#then i came back and inked it and realized I hecked up some of the things i was trying to fix and also the formatting so ignored it again

[invisiblemelonmoose]

Silver: Congrats!

Kris: For what?

S: We're engaged-

K: Wait, WHAT?! We're not even dati-

S: - in battle!

K: ...O-oh... duh...

S: Wait, did you- ?

K: NOPE! DEFINITELY NOT! LET'S BATTLE!

Based off of this text post.

[silenzahra]

First of all, thanks a lot to @megamagimugi @itsavee4117 @bberetd @keakruiser @pepperycar

@coffeecat1983 @peaches2217 @stripetkattelalala54 @multicolour-ink @vulpixfairy1985

@purely-interests-here-not-much for your comments on my latest post. I truly appreciate your support as I really needed it. Hope it's okay that I vent under the cut so you're all free to continue reading or skip this post, but I hope you all understand I'm not in the mood whatsoever to be around right now. I know you've tagged me in some stuff and I appreciate it, but I just can't enjoy it right now. It has all to do with my emotional state and nothing with the content itself. Hope that is clear.

Also, thank you to those of you who reblogged my musicians post after I fixed it. I really appreciate it. I'll make sure to give you all proper answers... I just don't know when yet.

Before I go on, let me advice you: if you're in a good mood today, maybe you shouldn't read this if you don't want it to be ruined. It's totally up to you. Just know that I'd never judge anyone for putting their mental health first.

Yesterday was the most awful day of my life. I came to the realization that the people I thought cared for me the most, the people who were supossed to always be there through thick and thin... don't actually care about me. They always put others first, no matter what my necessities and emotions are: they're always there for other people but they're never there for me. Even when it's obvious that I need them, they just don't see it and continue to help everybody else but me.

And I feel lonely. I've never had trouble with being alone as my hobbies usually require that I'm on my own to properly enjoy them, but that's one thing... and loneliness is something very different. I'm never alone, but I'm lonely. And their attitude also makes me feel so unimportant... Makes me wonder why on earth I'm here. Why my family had me if they weren't gonna care about me. Especially my emotions... No one in my family has ever made me feel like they're a safe space for me to open up. Never. So they don't even know what I'm feeling because, whenever I try to tell them something, they change the subject or simply don't pay attention. My voice doesn't matter. I literally have no one to turn to IRL. Heck, they don't even make me feel loved anymore. They make me feel like a burden they have to deal with, and I can't even move to live on my own for financial reasons.

In all honesty, I never thought I'd find myself in such a situation. I don't even know how to act anymore. I have to continue living with my family, seeing them every day, and I just don't know how to look them in the face. The feelings swirling in my chest... they hurt, and I feel that I need to let them out, but I literally have no one IRL. My friends, they all live in different cities, and have their own lives and problems, so they can't always be there for me, and I'm okay with that because I'm also busy. I'd like to get back to therapy, but it's expensive as hell where I live, and I have just started working for the first time after a few months, so I don't have the means for that.

In all honesty, this morning I took the day off from work and went for a walk with my dog. This may sound weird, especially to people who don't have any animals, but I'm not exaggerating when I say my dog Baloo was the only one (in my immediate surroundings I mean) who noticed yesterday that I wasn't feeling good. He has a great emotional intelligence and was there for me when I needed him, and I'm glad I could walk with him this morning because it really did wonders to us both.

Still, shortly after I got home... everything went bad again. I'd dare to say even worse than yesterday. And I'm so tired and drained.

I don't even know why I'm in this world anymore. It's just suffering and suffering, one bad thing after another, and I sincerely can take it no longer. I've had enough. I don't even find joy in the SMB franchise anymore... Yes, it's that bad. I've hit rock bottom and all that's left for me is drowning.

Thank you if you've read everything and sorry if I bored you or made you feel bad. I just hope you understand that I don't feel like being around whatsoever. I love you and your content, but I can't enjoy it right now, so I'd rather not see it until I'm fine... if I ever get to be fine again. This is the worst bad streak I've experienced in a very long time and I sincerely cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel. Heck, I can't even feel excited about seeing my favorite band live again next week... Can't even look forward to that right now.

Of course, you're all free to continue to tag me in stuff if you'd like, but I hope you know I'm not gonna see it now. As I said, I can't enjoy anything in general. I've lost the spark of joy and I don't know how to get it back.

Sorry to sound so depressed, but it's just how I'm feeling right now.

Of course, all of this applies to the people around me in real life. I'm grateful I met each and every one of you, and I'm lucky and blessed that you offered me your support and you're there to listen. I love you all very much.

[undertale-writing-times]

🎊 with cross maybe? - btw I love your writing!! <3

Sure! Thank you for reading ^3^

You had met Cross quite a while ago. At first, you two met while you were on opposite sides; when he was working with Nightmare. Then he came and joined Dream, and you two spoke quite a bit. He seemed almost unsure about you, which you thought was funny since you thought YOU should have been the one unsure of HIM! I mean, he did join the bad guys and, ya know, mess around a lot, but you figured that hey, you couldn't judge him... you weren't a Sans.

That was a joke, get it? Sanses are usually appointed as royal judges? Yeah, you get it; that was funny. Shut up. 

It had been quite some time since then. You two had grown closer—not as close as he and Dream, but close enough that you two were now dating! Datemates, as he called it. When you two told the others; Blueberry was all excited, and Ink laughed, saying that he already knew... you and Cross thought that was bull. Dream was even happy! He said that the happiness coming off of Cross was such a nice feeling.

Cross got embarrassed by that, which you thought was silly.

Something strange was happening, though. Lately, you've been feeling kind of sick, but you had no reason to feel sick. It mostly happened when you were trying to eat or when you first woke up. You told Blueberry, and he said that he would do a check! A check on your soul, you know? Then, when he did it, his sockets widened, and he ran away. What the heck was that?! Why would he run away? You tried to catch up, but he was much too fast.

So next, you went to ask Ink, but Ink just laughed and said, "Hey! I'm not going to be giving any types of spoilers!" Then he jumped away through the ink. That wasn't much help... You wished that Cross was here; you would just ask him, but he went out with Dream, and they weren't going to come back for a few days.

Over the next few days, Blueberry had been a bit overprotective of you, which was strange. He had been protective of you, but now he was really overprotective! Whenever you asked, he would shrug and say, "I wish to help my teammate!" but wouldn't really explain more than that. Ugh, what the heck was going on? You've heard Ink and Blueberry arguing about something too.

But what? You didn't know.

Finally! After quite a few days, you could tell that Dream and Cross were back. You run down the stairs and hug onto Cross, who lets out a laugh while hugging back. "Y/n, what are you doing?"

"Never leave me alone with these weirdos again; they've been so freaky! Can you do a check on me? Berry did and he won't tell me what's going on!" And it was starting to annoy you. Made you wish that you could check yourself, but you can't.

Cross was tired, you knew that, but you also had a feeling that something was going on.

"Alright?" Cross responds with confusion in his voice, then raises his hand to do a check on you, eyes scanning over then he perked up, sockets widening just like Blueberry's did. Hopefully he wouldn't go running away liked he did… "oh… oh wow." he mumbles.

"Well?" you ask, hopefully not as snappy as it sounded to you, "what's going on?"

"I- um- well…" he looks over at Dream, but he had long since walked off to ask the others what was going on. Crap. Cross looks back at you and starts to talk, "Y/n… um, heh, you're… we're going to have a babybones."

You stare at him, look down, then back at him slowly realizing what he meant.

You were… you had… oh God, that explains so much. "we're having a baby?" you mumble, shocked. It explains so much…

[thriller-roads]

Fastcart Needs a Break

Robert E.O Speedwagon x gn reader

Speedwagon was seated at his office desk, which was by the way, strewn with a bunch of papers and forms. He didn't even realize when it all started to pile up. As much as he tried his best to keep things in order, he wasn't used to running an entire foundation. Heck, he wasn’t even all that used to America.

The Englishman honestly never expected this when he came to the United States. America is the land of opportunities after all, but this was just blatant luck. It was great, of course! Anyone would be grateful to stumble across such fortune. At times though, the work that comes with it can get overwhelming.

Speedwagon sighed, setting his ink quill down for a moment. All these investments and contracts were...tiring. But there was a reason he was the one to stumble upon the oil deposits of Texas, there had to be. After all, Speedwagon did believe that some people are just destined to meet, and it must be the same in this situation.

He had to be destined for success. It was his newfound mission to make the world a better place. Along with that, he would do whatever he could to assist the Joestar family. With all his acquired wealth, he would make sure his earnings went towards something useful.

It's then that there was a knock at the door, causing the man to jolt up in his chair. Clearing his throat, he called out, "Yes, come in!" Speedwagon really didn't feel like dealing with any investors or shady businessmen at the moment, but if it needed to be done, then so be it. The one who greeted him however, was a face that put his mind at ease.

"Oh Y/n, thank goodness it's just you," he breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Just me? Were you expecting somebody else?" You took a seat in front of him. Usually you would've taken to the desk, but it was currently occupied by the load of papers.

"It’s just that those shady businessmen arranged a discussion with me later this evening. I thought they might've come in a bit early," Speedwagon explained, taking his quill back up again. "I'm already beyond exhausted with all these forms I have to fill out..."

You observed the man in front of you as he continued to scan over papers and scribble away. His hair was in more of a tangled mess than usual. The bags under his eyes had gotten darker over the past few days, and his hands were stained with ink. Clearly, he was in need of a break.

"Those businessmen...Wouldn't happen to be from the Houston Division? Some old guys in ten gallon hats?" You inquired.

Speedwagon looked up from what he was doing. “Yes, that’s the lot! Did ya see them?”

“Yeah actually I did, when I was coming into the lobby,” you recalled. At the confirmation, Speedwagon groaned as his head fell onto a stack of papers. “So they are here early then…” He shook his head, sitting back up. “The meeting isn’t supposed to be until later! I don’t have the energy to deal with those strange fellas right now. These Americans confuse me enough as it is!”

“Believe me, I know,” you added with a chuckle. With that, you stood from your seat. “Well, you never agreed to meet with these guys so soon. What gives them the right to show up like this unannounced?”

“Well, no use helping it now. Looks like I’ll just have to give my presentation a bit early.” Speedwagon already moved to gather a certain pile of papers before you put a hand on his shoulder.

“No," you stated plainly.

"No??" he tilted his head in confusion.

"Who says you have to stay here? You don't have to talk to them when you’re clearly in need of a break.”

"Y/n, even if I wanted to, they're most likely down the hall, and they'd see me-"

"The window. We can go out the window." Although you were on the second floor, there was a tree right outside. The branches were stable enough to hold weight, and it wouldn’t be too much trouble getting down. You knew this for a fact actually, because you would sometimes climb up there to greet Speedwagon when he was busy. It was overall a good tree to climb on.

Speedwagon hesitated, unsure of what to do. That's when you took his face into your hands, a bit to his surprise. "Robert, you need a break. You can always deal with those men later. You deserve to rest with all the hard work you’ve been doing." With you looking into his eyes like that, and with his hand cramped from all that writing, how could he refuse?

Taking a deep breath, he nodded into your touch. "A-alright, Y/n. Let's go before they get here then."

With that, you rushed over to the window to open it. You went out first, climbing onto the nearest outstretched branch. “C’mon Speedwagon!” Speedwagon had done way more dangerous things in his lifetime, so it was no problem at all following your lead. Soon enough, you were safely on the ground, albeit you had both fallen into a bundle of bushes. “You alright?” you called out.

The response you received was something you hadn’t heard in a while. A laugh. A genuine, bellowing laugh. Your head emerged from the leaves to take a closer look over at Speedwagon. The expression on his face warmed your heart. He hadn’t seemed this genuinely happy in a while.

Sprawled out in the bushes, he was laughing until he composed himself to settle down. "I gotta say, this reminds me of times back in London. Running around, sneaking about and whatnot. Oh how I've missed these little escapades.." he said in a reminiscent tone as he got up to dust himself off. He held out a hand to lift you up as well.

"And oh how I've missed your smiles and laughs, Robert.” Initially upon meeting, you had obviously called him Speedwagon, but have since gotten used to referring to him by his first name. Sometimes you called him both, though it didn't really matter.

Your hand was still intertwined with his, with you staring lovingly into his mesmerizing brown eyes. You found yourself getting lost deep within his gaze, and Robert didn’t even realize that he couldn’t look away from you either. His expression was a bit starstruck for some reason, and the rapid beating of his heart was making him realize why.

For a while it was just like that, until you forced yourself to look away. It was pointless though, since you looked right back at him not even seconds later. "Also you got a bunch of leaves in your hair," at last you broke the silence.

Speedwagon snapped out of his trance, running a hand through his hair only to be met with a series of knots and leaves. “Ah, so I do. That, and it’s not exactly in the best condition right now…” Speedwagon was a bit embarrassed at how tangled his hair had gotten. He frowned as he yanked at a twig in his hair, only for it to remain stuck.

Stifling a giggle, you reached over to take it out for him. “You gotta be more gentle. It’s like untying a rope, pulling at it will only make it worse. Let me help you with this back home,” you offered.

“Right, I think that'd be best,” Speedwagon accepted your offer, seeing as he wouldn't get anywhere doing it on his own. “Well let’s get going then. I may have evaded this meeting for now, but I'll still have to attend later.” He was already walking off before you momentarily stopped to call out to him. “Wait, here, your hat!” Speedwagon turned, giving you a grateful smile as he retrieved his signature hat. “Thank you.”

It was decided that you would go over to your place since it was closer. There, you told Speedwagon to make himself comfortable while you fetched a hairbrush. When you got back, you sat down on the rug. “C’mere Robert. First I need to get the leaves out before you brush and wash up.”

“Right, of course.” Speedwagon set his hat aside and came over to sit down next to you. He was unsure of what position to do this in, so you helped him out. “Just, lay your head on my lap, if that’s okay with you. That’s probably the easiest way to do this.”

It didn’t seem like either of you were all too familiar with close physical contact, because you could feel how tense Speedwagon was. In a similar way, you were hesitant to do much at first even though you were the one who had suggested this in the first place.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you began plucking leaves out of Speedwagon's hair. One by one, you threw them aside and did your best to comb through his hair with your fingers to get the twigs loose. After a while of this, you could feel Speedwagon starting to relax. After all, what was there to be worried about? It was just you and him.

"Y/n, I really appreciate this by the way."

"No problem at all Speedwagon. I've dealt with my fair share of leaves in hair, so I-"

"That's not what I meant," he interrupted, then frowned, realizing it might’ve been rude to just interject like that. "Ah, what I mean to say is…that I thank you for being here for me. For taking me out of that office, for helping me with American customs since we’ve arrived here, and for making sure I set aside time to care for myself. Really, I have a lot to thank you for," he smiled to himself, then shifted his gaze up to share his smile with you.

Your fingers briefly stopped running through his hair as you took in all he said.

"I'm not used to being an oil baron in America, I've been nothing but a street thug from London all my life.” Every leaf and twig was free from his hair at this point, so you worked with the brush next, letting the man continue expressing his thoughts.

"And although work in the oil industry has been rather tiring, I’m sure I can handle it with you by my side." Upon hearing this, you mindlessly brushed at a particularly tight knot in his hair, causing him to wince and yelp in slight pain.

You grimaced at his reaction. “Ah, sorry about that. Anyway, I’m glad you feel that way, Robert. No matter what, I’ll be by your side because I care a great deal about you,” you admitted.

Speedwagon soaked in your words for a moment, thinking of what to say next. After all, he was no stranger to audibly expressing his thoughts to the point where one might deem it as narration. “Honestly, I think we were destined to meet one another. I mean, what were the odds? With you coming to London from America, and in the end accompanying me on my trip to your homeland.”

“So what you’re saying is that I’m your personal tour guide,” you joked, twirling a strand of his hair around your finger.

Although Speedwagon knew you were only joking, he wanted to make sure you knew what he meant. “Really Y/n, you’re so much more to me than that. As soon as I met you, I could sniff out the fact you were one hell of an honorable person.”

“You mean a lot to me too, Robert,” you said as you continued to brush at his bundle of hair. He had so much of it too, that you thought you’d never even be halfway done. “Agh! Bloody hell…” Robert tilted his head away when the hairbrush pulled a tad too tight again. You felt a bit sorry for him, but here was no way to avoid pulling at his hair with the amount he had all tangled up.

