulder. “My grandfather was a coach.” One more bite and you’re done. “I think he was gonna teach me before he died.” The match on the screen ends, shifting to commentary and Kageyama opens the bottle of water. “Let me know what you like to eat, okay? I’ll make sure to get it next time.” He brings the bottle to your lips without any sudden movements and steady hands, and with his other he takes your chin and holds you in the most gentle grip you’ve ever felt. He rubs the bottom of your jaw line, easing your mouth open once more and presses his lips softly to your temple before tilting the water back.

“You’re such a pretty crier,” He pulls the bottle away and kisses the corner of your mouth, the slight stubble on his cheek grazing against your cheek. “When I’m Oyabun, I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of, okay?” He sets the plastic water bottle down and pushes your legs from his lap. He rises from the cushions only to sink between your thighs. “Just do what you’re told and I won’t have to do - this -” He presses two fingers onto the forming bruise at your stomach. “again.” He parts your sore legs. 

“So will you be my good little crybaby?”

[cutegirlmayra]

Hiiiiii, I rly like your writing X3 I was wondering if you’d answer this question: What is your interpretation of what SEGA is doing with SonAmy as of right now? Seems like it’s becoming more and more canon. I know you’ve done similar question before, but could you maybe just answer this for 2021? Thanks!💖💙

No problem! And thank you, lovely Anon~<3 I love writing for the feels~ But also for the accuracy to be as close as possible if I can manage it! First of all, they’ve always been canon? Maybe not ‘in-world dating’ canon but canon in the sense that they are a official SEGA advertised couple since the get-go.

Amy was created to literally be in the slot of ‘Sonic’s Girlfriend’ where she had feelings for Sonic and always a fun mystery as to decipher Sonic’s subtle ‘returned caring’ for her.

As for 2021 we are so FREAKIN’ HAPPY to hear that SEGA is FINALLY marketing the two and VISUALLY SEEING the sales of their ‘couple shirts’ and the like make some profit. Furthermore, we have long-time fans and professionals in the careers within SEGA also vocalizing that they don’t mind the couple and even support it. With less emphasis on the ‘fandom fanatics’ of the raging past and more so on the fantastic marketability and popularity the couple brings to SEGA’s exposing their main IP, it’s become almost common ground to expect more and more people liking romantic and suggested romantic couples in all ranging medias.

We need also mention the alarming rate of the worrisome numbers in Japan recently. Conducted studies have shown that most of Japan’s population is elderly, and in the very near future (About 5 years or so) a good chuck of Japan’s population will die. This means the Japanese Government is promoting more and more companies within both entertainment, advertising, etc. to be more ‘promoting family’ in their media. Japan needs more babies! And guess what?

Mario Odyssey comes out with a completely ‘Wedding themed’ video game.

Dramatic romantic underlying's in Zelda’s new game.

Final Fantasy 7 Remake’s focus on romantic underlying’s along with Cloud willingly saying (English version) “Do I have any say in this?” As though to fight the idea that romance can’t happen and-

Kingdom Hearts 3′s romantic underlying that literally has a song (Japanese) talking about rings and getting married called “Chikai” or also ‘Oath’ that in English is rewritten to a romantic song about going deeper into love called “Don’t Think Twice” but literally has the two ‘making their fates intertwined’ in a symbol of ‘romantic intentions’ such as marriage or even just fidelity in a relationship.

So? How does all this influence the latest Sonamy supersonic boom we’ve seen in the media recently?

Although Sonic is his own character, he’s also only 15 (But as many of you have seen in Anime, Japanese ages of appropriateness are different then our own cultures and societies) we see faint glimpses. In the mostly American-made Sonic Boom t.v series, the comedic moments of Sonic and Amy are very much to a genre of American audiences and how we view ‘funny love’ should normally be marketed as. (I don’t always agree with what they say, but that’s how they’re trained and believe the ‘trends’ go... so ... can’t argue with professionals? Eh? -I personally think they’re outdated *cough cough*)

Sonic is not one to express feelings in overly dramatic ways which is common place in American television and media, but he’s also got a ‘boy’s heart’ which means we won’t see a lot of things from him BESIDES ‘romantic underlyings’ that are probably going to be initiated and themed mostly and primarily in Amy Rose’s character (If at all shown or expressed.)

For these reasons, I believe SEGA is just hopping on the bandwagon and doing what they’re told, while also following the latest trends that the other big fellow companies are making a significant profit on. I know we wish and want SEGA to be ‘special’ in how they think, but they really are just a company that is trying to survive and outlast the competition.

