#these are ever changing and will probably continue to change

[cacoetheswriting]

nice to each other

chapter two from the little mess you made.

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x singlemom!reader (modern au) word count: 4k

summary: eddie, standing face to face with you (aka the hot mom of the kid he didn’t know about), thinks life’s handed him a second chance. there’s just a lot of questions to be answered first. like, how come no one bothered to tell him he’s a dad?

chapter cw: suggestive & mature themes, implied intimacy | non-explicit, one night stand gone awry, secret pregnancy aka no-one told eddie he's a dad, forced proximity, mutual pining / yearning, mild jealousy, this chapter is still kinda angsty, emotional hurt / some comfort, navigating family dynamics, adult language — pls let me know if i missed any!

psa: any images used in chapter headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely — if at all— described in the story.

“We’ve got a lot to talk about, I guess.” That’s what you said. Mere minutes ago. Yet, now that you’re sitting across from the brunette man, you can’t bring yourself to utter a single stupid word.

Throat dry. Hands clammy.

Eddie Munson has not changed much since you last saw him, (splayed, half-naked, over the fancy hotel bed). There’s a certain tiredness in the crinkle of his mahogany gaze, but you know that comes with his chosen trade. Long hours, demanding nights. After all, it was your life too, before the blessing in disguise that’s been this mess you both created.

He’s still a handsome fucking devil, that’s for sure. Although, there’s no sign of the confidence he oozed that one fateful night and you suspect that’s got little to do with the surprising news Eddie received today, maybe more with the real reason he came back to Hawkins, to see his uncle.

God. What would you have done without Wayne Munson?

The list of gratitude you hold towards the grey-haired man is endless and every day, he continuously adds one more item. An additional thing to be thankful for because he’s just that good of a man. Taking you in during the perhaps most confusing time of your life tops the cake, but today has become a close second. Giving you a heads-up about his nephew's surprise arrival. Being the one to inevitably break the news you held close to your heart.

There’s a high chance Eddie’s got his own list of reasons: Wayne Musnon, best person ever. From the stories you’ve been told since you moved in, if there’s something going on in his glass-cage life, it’s really no wonder he showed up here. To talk to his uncle. Get advice. Instead, he’s been smacked in the face with a toddler (not literally, obviously). The thought makes you grimace.

Okay. Time to rip off the bandaid.

“You probably have a lot of questions,” you offer him a chance to begin the inquisition.

Eddie nods and clears his throat. “Yeah.”

He scrunches his nose and you chew on the inside of your cheek, fighting back a smile. He’s cute. He’s cute and he’s finally here and he’s the father of your kid and this is a second chance… Your mind begins to race with possibilities and you quickly dig your nails into the palm of your hand, squeezing. Stopping the spiral because this is not how the real world works. For all you know, Eddie may not even want to be a part of Messer’s life, nevermind yours.

Ignoring the aching zing through the chest, you wave a hand to the side as if signaling for him to continue.

“Wayne seems to be sure he’s mine.” Eddie says, finally meeting your eyes, and nod.

“He is. Yours.”

Eddie bops his head, swallowing.

“He uh, he does kinda look like me.”

“He does,” you agree. “Annoyingly, more than me.”

This makes Eddie smile. It’s timid. His mouth barely twitches upwards, but you notice the slight chance in expression immediately and your stomach fills with hope. Then, nails into skin, tighter.

“Why did nobody tell me?”

Exhaling a short breath, you straighten in the chair. You’ve been silently preparing for this question ever since a decision was made not to loop Eddie in on the situation.

“We tried,” you answer simply and when the rockstar’s brows furrow in deep confusion, you continue, “The first thing I did after I found out, is call the number you put in my phone, but all I got is a dial tone. I assumed you left me with a dud, since you’re this famous musician and I’m just me. Your pick of the night.”

“That’s not true—”

“It hurt, yeah,” you interrupt with a shrug, “But I had bigger things to worry about.”

Thinking back to the morning he saw you last, Eddie slumps further into his seat. He’s sure he gave you his real number. Heck, he’d been rather impatiently waiting for your call every damn day after, but his phone never rang. He assumed the opposite of what you just admitted. Even called you a groupie to Felix – a statement he dutifully regrets now. To know that you’ve indeed tried to reach him, with life-altering news too, well, Eddie feels like a moron for not double checking the set of digits.

“Anyway, I uh… I thought of trying to reach you through your socials, but I remembered you told me how there’s a PR person in charge of those accounts. That you never even see what messages come in.”