Setting the brush down, you sighed. “Okay, I think that’s enough. I brushed out as much as I could. Any more and the brush is gonna snap, along with your neck. Time to wash up now.”

"Alright," Robert nodded. He took a quick glance at the hairbrush, grimacing at how much of his hair had gotten on it before getting up to follow you into the bathroom. You had already prepared the bath, and the warmth of the water was inviting to the ache of his muscles.

“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it then,” you were already on your way out of the bathroom when Robert grabbed ahold of your arm. “Er, if ya don’t mind, I’d like your help washing my hair. You seem to be really good with that sorta thing.”

You let out a small smile at his request. “Of course. Just get in while I go get some extra towels. I’ll be right back.” Speedwagon did so, and was already settled into the tub when you returned. You set a towel down on the floor so you could more comfortably kneel beside the tub.

You rinsed his hair first, then applied the shampoo to massage his scalp. “You know, your hair would be a lot easier to manage if you tied it up every once in a while. Maybe braid it too. Of course, that’s all up to you.”

He gave your suggestion some thought, liking the idea. “Yes, that'd be nice. I wouldn’t mind if you braid my hair after this.”

"Alright, I'm sure the braid is gonna look real pretty on you then."

Robert's cheeks heated up at the compliment, and you smirked at his reaction. You seemed smug enough until Robert turned to look at you directly, giving you the sweetest smile known to man. It was a bit unnerving after a while, and for some reason him staring all stupidly at you like that made you flustered, so you dropped the bar of soap in your hand.

"Hey, quit looking at me like that…" His precious face was too much for you to handle right now, and he could tell by the heat rising to your cheeks. After all, he couldn't just have you flustering him like that without doing it in return.

"Robert I'm serious, close your eyes before soap gets in them already," you said while pouring water down his head. Robert chuckled before finally looking away to close his eyes as soapy water streamed down his face. During this, he felt your hand rest on his cheek to turn his head towards you. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself face to face with you. Without much time to process it, Robert felt your lips on his.

You pulled away to see his reaction. Just as you expected, his eyes were wide, and his face was flushed. His parted lips eventually scrambled to say something though. “N-not to say I didn’t enjoy it Y/n, but is this really an appropriate time for a kiss?”

"Robert, you're literally naked in my bathtub after we said a bunch of sappy shit, I think this is a perfect time for a kiss," you deadpanned.

The Englishman laughed sheepishly at your remark. “I suppose you’re right. Well in that case,” he reached over to reconnect your lips with his. It was soft and gentle; nothing too deep, and you were both satisfied with that.

“I think I can start getting used to this,” Robert smiled in utter joy once you parted, with you grinning at him in return. You couldn’t help but giggle at the exchange, the butterflies in your stomach finally taking over. “I love you, Robert E.O SpeeeedwaGONnnn!"

[maguro13-2]

The Dark Picture ~ Origins of the Ink Demon : Operation Drawcia Pt.3 ~

"Somewhere in a forested area..."

"LEAF STORM ZONE..."

[Right there! Ride on! - Hideki Naganuma]

Sonic : Whoohoo!

*Sonic SFX : Boost*

Sonic : Aw yeah! This new boost system that Sega gave me is a head start! Instead of spin dashing all over the place, I can boost to anywhere where I wanted to go! So first thing's first, I gotta find Eggman to know where is he hiding at! At first, I didn't come into sudden realization that a Tear in the Space-Time Continuum would happen in 2005, Since F-Zero was lost at the time it sold the last game in Japan. Who's gonna cleanup all of Nintendo's messes? (grinds on rail and does various tricks that animals pops up from nowhere) Where did the animals come from? Oh well, it's not my concern since Eggman broke the world into seven pieces, not just the world, but the planet itself. I bet two of those Yuri mikos that discovered that Eggman broke the planet in pieces meaning that pilots of those giant machines we're easily destroyed by this particular creature that came out of the core. Yeah, it that was creature that destroyed these machines and the Ame no Murakami robot that tried to destroy this creature. When the villains of that Yuri mecha show were scolded for trying to the put in genocide, the creature killed them. It's D.Gaia with a capital D.

Tails (via radio) : Hey, Sonic. Now that you're not into that yuri stuff anymore, it's official that we're finally laying off the yuri stuff in Japan or something like that. We're not talking about, we're talking about you getting the Chaos Emeralds from those special stages.

Sonic : I know! Which is why they are hidden inside the special stage zones! They've always been hidden in each of the special stages. Feels like Cyberspace from old ancient technology could be responsible for the creation of those special stages.

Tails (via radio) : That's good! What's important is...we don't know where Eggman is and why is he suddenly hiding, but it's going to be a moment since the Dreamcast Era has entered it's final stage. Now we finally understand that Sonic Adventured 2's plot was being retconned.

Sonic : That's a mistake that I'll never forget, even though Shadow is still alive thou. I don't know why did the time that he lives for no reason.

Tails (via radio) : I wouldn't recommend you that much. But I haven't see Shadow since we first saw him back when we're at the Jungle, it was our last encounter since Emerl was with us. We don't know what happened to him, they say that he was reincarnated into some kind of machine, Gemerl was it?

Sonic : Yeah, that Gizoid. Loud and clear. Good thing that I'm into new music instead of Senoue's whatsocallit. I'm beginning that the Dreamcast era is going to become something what I understand, the Dark Age. Well, at least it's not gonna be that bad.

"One special stage later..."

Sonic : Ha! This was a good start get me one of the first of the red emeralds. Alright, where's eggman! I gotta find him somewhere. *BOOST!* This is a new start for me!

*later...*

Sonic : Gosh darn it! Where the heck could Eggman be?

Eggman : I'm right here, you blue rodent!

[Metal Scratchin' - Hideki Naganuma]

Sonic : Huh? What's this that you're controlling?

Eggman : It's called the Egg Hammer Mega!

"LEAF STORM ZONE BOSS : EGG HAMMER MEGA"

Sonic : Again with the hammers? You're lucky that you're willingly to have something creative, what's the deal with the hammers! I've using a hammer. I'm gonna fall for one of your silly tricks again!

Eggman : Whatever! This is going to take a day of defeating you in person. So hurry up so that I may defeat with this...Hammer! So take this!

Sonic : Woah! (evades) Nice try, Eggman! But it'll take more hammering than to squash me like a bug! You ought to...

Eggman : GET READY TO BE SCHOOLED!

Sonic : Huh? (shrieks like Homer and evades)

*DBZ SFX : Wall Hit/Crash*

Sonic : When did you learn to make a phrase like that?

Eggman : It's a new line, i mean it's a new phrase I invented it! It means that I'm literally going to do something for you inside these machines!

Sonic : Yeah, right! You just wanna make feel like that you're schooling me or something.

Eggman : So long as I controlling this machine, what else there is stop me?

Sonic : Yeah, that's what I thought.

*Sonic SFX : Jump*

Eggman : AAAAHHH!!!

*DBZ/One Piece SFX : Surprise*

*DBZ/One Piece SFX : Loud Explosions*

Eggman : You'll regret this!

Sonic : Eggman! Wait! I'm not done with you yet! Hmm? Is that...?

*DBZ/One Piece : Exclamation Mark*

*FLAMES WHOOSH*

Sonic : AAAH! What was that sudden fiery flash!

[Enemy or Friend/Leaf Storm - Teruhiko Nakagawa]

Sonic : It's a purple cat?

Blaze : Thanks for stopping Eggman on acquiring the Sol Emeralds, I needed those to get the other ones, that were stolen from the other Eggman.

Sonic : Other Eggman? What are you talking about?

Blaze : To save my world at least.

Sonic : Who are you and where did you come from?

Blaze : the name is Blaze, I am princess from the Sol Dimension.

"NEWCOMER : BLAZE THE CAT BLAZES FROM THE NEXT DIMENSION!"

Sonic : Blaze, you say. What a coincidence! I must thank you for stopping--(Blaze dashes) Eggman...Where is she running off to anyway? But when did she said about the Sol Emeralds stolen from the other Eggman? Just what did she meant by now? Anywho, I wonder where is Shadow?

"Meanwhile..."

Shadow : So all of that for nothing, these incidents of machines trying to destroy the planet have been driven into insanity and all of this was just a personal cover up. So after Heroes and Battle, the Dreamcast Era is never the same again after upon hearing the defeat of that other Gizoid. Now all what's left from the Professor Gerald, I can't get a single concetration on whether I can't remember anything since I am suffering amnesia in that base and how did I not know that I didn't die. I had no choice but to live. It was worth of two years of suffering and I only discovered that another that died was just a basic android. Why did Mobius suffer from this dark lore of ours. Believe it or not, I think clearly of that gruesome image of me and Maria finally happened before. Grim told me that Maria it's because of the manhunt caused by Black Doom's shenanigans.

*flashback*

[Suspense music]

Shadow : *panting*

Heavy Pilot : Stop! Get that hedgehog! Find him! Find him where's he at! We mustn't let them escape!

Shadow : !?...(the gun soldiers stops and arrive) What the-!?

Maria : ...!!

Grim : No! What do you think you're doing!? STOOOOOP!

*Shadow/Robot Chicken SFX : Gunshot*

Shadow : MARIAAAAAAA!!!

*flashback ends*

[Prologue - Yutaka Minobe]

Shadow : (shakes head to respond) So, there's someone else that is involved of the manhunt, I can't remember anything from before, and who is this Maria shot dead.

(Thunder booming)

Shadow : ...Red Clouds? Sky's changing...

Central City Citizen : Hmmm?...Oh no...(in horror) They're back!

(Thunder crashing)

(a horde of Black Arms aliens appears dropping from the mouth of the clouds)

*DBZ SFX : Loud Explosion*

Central City Citizen A : Oh no! Not those guys again!

Central City Citizen B : They're back I tell ya!

Central City Citizen C : Get these guys away from!

Driver : Oh my God! (gets knocked over by a Black Arm Giant)

Shadow : So much for a welcoming party. Guess these humans will have to die for consequences. (before leaving)

Black Doom : Greetings Shadow, I have returned.

Shadow : !? You!

(Black Doom appears as a hologram from his eye)

Black Doom : But as you can see, I've managed to make a nuisance out of Grim as the day of reckoning will soon be here. Find the seven chaos emeralds and bring to me as promise, simple as that.

Shadow : Wait, me? How did you know that I am Shadow and what are you talking about. More importantly, what's the day of...(Black Doom leaves)

*DBZ SFX : Loud explosions*

Shadow : So...that's my beginning of this years, huh? If I believe that he will know the truth about my past, I will give them seven emeralds as he promised...To this day, 2005 will be the year of me and I will uncover the secrets of my past! Whether Grim will like it or not! (Sets off towars the city, beginning his quest to discover his true purpose. Title)

Announcer : [reading title card] THE YEAR OF SHADOW BEGINS!

~ Mission 02 : Shadow 05. ~

[maiji]

fight / flight part 3 thumbnails and page sketches

This is the behind the scenes work-in-progress overview for fight / flight part 3!

I feel like I’ve exhausted my current level of ability to compose and draw fight sequences. It was a struggle, to say the least! But it was also a lot of fun and deeply satisfying when I figured out how to get (something close to) the effect I wanted to achieve. I started the thumbnails and page sketches in early August and worked on it intermittently, with a chunk of about a week or two where I got most of the pages inked (on the computer). Then it was more intermittent progress until this past weekend when I finally powered through the rest!

All sketches of the pages are below the cut, spoilers for Part 3 progress.

With regards to the thumbnails versus the final pages:

I learned from last time and did my thumbnails bigger (2x2 instead of 3x3 a page) so that I can better compose the sequences and tell what the heck is going on.

You can see I actually started the first page as Hokushin stretching his arms out to grab for both swords. At some point I decided to then squeeze another page in before that one, giving a bit of a pause for Hokushin to collect himself before he charges at Otake. The goal was to build up that scene a bit more. The text on page 16’s thumbnail reads “slowly getting up first?” and I think we lost the sense of that in the page by itself, but the reader can (hopefully) make that connection in their brain when actually reading from Part 2 to Part 3 without a break). The important thing is that still maintains the pause, so. 

Page 18, the head-on charging page. I was already thinking about this moment back in 2021 - it’s the test panel here of Hokushin crying with rage/despair as he attacks Otake. It seems like a no brainer now that this section is done, but when I first started scripting/thumbnailing, I actually wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to work in the scene. But I did it! It’s just drawn from a slightly different angle and with more details only possible now that I’ve gone through this part of the story, which I think works better to convey the forward momentum.

Page 19 is pretty much exactly as I thumbnailed. I was very happy with this page and the dialogue! Also it was lots of facial closeups so that is always a joy/relief to draw, hahaha.

Page 20 also pretty much as I thumbnailed

Pages 21-23 were the most difficult and last pages I finished. This is mainly because I didn’t figure out the panelling on page 21 till the very end. That page was very tight, trying to pack in an eventful but short sequence of Otake getting more injured, dropping his sword, and doing some sort of attack that would land Hokushin on the ground. At the last second, when I was pretty much done inking everything else, I came up with the idea of basically smacking Hokushin across the head hard enough to flip him over - and snap his neck, if he weren’t a rokurokubi. (I always like to take advantage of opportunities in the story that highlight Hokushin's stretchy nature.) Then I had to redraw a batch of panels on the following page to make it better follow the motion. I still think it could use more work, but short of reworking a lot more - it is what it is, which is done!

Pages 24, 25 also pretty much the same. 

Other thoughts:

Continuity was a challenge. I kept forgetting what damage Hokushin and Otake had already sustained and had to keep going back to retouch pages. In fact, after I reposted to tumblr (which I usually do last, after waiting a day or so in case I catch more errors I want to fix before sharing it there), I then realized I had forgotten to draw all of Hokushin's upper arm injuries from Part 2, sighed and reopened the files to blob some more blood on him. I also realized some of his facial injuries/cuts are not technically rendered the same but at this point it really is a "probably only I would notice if I didn't say anything about it" so eh. May the record of this inconsistency serve to educate lol.

Had a bit of a hard time trying to get Tomoe Gozen to look on-model from how I drew her in Survive.

I am very grateful for splatter brushes. Splatter splatter wheee. There’s a fine balance of… finding the balance though, as I found sometimes the blood splatters got in the way of actually seeing and conveying the impact of the action. But between blood splatters and speed lines that helped a lot with creating a sense of action and FIGHT without having to draw every single blow.

I’m still not entirely happy with the finished pages. Currently the thing that’s still bothering me is Hokushin’s position on page 23, in terms of the angle he’s lying at and how far he is from Otake. At one point I debated even repositoning them so that Tomoe was stepping over Hokushin to block Otake, instead of standing in front of Hokushin. But I don’t want to redraw the rest of that page because getting Tomoe Gozen’s pose looking decently believable took me a lot of wrangling, haha.

Here are all of the page sketches - without the text.

[Image set follows, showing the rough sketch stage for all 10 pages in part 3 of fight / flight.] 

A few more things to note:

On the opening page, you can see that there is a panel of Hokushin taking a step towards Otake that I dropped. It seemed to interrupt/disrupt down the pace between this and the next page in a way I didn’t feel was effective.

On page 22, the angle of Hokushin crashing into Otake is a lot more extreme/exaggerated, but when I started inking it ended up looking a bit ridiculous, so I rotated them to a more conventional angle.

Here are the two panels for page 22 top left that I had finished and then decided to completely re draw after figuring out the progress of page 21. You can see Hokushin has landed on his back instead and dramatically coughs up some blood. (Then I was like, "Oh I made him do that in Part 2 already. Seems redundant.") His landing also didn't make sense anymore with the action/impact coming from the side in the previous page.

Phew! Part 4 will have a lot less people whacking each other with swords and a lot less Hokushin being flung around. Thankfully!

[surrealinkrpstories]

FuckinSurreal, FuckinLucid and FuckinSway

Vane Everett ‏@FuckinSurreal 

@FuckinSway @FuckinLucid /Snaps on some new latex, starting to thread the liner into my tat iron and setting aside to pick up a razor/ Are you sure that’s that one you want, @FuckinLucid? /Lifting a shoulder/ Where are you mounting the art? /Snorts shortly/  

⌘☯ Aleva ☮⌘ ‏@FuckinLucid 

[I move closer to @FuckinSurreal, turning my back on @FuckinSway and pointing to my arm.] Here will do. [Anything to keep awake.]