It’s sad to think that way, especially when SEGA used to be so creative and always influencing the next best thing but that was YEARS ago and they’ve learned to tread water since then...

(Goku being a grandfather emphasizes family in this particular scene where they take his granddaughter before a big tournament fight to a fair/festival. We see Goku with his family too, or at least, a successful son with his wife and daughter, spending time with his Father-In-Law, and the like.)

We see it in Dragon Ball emphasizing family, we see it in more romance-themed animes (and those that have only recently done romance, when they--for the longest part--never indulged in such things before or previously) and we now see more japanese games and media centralized around that.

What does that mean for Sonamy? Hopefully good things! Because if you buy the merch, they’ll produce more content. It’s a basic ‘supply and demand’ formula. If the demand (meaning how much you spend and want Sonic and Amy couple merch) goes up, then they have to supply to keep their business afloat. If they don’t they sink, but that DOES NOT MEAN TO BE AGRESSIVE. It means just support when they do something you like, and positively, kindly mention what you liked and wish to see more of if the future allows. No one reads aggressive writing unless, they too--wish to be aggressive back.

SEGA’s had issues with aggressiveness before, please let them see that couples in the sonic world won’t have a negative impact on their branding with irrational and bad-media frenzies. (Now, after saying this, I know people will start to do just that, don’t feed fire with fire, just let the fire burn till it has nothing left to consume, and carry on happily posting fanart or fanstories of what you love. Ignore to extinguish, which is what SEGA will do to Sonic shipping fans if we don’t act somewhat reasonably, okay?)

My predictions are such: 1. Amy’s crush will sadly lessen in impact and become more of a novelty, something that is treasured when moments arise to reveal her crush on Sonic, which in my opinion, is not her personality, but due to the heavy influence of women’s portrayal (Especially in America) being overemphasized and not done well, this is how they will try and combat it... (No one does this right and you shouldn’t base a characters solely on political reasonings...) 2. Sonic will have moments of caring for Amy or doing something sweet that can and probably will be interpreted as ‘a couple moment’ but he’ll remain mostly about other things, and the ‘underlying romance’ will have to come through Amy Rose’s character. 3. SEGA will loosen some rules after seeing more and more of the productivity and trend associated with marketing romance, and to keep up with demand and growing times, will finally let small moments emerge between the two, but the fandom will not be satisficed since we will now be desensitized to overly avert demure and oblivious stereotropes that will date their characters. and won’t allow them to proceed smoothly into the new area of customers and audiences.

Children are becoming extremely observant and aware. They are clever, and they always have been. It’s time to market to Children and Young Adults, not babies.

My ways to avoid this, predictions 1: New employees will surface that will start to get a name and reputation in the Sonic Fandom, along with youtube and internet stars who will influence certain marketing schemes (as is starting to appear now, and I feel will be just like ‘star marketing’ or ‘influencers’ that will be popularized in fandoms that companies will slightly make use of.) that will encourage new ideas and bring about a sudden ‘boom’ not expected. (Especially after the lull of the pandemic, I feel there will be an abundance of things happening in the upcoming years... but nothing right now, unfortunately, but at least they’re forced to focus on working on things instead of just releasing to keep up with other companies.)--In other words, they will incorporate new blood with the old, and they will lead Sonic’s IP into a ton of nostalgia and new beginnings that will actually stick and become Sonic’s new brand identity. (This will resonate with fans old and new, but still be a fresh leap into the future for the franchise and fandom.) 2. Sonic’s negative popularity will start to decrease, leading and paving the way for fame and possible adjustments such as more romantic themes to keep up with trends and Japanese Government demands (especially when the population starts to wither and it becomes an emergency situation to start encouraging family ties). Other than sonamy or romantic things, I believe new characters will pop up to ‘test the waters’ and see if we like romance intertwined adventures. 3. Villains will become more sentimental and caring, less comedically, they will be redeemable entities so that the company can market them more. This can also lead into funny romances that help other romances develop and have more meaning. (In other words, they’ll dig into their vault of familiar and new faces, go off the trend of ‘redeeming the villain’ and have more heart-to-heart moments that may inspire more canonical couples... especially if a newer villain were to have a crush that ended up helping two canon characters get together and leave the audience sympathizing more with the villain. This is an actual trend starting where Villains have more character and roles other than just being evil and staying that way till death. I suspect this will be popularized in American and possibly foreign media as time goes on.)