He nods again. It’s true. Eddie’s autonomy over his social media accounts was quickly taken away when a nonsense drunken live got out of control, followed by some uncharacteristic rage posting. This all happened a month into his career. Should’ve been the rockstar’s first sign. “You’re not fit for the limelight, Edward.”, his agent’s recent words suddenly ring in his ears and despite the topic of conversation, he’s glad when you keep talking.

“Finally, I asked for your tour manager’s details through work, under the guise of sharing some photos from your concert.”

“Felix?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, adding, “Asshole.”

Eddie snorts and this time, you don’t bite back your smile. You let the expression spread across your features. Earnest, welcoming. A Duchenne smile. Luring the rockstar in, just like that night in New York. The very first night he saw you. The reason he froze up on stage — to date, the only time in his career.

“He’s got your smile,” Eddie notes, unable to look away. Warmth spreads to his fingertips the longer he stares.

“Felix?”

Barking out a laugh, the brunette man briefly throws his head back, then knuckles land on his lips as he catches your gaze once again, pathetically hiding his happy manner.

“The kid.”

“The kid, huh?” Smirking, you raise a brow. “The kid has a name, you know.”

“Messer,” Eddie says, dropping his hand to his lap.

“Mason,” you say, confirming that Messer is in fact just a clever nickname. Fit for the child in question. Although, you’re not sure why. Maybe because this is the first time you’ve heard Eddie say it and there’s a certain wistfulness for the years they’ve both missed together.

Eddie reads your mind. The melancholy creeping in and slowly overwhelming him once more. His smile fades muscle by muscle and he drops his gaze, focusing on the silver rings coating his fingers. He twists and turns, fidgets, waiting for you to break this awful silence that has suddenly fallen between you two.

Eventually, your own smile shifts and after clearing your throat, you continue.

“I got a hold of Felix and surprisingly, he remembered me. That’s where my luck ran out though, because he wouldn’t let me speak to you, said you were in the middle of some shoot and you didn’t need a distraction, which I was — as Felix put. So, I left this news with him. He promised he’d pass it on and get you to call me back, but…”

“Felix never told me,” Eddie confirms what you’ve been thinking all these years.

“I figured,” you say.

Eddie’s brows furrow. “So, you just stopped trying?” He asks, an accusatory tone slips through the question.

“Of course not,” you defend. “When it became clear you weren’t going to call me back, I didn’t want to just think it’s because you want nothing to do with the baby, so I needed to try to speak with you face to face. I looked up your tour dates and booked a flight to Los Angeles.”

“Jesus,” he exhales. You flew cross country, barely a few weeks pregnant with his baby, all because his tour manager decided to keep a secret. Eddie thinks how terrified you must’ve been and he’s feeling guilty over something he had absolutely no control over. Story of his life, it seems. He’s gonna fucking murder Felix when he sees the guy next. How dare he?

“Puked the entire flight,” you tell the rockstar and he grimaces.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, but you shake your head and tell him not to be since he had no idea any of this was happening.

A slight breeze rushes through. Leaves crackle and a windchime calls in the distance.

Feeling the weight of his gaze on you, knowing there’s something on the tip of his tongue that’s too heavy to admit at this very moment, you look away. Focusing instead on the wooden treehouse located to the side of the vast back garden.

“Wayne built that for Messer.”

Eddie forces himself to shift his focus away from you, brown eyes moving towards the item you’ve just pointed out. And he softens. The structure is not perfect by any means, but the care his uncle put towards making the playground toy is palpable.

Painted the colours of the rainbow, the wood is vibrant. Perfect for a child. A ladder hangs loosely by the bark of the sturdy tree, swaying with the wind. Up above, there’s a small door, a window on the side. Currently switched off, a set of fairy lights is tangled amongst the branches.

Eddie imagines Wayne’s focus while drilling this hideout together. He imagines his uncle showing the house off to Messer. Playing up there with the toddler. Then, he pictures you. That damn captivating smile of yours as you most likely joined them, maybe even spent time up there alone (or otherwise). He finds himself hoping it’s not the latter.

“What’s the deal with Harrington?” He asks, mouth working against his better judgement.

“Steve was there,” you tell him. “In California. He was hanging around the backstage door during the show, waiting for an opportunity to sneak in. Which, coincidentally, was exactly my plan too.” 

A faint smile breaches your lips at the memory and the rockstar feels slightly uncomfortable. Jealous, even. He had no idea Steve came to the Los Angeles concert. Perhaps to make amends for that stupid argument they had months prior, but instead Harrington met you, and God knows who he is to you now. A boyfriend, maybe? Playing daddy to the kid you share with Eddie.