Julian Blake ‏@FuckinSway

*I frown as @FuckinLucid turns her back to me, but I am interested in watching her get tattooed.* I would love to watch if you don’t mind.

Vane Everett ‏@FuckinSurreal

/Chuckles quietly giving a tick down of my head before starting to shave and prepare the area/@FuckinLucid @FuckinSway It’s fine with me Dude as long as @FuckinLucid doesn’t mind. /Grinning between you both/ So you play at a bar? What instrument? /Cleans off the lower section of@FuckinLucid’s inner arm, starting the free hand drawing before whirling up the iron with a low hum/

⌘☯ Aleva ☮⌘ ‏@FuckinLucid   

[I start to tap my foot, a sweeping of anxiety rushes through me as I watch @FuckinSurreal set up and clean the area. I shrug at @FuckinSway.] If you must. [I mumble but I’m not sure he heard me. I drift into my own mental space, already feeling buzzed and excited about the ink that’s soon going to be etched into my skin. @FuckinSurreal and @FuckinSway start a new conversation but I’m not listening. I’m closing my eyes and biting my lip, waiting for that tingle, the thrill of being permanently marked.]

Julian Blake ‏@FuckinSway

*Looking intently at @FuckinLucid being inked as I reply to @FuckinSurreal.* I play the guitar and sing. I do covers and also write my own music. It’s a great atmosphere over there. I can also get you free drinks if you come by. *I turn my attention back to @FuckinLucid’s etching.* How’s it going, pet?

Vane Everett ‏@FuckinSurreal

/Lifts a brow down to @FuckinLucid bouncing foot, rolling forward in my seat to start lining the ink, small ink drops gathering at the edges as I braze the dark lines across her flesh, wiping away the excess and hitting the ink caps to load up the ink into the needle. I furrow my brow in concentration listening to @FuckinSway/ Guitar, nice. Are you participating in that Blue on the green fest? I’ve heard people talking about it, and being in Austin it’s got to be great for musicians with it being the live music capitol. /Nods over to @FuckinSway/ You get groupies hitting on you?

⌘☯ Aleva ☮⌘ ‏@FuckinLucid   

[Despite the pain of the needle in my skin, the shivering from the adrenaline high and the busy movement surrounding me. My body relaxes and I sigh as I feel myself sinking into the depths of a blissful calm.]  

Miss B ‏@PoutyIsabella

*The crowd is insane. People lined up from venue to venue, others loitering around tables covered with tattoo designs, waiting to get new ink. I’d been to one of the expos before, back in LA, but the building was larger, so it didn’t feel as cramped. Sliding the flyer into the back pocket of my jeans, my eyes scan the area again. The leaflet mentioned human suspension and the tinge of excitement to see that only kept building the closer I got to where it was. While watching someone hang by hooks through their skin makes me cringe it also feeds into that ever curious nature of mine. Exactly how can they do that?! When I finally push through the crowd, I’m met by two men, both suitable enough for the Hot Stud contest I passed when I came in, hanging from the hooks. There’s no way in heck I could do that! “Fuckin’ epic, right?” My gaze shifts from the men to a girl, her grin spreading from ear to ear. She’s completely covered in ink and I’m curious as to why she’s not in line for the Hot Babe contest. Her hot pink mohawk makes me grin and before I realize it, I’m nodding.* It is… and not a bad sight to see either. *She winks and continues moving through the crowd, getting as close as possible to the men. Pulling my phone out, I snap a few quick photos while moving around, catching different angles, to send to Lily. She can’t stand things like that and I love giving her hell about it. Deciding to start scouting for an artist, I shift to the side, slipping between a couple and head towards the artists’ booths. I judge a few at first based on the artwork and photos of tattoos hanging up or displayed at their tables. The first couple of artists seem to focus on the death side of things, their pieces mainly skulls, reapers and the like.* Definitely not what I’m looking for… *My hand clutches the tiny paper in my pocket and I suddenly feel a little foolish for thinking I’d find what I’m looking for here. Most of the artists are hardco… my train of thought stops I come up on a female artist currently working on a side piece. Her work is cute and frilly, all enhanced with a little freak. I love it. The piece she’s doing consists of stars, feathers and… something else. It kind of reminds me of a paisley design and is something that I definitely wouldn’t mind having. Shifting my gaze from Jessie, my eyes scan the surrounding booths. If I didn’t find someone else to do my randomly crazy tattoo, then she’s going to be who I choose. Not just because of her designs, but she’s cute, too. Always a plus in my books.*

Julian Blake ‏@FuckinSway

*Speaking to @FuckinSurreal.* Yep. I’ve heard about it. *Chuckles.* I don’t have any groupies yet that I know of. *Looking back at @FuckinLucid. I frown as I notice her eyes closed and rhytmic breathing. Is she…? *I lean in to whisper in her ear.* Are you falling asleep?

Vane Everett ‏@FuckinSurreal

@FuckinSway @FuckinLucid /Chuckles out, lifting my eyes to scan around the booth briefly/ Who knows, perhaps you have some stealthy stalkers. @FuckinLucid here could be one. /Grins down, seeing Aleva relaxed with a blissful grin across her lips. Strange some. I bend forward to clear away a large drop at the corner of a line, my lids blinking rapidly as I think I see @FuckinLucid’s new tat line shift from where I’d just lined. What the hell? I shift back in my seat, wiping a small trickle of sweat from my brow thinking I may need to rest my eyes soon./

⌘☯ Aleva ☮⌘ ‏@FuckinLucid   

[The soothing voice of @FuckinSway whispers through my head and I smile in response, forgetting that I’m supposed to hate this guy. But my mind is elsewhere, concentrating on the flood of sensation in my arm as the new ink settles and becomes a part of me.]

Julian Blake ‏@FuckinSway

*Tranquility is radiating off of @FuckinLucid, contrasting to the anxiety she had before the tatt started. My lips twitch in a small smile before I notice something strange. Frowning, I take a closer look.* I must have been seeing things. *I mutter to myself, having thought I saw her ink shift before my eyes. Shaking my head, I decide to go for small talk as @FuckinLucid seems calm and not ready to bite my head off.* So, where do you live?

Vane Everett ‏@FuckinSurreal

@FuckinSway @FuckinLucid /I finish up the lining, the shader being loaded carefully as I begin adding the different hues of grey and black to highlight the piece making it stand out more. I refill the ink caps, using the clean the outline and concentrate on blacking in the points in slow even strokes. My head shooting to the side catching an odd expression flicker across @FuckinSway’s face. Did he just see the same thing I had? My temple pounds, finishing the last few strokes on @FuckinLucid’s tattoo, wiping it clean and coating with jelly before allowing her to check the work/ I think you’re all finished,@FuckinLucid. How you holding up? /Slips off my latex, eyes watching closely for her to sit up/

⌘☯ Aleva ☮⌘ ‏@FuckinLucid  

[I frown as I open my eyes.] Done already? [I didn’t feel a thing. I sit up and start to lean to one side. This has never happened to me before. Shit, I shouldn’t have gotten a tatt when I haven’t slept properly indays! A rushing through my ears has me losing my balance as I try to stand too quickly. What the hell is happening? I feel like I’m crashing after a sugar high as I feel myself shake, starting to fall.]

Julian Blake ‏@FuckinSway

*I notice @FuckinLucid sway on her feet and I grab hold of her to help her catch her balance. I glance at @FuckinSurreal, he is talking to other customers. I take a wad of cash out of my pocket and tap@FuckinSurreal’s shoulder before nodding bye and slipping the money in his hand. I wrap my arm around @FuckinLucid’s waist to help guide her away.*

⌘☯ Aleva ☮⌘ ‏@FuckinLucid   

[I stumble away from @FuckinSurreal’s booth with @FuckinSway, unsure why I’m having such a physical reaction to the tattoo. I must have at least twenty of the things in various places. It has to be something to do with dreaming state I’d been drifting into whilst getting inked. I grab onto@FuckinSway’s arm for balance. Clinging to him as we walk, unsure of where we are going but thankful. My breathing is erratic as we walk and sweat drips down my face.] I need to sit. [I hear myself whisper to @FuckinSway]

Julian Blake ‏@FuckinSway

*I can feel her anxiety spiking and using my empathic abilities to bathe her in calmness. I steer her to a chair.* Would you like for me to get you some water, Aleva?

⌘☯ Aleva ☮⌘ ‏@FuckinLucid   

[I sit on the chair @FuckinSway directs me to, nodding at him.] Sure. Water is good. Coffee is better! [I close my eyes again to try and direct the swirling vivid lights away from my eyes. Please… not now. I can’t go into this state now. I take a deep breath and feel myself calming. But I shouldn’t be calm. The forced emotion is just as disconcerting as my own addiction trying to take a hold of me.]

Julian Blake ‏@FuckinSway

I’ll be right back. *I leave @FuckinLucid to go grab a coffee at the beverage stand and hurry back to her.* Here, sip this. *I hold the cup out to her.* Would you like for me to give you a lift home?

⌘☯ Aleva ☮⌘ ‏@FuckinLucid   

[I practically snatch the cup from @FuckinSway’s hand, downing the scolding liquid, not caring that it is burning my lips and throat. Just needing the caffeine and now. I take a deep breath after draining the contents of the styrofoam cup. Licking my stinging, puffy lips. I shake my head at @FuckinSway.] I don’t know where I’m staying yet. I was kicked out of my last motel.

Julian Blake ‏@FuckinSway

*I gaze down at @FuckinLucid. I don’t want her to be without a place to stay. I can always sleep on the couch in my art studio and let her have the bed my room. I blurt out.* I have a spare bedroom if you’d like a place to stay.

⌘☯ Aleva ☮⌘ ‏@FuckinLucid   

[I raise my brow at @FuckinSway, the coffee finally taking effect on my body and waking me up. I feel messy and my arm is stinging. I look down at the new ink and remember I didn’t give @FuckinSurrealany money.] Oh shit, I forgot to pay! [I start to stand again but stumble and lean against @FuckinSwayinstead. Groaning and lifting my slightly bloodied and newly tattooed arm to wipe my face which is soaked in sweat from the adrenaline and Texas heat. I remember @FuckinSway asking me a question.] You say you have a bed, Julian?

Julian Blake ‏@FuckinSway

*I lift my brows at the use of my real name. So she does know it after all. I inwardly chuckle, but not letting my amusement show. I hold her up and let her lean on me.* I paid @FuckinSurreal for you so don’t worry about that and, yes, I have a spare room if you’d like to take advantage of that.  

⌘☯ Aleva ☮⌘ ‏@FuckinLucid   

[I chuckle, as a foreign sense of amusement sweeps through me. Unable to control my words, I blurt out…] As long as you don’t make me strip. [It sounded funnier in my head and I’m not even sure why I said it. Letting @FuckinSway guide me to wherever we’re going. I should definitely sleep. And soon.]

Julian Blake ‏@FuckinSway

*Laughing out loud this time, shaking my head.* Don’t worry, I’m not that creepy. Is there anything you need to get before we go to my place? *I begin to steer you out of the building.*

⌘☯ Aleva ☮⌘ ‏@FuckinLucid   

[Snort] You really are a creep. You just have trouble admitting it. [I chuckle to myself before realising…] I left my bag at @FuckinSurreal’s booth. But I know where his shop is. I can grab it some other time. You got some spare clothes?  

Julian Blake ‏@FuckinSway

*I could loan you a shirt and some shorts.* Yes I do. *I help you over towards the car.*

[lebrookestore]

the one; l.ty

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x reader

Themes: exes! au, best friends to nothing, exes to nothing, college! ish au because they’re graduating, the angst is a very subtle type but its still pretty heavy

Warnings: unrequited love, heavy angst, mentions of kissing and food (ice cream)

Wc: 1.6k

Playlist: the 1 by taylor swift, closure by taylor swift, 2 kids by taemin, dancing after death by Matt Maeson

Authors note: this is a deleted scene from my fic, favorite crime! (which you should go read. please lmao but also because it will give this story even more context) i have altered it so it sort of works as a oneshot? Anyways, I hope you like it<3

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now

~

When you’re younger, you’re told to live your life to the fullest, to enjoy your youth. You’re seen as naive and and wide eyed at the world around you. When you’re younger you’re allowed to make those stupid mistakes and mess up, because people look past them.

But some mistakes, everyone but yourself can look past. These type of mistakes could haunt you for the rest of your life with every little thing you do. The what ifs.

And when you’re young, even though you have so much of your life left to enjoy, you can’t ever go back and fix them. They were permanent, like a life long promise, or a tattoo inked into your skin. You would never be able to escape them, even if you moved on.

At age twenty one, standing in front of your full length mirror donning your graduation cape, you had already made one of these mistakes, and it weighed you down everyday, simply because the reminder of it all was just a window away.

You glanced through your window, seeing him there, doing the same thing as you were, trying to adjust his tie. If you hadn’t been so stupid, then the two of you would have been getting ready together, you would be the one tying his tie and he would be the one teasing you about how your your cap was too big for you.

You let a smile brief your lips, before looking away. Even though you were no longer staring at him, you knew exactly what he was, the image burned into your mind. Bleached blond hair still messy no matter how much he tried to tame it, his bright eyes that seemed to hold the universe and that intoxicating smile.

Your biggest mistake was falling in love with the boy who never loved you back.

And how you had fallen, hook, line and sinker for him. Taeyong was the object of your affections, your best friend- well former best friend. That was where your mistake came in.

You foolishly let it happen, a relationship of sorts with him. At first, it was everything you had ever wanted, but that slowly started turning into a nightmare you wanted to wake up from. Sometimes you still wonder if you’re in a nightmare.

The two of you worked so well together, because you had known each other since you were four. He knew all your flaws, had seen you at your worst and at your best. You would have never thought he would be the cause of one of your worst moments.

But Taeyong, he wasn’t in love with you, but rather, was infatuated. Infatuated with the idea of love and loving you. Once he figured that out, he did the right thing and told you, effectively breaking up with you.

You lost your best friend and lover all at once. It was painful being around him, because you were still in love with him. He had been your everything, and now you had nothing at all. He slipped through your fingers like sand on a beach.

You hadn’t talked to him since that night he told you the truth. You made an effort to not look at him through your window, because it would just break your heart more. You had never known what it was to be heartsick until you experienced it yourself, and extremely violently.

He didn’t push it either, giving you your space. And while this helped you heal, it also felt so wrong. From spending almost every moment together, to spending no time at all, your lives had completely changed.

For some, love was a breeze, it gave them a fuzzy warm feeling that they wanted to hold onto forever. For you, love hurt like a bitch.

You couldn’t help but think about what could have been, if he had actually loved you. Or if you never indulged in what you wanted and just stayed friends. Sometimes- no, all the time, you wished that had happened instead. You were fine with loving him quietly.

Another part of you, the more selfish part, wished he never realized he didn't love you. You would have been fine living that way, but that was only thinking about yourself. You deserved to know, and he deserves that freedom.

What if?

Falling into love is easy, especially with someone like Taeyong. He was the most beautiful guy you had ever seen, with the kindest heart you could think of. You had fallen when you were merely seventeen, still in high school.

No, it was the falling out of love part that was harder. After loving someone for as long as you had loved him, you couldn't imagine ever loving anyone else. The sheer thought of it didn't make sense to you.

So what if you were still with him, what if you never lost him. What if he was still your best friend through thick and thin?

Snapping out of your thoughts, you made one last adjustment to your graduation cap and sighed, scanning yourself over in the mirror. Deeming yourself presentable, you walked out of your apartment, jogging down the stairs of the building and reaching the ground level.

You were hitching a ride with your friend Ryunjin, who was arguably the world's worst driver but you didn't really have a choice. If you did, you would be going with Taeyong, but well, that wasn't going time happen.

You yourself couldn't drive, simply because you were too scared of accidently killing someone. Taeyong had even tried to teach you how to drive when the two of you were dating, but it was discovered that you were probably even worse than Ryunjin.

A few traumatized minutes of the drive to campus later, you found yourself lost in a sea of students that were also graduating with you. Thankfully you had a few friends, but it was still pretty overwhelming.

The ceremony itself was a blur, of you were being completely honest. You saw your friends get called up on stage and receive their scrolls. Ryunjin flashes an awkward peace sign at the principal because she shook his hand, Ten did a happy dance after, and Renjun pretended to click a picture.

You saw Taeyong go up there and receive his scroll, a bright smile on his face, a smile you so loved. You clapped for him, a proud, yet bittersweet smile gracing your features.