(I actually have a lot of the sonamy shirts lol But here’s an example of the villain actually helping the canon couple have more ‘romantic underlying’ moments together <3)

Those are my current predictions, though I admit that some don’t sound all that hopeful. But hey! All my hopeful and positive predictions have already come true XD Sonamy is being marketed, the new media (Sonic Boom at the time) had subtle but more forward comedic hinting (that I don’t feel went all that well? But eh, that’s just me!), and SEGA continues to try and reface Sonic which his brand doesn’t need. I believe they will still try and rebrand Sonic continually until something sticks for them that they like. Sonamy may go through many iterations, as they are still hesitant with it, and we see that by only marketing their ‘younger selves’ as in Classic Sonamy, and are too ‘shy and uncertain’ if backlash would happen if they advertised a more mature-looking Sonic and Amy marketing. Again, I don’t know if they’ll fully grow out of this, so I predict they won’t.

(I have this one but in black <3 <3 <3)

That’s it for now! My positive last comments would be the more we buy/purchase Sonamy merch, the more we’ll start seeing it in their media and entertainment products. Until then, do your best and write, draw, and review -kindly- to keep those articles of enchantment alive with the sweet sound of--”When will Sonic and Amy finally have a love song AMV moment for us?” lol

[ystk-archive]

First of all, big apologies to the six people above who asked me about this song over a month ago when it came out. I understand what Nakata meant when he said he only knows a song is finished when he hits his deadline – I could’ve easily let this sit another week and came back and messed with it more lmao.

If you want the short and simple of it: it’s nice, with all that piano it’s sort of reminiscent of jelly (aside from the WOF thing which I’ll, uh, get into below), it’s great to see Toshiko in one of their MVs again (and Nakata directing which hasn’t happened since ’07) though I’m not wild about the video per se. I guess in a broad sense I would say I like it, it’s a return to form for him and infinitely more enjoyable than anything he’s done with his “officially solo” material, but I could also fully understand if someone thought it was boring.

For my actual thoughts on it...

Hikari no Disco (ひかりのディスコ; Light Disco) as a whole package is sort of unusually mired in nostalgia. It’s got all that densely layered, classic style Nakata’s best known for which has been largely absent from his other projects over the past six years of CAPSULE (god I still don’t like the all-uppercase stylization) being in live-shows-only mode. As a piece of music it has an endearing sense of comfort and awe; it amuses the listener with odd little vocal modulations (my favorite is at 2:02), pointed percussive moments, and a strong piano backbone that work in tandem to give it character and charm. It even eschews the club-ready rinse-and-repeat of Nakata’s past compositions for capsule in favor of something very traditionally pop: an actual, proper break right before the song’s climax. Maybe it’s not a stretch to say all the tiny flourishes and embellishments in Hikari are a pure reflection of Nakata finally finding some kind of reason to go back to capsule – the overly bombastic (and loud) way the track opens feels like a curtain unveiling, like somebody pointing to capsule and going “hey, look at this!”

Though there is a bit of an elephant in the room here and that would be the recurrence of the motif from WORLD OF FANTASY (the repeating pattern of twelve-ish notes) which defined that track ten years ago. For the person who mentioned him recycling material, he did say in his Real Sound interview that he deliberately sampled it, but despite my agreeing with him in that it’s a good motif I have a few issues with its reappearance in Hikari. It’s such a specific and memorable facet of a previous track in their discography that its inclusion here feels like a sister song has been created rather than an entirely new work. Not only that, but Nakata went one step further with this callback and basically reimagined the entire music video for WOF as well. He’s definitely not a stranger to self-reference within his music but it normally seems to occur under incidental circumstances, and since historically capsule isn’t a music unit that does a lot of looking back, it comes across strangely for longtime listeners. Nostalgia and sampling oneself aren’t inherently bad, the problem here is that it doesn’t do enough to transform its inspiration point into a solidly new work. I spend both the song and music video just thinking about WORLD OF FANTASY and comparing the two in my mind.

Which, speaking of new works, you probably don’t need me to tell you this brings absolutely nothing new to the table for Nakata’s standard. I’m mixed on whether or not I could call this a detraction, because on one hand I’ve believed for years that he could stand to break out of his comfort zone musically and really try wholly different things (CAPS LOCK is an example), but on the other hand I recognize that capsule’s first new track in six years may not be the place to expect that. I think my concerns right now are for an album that’ll be too self-referential and maybe too focused on being something people remember liking from over a decade ago. (I mean, even their new artist photo is a goofy MORE! MORE! MORE! reference. Love the gloves, though.)