“We couldn’t get through, past your security. When the show ended and the crowd outside tripled in size, Steve walked me back to my hotel. On the way, I decided the universe didn’t want you to know. Eddie Munson was made for greatness and shouldn’t be held back by a kid.”

“Fuck that,” he groans, rolling his eyes.

“What else was I supposed to do? I was six weeks pregnant, alone in an unfamiliar city. I cried the entire walk to the hotel after yet again, unsuccessfully trying to deliver this news to you,” you try to reason. “Eddie, the person closest to you at the time knew my situation. Felix knew you were months away from  becoming a dad and deliberately chose not to tell you.”

Eddie’s jaw locks. A muscle twitches in his cheek, a tell-tale sign of the anger he's desperately trying to suppress. He can feel the heat rising in his neck, a pressure building behind his temples, threatening to explode. Fucking Felix. He feels betrayed by this person he’s trusted most since his career began, although, perhaps that stupid ‘groupie’ comment didn’t help. He’s such a goddamn idiot.

“Steve calmed me down, flew back to New York with me. He spent the next few months living on my couch, going to all of the appointments with me and generally just lending a helping hand. I continued to work until I was five-months pregnant, when it got a little difficult to stand for such long hours plus the noise from the gigs every single night, I was afraid those decibels wouldn’t be good for the baby.”

You sigh, pausing.

“And every day that went by, I thought the phone would ring. I even got Steve to call you a couple of times, but you never answered.”

“We weren’t speaking,” Eddie tries to explain, anger momentarily subsiding. “Stupidly, I was pissed at him and dodged his calls, but if I-I knew that’s why Harrington wanted to get in touch with me I would’ve answered. I swear. I would’ve dropped everything and—”

“Eddie, I may have not understood this then, but enough time has passed for me to know that you would have resented me. The baby too, probably.”

“No,” he protests, locks bouncing with the shake of his head.

“Your career would have stalled. You would have never accomplished everything that you did in the last four years.”

“I wish I had the option to decide for myself,” the rockstar snaps. An unvarnished moment of frustration.

Sympathy floods your brain and your first instinct is to reach across, take his hand in yours. But you hold yourself back. The difference between his world and yours feels like an unbridgeable canyon. You’ve always understood that, hence why you gave up in telling him about Messer. Seeing Eddie now however, his raw yearning for autonomy, well, you wish you never stopped.

“Steve brought me to Hawkins,” you continue, softly, “He introduced me to Wayne and the rest is history.”

“Wayne never even tried,” Eddie says, deflation visible across his features and your heart clenches between your ribs.

“That’s on me,” you admit. “I asked him not to.”

Nodding once, slowly, Eddie looks up towards the sky. Silence settles between you, except for the gentle whistle of leaves and the distant wind chime. His gaze is lost somewhere beyond the floating clouds, replaying this conversation, calculating the odds he now faces. The tension in his jaw has eased a fraction, replaced by a weary resignation that chills you more than any outburst. Eddie is displaying a profound calm, like someone who has just accepted the truth.

He’s been burned. By everyone closest to him.

How does one even begin to trust again after such a devastation?

“Harrington called again, seven months after his last attempt.” Eddie says, brown eyes latching onto yours once more. “I answered.”

“I know.”

“But this time, he didn’t even try to tell me what’s been going on.”

“I know,” you repeat, then add, “I’m truly sorry, Eddie. I really thought it was for the best, that in the end, you didn’t know. And look at the life you’ve created for yourself. You should be proud.”

He huffs. “Maybe.”

Wanting to add so much more, tear his heart out for you to see the fresh wounds, he opens his mouth to continue, but Wayne appears at the back door. Messer in his arms. The child squeals in excitement upon seeing you and lifts his grabby hands in your general direction. You don’t hesitate to reach for him. Scooping him up in a comforting embrace, placing a kiss to the top of his head.

Your gaze finds Eddie’s again as you rest your chin on Messer’s crazy head of hair. Your smile softens, still genuine, but hinting at something else entirely when it’s directed at the rockstar. He reciprocates. Understanding at this very moment how you had other things — larger things — to consider. Sure, he missed out on the first few years of his kid’s life, but you, you seemingly gave up everything to raise him.

He’s holding back the hurt and shifts his mindset to a more grateful one. He wants to tell you as such, thank you for the years you sacrificed, but again he’s interrupted by the backdoor sliding open. This time, Steve Harrington makes an appearance.