And soon it was you up there, and after you had gotten your scroll and take your picture, it had literally turned blurry. You didn’t realize you were tearing up until a wave of emotions crashed over you. You had finally graduated, you were out of this place after four years.

You hated change, despised it even. Now you were thrust out into the world, gone was the familiarity of attending classes and parties with your friends. First you lost your best friend, now you’d probably lose most of your other friends. It wasn’t as if all of you were going to stay in the town, you had first hand experience of this when your friend Yeji graduated the year before and moved away.

You were so young, so naive and yet it felt as if you couldn’t hold on to a single moment long enough. How were you supposed to enjoy your youth then? You were slowly loosing everything.

Sucking in a deep breath, you composed yourself, a laugh escaping you when Ryunjin practically threw herself onto you in a hug of celebration. You quickly wiped your tears so no one saw them, smiling. 

Turning around to talk to another friend, your eyes met Taeyong’s. He was much further away from you, but you knew it was him, you’d always know him. He didn’t break the contact, a small smile appearing on his lips as me mouthed something.

‘I’m proud of you’

You mustered up the best smile you could, repeating the same things silently so that only he would know it. Pressing your lips together pacified, you once again accepted that it was over. You had accepted it so many times, but you had to keep reminding yourself.

With one last look in his direction, you raised your hand up, curling your fingers into a fist before bringing it down to your chest, right over your heart. His smile only grew as he gave you an affectionate wave. Best friends after all, you knew each other like the back of your hands.

And then everyone tossed their caps into the air, as cheers resounded through the hall. Laughter and chattering filled the area, and you knew it would be alright in the end. 

You accepted the fact that Taeyong would haunt all your what-ifs, even as you tried to move on. All the kisses at midnight and late night talks out on your adjoining roofs, the long drives and ice cream dates- it was a thing of the past.

And yes, it still hurt when you recalled all the beautiful things that had happened with your time with him, the way the two of you were so beautiful.

It simply wasn’t meant to be, even if you were still in love with him. Heck, you were sure you’d always be in love with Taeyong, a part of your heart would be reserved for him and him only, but it was time to let go. You weren’t okay right now, but you’d learn to be okay. 

Still, it would have been fun if he had been the one.

fin.

[ilove-cedricdiggory]

Moony

Remus x Reader

Part 2

Summary - After you left Remus after telling him about your pregnancy, you're now trying to juggle being pregnant by yourself in a foreign country, along with your three best friends searching for you.

Trigger Warning - Cursing, mentions of abortion, angst, it's longish? I think that's all. Let me know if there's more though.

Italics are letters, Bold is unknown to the readers.

America.

That's the only way you can really describe it. It is, well, America. Some places are incredibly beautiful, some terribly ugly. Some incredibly cold, some unbearably hot. Some busier than Diagon Alley on the day all the kids come to buy their things, some slower than a virgin's bedroom.

You hadn't seen much, especially seeing as how you had only been there for a week, but it was already more than you expected. You expected a stern talking to, you expected a bed rest, you expected a midwife in every thirty minutes, and you definitely expected to have someone at your side every second of the day. But, that wasn't what you got.

Especially seeing as how, your Great Grandpa kicked the rest of your family out of the house before you arrived, not wanting his favorite grandkid to be in an uncomfortable home, especially while she was growing his two great, great grandkids.

He was incredibly wealthy, a pure blood from England gone American. You had been the only one that actively spoke to him and visited him as often as you could while he lived in England. Now, your family was watching the sand fall in his hourglass to see who got the most money from his will. Honestly, though, you could see the man living another 200 years - just to spite them all.

He had taken you out, shown you incredible things, although you were stuck in a stupid state of unbearable heat - Texas. Although, the heat had taken you out of the sweaters that had you crying every time you got a whiff of his scent, and into some beautiful maternity sun dresses. You had already sent 20 pictures to Molly.

You had yet to write to Lily though, but her owls came twice a day, at least. You were starting to worry that she would get on James' broom and follow the owl herself to find you. Her letters really all stayed the same.

Y/n, just tell me where you are. I won't tell Remus, or Sirius. Heck, I won't even tell James. Harry and I will come visit and I'll tell you all about how I beat Remus' arse. Or how James did....Or how Sirius did. But, please, just write me back. I love you. I miss you incredibly.

Then you had

Y/n, come on, you really have me worried. The entire order has heard about what happened and I think they're all freaking out each second like we are. We miss you. You're the ray of Hufflepuff joy we all need, the always Ravenclaw intelligence the boys really need, the absolute Gryffindor bravery in the craziest of situations that the order needs, and the Slytherin strength I need. Please, just write back.

Then, she got help from the boys - or, the ones you would be open to hear from.

Y/n, while I have to be honest, Lily is standing over my shoulder watching me write this, I was going to do it either way. Remus was an absolute arse, I understand that, but we miss you. Lily, Harry and I want nothing more than for you to be home, with us even. You don't have to see him, you really don't. We just want to be here for you through this time, the good and the bad. Please write back.

When that didn't work, you had a howler from Sirius.

Y/n Y/l/n, I swear, if you don't write me back, I'm gonna jump into the paper and send myself! I'm going absolutely crazy watching Lily freak out every day! You're the only one that can calm her, not even James is doing it! You're taking away my precious James time! I fucking miss you - okay? Moony is an absolute dick. He deserved you walking out on him, he really did, but please don't walk out on all of us too. Y/n, we miss you, we really do. Moony isn't even here anymore, he left after we all went to Molly's - Sirius, don't tell her that! - Shit, fuck, how do I scratch that? Uhhh, I didn't say that. Erase! Erase! Lily, how do I erase on a howler? Fuck. Whatever. I'm sure it erased. But, come home. I'll make James make you that surprisingly good chicken he makes and I'm sure Lily would love to give you some old baby momma clothes or whatever the fuck they're called. I just - we just - no, I miss you, okay? Come home.

Your heart broke, not just because Remus was missing, but because your friends were hurt.

You sat down at the table in your guest house, sighing softly. A quill and some parchment sat before you, your hand shaking as you dipped it into the ink.

Lily, James, and Sirius.

While I know I could write a letter to each of you separately, I'm almost positive you're all together, or you're gonna call each other as soon as you get my letter.

I'm okay, I think. Not as okay as I wish I was, I cry a lot. While I wish I could blame it on the hormones, I know it's not. Everything reminds me of him, even here. No, I'm not in England, I'm in the states. I'm staying with some family and I think it's doing me well. At least, I've started to own my pregnancy.

After what Remus said to me, my body broke. I just about hated the fact that I was pregnant. Not my kids, just that I was pregnant. But, with each day, I realize that this pregnancy is the thing I needed most. While I wish I didn't have to say this - it showed me the man Remus is. Does that mean I cry any less? Of course not - you guys know me.

But, I really don't think I can come home, at least not yet. I'm still trying to figure out what I'm to do. I love Remus with every fiber of my being, but how do you love a man that told you to get rid of your own children, the minute he gets home from a mission he could have died from? How do you let him hold you as he feels the two children you both created grow in your belly knowing he hates them?

I'm going to come home eventually, of course I am. And I already promised Molly I'll be back for a visit soon, and you guys are more than welcome to come visit once I teach my family how to properly floo in America - did you know they don't do that here? It's super weird. But, I love you three incredibly. I'm so sorry this has happened. Be safe.

Your heart broke as you debated on writing more, about what your heart was still set on. Remus. Where was he? Where did he go? Had they heard from him? Was he looking for you? But you couldn't bring yourself to ask them.

The owl was sent with their letter, leaving you in the silence once more.

How could you feel so absolutely alone when you had people wanting nothing more than to be with you? Is it what you thought you deserved? They were his friends before they were yours. You felt horrible that they were taking your side. You felt your heart ripping slowly with each beat it made in it's spot in your being. It was like one half of your heart was tied to Remus' and with each beat away from him, it tore you apart - slowly, filling you with excruciating pain.

Five minutes after the letter was sent, you were standing, trying to find a way to busy your mind.

Ten minutes after the letter was sent, you were crouching in the corner, the weight of your predicament pressing down on you so hard, it's like it formed hands and was set on pushing you six feet under without any hole dug for your body.

Twenty minutes after the letter was sent, your body was shaking with it's sobs once more, the loss of not only your spouse, but also the friends you loved almost as much as him.

An hour later, you had fallen asleep on the floor, your mind groggy and your heart tearing with each beat, your conscious hoping to pull you away from the pain your felt in the body that was supposed to be yours - but belonged to the man who seemed to not want you anymore.

It was dark, so incredibly dark. The only thing that was seen was the moon, halfway full in it's wake. The only thing heard was the pads of feet stomping on the ground as they ran. Ran where? Ran why? You could feel the pain in your chest, but it was like it wasn't your own. As you came to a stop, you looked at a building that seemed a familiar kind of unfamiliar - although that didn't really make much sense to you.

Before you realized it, you were slumped over the toilet, letting out the contents of your stomach. One of your hands pulled your hair to one side of your shoulder, keeping it there. But all you could think was how badly you wish it was Remus holding your hair, rubbing your back as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

But all that mattered today was to get through it, like any other day.

One day following the motions.

Two days following the motions.

Three, four, five days.

Until your hands were pulled from your face, the skin around your fingers almost chewed to nothing, the warm face of Lily standing before you.

"If I see you bite your fingers one more time, I'm going to hex them to taste like Harry's dirty diapers." She spoke, pulling you up from your spot on the couch.

"Lily - I." You stopped, looking around her to see James, Sirius, and Harry. "How?" You asked, looking back into the eyes of your best friend.

"Your great grandpa is super cool. I think he was getting tired of all the letters we were sending him too and gave us the floo network here to knock you out of whatever it is you're in." Sirius spoke, Harry on his shoulders, pulling at his hair.

"You guys-" You were cut off with Lily pulling you into her hold, her larger belly pressed against yours as you both attempted to properly hug one another.

"I have missed you, so much" Her voice was soft, uncommon for Lily. Her hands held you tightly, almost like she was holding onto you to make sure you didn't disappear once more.

"Come on Lils, other people missed her too." Sirius spoke to cause her to pull away and glare at the man. "If you weren't holding onto my kid, I'd have hexed you so hard for that." She said, moving to grab Harry from his shoulders as James wrapped you up in a hug himself.

"If we hadn't seen you for another day, I think Lily was going to fly off on my broom." He said, causing you to laugh at your own prediction.

You finally got to Sirius, his arms holding you tighter than the two. "I'm sorry." He mumbled, his hold growing tighter. "What are you sorry for, Siri?" You asked him, pulling away to look into his face.

"What he said, what he did. That's not what you deserved." He mumbled, pushing your hair back a bit. "I swear, I about pounded his face in at Molly's. I think Arthur had to separate me magically." He trailed off, looking at the floor.

His words brought tears to your eyes once more, your heart feeling empty, yet full. "That's not your fault, Sirius. We all knew he didn't want kids, but we weren't careful. I don't know why his reaction surprised me." You were honest with them, having thought this entire thing was truly your fault.

The three of them surrounded you, their eyes narrow with intent. "Y/n, the last thing this is, is your fault. You're his fiancée, not a random person. Either way, those are his kids. He shouldn't have treated you like he did." James spoke with meaning, wanting you to understand each word he spoke.

Somehow, the four of you relaxed enough to find yourself growing to bed. You showed Sirius his room, a place where James and Lily can lay Harry, and then their own room, before finding your way to your own.

You laid in bed, wide awake. You knew what tonight was, the night before the full moon, and knew that Remus was probably out wherever he was, already in pain. Every turn was different, it truly was, but each night before the full moon, his body ached, his bones almost softened, knowing they would be breaking and turning in 24 hours, and his head psyched him out, especially when you weren't there. This was now the third full moon your financé was to handle without you.

You refused to cry, knowing Lily always had a third sense to that stuff, and willed yourself to sleep. But, you laid there.

And laid there.

And laid there some more, until you couldn't handle the quiet, and found yourself moving out of the room and towards Sirius'.

You had slept with Sirius before, each time when Remus was gone and your heart could hardly handle it. Now, the three hearts inside of you couldn't stand the guilt of not being with him.

The door didn't creak when you opened it, none of the floor boards made a sound, but that somehow made it worse. Your feet carried you to the dark haired man, seeing his sleeping frame move, sensing another person there.

His eyes jerked open, coming to look at you as he smiled sadly. "How did I know you'd come in here. Just can't resist the charm, can you?" His voice was deeper, rougher from sleep. It calmed you, but never like Remus' did. You waddled closer to the man, his arms opening for you as you crawled into him.

You both laid in silence, but awake now, as you took in the moment.

"I miss him, Siri. I know I shouldn't, I know I should hate him, but my entire being misses him." Your voice was softer than his was, much softer, but it wasn't because you were afraid of him, but because you were afraid of your own truth.

"I know you do. I know he misses you too. You guys are kinda like Lily and James, meant to be. He's just, an absolute git for this." His fingers worked in your hair, rubbing your scalp and causing your eyes to close in comfort.

"I thought we were meant to be too. But, he doesn't want me anymore. He doesn't want us." At that, Sirius rested a hand at your bump, this being the first touch they really had beside your own. "He does, he's just stupid and scared. Either way, you have us. Aunt Lily, Uncle James, and, the absolute best uncle in the world, Uncle Siri. We've got you." His sensere words lulled you to sleep, a sleep where you felt safe and happy falling into.

You were running again, but it didn't feel like you were in danger. It felt like you were running to run, really. Which, was something you did not do. You weren't in the woods, but you didn't know where you were. All you did know is that you were still scared. Absolutely, bone crushingly scared.

With each step you took, the fear grew. How could you possibly be this scared? You were looking for something, but you didn't know what. You were shaking, but from both the cold and the fear. You were shaking. Shaking. Shaking

Shaking. "Y/n, wake up!" Sirius was looking down at you, his eyes full of excitement. "Your great grandpa is showing us the American version of Diagon Alley today!" You smiled up at him, nodding.

"Okay, okay, let me get changed."

The four of you had left your Grandpa once he settled himself down to play some wizards chess, waving you off.

"You know where the house is when you're done, I've got a title to keep."

You wandered through stores, showing them the few things you had learned so far about the wizarding world here. The four of you had just walked into their version of Flourish and Blotts when you were stopped by an older couple. "Oh, you both look absolutely wonderful! I remember when I was that pregnant. How far are you both?" she was smiling at you and Lily, growing closer to you.

"I'm due in about a week and a half. We already have one, Harry, who's staying with her family." She had pointed to you, smiling at the older woman. "Oh, I'd expect you to be due any day now. Seconds always come early and you look family dropped. What about you dear?" She had looked to you, glancing at your own belly.

"Oh, I'm only a few months along. Twins." You laughed, your hand resting protectively on your belly. "Awe, that's lovely. You both look radiant. Two amazing father's, I hope?" She now looked at James and Sirius, smiling at them. "Oh, no, I'm not the father. Our best mate is." Sirius spoke, gesturing to you. "Well, I dunno, is he?" He asked, looking at the three of you. "It's complicated." Lily said, smiling.

The older woman nodded, smiling. "I completely understand. I wish you both the best of luck." She bid you all adu, leaving with her husband.

"I can't tell if that was awkward or sweet." James laughed, leading you all to the door to leave.

You all laughed as you walked through the Wizarding space until you and Lily began complaining about the swollen ankles and bloated stomach enough to convince James and Sirius to guide you both home.

As the day turned into night, you now showing your friends the muggle artifacts your grandpa has collected from his move to the states. That was, until Lily groaned in pain.

"Fuck, she was right." The young woman grumbled, clenching her bump. "What do you mean?" James asked, his hand on her back softly. "He's coming early, James. I'm in labor, fuck." She groaned again, tilting her head back at the pain she was feeling for the second time in her life.

"Shit, Sirius, go find some towels. I'll go tell grandpa to write the healer for labor." You spoke, pointing Sirius in the direction of the towels before moving to Lily. "It'll be okay, okay? Everything will be fine." She nodded, gripping your hand tightly as she looked in your eyes. She smiled before groaning once more, a contraction hitting her. "Okay, okay, healer. You guys lay her down." Sirius returned with multiple towels, James and him laying a few out before helping Lily lay down on them.

You turned to waddle out of your home, attempting to get to your grandpa's house as quickly as possible.

Three steps towards his house, you heard a twig snap.

Five steps towards his house, you heard a thud.

Nine steps towards his house, a figure stopped before you, it's frame furry and bent, a growl releasing from his lips.