Lyrically Hikari is even more nostalgic, verging on the same type of sweetness present in past capsule songs like FRUITS CLiPPER’s dreamin dreamin and FLASH BACK’s Eternity. I often find myself fixating on the line “この身体にまだ / 慣れてないけど” (“Though I’m still not used to this body”); it strikes me as a strange thing to say in a song that’s otherwise teeming with sentimentality and familiar words (disco, stars, sparkling, landing, lights). Is the speaker meant to be an alien that got turned into a human? Are they now a 41-year-old grappling with age? Am I reading into things here? To answer the person who asked what the song “means,” it’s really up to your interpretation and how you relate to it. For me it’s a song about the lights of the city at dusk, the lights of the club and, just maybe, the lights inside all of our hearts. (That was awful. I’m kidding.)

The music video is an anomaly in that it is apparently Nakata’s return to the director’s seat after a fourteen-year absence from helming this aspect of capsule. While video direction isn’t exactly his forté, nor has it ever seemed like a passion of his, I’ve always enjoyed the outside-the-box approach that yielded visual works like Retro Memory’s stylish, static angle lounge singer concept and Glider’s quirky portrayal of the afterlife, or something. Despite what I said earlier, Hikari is equally helped by the immediate parallel the viewer will draw between it and the music video for WORLD OF FANTASY – it’s almost as if (note: he did not say this! I’m speculating!) Nakata revisited WOF and felt dissatisfied by director Tani Atsushi’s “night drive through Tokyo but make it Blade Runner on a budget.” As someone who never particularly cared for that MV, I have to praise what Hikari does differently with the same basic premise. Here, Toshiko is shown through a neutral lens that chooses not to highlight her body as she gets into a Honda Prelude, an older car almost utterly devoid of the cool points earned by WOF’s Lamborghini. The core of Hikari’s intrigue is in anachronism: the car is from the 1980s, but the road Toshiko is driving on didn’t exist at that time, so when does the music video take place? They carefully include a shot of Tokyo Tower, a symbol of pre-2010s Tokyo, and exclude the much newer Skytree. There’s also the appearance of the cassette tape from which the single’s cover art and central nostalgic ethos are derived. Where WOF followed expectations of an ultra-sleek futuristic cityscape, Hikari is subversive in only the way something with Nakata’s direct involvement could be. It does it all with an unsteadily amateurish camera, a fixation on the unfocused glittering lights of the city, and an intense 3D-effect filter that brings to mind Sugarless GiRL, his last directorial work.

Though as charmingly set up as Hikari is, the video – and Toshiko – ultimately go nowhere. Not that capsule’s music videos were ever particularly story-driven (the animated sci-fi trilogy notwithstanding), nor do they need to be, but there’s a one-note sameness that permeates Hikari and leaves me wanting more. This is especially glaring in the way the video ends with in-car audio and prolonged silence, suggesting something is about to happen, but nothing does. As the music itself ended I found myself desperately hoping for a visual conclusion to go with it: maybe she’d answer a phone call, or arrive at her destination and get out, but the MV just sort of...stops. Legend has it she’s still driving to this day.

Overall the music video does its job better than any other capsule MV between 2010 and now, and the musical nostalgia here is a fun diversion even if it isn’t exactly introducing new ideas. I’m presently just confused about the status of the album (and whether something as jarringly old-school as Utsusemi will get tacked on there) but capsule’s not really followed consistent scheduling since they moved to Warner/ASOBISYSTEM. Maybe next time they drop something I’ll be more conscientious of the timing of answering questions about it though, lol.

[tossawary]

Chapter 24: “Seeing is Believing” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” random favorite lines and commentary. Not a full list or full commentary, but longer commentary than usual to talk about quest construction. 

-

AN: This was... a weird chapter to write. When I started outlining, I had... the conversation with Shen Qingqiu planned... the conversation with Shen Yuan planned... the fact that SQH, SY, LQG, and LFL was the quest party... and the fact that they get the Eye at the end of it. That was everything. 

The entire rest of this chapter came together FRIDAY LAST WEEK. 

Huan Hua Palace wasn’t going to be there. The Weeper didn’t exist. The Eye or its previous owner wasn’t at all connected to the Garden Master. The Shadow Cave Wolf Spiders didn’t exist. The murder plant didn’t exist. The mysterious monster showing up at the end wasn’t originally planned either. 

I mean, I had a lot of pre-existing plot threads to tie in and weave with, but ohhh boy! Picture someone lying facedown on a floor like, “I forgot to plan the contents of the super important quest...” 