A werewolf.

How the fuck is a werewolf standing in front of you, in the middle of fucking Texas, in a populated muggle area?

You took a few steps backwards, until it clicked.

The only Werewolf that would spend his full moon looking for you was the same werewolf that has plagued your mind for the past month.

Moony.

~

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[regrettablewritings]

Soulmate AU: The First Drawing You See From Your Soulmate is Tattooed on Your Skin

A detective having a tell would probably be considered inappropriate to most people. Detectives were supposed to read tells, not have them. But then again, Benoit had never been much for keeping up appearances. Besides, what was the harm in rubbing his thumb along his right wrist? It helped him focus; it helped him think.

Or at least, that was what he’d told himself. He wasn’t entirely lying, either, rather the larger whole of it all was more so that when he rubbed that spot on his skin, he felt calm. Composed. He liked to think that that was the feeling his soulmate had intended when they painted that image, whenever they made or would make it. Whatever it was. After all, it had plenty of blue in it.

He was pretty sure it was meant to be a pond or some kind of body of water; that might explain the blues and greens and maybe the bits of white that he could make out. And if he squinted his eyes a little, he could swear there were little flecks of gold. Goldfish, maybe? Honestly, he had no clue. Benoit wasn’t much for complaining or expressing a lack of gratefulness, but he couldn’t help but sometimes feel envious of those whose tattoos covered a larger part of their body. Not a massive amount, but at least just enough to be able to tell precisely what the heck their soulmate’s image was trying to portray. Clearly, the image was larger than what that patch of his skin could afford, and honest to God, he’d spent a good part of his life trying to make out what it was!

(The embarrassment of it all, he would sometimes muse deprecatingly: That the acclaimed “Last of the Gentlemen Sleuths” could solve the most absurd cases in the country, yet had spent most of his natural-born life completely stumped by what might as well have counted as a body part!)

And yet, Benoit could never stay frustrated about it; not when his thumb gently grazed against the image, imagining the smoothness of his skin ebbing into the aquatic swirls of the proposed water. But just for extra precaution, he saw no harm in distracting himself.

That afternoon’s distraction? A quick skim of the local paper, accompanied by a mug of hot tea. He tried not to think of how such a method revealed his age, instead snapping the paper open to a page discussing the local goings-on. It was the usual sort of content: The community theater’s spring production was seeking house crew members, a mom and pop-style restaurant was having an anniversary special . . . It was the same sort of thing Benoit had grown used to expecting.

But what his pale blue eyes landed on next didn’t make the rest pale by comparison -- it downright washed all else from existence: An art show.

Benoit considered himself a well-rounded person, but it was more so in an almost tongue in cheek sort of manner: As a detective, it was his job to be appropriately versed in an assortment of fields. However, a jack of all trades was never truly a master of none. Benoit’s experiences with art theft and forgeries had lent him a hand in only about as much observation as was necessary for the respective occurrences.

But . . . he knew those swirls. He knew that blue, those greens, that white -- he recognized how the gold was patterned! Sure, the cheap ink job of a colored newspaper picture might have dulled the quality ever so slightly but there was no mistake to be made: That painting was his. No . . . It was theirs!

You tried to make calming breaths without making your anxiety obvious. A nervous but otherwise acceptable smile twitched into place, fooling the guests as they wandered about the gallery. Or, at least, you certainly hoped it was fooling them; but it was probably all to be outdone by the fact that you’d been nursing the same champagne flute for the last half-hour.

Is this what “making it” feels like? you wondered. Because if it was . . . you weren’t too fond of it. You felt bad for not relishing this opportunity; the art world was highly competitive, and you were more than blessed to have had the chance to not only display your work in a showroom, but to have said room be dedicated entirely to your pieces. But in that blessing was also a curse: The curse of criticism, of weary eyes, of people both waiting to pounce on you with ribbings of how you lack the magnanimity of the classics or the free thinking of the contemporaries --

Shitshitshitsmile! You did as you were told -- both by your brain, and by your manager earlier when they walked you through how you were to compose yourself through this entire ordeal. Just smile, enunciate when spoken to, and let the potential schmoozing flow and oh god, that Karen-looking lady who definitely owns a house in Martha’s Vineyard for when she wants to get away from her husband for a day totally hated that piece you’d spent months working on, didn’t she?!

The thought made your stomach twist, your already awkward smile along with it. You inhaled sharply. You had to find something to distract yourself with. 

You turned and faced the painting nearest to you. Some might call it vanity, but you were actually quite pleased with this particular piece. That, and its blueness gave you a sense of . . . serenity. You imagined the ripples washing over you and into you, the scent and sound of the painted environment gently caressing your nose and drowning out both the stench of perfume and pretentious chattering . . . And also, apparently, the sound of approaching footsteps.

You hadn’t realized anyone had joined your side until the rumble of a southern baritone carded through the water.

“It’s gorgeous. Isn’t it?”

You hadn’t meant to jump and appear so clumsy.

“Oh, sh -- ” You cut yourself short as you eyed the droplets of spilled, room temperature champagne. If your manager found out that you had cussed around a potential buyer, they would’ve mounted your head on the wall. Thankfully, however, the stranger didn’t appear at all fazed. If anything, the chuckle he responded with sounded genuinely amused.

“Oh, my dear girl, I’m terribly sorry!” he insisted, holding up his left hand. “I didn’t mean to scare you; I can imagine most anyone would be mighty transfixed over a piece like this.”

You gulped as you looked up at your unintentional scarer. His eyes were the same blue as the one that brought you calm just moments earlier, yet they had the almost opposite effect to you now. As you looked into them, you didn’t feel calm; not necessarily: Instead, you felt your heart beginning to ripple the pattern of the painting, your cheeks burning as bright as the gold swirling amongst the little waves. And yet you found yourself transfixed by them, only offered freedom when the older gentleman offered you a hint of a smile. A warm one.

Crap! Uh -- Answer his question! Think of something to say! your mind scrambled.

“Uh . . .” you stammered. The only way to save what atoms of confidence you still had left was to turn your eyes back to the painting. “I -- I should hope so.” Smooth. You tried to remember your calming breaths. You heard the man hum, shifting his position ever so slightly in your peripheral.

“What can you tell me about it?” he asked, revealing just how close to you he truly was. You could feel the warmth of his person and the richness of his voice vibrating into you. Or perhaps it was butterflies? Maybe both? Well, whatever it was, it almost made you stumble over your words. You’d spent the entire evening up to that point rehearsing stories of your inspirations, recounting whatever education you had to people who probably didn’t give a crap.

But this instance was different: Maybe it was foolishness sourced from a sudden and sophomoric attraction, but you almost wanted to believe that perhaps this man genuinely cared. That he was genuinely interested in what you as the actual artist had to say and not you as some painting mannequin made to recite lines over and over.

The excitement of such a possibility broke through your nerves . . . and, unfortunately, right out of your mouth.

“I just really wanted to paint a mermaid in a mall coin fountain,” you admitted. You wanted to kick yourself. Up until that point, you’d been rather proud of your nifty little idea. But when you said it out loud, you sounded ridiculous! You could barely hide the reactionary wince, much less how your breathing hitched and hiccuped with nervousness. Just as soon as it had come, the hope that perhaps this man was different disappeared, leaving you awaiting his ridicule.

A ridicule that never came. Instead, there was quiet between the both of you. Perhaps he was at a loss for words?

“Mm,” he hummed, making you tense with expectation. You glanced at him just enough to see him nod, his blue eyes still focused on the canvas before him. “Go on . . .”

You blinked. Was he . . . for real?

“I . . . What more is there to say?” you wondered. The entire night, nobody had really asked for more on your part. They usually just took whatever purple prose you gave them and left it at that. Your initial assumption was right after all: This gentleman was cut from a different cloth from the lot.

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “What inspired this?”

“Oh, uh . . . Well . . .” Was it worth telling him? Aw, hell: you’d already made a bit of a fool of yourself being honest, so what harm was there in doing it some more? “I did it because I never saw anything about a mermaid that lived in a mall fountain, collecting the coins people toss in there.”

You didn’t even have a chance to worry about his criticism before the man’s features broke into a smile. It wasn’t like the others’ more courteous grins; this one reached his eyes, making their icy coolness warm and welcoming. You hated the cheesiness of it all, but for a very split second you wished that you could be a mermaid in them.

He chuckled once again. “Can’t say that I’ve ever seen anything concerning a coin-hoarding mermaid myself, let alone a professional art piece.” It was small, but the assurance made you offer your own smile.

“Well . . . But then maybe I have . . .” At that, your heart dropped. There it was: The anticipated criticism. He thought you were a hack after all: Uninspired, boorish, unskilled, whatever word there was to describe a person who didn’t know how to use a fan brush properly if any.

The wound stung as one so sudden should: Heavily and down to your core. You wanted the floor to open up and eat you whole. Or better yet: You wanted to climb into your apparently uninspired painting and drown in the mall fountain. But none of those could be an option, and neither was the possibility of hiding in the bathroom or an empty corridor. Instead, you had to put on a brave face and do your best to get through the moment.

“Oh?” you uttered. Your throat pained from the threat of anxiety. “Where do you suppose? I’ll admit, I’m not much into contemporary art so I don’t know the what’s what of what if you catch my drift.” You tried to weakly smile at your sad attempt for a joke. God, this so wasn’t what “making it” felt like.

But the man didn’t offer a courteous hint of laughter. Nor did he offer you a verbal response. Instead, he turned to face you. You did the same, even though you really didn’t want to. But it was the polite and expected thing to do when being confronted. Damn politeness and courteousness.

You weren’t sure how to respond when the man began to make work of his right sleeve, unbuttoning the cuff and beginning to roll the rest of it up. Your paranoia was unfortunately the first to respond due to your preexisting discomfort of the entire ordeal of an evening. You were just about prepared to scream, yelp, make any kind of distressed call -- only for it to trickle out into a gasp. An amazed exhale. The image the man presented to you on his wrist was small. Clearly, for it to be recognized for what it was, it needed a larger stretch of skin to belong to. But you knew what it was: You knew those swirls, the placements of those flecks of gold, those blues and greens surrounded by white.

For the umpteenth time that evening, your breathing changed. Only, you were pretty positive that none of your deep breathing would be necessary this time around; you would be more than happy to look at your painting on your soulmate’s skin for the rest of the night.

Epilogue:

“Mr. Blanc, please,” you insisted. “You’ve grown up with that thing on your arm, surely you’re bored with it by now. You can have your pick of the gallery. Hell, I’ll even make you something on request!”

Pickings hadn’t become slim, but the night had ended surprisingly successful. Well, surprising to you: You hadn’t expected anyone to buy anything of yours that evening, let alone six. You supposed that perhaps they just wanted to participate in the elitism brought on by owning newcomer art. Benoit, however, insisted that the buyers simply had functioning eyes. What a sweet-talker your soulmate was.

You watched as he shook his head stubbornly, eyes still fixated on the painting that adorned his wrist. He’d seen all the other remaining paintings, and even the ones that wound up selling by evening’s end. They were all gorgeous, he insisted, but . . .

“Benoit, if you will, Ms. (Y/N),” he corrected, apparently missing the irony. He gestured insistently at the composition. “And no. I . . . I truly would be quite satisfied with this one.” He heard you raspberry in defeat as you made your way back to his side, folding your arms in exasperation. 

“Seriously, though,” you sighed. “Is a painting of a mermaid dwelling in, like, a fountain you can find nearby an Auntie Anne’s really . . .” You waved a hand as if searching for the right word. “. . . Befitting? Of a detective’s abode? I was thinking more of a bucolic piece or like a portrait of some kind or . . .” You trailed off, only to be met with an amused huff.

“Some detective I am,” Benoit muttered. He broke his gaze back to you and placed his hands on his hips. “Took me well over a damn decade or two to learn what it even was. And only because you told me!”

[johnsamericano]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 19:

ℓιυ уαиgуαиg

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @whathamelon @curieouscapt @unknown5tar @mrcarbonatedmilk @silent-potato @ajhdr @gjheaaa

warnings: an extreme plot twist 😭, things escalate way too quickly, a bit of angst, this is so weird I’m sorry.

“Welcome.”

You heard your coworker greet someone as you finished giving the final touches to the tattoo you’d been working on for a few weeks.

“Dang, Sungchan. You’re gonna look hella fine with this.” You wiped off the remains of ink over his skin, getting up from your little stool to admire your job from afar. “Wanna take a look?”

“Hell yeah.” The tall boy straightened his back, walking towards the full-body mirror to look at the daisies decorating his bicep. “My girlfriend’s gonna love it, thanks y/n.”

“No prob.” You covered the tattoo before biding him goodbye.

As you ordered your materials, you heard the doorbell ring. Assuming it was Sungchan leaving the shop, you didn’t pay much attention to it.

“Y/n, come here!” Your coworker and friend, Xiaojun, shouted from the front desk.

“Coming!”

As you exited the room, an innocent looking boy invaded your vision. A big, black hoodie shielded his body from the winter cold, making his body look tiny inside of it.

“He wants a tattoo.” He lifted his pierced eyebrows, as if the boy’s request was some sort of joke.

“Hi, I’m y/n.” You extended your hand, allowing him to shake it vigorously. “Do you have any idea of what you’d like to get done...?”

“Yangyang.” He completed your sentence, an oddly wide smile imprinted on his face. “I actually have a picture of what I want.” He pulled out his phone from his pocket, unlocking it to show you the image of a beautiful woman smiling.

“Are you sure about it? It’s gonna take a while to finish it and I’m sure it won’t be painless.”

He blinked a couple of times before giving you another wide smile.

“I’ll be alright.”

“So I’m booked for the rest of the week, but we can start next Monday if you’re available.” You murmured while taking a look at your agenda. “If you’d like, maybe we can book the rest of your appointments in advance. And you can also send me that image so I can get started on the sketch.”

“That’d be great.”

It wouldn’t be until the next week that you finally saw the languid boy again. He was wearing a black tank top with a leather jacket on top.

“Ready?” You asked while pulling out your gun, Yangyang getting comfortable in his seat. “You can pay now or when we finish, whatever feels best for you.”

“Thank you.” He removed the leather jacket covering his naked arms.

His limbs were slightly built up, but most surprisingly, filled with intricate ink designs. You couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped your mouth, your fingers unconsciously touching the patterns over his fair skin.

“This is amazing.”

He giggled at your excitement, curious eyes gazing at you. Suddenly, you snapped out of your daydreaming.

“Sorry.” You shook your head, pulling out a piece of paper from your desk. “Here’s the sketch, we can change it if you don’t like it.”

“This is perfect, you’re really talented.” His eyes scanned the detailed sketch, smiling back at the drawn woman.

“Thank you.” You rolled up your sleeves, your ink-filled arms on full display. “Let’s get started.”

You spent about an hour in complete silence, only the buzz of your machine filling the room. Yangyang seemed to be handling the pain just fine, which made your job much easier.

“How long have you been doing this?” He asked out of nowhere, trying to start a conversation.

“When I was seventeen maybe.” Your eyebrows were knitted together as you drew shadows over the woman’s eyes. “The guy at the front desk and I opened this shop after deciding neither of us were attending to college. Guess studying wasn’t really our thing.”

“What did your parents say about it?”

“You know, the usual, but they got used to it after a while. They even got a couple tattoo a few months ago.”

“It must be nice having supportive parents.”

“Yeah, it is.”

The room went silent once again. Xiaojun turned on some music, the beat faintly reaching your workspace.

“So who is this woman?”

“My mom. She died from cancer a year ago.” You weren’t expecting him to say something like that so abruptly. Before you could open your mouth, he was resuming his answer. “Please don’t say something like “I’m sorry”, why would you be? It’s not like you knew her.” There was irony in his tone, which made you quite confused.

“Well yeah, but it must be sad for you.”

“She lived her life well, and that’s all that matters.” You hummed. That was a nice way of seeing it. “She actually helped me out a lot when I hit rock bottom a few months after we found out about her disease, even when she was at her deathbed all she did worrying about others.”

‘Why is he telling me this?’

“She must’ve been one heck of a woman.” A breathy laugh erupted from him.

“She was.”

“Well, I think we’re done for today.”

Week after week, Yangyang came back to the shop. The tattoo was turning out amazing and you couldn’t be happier with the results. Yangyang and you grew closer after that small, deep talk during your first session together, even going as far as exchanging phone numbers.

A few late-night conversations later, you were having your first date, which was followed by three more, every single one of them unique in its own way. The last one had taken place at the amusement park, the Ferris wheel serving as the perfect spot to share the sweetest kiss you'd ever received. Maybe it wasn’t very professional of you, but who could resist such a charming guy?

“Hey, y/n.” He greeted you with a small peck on your cheek, his silly smile pressing against your skin. After a small pause, he proceeded to take a seat at his usual spot.

You’d decided to wear a small shirt since the weather was getting warmer. Yangyang’s eyes were uncomfortably glued to your lower abdomen, making your hands clumsy as you prepared your materials.

“You’ve got a scar there.” A pinkish line crossed the right side of your tummy. For a moment, you were scared he’d think it was gross, after all, it wasn’t precisely a small scar, nonetheless, you carried it with pride. You were surprised to see there was no disgust in his look, instead, something you couldn’t really name.

“Didn’t I tell you? I used to have chronic kidney disease. I would’ve died if it weren’t for the transplant I received.” His mouth twitched the slightest, as if he was about to cry. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, sure, let’s continue with the tattoo.”

Halfway into your work, you felt a small drop of water staining your arm. It was Yangyang, he was desperately squeezing his eyes in an attempt to hold back the tears.

“Are you feeling any pain? I’ll try to be more careful, we’re almost done.” He shook his head. “What is it then, Yangyang?”

He pulled out his wallet, retrieving a pink card and placing it above your hand. As soon as you turned it around, you were met with a name you knew all too well, the name of the person who saved your life.

“How...?” Your words stopped as you realized that certain person and Yangyang shared their last name.

“I remembered your name from when my mom passed. One day, I googled you out of pure curiosity, what I didn’t expect was to actually find you, address and all.” A lonesome tear rolled down his cheek, staining his silver ring as it fell. “My mom would be glad to know her contribution is being used well.”

Your eyes watered at his words, giggling slightly at the odd turn things had taken.

“Thank you.” Your arms engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you so much.” Yanyang couldn't help but let more tears fall, he was finally getting the closure he needed. He could finally let his mom go.

Silently, he thanked his mom for having saved such a beautiful human as you, feeling as if her death hadn't been in vain.

“Crap.” You sniffled, nose adorably scrunching. “Alright, get up.”

You pushed him away from your body, grabbing your coat and swinging it above your shoulders.

“Huh?” Your hand was extended right in front of him, your pretty, pearly teeth on full display as you showed him the sweetest smile ever.

“I’m taking you out for ice cream.”

[c-r-ash-crash]

New Life Ch 3

Bdubs’ communicator exploded with vibrations as messages flooded into the chat. Most of them were some variation of demanding to know exactly what the Boogeyman was. Bdubs was curious too, but he noticed that the server had sent him a private message. Quietly, he checked it and his eyes scanned over what it said.

“You are the boogeyman. You must by any means kill a green or yellow life by direct action to be cured of the curse. If you fail, next session, you will become a red name. All loyalties and friendships are removed while you are the boogeyman.”

Bdubs ran his tongue over his lips nervously. Oh. As subtely as he could, he glanced down at his wrist. Four hearts were still there, marked in dark green ink. He tilted his comm slightly to check the color of his eyes. They were still dark brown as always. He blew out a breath. The bloodlust hadn’t started yet. He had a few hours at most to get away from everyone else on the server. To warn them.

Then, he read over the message again. “If you fail, next session, you will become a red name.” Slowly, the meaning sunk in. Unless he killed someone within the next nine days, he would kill everyone. Then, he glanced up at Etho. He was so, so screwed.

Scott trailed behind Pearl as she clambered over the hill, looking for a good place to set up their base. He rubbed at the skin on his wrist, but stopped once he realized what he was doing. He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the sight of Jimmy’s smiling face, hands rubbing over his palm. Jimmy had always rubbed at his wrist like that whenever he was stressed. He had promised Scott that he himself would die before he let anyone take a single life from Scott. Guess he had been right.

Scott missed him. He missed the sunshine that would come with the blonde as soon as he entered the room. He missed the bright smile and bubbly laughter. He missed being able to smile, missed those fleeting moments where he thought everything might be okay. As long as he had Jimmy by his side, nothing could go wrong. His crown sat heavy against his brows.

Suddenly, a voice startled him out of his thoughts. “Scott?” Pearl called out from the top of the hill. “You alright?” Scott’s eyes snapped open, and he met Pearl’s concerned expression. “Oh, yes, I’m fine,” he replied, plastering a small smile onto his own face. Pearl didn’t buy it. “Scott, if you need a moment, we can stop for a bit.” “No, no,” Scott assured her. “Really, Pearl. I’m fine.”

Then, his eyes caught on a small smudge of bright red against the green grass. He cupped the flower gently in his hand. Then he plucked it and tucked the poppy behind his ear. “Let’s go,” he said, marching on.

Bdubs’ pick dug into the iron ore, pulling the metal free. He picked up the item drops and tucked them into his bag. “Oh, so I figured out what that boogeyman thing was about,” Etho said from the other end of the cave, startling Bdubs into dropping his pick. “Oh, sorry,” Etho said. “Anyways, that boogeyman thing. Basically, we have to kill someone else or else we get down to our red life.” “Wow,” Bdubs said, voice even. “Glad neither of us got that then.” “Well, you can’t be sure of that,” Etho said. “For all you know, the server could have chosen me.” Bdubs chuckled lightly. “C’mon, don’t joke about that. Sounds like you basically have to act like a red life or else you actually become one. If you ask me, that sounds like some pretty serious pain.”

“Yeah, no doubt,” Etho said, pocketing more coal drops. “But if I were the boogeyman, I could kill you right now if I wanted to.” Bdubs’ heart skipped a beat. He was the boogeyman. Etho didn’t have to kill anyone. Besides, he was still on his green life, or rather his dark green life. The bloodlust wouldn’t have started yet.

Suddenly, a pickaxe embedded itself into the stone next to Bdubs’ head. He whirled around to see Etho’s hand on the hilt. “What the heck, Etho?” he exploded. “You almost hit me!” “But I didn’t,” Etho said with a shrug. “Wasn’t planning too anyways. Just wanted to scare you.” “W-well you did a great job of that,” Bdubs spluttered.

Suddenly, he realized how close at hand his sword was, how close Etho’s unarmored chest was. He shoved the thought down. He wasn’t on his red life yet. He couldn’t kill anyone yet. He wouldn’t kill anyone. His stomach began to turn in knots, and he turned his attention back to mining, trying to quiet the pounding headache that had sprung up. He wouldn’t kill anyone. He wouldn’t. Then his hands began shaking.

“I think I’m gonna go get some food,” he mumbled, stumbling back up the mineshaft he and Etho had made. Once he reached the little shelter they had made for themselves, he slid down against the wall, grateful for the feeling of cool stone against his feverish skin. Shakily, he pulled out his comm and re-read the boogeyman message for the thousandth time. A single word jumped out at him. “Cured.” Unless he killed someone, he would die.

Grian slipped through the dark trees, watching for a zombie and listening for the telltale hiss of a creeper or a bow being drawn. The forest was quiet, and any hint of monsters was far off. He still didn’t remove the cloth covering his small lantern. Then, from in front of him came the sound of loud cheerful singing.

He picked up his pace as he recognized the sound of the voice. “Scar!” he called. The singing stopped. “Grian?” Scar asked nervously, as the light of a small lantern flooded the forest. Grian uncovered his own lantern just a smidge, and caught a flash of light blue. He froze. “Is that diamond armor?” he asked, stunned. “You like it?” Scar asked, spreading his arms wide once Grian came into sight. “How did you of all people end up the first in diamond armor?” Grian asked incredulously. “Just lucky I guess,” Scar said with a shrug. Then Grian noticed the six pack etched into the diamond.

He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “That’s not diamond armor is it?” “What?” Scar said exaggeratedly. “Of course it is!” “Armor doesn’t have six packs engraved into it.” Scar’s brow furrowed in disappointment. “Is it really that obvious?” he pouted. “Only ‘cause of the obviously fake muscles,” Grian teased. “What is that made out of anyways?” Scar shrugged. “Cloth. Had some tailor make it for me before we moved to Season eight.” “So you mean if I hit you, it won’t give you any protection?” “Of course it will,” Scar said. “No need to test it out.” Grian punched him in the chest.

Scar stumbled back, winded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Grian muttered to himself. “How do you hit so hard, dude?” Scar wheezed. “You have like no muscle on those arms.” “Says the man with a fake six pack engraved into his armor,” Grian shot back. “But seriously, don’t underestimate me.” “I don’t,” Scar said, recovering somewhat. “I only survived the game because I had you on my side.”

Grian’s lips pressed into a thin line. “What is it?” Scar asked, mood plummeting instantly. “Scar,” Grian began, tone dead serious. “Everything that happened last time, it’s all null and void. Our old alliance...it’s dead.” “So you mean I can’t put you on a llama and take you to the desert?” Scar joked. Grian didn’t smile. “You really mean that?” Scar asked, crestfallen. Grian nodded tightly. “New round, new rules.” Then he perked up. “Which speaking of, have you tried the give life command?”

“The what command?” Scar said, slightly startled by the sudden change in topics. “Yeah,” Grian said excitedly. “Apparently we can give each other lives, this round. Which, when you think about it, explains why we all got a random amount of lives. And it explains why some of us even got four lives.” “That actually makes a lot of sense,” Scar mused. “But who would I even try the command on?” he asked. “Well, you’ve got me,” Grian suggested. “I’ll give it right back, I promise. I just want to see how it works.”

Scar hesitated for a moment, searching Grian’s face. But then he said: “Alright, how do I do this give life command.” “Say this,” Grian said, typing something into his communicator. Scar’s own comm buzzed. “Why can’t I just repeat after you?” Scar asked. “Because then I’d give you a life,” Grian explained. “And if I did that, I’d be on my red life. And I really, really don’t want that.” “That makes sense,” Scar said with a nod. Then, he began reading off the comm.

“ᓭꖎᔑᓭ⍑ ⊣╎⍊ᒷ ꖎ╎⎓ᒷ”

Golden light enveloped Grian and Scar, and their feet lifted off the ground. The light drifted from Scar, wrapping itself around Grian, settling in his bones, and etching another heart into his wrist. The ink turned a vibrant lime green, and suddenly both Grian and Scar dropped to the ground.

Grian stumbled for a moment, then he regained his bearings. “That was something,” Scar muttered, still trying to regain his balance. Then, Grian glanced down at his communicator. He reached to turn it off, but glanced down at the list of player names. His hands stopped as he realized Scar’s name was dark green. “Scar, it’s still saying you have four lives here.” “No, I have five left,” Scar said, proffering his wrist for Grian to see. There were indeed five dark green hearts there. Grian’s brow furrowed. “Wait, but that would mean...you started with six lives?” he asked, jaw dropping. Scar nodded. “Like I said, I’m just lucky.” Grian shook his head, clearing the whirlwind of questions that had sprung up.

“Yeah, I’m not giving this back,” he said. “What-no!” Scar exclaimed, reaching for Grian, but he was already sprinting away through the forest, laughter echoing off the trees.

Jimmy bounced along, skipping over the grass, tossing his spyglass between his hands. He reached the peak of the hill, and stretched. He hadn’t exactly gotten a good night’s sleep last night, worrying about what it meant that he was back in the game, and trying to figure out what this new boogeyman thing was. Besides, a small hole in the side of a mountain never made for a great shelter.

Suddenly, he heard voices drifting up the hill. He stopped, tucking his spyglass into his pocket, just in case. Two faces appeared over the top of the hill. He recognized Pearl’s dark colored hoodie and Scott’s bright blue hair. “Hey!” he called out, waving. Pearl returned it. Scott was a bit more hesitant, but his eyes lit up when he recognized Jimmy. “Hey!” he called back. A bolt of joy shot through Jimmy, but he ignored it. He and Scott couldn’t ally this round. He didn’t want to risk another incarnation of Dogwarts deciding the two of them were a threat.

“How are you?” Pearl asked, smile bright and enthusiastic. Scott was smiling too, the one he reserved just for Jimmy. Jimmy squashed down the butterflies in his stomach. He couldn’t think of Scott like that. Not anymore.

“Pretty good,” Jimmy replied, nonchalantly. “Were you guys able to find shelter last night?” Pearl nodded. “I actually found something else this morning,” Scott said, reaching behind his ear. It was just now that Jimmy noticed the crown tucked over Scott’s hair. He wondered where it had come from. He certainly hadn’t had it on Empires.

“Figured you’d like it,” Scott continued, proffering something to Jimmy. It was a bright red poppy. A pang of longing shot through Jimmy’s heart. He ignored it. Scott’s expression fell slightly when he saw that Jimmy wasn’t taking the flower. “It’s a poppy!” he said. “Just like last time, when you-” “I know,” Jimmy said gently, cutting him off. He pushed Scott’s hand down, and Scott’s smile fell. “I know, Scott. But I can’t do this. Not again.” “But-but...” Scott protested.

“New round, new rules,” Jimmy said sadly. “Besides I can’t...I can’t risk losing you again. And I don’t want you to have to lose me. We’re both on our yellow lives. I can’t go through that again. And it’s not fair to ask you to.” He hesitated for a moment, but then he gathered himself and marched past Scott and Pearl.

Scott watched him go, staring dumbly at Jimmy’s retreating form, hand curled tightly around the poppy. Then, his heart shattered.

[okay-j-hannah]

Tactless

Harry Potter : Prompt

Fred x Reader

Word Count: 3082

Warnings: heckidy heck heck it’s just so tender 😭 

Request: “Omg your Fred Weasley x reader fics are SO GOOD. Could you please write a Fred x Reader with prompts 18 and 38? Set when they’re still at Hogwarts if that’s okay. Thank you xx” @bnha-sero-hanta​

Prompts: 

18.  “Yes, it’s a questionable line of work, but I’m good at it.”

38.  “I guess I was wrong about you. You’re not so bad after all.”

A/N: Freddie has not been himself lately, and every time you meet something horribly embarrassing happens; what could possibly be making him so shy?

“Isn’t there a way for them to be more discrete about all that inventing nonsense?” (Y/N) questioned, trying to keep her attention on the essay in front of her.

Ginny looked over her shoulder to see her twin brothers broadcasting to a hoard of first years. It made her grimace and return to her quill and ink, “They’re just excited about the joke shop. I don’t blame them – we all want to make a little extra money.”

(Y/N) peered over to see them passing out toffees and sickles to the children, “Experimenting on innocents.”

“Why are you so against them building their career?” Ginny asked her, pushing her parchment aside, “They’re not hurting anyone.”

“Until they do.”

The first years stood around the stocky brothers, watching them explain how their candy worked. (Y/N) slumped in her seat, observing, and biting the inside of her cheek. She may be Ginny’s friend, but that doesn’t mean she has to agree with everything her siblings did.

“Hey, Weasley!” she yelled over, snorting when Fred popped a toffee into his mouth for demonstration.

The twins looked up and it was plain to see the slight fear that entered Fred’s face, his eyes widening. George was holding a bin to his side as he called back, “Yeah?”

“Do you always get children to do your bidding?” She crossed her arms and Fred’s face became pale at her staring at him, before he clutched at George’s bin and raised it to his face. He immediately started to vomit violently.

The first years all reacted audibly, taking several steps back; (Y/N) made a disgusted face, forcing out a scoff.

George thrusted a purple candy into his brother’s hand, evidently frantic to get him out of this awkward situation. And after Fred finished retching in the bin, he returned a strained look towards (Y/N), wiping his lip.

Ginny shook her head, “Tactless,” rolling her eyes.

“Puking Pastilles,” Fred mumbled towards her, swallowing hard, “A – A way to get out of class.”

“Oh, good,” (Y/N) replied, “And subjecting kiddies to this… vomiting exercise, will prove what? That they work?”

It appeared that Fred was lost for words; he may have been cured of the pastille, but he still looked pale and on the verge of being sick again.

“That they work for everyone,” George stated for him, “We’ve… we’ve only tested them on ourselves.”

“Well, I think exhibit A is enough,” she gestured towards Fred as the surrounding first years began returning the candies and sickles. “Joke’s on you, I guess.”

Ginny opened her mouth and smiled at her friend, “Ouch.”