I was originally going to have the Eye quest a lot simpler, but given the weight “Death of the Author” had when I finally reached this part of the story, that wasn’t really going to do! It had to be bigger than that! It needed oomph! This also felt like a good opportunity to really establish the new SQH-SY dynamic. To explore SY fumbling to find a place in this world without strict character role, especially in relation to settled and well-supported SQH. 

- 

“One attempts to remain dignified,” Shen Qingqiu agrees. “As there is little point in kicking and screaming about how such ignobility isn’t fair.”

“Ha! Is there ever?”

“Not in my experience.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely not cute when I do it,” Shang Qinghua jokes.

Shen Qingqiu’s lips actually twitch at that.

Success?!

- 

AN: I wasn’t going into this fic with the intention of writing any Shang Qinghua and Original Shen Qingqiu almost friendship! But it started developing and it seemed a shame not to explore Shang Qinghua developing a real relationship with Shen Qingqiu (though not a particularly close one) when the man is suppose to be the scum villain (and the readers know that the man might get replaced by Shen Yuan). 

I can see myself writing more Shang Qinghua and Original Shen Qingqiu content in the future. Someone dropped a particularly nice prompt for them in my inbox that I’m looking forward to exploring at some point. 

(I mean, not to say that Shang Qinghua has a type, but Shang Qinghua has a type and it’s handsome, deadly, intimidating, frosty men with a villainous character design and trust/abandonment and communication issues. I could make it work.)

- 

“Ah, well, two ‘ideal’ situations come to mind: severing the personal relationship for good… or, ah, talking about how to do better and trying that. You don’t have to forget or even forgive if you don’t want to! But, ah… there’s got to be a difference between totally swallowing your anger and cutting ties forever, right?” Shang Qinghua says awkwardly. “If there’s… ever going to be anything good afterwards…”

Shen Qingqiu stares at him for a sweat-inducing length of time.

 “Ah, fuck,” Shang Qinghua thinks.

“Sorry,” he says. “Ahhh, I’m just… thinking about something someone told me… in… in regards to some of my own problems. Never mind! Never mind!”

- 

AN: Luo Jiahui really is out here making Moshang and Qijiu get their fucking act together just by setting a better example. 

- 

“Shizun, my apologies for the interruption, but I came to ask Shizun if he would be willing to join our music lesson today? The disciples have missed his playing and are eager to present their improvements.”

“...Very well, unless anyone here would disagree…?” Shen Qingqiu looks directly at the Qian Cao Peak cultivator, as though daring her to object and die.

“It’s an excellent suggestion!” the Qian Cao Peak cultivator says quickly.

The young woman smiles. “And perhaps Shizun could sit in on the calligraphy lesson afterwards? In order to offer his opinion on my progress as a teacher?”

“Fishing for compliments is unbecoming,” Shen Qingqiu says dryly.

“Wait, what?” Shang Qinghua thinks.

- 

AN: So, this has all been happening in the background, but Shen Qingqiu accepted this House of Rejuvenation woman onto his Peak about... 6-ish years ago now? This is kind of meant to parallel Shang Qinghua’s once-secret relationship with Luo Jiahui. 

Shang Qinghua was out here trying to be a better person and Shen Qingqiu noticed; now Shen Qingqiu has his own positive (platonic) relationship with a nameless background character who was meant to die for plot reasons. What a thing, huh? If the story was saved because Shang Qinghua started a domino effect of saving random people who went on to change things? 

- 

After all, as Shang Qinghua said to the kid, besides Peerless Cucumber’s apparent talent for cultivation, he knows that his fellow transmigrator has three very important skills that will serve him well on An Ding Peak! 1) An encyclopedia knowledge for even seemingly pointless bullshit (which is kind of flattering, honestly). 2) The willingness to fight total strangers over seemingly pointless bullshit. And 3) a sharp enough tongue to win.

Peerless Cucumber didn’t find these points as funny as Shang Qinghua did.

- 

AN: Shen Yuan was always going to end up on An Ding Peak. I thought about sending him to Qing Jing or Qian Cao or Qiong Ding... or any other Peak... but that would take him too far away from Shang Qinghua to really explore their relationship and to move him around conveniently in the story. And SY sticking to An Ding seemed to best illustrate the fact that SY is lost and doesn’t know what to do except cling to SQH. 

- 

“It’s not much, sure, but it’s yours,” Shang Qinghua says finally. “You’ll be joining the talisman classes soon, so don’t try anything from a book and then need to request some home repairs.”

Peerless Cucumber nods and puts his stack of manuals down on the table.

“How’s your tutorial mission going?”

“Fine,” the kid says shortly. “Have you found anything for the other one yet?”

“Ah, not yet.”

- 

AN: “Are you winning, son?” meme energy here. 

- 

Ah, now Shang Qinghua recognizes his fellow transmigrator’s expression! That’s the same stunned expression one of his Huan Hua not-disciples, Yu Chaonan, made upon meeting the Bai Zhan Peak War God for the first time. Shang Qinghua assumes that Peerless Cucumber was expecting a man who looked more like a musclebound giant and less like a pop idol (if one with amazingly muscular arms), which is a super common and never-not-funny misconception people have about Liu Qingge.  

“Brother of one of the most beautiful women in this world, bro,” Shang Qinghua reminds his fellow transmigrator, amused. Aha! Now Peerless Cucumber’s vehement disinterest in the harem stuff is making even more sense than before!

Shang Qinghua’s assumption gets 100% confirmed when it comes time for Peerless Cucumber to fly with Liu Qingge for the next leg of the journey. The other transmigrator is so embarrassed and awkward about it that Shang Qinghua’s super direct brother-in-law asks if the young man is alright.

- 

AN: This was so fun to write. Shang Qinghua really can use the Liu siblings to gauge people’s sexual/romantic orientation. 

- 

The map (or rather, the copy Shang Qinghua made of the delicate original map) takes them to a green and grey landscape of leafy trees crawling over a wide network of tall cliffs and deep gorges. Gurgling rivers cut through twisting rock formations. Shang Qinghua can’t see any of these rivers on the map. Or these deathly drop ravines. From the outside, the whole thing looks like a natural maze (holy shit, there could be so many monsters and death-traps in there!), and Shang Qinghua would know those golden robes flying low over the hanging trees anywhere.

“Huan Hua,” Liu Qingge mutters.

“Do you think they’re looking for what we’re looking for?” Luo Fanli asks.

“That’s usually how it goes,” Peerless Cucumber says, before Shang Qinghua can.

- 

AN: I came up with the skeleton idea first. Then I was like... “I should give it three eyes.” And then I was like... “But who IS this dead author? A god? A spirit? What grander implications am I spinning here?” 

And THEN I remembered that I had some ambiguous powerful being force the Garden Master into exile due to a flood. This was because, in the Epic of Gilgamesh, the immortal man Gilgamesh meets in the abyss is the survivor of a great flood. So I was like, “Reduce! Re-use! Recycle! There’s my skeleton!” 

So I wanted to relate the skeleton to water because of the flood angle. Water as a symbol of cleansing/reincarnation is a big thing throughout many cultures. I can’t remember exactly how the crying aspect came up, but I knew there was going to be water in the temple now, so at some point my brain like was, “Bro, this skeleton should totally be crying because mythology vibes.” 

So I built the surrounding land off the idea that there was water flowing from or around this temple. At this point, I had decided that Huan Hua Palace should also be looking for this artifact, so I had to come up with a way to hide the temple, yet have a way for SQH’s party to track it down. 

- 

The damage to the doors is worse: someone once upon a time collapsed a part of the cliff face around the entrance, essentially leaving only the top fourth of the utterly smashed stone doors visible. It’s a wall now and has been for ages. It looks like it would take days to dig through the rubble. Someone has even super helpfully carved, “These doors will never open again,” just above the wreck.

“Guess we’ll have to go in as intruders rather than guests!” Luo Fanli says.

“What would be welcoming us inside a lost temple exactly?” Shang Qinghua asks vaguely, inwardly cursing the fact that explosive mining techniques will definitely attract the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators’ attention and also probably collapse the whole cliff on them.

“We only have to clear a passage for us, not the whole door,” Peerless Cucumber says optimistically. “Is there a special technique for this kind of thing?”

“Aha, not really.”

“Oh.”

“Why don’t we just keep following the water?” Luo Fanli says.

“...How so?” Shang Qinghua asks.

“Some of those waterfalls could be passages inside,” Liu Qingge explains, because he and the little sister-in-law apparently share the same brain. He’s already eyeing the waterfall wearing down the giant statue on the left.

- 

AN: Temples in quests need to have traps and obstacles and monsters! Well, not ALL of the did, but this one did. I based the obstacles they faced as much as I could around the whole “Death of the Author” theme, while using this whole quest to explore Shen Yuan, Shen Yuan and Shang Qinghua, Shang Qinghua and Liu Qingge and Luo Fanli, and so on. 