The twins appeared defeated as their testing crowd dispersed. (Y/N) simply returned to her essay and laughed, “No witty comebacks this time.” She raised her eyebrows and felt Ginny’s gaze on her, “What?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, somewhat smiling, “You like to pick on my brothers a lot. I’ve never seen anyone shut them up quite like you do.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Ginny nodded slowly and then whispered, “One might think you have an effect on them.”

“What?” (Y/N) set down her quill, splotching her last sentence, “You better be about to say that the only effect I have is in jostling their brains into a little common sense.”

A shrug was what she got in return, “I don’t know… you’re doing something though.” She nudged her head to what was behind her shoulder.

When (Y/N) looked, she noticed that Fred was still staring at her, ashen faced, but he promptly turned his head as George cleared the vomit from the bin with his wand.

“That’s not weird at all.”

It was Ginny’s turn to raise her eyebrows and laugh.

They continued with their homework until lunch where they walked to the Great Hall together, Ginny still acting peculiar about the events that occurred in the common room. It was like she couldn’t start any new topic that didn’t involve Fred’s name in the mix.

By the time they sat at the Gryffindor table, she was starting to get fed up, “Why does it matter so much that I support this joke shop? It’s a reckless line of work that doesn’t guarantee a steady income or good reputation.”

Ginny still avoided answering the complete question, “I can’t have you arguing with my family every time we’re hanging out.” She forked some potatoes as (Y/N) turned full body to her, squinting her eyes.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“What makes you say that?”

(Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek, “You’ve been bringing up your family all day, specifically the twins. Have I offended them in some way? Is your mum disowning me from Christmas dinner?”

“No, no,” she replied, trying to put less suspicion in her tone of voice, “I just… I can’t outright tell you. It’s kind of a special request.”

(Y/N) pushed her plate away, “You’re doing one hell of a job; no one suspects you at all.”

“I never claimed to be a good liar,” she snickered, urging her friend to eat something before quidditch practice. “Just that I have someone’s back in putting a good word in for them.”

“As in… there’s someone that wants to get on my good side?” She observed a platter of gingerbread cakes, selecting a particularly golden brown one.

Ginny took a sip of her pumpkin juice to give herself some time, “Maybe a little further than your good side.”

Taking a bite of the cake, (Y/N) licked her lips of the orange marmalade, “You’ve basically told me already, just give me a name.”

“You’re not gonna like it,” she smiled, giving her friend the eye, until her brows contorted. “(Y/N) – you’re bleeding.”

“Hm?” she swallowed another bite of cake and then felt a dribble run down, over her lips, “What the…”

A voice came running towards them, “No! Don’t eat the gingerbread – oh…” Fred appeared on their side of the bench, his eyes widening at the sight before him, “(Y/N) …”

She clamped a hand over her nose as a continuous stream of blood came flooding through her fingers. Ginny gasped at the realization of what was happening, standing, and pushing her brother.

“Give her the antidote!”

Fred fumbled with his pockets, stuttering, as George ran up behind him, “I’m… oh God – (Y/N) … I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t reply as she tried to stunt the bleeding with nearby napkins. Ginny pulled her hair back as George folded his arms and bit one of his nails.

“The marmalade,” Fred tried to continue, “It… it was another test.”

(Y/N) gave him a narrowed look, “You couldn’t get volunteers, so you decided to plant traps for unsuspecting students?” She sounded clogged up and numb.

Fred tried to unwrap a purple end of a sweet, accidentally dropping it in the process. (Y/N) slapped a hand on her knee in impatience as the blood began dripping off her chin and onto her shirt. Her insides boiled at the complete disregard of consideration.

But she couldn’t help but see the blush threading itself up his neck and to the tips of his ears. It was making his freckles stand out and the terrified look in his gaze. Fred Weasley never looked terrified. He always had a smirk on his face, his eyes were always smiling, and his hands never shook like that.

“Here, take this,” he mumbled, dusting off the purple candy from being on the floor, “It’ll make the bleeding stop.”

She gave him a skeptical look, “Forgive me for seeing that as questionable.”

He swallowed hard, holding the candy out further, “Yes, it’s a questionable line of work, but I’m good at it.”

(Y/N) resigned and stuffed the purple end in her mouth, feeling sudden clarity in her nose. The stream of blood now came in a slow trickle.

“Better?” Fred asked – and his face looked exceptionally genuine. The slant of his brow made her hesitate.

“Yes.” It came out more like a question than a statement, “Thank you.”

He nodded and tried at a painful smile, “I’m sorry about that.”

Ginny punched him in the shoulder, “You should be! My God, what was that?”

“Nosebleed Nougat,” George answered, clearly peering at his brother with the same concern and confusion that (Y/N) was. “Another joke sweet to…”

“Get students out of class,” (Y/N) finished, continuing to wipe her nose. “I still don’t agree with it, you know. And this…” she pointed at the gingerbread cakes, “Is not helping your case.”

Fred looked down at his shoes, “I’m sorry.”

“(Y/N),” Ginny smacked her friend’s shoulder, “Oliver’s calling the team over.”

Oliver Wood, the quidditch captain, was talking to Angelina, Katie, and Harry by the entrance hall. George pulled on his brothers arm, snapping him out of whatever trance distracted him. It looked like he wanted to say something else, maybe apologize further, but George yanked him away, talking to him in hushed tones.

“What is it with your brothers today?” She looked in the back of her water goblet to make sure all the blood was off her nose, “I feel like we’re just meeting under the worst circumstances today.”

“Tell me about it,” Ginny sighed, running a hand through her hair, “I can only do so much.”

(Y/N) stood to meet the team, but paused, “So one of your brothers wants to be on my good side.”

She sucked in her lips and gave her friend a sympathetic gaze, “I did my best, but they’re not exactly pulling their weight.”

“Okay, okay…” (Y/N) muttered, hands on her hips, “So one of the twins wants to… get closer to me – is that how you put it? Which one is it then?”

“Nope, I’m done meddling with other peoples relationships.” Ginny put up her hands, “You need to get to quidditch practice, and I need to finish Flitwick’s essay.”

“I can’t believe that one of your brothers likes me,” (Y/N) suddenly said, awe in her tone. “I’m completely horrible to them.” Ginny shrugged, forcing (Y/N) to continue on with her side of things, “There’s no way… is that why they’re always acting different around me?”

“(Y/N)!” came Oliver’s voice, “If we lose the game with Ravenclaw I’m going to blame your lack of participation in practice.”

She whined under her breath, “We are talking when I get back tonight.”

Ginny put a treacle tart in her mouth before waving and leaving the Great Hall. (Y/N) proceeded to follow the rest of the team down to the quidditch pitch, all along the way noticing how Fred and George appeared to be fighting with each other as they walked.

The pitch was cloudy with a slight breeze and there was still some tension between the twins. Oliver quickly noticed and tried to intimidate the distraction out of them. (Y/N) stayed quiet, observing from a distance, still questioning which one of the brothers supposedly liked her. It still baffled her how it could be possible with how much they argued, especially over something big like their career choice.

“Pull your act together, guys,” Oliver retorted, “We have to beat Ravenclaw with a fifty point lead if we want a shot at the cup.”

Fred shoved George away and laughed, tripping over something. (Y/N) came slowly behind them, finding that something had fallen out of George’s pocket while being pushed. It was a cracked vial of a greenish substance.

“Hey, you dropped something!” she called out, bending over to reach the bottle.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that the twins stopped at the sound of her voice. When they noticed what she was picking up there was panic immediate in their voices.

“(Y/N), don’t touch that!”

But she’d already gotten some of the liquid seeping from the cracked glass onto her fingers. They immediately started burning and bubbling.

“Ah! What is this?” She dropped the vial and tried to rub her fingertips clean, only to spread it onto the rest of her hands. Large angry boils were sprouting from her skin, red and painful.

“It’s undiluted bubotuber pus,” George yelled as they reached her frantic figure. “We were gonna use it for…”

“Nevermind that,” (Y/N) cried, now rubbing her sizzling hands onto her quidditch robes, “How do I make it stop?” She was starting to feel her eyes water with the rising pain.

Fred began his stuttering again, his hands shaking worse than they had at lunch, “You… we have to see Madam Pomfrey.”

Oliver came running over, clear frustration in his gaze, “And why, may I ask, are you three huddled over here ignoring practice?”

“(Y/N) got bubotuber pus on her hands,” Fred stated, helping the girl to her feet, “We need to take her to the hospital wing.”

“No, we can manage practice with only one beater, not zero. You take her; George can stay with the rest of the team. Get that sorted out, (Y/N), preferably before our match this weekend.”

Fred tried to steady his hands as he led the way back to the castle, “(Y/N) … I don’t know what to say.”

She attempted to hide the whimper that wanted to escape, cradling her boil covered hands. It was her turn to remain quiet.

“Everything keeps going wrong today,” he continued, watching her closely from his stance beside her. “I’m so sorry. I want to make it – it right, but…”

“Why won’t they stop burning?” she mumbled, clearly not listening as well as she could be.

Fred frowned, sympathy heavy in his face as he hesitantly, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Madam Pomfrey can fix it – George and I have been through the same thing.”

She now couldn’t help the tears that were starting to pool in her eyes, her hands were absolutely killing her.

“You’re going to be alright,” he said quietly, keeping his hand on her back, “You know I really am sorry. You were never supposed to get in the mix of all the experiments.”

They made a steady pace down the corridor and into the hospital wing, getting Madam Pomfrey’s attention quickly. She grabbed a number of potion as Fred led (Y/N) to a bed.

“They’ll feel a lot better after this,” Fred stated, taking a seat beside her, but sitting stick straight and staring at her injured hands.

A tear or two finally leaked onto her cheeks and Fred was itching to comfort her in some way, “Oh, (Y/N) don’t cry! I – this is all my fault.”

She sniffed and tried not to move her hands as she shifted to address Fred.

“You know, I thought you were a complete ass just this morning. But I’ve never seen this side of you.”

He timidly shrugged his shoulders and finally met her eyes, “It seems to only happen when I’m around you.”

(Y/N) started to nod her head, feeling the tears leave uncomfortable tracks down her face. She gave a watery smile and tried to wipe her cheeks on her shoulder.

“Here,” he muttered as he grabbed a handkerchief off the nightstand and held it to her face, “I’ve got it, if that’s okay.”

She gave him a look and contemplated. She noticed that familiar blush creeping up his neck, complimenting his freckles. His eyes became downcast again as he caught her looking at him.

“Sure, thank you.”

It seemed he wasn’t expecting that, but he reached over and wiped away the tear tracks as she peered at him doing so. She could visibly see him swallow hard, that slight fear inching its way onto his features.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “You look a little pink.” She couldn’t help but smirk a little.

Fred licked his lips, “Y-Yeah, you’re just… nevermind.”

“No, you have to tell me!” she smiled despite the pain. “I’ve been trying to figure you out all day and I’m not gonna believe Ginny until you outright say it.”

He flashed his eyes to her, “Ginny told you?”

“I don’t know… what was she supposed to not tell me?”

He turned his gaze to her pulsating hands and shook his head slightly, “You… you have a beautiful smile.” He didn’t wait for a response before he put his face in his hands, “I’m sorry, I know you hate me and what I do. I just… I shouldn’t have said anything.”

There was a major silence between them for a while. Fred subtly scooted away from her bed, intertwining his fingers on his lap. (Y/N) waited as Madam Pomfrey came hurriedly over to apply medicine and bandages to her hands. She felt immensely better afterwards but wished that Fred did too.

He looked like he was really beating himself up over it. It was like his cheeks were permanently stained pink.

“You know what, Fred,” she finally said after the long awkward silence, “I guess I was wrong about you. You’re not so bad after all.”

He could’ve snapped his neck with how fast he turned to look at her, “What?”

“How about this… if you stop experimenting your joke products on first years, then you can take me out in Hogsmeade.”

“But… but I vomited in front of you.”

She nodded her head and admired her bandages.

“And I gave you a nosebleed.”

“Yes, you did.”

“And I got undiluted bubotuber pus on your hands – I put you through pain!”

She raised her eyebrows at him, “Your point being?”

He finally cracked the first smile of the day, “You have every right to hate me. I messed everything up! I should have no chance with you.”

“Just because a few pranks go awry doesn’t mean it’s impossible for us to get along. Be something.”

“Why… why this sudden change of heart?” he was wringing his hands in anticipation, obviously never dreaming this moment would ever happen.

She bit her lip, “I think, for the first time, I’m actually seeing you. The one behind the Weasley twin persona.” That made him smile wider as she added, “I think I like him a lot more than the trivial prankster.”

“You like him?” he practically whispered.

“Now that I think about it,” she hummed, “I may have been a tiny bit in denial.”

The look on his face was almost comical – he appeared to be straining to not smile so broadly, “If you didn’t have mitts for hands, I would very much like to hold one right now.”

She laughed, something that pulled that grin out of him, “Keep it up, Weasley. We’re getting on the right track.”

~~~

Tag List:

@caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @andreasworlsboring101 @oncemorewithfeelingg

Remember to check out my tag list so you’re updated when a fic you like is posted on my blog! Tag List

[lightsinthedistancee]

On Your Skin : Poe Dameron x Reader

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Words: 1.1k

Summary: “There is something so inexplicably intimate about it all. Him looking down at you with tender, hyper-concentrated eyes. You willingly resting there as his living, breathing canvas that he runs his fingers over with the utmost care.”

A calm morning between Poe and Reader after eight weeks away from each other.

A/N: So guys, I was looking through all my works the other day, and I realized that someone ends up crying in literally all but 3 of them...who knew? (And they’re all angsty in some way too). So I’ve taken a huge step—this fic is ✨happy✨!! Enjoy!

“Poe, stop!”

You giggle, sleepily rolling onto your back to get away from him. The sun is just barely peeking over the horizon as you protest, making itself known through the windows of the room. His hands had been trailing down your sides, increasingly lighter and lighter, increasingly more and more ticklish.

He smiles down at you, the sight of his warm toned skin soothing on your senses. “What, sweetheart? I can’t touch you after two months away on a mission?”

You roll your eyes at the newly formed, exaggerated pout on his lips. “You can. Just not like that.”

“Fine. As you wish,” he sighs dramatically, falling back down beside you. You make a move to rest your head on his chest, but at the last moment he shifts away, leaving you on empty sheets.

Your gaze snaps up, a glare already on your features. He looks as if he’s trying not to laugh. “What? I thought…”

“Poe,” you whine, eyes widening. Perhaps it’s cheesy, perhaps it’s purely comical, but it has the same effect on him as it always does. His expression softens.

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” he teases, dodging your grip again as you reach for him.

It’s your turn to pout now, simply saying nothing. In reality, you know he’ll give in within moments at simply the sight of you snuggled up in sheets, asking for him to be near you.

He finally laughs, scooting back closer, gently pushing you onto your stomach, tracing circles on the skin of your nearly bare back, covered only halfway with a loose camisole. You let out a sigh of contentment at the feel of his fingertips. It’d seemed like it’d been an eternity since you’d felt them in such an intimate situation.

“How was Corellia?” you ask softly, burying your head back in the pillow, letting him roam your body as he pleased. The planet was where he’d been the last eight weeks.

“Alright. Would’ve been better if you were there.”

You roll your eyes again. What makes it even more sickly sweet is the fact that you know it’s true for him.

“You know the Corellian word for flower?” he asks all of a sudden.

You raise an eyebrow at the random question, shaking your head.

He tells you, the sounds rolling off his tongue with a sweetness only he can achieve. The word sounds incredibly similar to your name.

“Reminds me of you,” said Poe, stating the obvious.

His leisurely movements abruptly cease before he pulls away. You whine at the loss of contact, but he returns in moments after grabbing something from the bedside table drawer. It’s a thin marker. You can almost see his thought process as his eyes flick from the drawing tool to the bare expanse of your back.

“Please?” He looks at you with an expression that he knows you can’t resist. You feign a moment of thought, but in reality, you’d made your choice the moment he’d pulled the marker out.

At your confirmation, you feel his hands gently helping you pull the camisole over your head, letting you get fully comfortable on your stomach.

A jolt runs through you as the cold tip of the marker makes first contact with your skin. From your position with your head to the side, you can clearly see him. He’s wearing just his boxers, legs crossed, his back bent, his face pointed down in concentration.

“What are you drawing?”

“Flowers,” he simply answers. He gives you no more details.

As the time passes in a comfortable silence, you find yourself closing your eyes, attuning to your sense of touch more than you had in a long time. You feel the tip of the marker, the brief coldness of the ink when it first goes on—perhaps the trace of a petal, a leaf, a thorn.

But most of all, you feel him. The soft side of his hand with each sweeping stroke. The rough, calloused pad of his thumb as he quickly brushes away a mistake before it fully dries.

There is something so inexplicably intimate about it all.

Him looking down at you with tender, hyper-concentrated eyes.

You willingly resting there as his living, breathing canvas that he puts his soul into.

It is comforting to the point that you almost doze off as he works, slowly becoming more and more unaware of his movements, of his eyes darting back and forth between your skin and a reference on his holopad.

“Sleepy?” You jump when his voice breaks the silence.

You nod, blinking slowly as your eyes lock on him.

He chuckles at your reaction, bending over to press a kiss to the base of your neck.

“Rest—,” he tells you. “—just don’t move.”

You giggle, allowing your eyelids to close over, allowing your sight to be enveloped in darkness.

The minutes on the clock tick past with an uncanny speed for the both of you. Luckily, it is a day off, and the air is relaxed, free of the anxiety that could come on certain days.

It is just you and him, in a quiet room, softly lit by light just barely penetrating the thin curtains. The tip of the marker begins to skip around your back, and it is almost like a game as you non-visually detect his movements with a trained sensitivity, trying to place where the nib of ink would make contact next.

His warm hands brush away a few strands of hair covering the back of your neck, and the blunt tip of the drawing utensil moves in a fluid, curvaceous movement, perhaps a vine or the edge of a leaf.

“Done,” he states, running his thumb over the delicate skin beneath your eyes to bring you back to full consciousness.

You only groan, looking up at him, expression still tired and more tranquil than ever.

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t want to look?”

One of the last things you want to do is move, but curiosity overcomes you as you manage to drag yourself out of bed, walking to the mirror, arms across your bare chest, more so for warmth than modesty.

He follows you, resting a hand on your hip as you turn your back to the glass, tilting your head so you can see.

A smile immediately develops as your eyes roam over the intricate lines running over your skin: roses, hibiscus, hydrangeas—more exotic species that you assume he’s discovered on his numerous off-planet missions.

“You like them?” he asks. The grin he is barely holding back suggests he already knows the answer.

“The fact that you have to ask doesn’t say much about your intelligence, love.”

His jaw drops in faux offense. You laugh as you grasp his chin, pulling him down into a deep kiss. Breaking away soon after, you glance back into the mirror once again. Adoration floods your veins at the sight of the complex beauty drawn onto your skin by his own hands. “They’re beautiful.”

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

A/N: Ok tbh, I had no idea where the heck this thing came from. Half of my brain was like “yeessss, artist Poe, that’s amazing!” and the other half was like, “that makes no sense, that’s the least Poe thing ever” so yeah…I don’t know. Lmk your guys’ opinion on the matter. Also, I didn’t want to add it and ruin the atmosphere but Poe’s immediate response after the last line is “Like you?” and no one can change my mind.

Taglist (for everything): @dark-academics-and-florals @theultimateslashgirl @princessxkenobi

Taglist (for Poe): @paper-n-ashes @synical-paradox @spider-starry

If you wish to be tagged on any of my future works, let me know! You can also do the form on my masterlist for specific preferences/to be tagged if that’s easier.

[maguro13-2]

Legacy of Shinra ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Chapter 1 Pt.10

[Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean]

Ashley : I know it has to be here somewhere. Anything possible to find this Shinra person?

Red the Demon : Beats me. It doesn't seem like that it doesn't exist after all. We don't know where the Chao World is, but I believe there might be a way to find Chao World and look for the Shinra Person. That Shinra guy is the one who created Soul World and Shinigami as well.

Ashley : Which I was preparing for a full on attack with backup. It's time to make my meeting with the Gorgon Sisters with a crazy nasty--[exclaiming] Hello!

[Sonic SFX : Chaos Control]

Ashley : Huh? Where the heck are we? Looks like were in Prison Island.

Red the Demon : Prison Island? You mean that beautiful island that is super strong and super tight with security? Why wouldn't I?...I would love to see the beautiful and historical Prison Island...Hey, Ash.

Ashley : Yeah?

Red the Demon : I think we're in the "Wrong" Prison Island.

[Prison Island (Shadow the Hedgehog) - Jun Senoue]

Ashley : Did some "thing" managed to teleport us into Sonic's world? This must be Prison Island, but the entire place is all broken after it was exploded by that mad doctor.

Red the Demon : B-Blown up by that "Mad Doctor"? This was the place took place in the Dreamcast Era around 5 years ago. This is no longer a military base since the island was blown up about 5 years before Shadow's game was released.

Ashley : And yet, it was about 2 years before my debut. Still no sign of what did Wario have to do with me when I face new people into Nintendo. But there's gotta be a place where I can find Chao World. This way, follow me!

Red the Demon : Okay!....Uh-Oh! We got company! [G.U.N Robots appears]

Ashley : Looks like the Island has left out it's mere toys! But I gotta put them away first! [Battles and defeats all the robots with her magic] That should be done by now! Right now we got a move on!

[Scenes of Ashley venturing through Prison Island Ruins and battling the G.U.N Robots]

Ashley : No wonder why this place was abandoned, it feels like that Prison Island was being built underneath the Iron Jungle, that's where the Mad Doctor is currently at right now.

Red the Demon : Eh, no way point. But I see it clearly, tho.

??? : [Being chased around by G.U.N Beetles] Help! Help! Somebody help me!

Ashley : That voice! That sounded like...[realizing] Penny Crygor?!

Penny Crygor : Uaaaaahhh! Help! Don't just stand there, shoot these things! They're starting to piss me off!

Ashley : Oh boy, after getting her a treat of licking my "Soles", I was hoping that she would go on her own by herself, but then again...I have to save her from being in danger. [Destroys the G.U.N Beetles to save Penny]

Penny Crygor : Thanks for saving me, Ashley! I Could've done it without your help! That was a close one!

Ashley : Quite thankfully. Anyway, Penny, what are you doing out here in Sonic's world? I told you to stay put and look after the mansion. How did you ended up in a place like this?

Penny Crygor : Well, when I was on my way back to your place, I just noticed that a strange "Thing" that came from out of the portal, I heard that it was the Time-Eater entity that came from "His" World and somehow used Chaos Control to warp into Sonic's. He knew exactly what the entity told about the Kusakabe Legacy, I believe that Soul Eater, the Japanese manga from Square Enix, isn't the only manga that is set in one universe, It's also the universe where the Kusakabe Legacy is connected to them, Death Weapon Meister Academy.

Ashley : It's that what Soul Eater was all this about, protecting the Legacy of Shinra that he created their world from being fallen...

Penny Crygor : ...Fallen into "Despair". "Despair", I've known that word somewhere before. If the Author putting Soul World into "Despair", then this so-called "Despair" is also affecting people's hearts and souls. Maybe perhaps it's connected, with "Sin" and "Madness" throughout the same Ohkubo verse. Or that "Despair", Sin", and "Madness," are linked to each other as vibes. I did not think that the author of the manga would use religious things like that. But eventually, what's gonna happen to those guys would be done for...especially your old partner, Kimial!

Ashley : [gasped in shock] My partner? [visions shows Kimial holding a wounded Jacqueline (her lover), crying in despair]

Kimial Diehl (As seen in vision) : I'm sorry, Ash. I'm Sorry. *snffing*

Ashley : Ugh! [flashes back to the two] You're right about that. I sense that my partner is in danger. Whatever she is there doing in the real world, we gotta get to meet in Chao World now. I know of a shortcut that could lead me to Chao World, I found this "key" to Chao World [holds up to show a Chao Key in her hand] With this, we'll might know that we would meet Shinra in person. But if you want your treat of licking my...(groans) "Soles" at least, we're going to have a visit to the Chao World as friendly visitors. But this is going to be such a Total Drag.

Penny Crygor : Alrighty then! Let's go! [the two runs off]

Red the Demon : I never thought that I never met the "Shinra" guy before, but I think clearly why would he live in Chao World that is near San Francisco? Does that mean that if...H-Hey, guys! Wait for me! Don't leave me out here! [runs after them] I don't wanna get left alone in the middle of this Iron-Jungle of the Former Prison Island! I've got devilish things to do in the demon world! Please, I'm begging you to not leaving me here! WAAAAIT!

~ 10th Scene : Meeting the Devil ~

[remmushound]

“Class is in session!” Young April O’Neil tapped her ruler against the whiteboard.

The minute April had learned that not one of the brothers, not even Donatello, knew how to write in cursive, she had jumped on the opportunity to teach them. Even if she was physically the same age as Raphael (ten at the time), mentally she scored higher than all but Donatello, but then again nobody could score higher than Donatello. Yet here she was, in the teachers spot with Donatello as her student.

“This is lame.” Leonardo groaned, propping his feet up on his desk and leaning so far back in his chair that it almost toppled over.

“No talking in class!” April warned.

“Why?” Leonardo smirked.

“Because I said so.”

Leonardo was silent a moment, but the minute April turned around to write on the whiteboard, his voice started up again.

“What if I have a question?”

“Then you raise your hand.” April answered promptly. Her marker touched the board, then Leonardo spoke again.

“What if I break my arm?”

“Then use your other arm.”

“What if I break both?”

“Oh I’m gonna break them if you don’t stop talking.”

“Understood.” This time, Leonardo really stopped talking.

April cleared her throat. “First off: The cursive alphabet!” She wrote both big and small letters on the board for each letter, “Same as the normal alphabet, but fancy~”

“What the heck happened with G?” Mikey gawked.

“We don’t talk about G.” April said, “Leo are you paying attention?”

“Yaaaawn!” Leonardo gagged.

April huffed and clutched her ruler almost hard enough to break it.

“Um…” Donnie’s eyes were even more squinted than usual and he raised a hand.

“Yes Donnie?”

“Can you write it bigger?”

April frowned. “Raph, how’s it for you?”

Raphael was at the desk next to Donatello and sat up proudly at being addressed. “I can see it just fine, Apes!”

“Me too!” Mikey piped.

“Yaaaaawn.” Leo sighed.

Donatello looked around at his brothers with a frown as he shrunk slightly into his shell to hide his embarrassment.

“That’s okay Don.” April said with a smile, “I can make it a little bit bigger for you.” She did just that, “How’s that?”

Don gave a shy smile. “Better…”

April didn't quite believe him, but didn't want to bring it up. “Hey Mike, do you mind switching seats with Donnie?”

“Nope!”

Mikey took a place in the back row beside Raph while Don took a closer place beside the indifferent Leo.

~~~

“Names!”

April scribbled each turtle's name in their signifying color and pointed to them. “Honestly, this is the most important cursive you’ll ever earn. So you can sign your name and stuff— and no Leo I’m not excluding you from learning it just because you’re tiny mutant turtles living in the sewer!” She tapped the board, “Copy this down on your papers as many times as you can!”

There was the unanimous sounds of chairs adjusting and pens clicking and touching to the paper— three of them. April smiled as she looked out over the ‘students’ but frowned once more when she got to Donnie. The year-younger turtle was squinting at the board and near tears trying to make it out. He made an attempt to copy something down a few times, only to scribble it out seconds later. Then, finally, he got up and walked over to the board instead.

“Uh… can I…?” His nose was practically pressed to the board so he could make out his name, supporting his paper against the wall to scribble a quick draft before returning to his desk and copying the rest of his attempts off of the first attempt.

~~~

When she announced for them to turn their papers in, Mikey was of course the first one in line, bouncing excitedly as he shoved his way to the front and held out his paper to April. April smiled and accepted it, yet Mikey lingered awaiting praise.

His work was surprisingly neat for someone so hyperactive, though big and riddled with far more loops than necessary. Legible, but far from perfection. She smiled down at Mikey and gave the tiny box turtle a pat on the head.

“Great work Mike! Try writing a little smaller next time so you can fit more on the paper!” She drew a smiley face on Mikey’s paper.

Mikey gave an excited squeal and snatched the paper, hugging it tightly to his plastron and churring softly before running off. Then came Raphael. His writing was also big and bold like Michelangelo’s, but without the foundation of neatness that the youngest brother held.

“Good job, Raph! Same thing as Mikey, try to write a liiiiittle smaller. I know it might be difficult since the paper’s tiny compared to you, but you’re doing great!” She gave Raphael a flaming smiley face, and Raphael was content.

Donatello was nervous— nothing unusual. He held his paper out to April and almost winced as if expecting rebuke. April let her eyes linger on the anxious softshell a moment before going down to his paper. His cursive was just as illegible as his print always was— the shape was there and she could see some familiarities in the loops to indicate where each letter was supposed to be, but the letters blended together even more than typical for cursive.

Still, she smiled at Donnie all the same. “See? You did great, Don! I knew you would.” She gave a purple smiley, but frowned as the ink dripped and made it look like the smiley was crying.

Donnie accepted the paper without talking and sulked off. Leonardo was last in line, unusual for someone always so eager to please, with a smug smile as he held out his paper to April.

“I know, I know Keep your praise to yourself. I didn't wanna do it but I pushed through it and mine is no doubt the best. That’s why I saved it for last.”

April narrowed her eyes and saw straight through Leo’s charade of confidence. The writing was big, though not quite as big as Raphael’s or Michelangelo’s. It was clear he had finished his work fast, the paper filled and whatever space left filled with tiny scribbles. At first she smiled when saw how neat the handwork was, a welcome improvement to the flipped letters that usually riddled his print writing, but then when she looked closer at the letters themselves, she noticed something else. Though the letters weren’t flipped, they were distorted— not the kind of distortion that a lazy hand would result in, but each letter was blurred together, some of them with multiple loops where there was only one or none when there was meant to be one. April looked up at Leonardo who concerned eyes, though his look of confidence never faltered.

“Uh. Good work Leo.” She said vaguely, giving him a smiley like she had to everyone else.

~~~~

“Are you sure about this…?” Donnie asked nervously.

“Trust me!” April beamed, taping the handles of the glasses to Donnie’s face

Donnie, eyes still closed, still tried to turn to face April’s voice. “Whenever Leo says that it usually ends up failing. Painfully.”

“Well I’m not Leo, so stop moving!” She snapped Donnie’s head back forward so she could finish her work. Once she was sure that they were on securely, she backed away and grinned. “Okay! Open your eyes!”

Donnie opened his eyes. His first reaction was to squint like he always did, but when his eyes were met with detail denied all his life, they shot wide and starstruck. His mouth dropped open, he sucked in a breath, and backed up against a wall as the world spun in its new light.

“Wha…”

April beamed and gave an excited bounce, clapping her hands together. Her face looked unusually empty without her glasses, but she didn't care. She could always get new ones, but Donnie…

“Whoa…” Donnie’s dichromatic eyes flicked to everything in the room in quick succession.

“Donnie are you okay?” Mikey rocked on his toes with his arms folded behind his shell.

“I… everything’s just… it’s like seeing life in HD!” Once the shock left, a smile spread across his face and he couldn’t stop it from claiming his usually shy or disinterested features.

“Woah! I wanna see life in HD!”

Mikey jumped up and snatched the glasses from off of Donnie’s face, shoving them on his own. His eyes and nose immediately scrunched up as he looked through the lenses.

“Ehh… this doesn’t look like HD…”

April laughed and leaned down to boop Mikey’s nose while he blinked away the irritation of the focused lenses. “That’s because your eyes already work, Mikey.”

“Raph’s turn!” Raph stole the glasses from Mikey’s nose, laughing as he put them on his own face. His reaction was similar to Mikey. “Ehhh…. Not for Raph.”

“What about you Leo?” Mikey asked, appealing to the older brother, “Don’t you wanna try them on?”

“What, and look like a four-eyed nerd? No thank you.” Leo scoffed, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Excuse me?!” April put her hand on her hip and dared Leonardo to repeat himself.

“Ah—“ Leo’s realization seemed to knock him off his confidence, “Not you April—you make them look cool—“

“Just shut up and wear these.”

April shoved the glasses onto Leonardo’s face, and the slider was immediately blinded by how… not blind he was. He let his mouth hang open a moment and sucked in a gasp, looking around with the much the same awe as Donatello had, before shaking his head and taking the glasses off of his face.

“See? Told ya! I don’t need em!”

Despite his words, there was a longing hurt in his eyes as he returned the glasses to Donatello and silently reserved himself so his twin could enjoy the full experience of being able to see a whole new world.

@brightlotusmoon