The idea here with the door is that the “author” is not going to let them inside the temple to take the interpretation of the narrative (the Eye) for themselves. The story is over (the temple is closed for business)! The author is dead! If they want to get inside, they have to break inside or slip inside as intruders. 

This also creates a convenient obstacle to hold up the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators so that our party can be nearly caught later! And shows off Shang Qinghua, Liu Qingge, and Luo Fanli’s twisty lines of thinking. 

- 

Luo Fanli is holding the light and Shang Qinghua passes the other transmigrator to her, while accepting Liu Qingge’s hand for help getting out of the water.

“Ahhh, that was fun,” Shang Qinghua mutters.

Then he notices that Liu Qingge has the Cheng Luan sword out and ready. Shang Qinghua looks through the surrounding darkness, but all he can see are columns and water. For a moment, he thinks he sees something, a prowling shadow at the other end of the cavernous room, but he wipes the water out of his eyes and it’s gone.

- 

AN: The water in Shang Qinghua’s eyes briefly lets him see a flash of the invisible monsters who show up later! It helps up the tension. 

- 

Another low growl rips through the darkness and Peerless Cucumber shuffles a little closer to Shang Qinghua. Because that sounded really fucking close and yet Shang Qinghua still can’t see the thing that’s making that sound.

He doesn’t see Liu Qingge lunge at him either. He only feels his brother-in-law shove him into Peerless Cucumber, knocking them into the water, out of the way of something that howls when Liu Qingge slashes at it with his sword. Shang Qinghua rolls off Peerless Cucumber and looks up just in time to see dark blood splatter across the watery floor. Liu Qingge pursues the attacker with a second slash, but only seems to meet thin air this time.

“It’s invisible!” Luo Fanli cries. “Fuck!”

“Behind you!” Liu Qingge snaps, and spins to slash at the thin air beside him. Dark droplets of blood hit the water again and something hisses at him.

Luo Fanli whirls and slashes, searching for an opponent.

“They’re reflected in the water!” Liu Qingge yells at her, standing guard over Shang Qinghua as he gets to his feet again. “Listen for their footsteps and vocalizations! Feel the demonic energy and air displacement!”

- 

AN: I got this from a list of Dungeons and Dragons puzzles. The idea is that there’s some puzzle that must be solved, but the truth of the room can only be seen in the reflection of the nearby water (or mirror or whatever). 

Which felt fitting for a “Death of the Author” quest! Whatever an author’s intentions, the story is what they actually wrote, so the audience interprets a text without the context of the author’s insight. The truth (of the story) is in the reflection (audience interpretation)! It felt like a fun idea. 

It also allows Shen Yuan to actually contribute to the quest via monster lore and bring up his impaired vision problem. And to confront Shen Yuan with the reality of this world. And to show off Luo Fanli’s fighting skills. And to show off LIU QINGGE’S legendary fighting skills, instincts as a warrior who fights many dangerous beasts, and the fact that he’s clever and observant! 

Liu Qingge is good at what he does! And this is what he does! 

- 

Someone has… angrily… or desperately… carved a lopsided message into the wall.

 “‘If I go blind, so does the world,’” Peerless Cucumber reads.

“...That’s probably not good,” Shang Qinghua says.

“Nooo…” Fanli agrees.

The messages continue as they climb, carved into the walls, the ceilings, the floors. Most of it is illegible. Some of it is just nonsense. Some of it looks like the same kind of historical records carved into the broken tablets. Some of it looks like someone attacked the walls after reading what was written there. There are deep gouges in the walls and cracked marks that would match a giant’s hands.

 “‘The water cleans the lies,’” Peerless Cucumber reads. “‘I am the only one who can see.’ ‘Lies everywhere, lies everywhere, lies everywhere.’ ‘The water cleans the evil.’ ‘I do not have enough tears.’ ‘Everything is nothing now. Everything in vain.’”

“You really don’t need to read them!” Shang Qinghua tells the kid. “It’s fine. It's totally fine.”

- 

AN: This is mostly here to up the tension, but it’s also here to try and give insight into this being and relate them more to the “Death of the Author” and the “Seeing is Believing” themes. 

I also saw the phrase “If I go blind, so does the world” while I was browsing a list of riddles for D&D campaigns and I was like, “THAT’S SICK, I’M USING THAT.” Really brings the “an eye for an eye” and vengeance vibes. (The riddle was longer than that one phrase, but the answer was “the sun”.) 

- 

The top of the temple reveals one massive room that looks like someone was alternatively scratching their insanity into the walls and tearing chunks out of the interior design with their bare hands. Overtop of the rubble is that eerie overgrowth. There’s a fine layer of water over the floor. At the center of it all is an incredibly enormous desk, cracked in half, with a robed skeleton sitting behind it, slumped over the top. It’s a little too large to be an ordinary human.

Plus, its skull is a little too long, probably to accommodate the third eye socket in the forehead. There’s something gleaming softly yellow in the third eye socket.

“Is… there water dripping from its eyes?” Luo Fanli whispers.

“It looks like it…” Peerless Cucumber whispers back. “Like it's crying…?”

“Still…? Is it dead or not?”

 “Holy shit,” Shang Qinghua thinks, slightly nauseated. “System, bro, the worst bro I’ve ever known, tell me that we have not been swimming in a three-eyed skeleton’s magical undead tears or something this whole time.”

The shitty, no-good System stays unsurprisingly silent. 

- 

AN: Okay, so the idea here is that this being was someone who recorded history and shared their knowledge freely. This being had the ability to discern the truth of a person - they were extremely perceptive. (The Weeper is either female or doesn’t have a gender, by the way.) 

The Weeper met the Garden Master at some point. The Garden Master was an asshole, a liar, arrogant, etc.. The Weeper and the Garden Master clashed badly, until the Weeper sent the cleansing flood that nearly destroyed the sect and the Garden Master essentially had to flee to a personal abyss. 

The Garden Master sent the plant as a final “fuck you” to the Weeper. The plant caused the Weeper to slowly go mad. The smashed tablets and destroyed temple are the Weeper’s work. The Weeper (not in a great state of mind) had the temple closed themselves once they realized they and their work had been corrupted. This was a “you destroy my (embellished) reputation, I destroy yours (and your entire life)” plot by the Garden Master. 

The idea behind the tears is the whole “water is cleansing” thing. The Weeper tried to clean away the madness using their magical water-related abilities... and it actually worked for a long time. But eventually the madness began to overpower the effects of the magical water. The Weeper’s tears are from frustration and helplessness at losing control. 

The water inside the temple combats the plant’s physical effects. Also stabbing the root killed the plant and essentially broke its mental/spiritual powers. 

- 

Unfortunately, to get the fuck out of here, they have to go back through the temple. But hey! That’s still a lot better than an extended hike through an underground, haunted desert in darkness! The battle with the now-dead plant caused its growth to writhe around the temple. The vines need to be hacked through sometimes as they travel down through the rooms of broken shelves and shattered tablets.

“So much history lost…” Peerless Cucumber murmurs.

 “He still thinks of himself as a reader - an observer, a visitor, separate from the flow of fate.”

- 

AN: This is... absolutely based on the Heart from the Dishonored franchise. But this sort of item didn’t originate with Dishonored and I need it! It’s a surprise/mystery tool that will help us later! 

The Eye isn’t exactly a mind-reading object. I mean, it kind of is, but it works in a very specific way that I’m looking forward to getting into. 

- 

From there, their path back out of the natural maze is even more careful and stressful than before, now that the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators are actively looking for them rather than the temple. It’s slow-going and stressful and silent, except for when the Weeper’s Eye presses too close against his chest.

 “He is afraid that if he starts screaming, he will never stop,” it tells him, when he’s looking at a pale-faced Peerless Cucumber, as they fly over a particularly deathly-looking drop.

 “Oh, me too, bro!” Shang Qinghua thinks. “Seriously! Tell me something I don’t know!”

- 

AN: Having Shang Qinghua be totally unimpressed by an object like this was very funny to me. He’s the author! He’s a transmigrator! He knows these people well! He already has insight into their situations. 

- 

Shang Qinghua groans, but supposes that Peerless Cucumber would have at least been disguising Liu Qingge from the back. “You tell them that you were tracking thieves who stole something from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect,” he says quickly. “Rule of embarrassment! Admitting something that makes us look bad to a rival makes it sound true. Don’t tell them what was stolen and act really offended if they try to poke into Cang Qiong business. I’ll come back as soon as I get these two out!”

Liu Qingge nods and launches forward into the fight.

“We’re just leaving him?” Peerless Cucumber says, as they do exactly that.

“I’ll get changed and come back ‘looking for him for urgent sect business’ as soon as I’ve dropped you two off in the last town,” Shang Qinghua says. “I’m really good at acting stressed and confused, and at desperately needing an unstoppable wandering Liu Qingge back at Cang Qiong Mountain Sect immediately. Now let’s go! Let’s go! Mission isn’t over yet!”

- 

AN: Shang Qinghua is, at heart, a liar. I love him.