“Hey, man.” The King of Hawkins says to Eddie, an awkward tint to his tone, before quickly glancing at you. “Should we all go and get some food?”

A LITTLE BEFORE

Someone is singing on the F train.

What’s up by 4 Non Blondes. Utterly off-key, but with an incredible amount of passion. 

People are staring, whispering amongst themselves. Some our pointing fingers, some snickering under their nose. Then there’s the select few that are cheering on. Whooping and waving their arms in unison, even joining in for the chorus. And although you’re sitting quietly, away from the commotion, watching it all transpire, that’s the group you feel a part of. Decency and genuine human spirit.

Music makes people come together, you’ve always believed that — hence your choice of career. And here it is, the theory being proven in real time.

Retrieving your Pentax from your cream-coloured bum bag, which, aside from the keys to your flat and a card holder, is the only item that you carry around, you lift the camera into view and click. No one turns around. The noise of the shutter was lost amongst the vibrations of the carriage.

In the notes app on your phone, you type out the date and time, along with a quick description of the setting: F train, singing, magic. The train pulls up to the next stop and after placing the camera back in your bum bag, you quickly hop off.

The venue you work at is already buzzing with excitement by the time you arrive.

“Big night,” Jens, the floor manager, announces as you pass by. He shoots you a playful wink as you bellow after him how every night is big.

Photography is your passion. Has been since you were a kid and your aunt Agnes surprised you with your very first digital camera (it was hot pink).

Concert photography piqued your interest in high school, when you worked at the school paper and shot the various talent shows, musicals, and cheer competitions. The dream only intensified in college. While your classmates were working on their portfolios, hoping for spots at local art galleries, you spent a ridiculous amount of time on LinkedIn, working on creating connections in the music industry. Hoping that someone out there will give you a chance.

They did.

Yeah, you think as you chuck your bag into your locker and hang the staff lanyard around your neck, every night is big when you shoot the stars. 

Although, to Jens’ point, the talent tonight is extra special too. 

Eddie fucking Munson. 

You’ve studied his moves. Watched a rather ridiculous amount of videos from past shows  in preparation for tonight, like you did with every talent that graced the Terminal 5 stage — and not because he’s ridiculously alluring. Is there something about him? Magic, definitely. Plus the big brown eyes and the brown locks that perfectly frame his face, even as he jumps around, well, those features don’t hurt him either…

Once Eddie Munson graces the stage, you’re sure he knows he possesses said magic. Shamelessly, the musician flirts with the crowd by showing off his voice, his moves, and his unfiltered talent. Girls squeal with excitement, guys roar with encouragement while bumping into one another, forming a mosh pit.

At first, you observe from the sidelines.

Unknowingly memorising the sight before your eyes, lips cursive. The nonchalant sway of his hips. The way his sweat glistens under the harsh stage lights. Jesus, you need to get a grip. You’re feeling all giddy, bordering on unprofessional.

Hand tightening around the camera in your grasp, you take a few tentative steps forward, stopping just beneath the stage. Eddie pays you no mind. Lost in the beat of the song, the sea of people singing back at him. Smiling wider now, you lift the 35mm and position yourself, waiting for the right moment.

He looks down at that exact second. He looks at you, and he freezes. Movements halt, brown gaze widens. He’s staring at you through the lens of your camera, mouth parting as if you’re the last person he’s expected to see, even though he’s got no fucking clue who you are, and a shiver runs down your spine.

Jesus Christ. You want to bottle the way Eddie Munson is looking at you, forever.

Click. A flash. Done.

A LITTLE AFTER

Wayne stays behind, citing some excuse Eddie should have bothered to listen too. Instead, the rockstar’s focus latched onto you. A pull too strong to resist.

He watches you lead Messer towards Harrington’s black SUV and set the toddler in the back, safely in his car seat. As you do, Eddie tries to suppress his anger at the fact there’s a fucking permanent car seat in the back of Steve’s vehicle, meaning his best friend is continuously, very involved in your life.

The horrid thought confirmed when Harrington throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a half-hug. Eddie observes silently, from the top of the driveway, as you lean into the embrace, saying something intangible to the man next to you. Steve’s laugh is brisk and Eddie jaw clenches.

“Ready, man?” Harrington calls out suddenly, turning to address the rockstar, while dropping his arm.

Eddie nods. He walks the few steps towards the SUV, eyes still glued to you. He wordlessly offers you the passenger spot, but you politely decline, sliding into the back with Messer, who’s oblivious to the adult problems and instead, pretending the toy plane in his grasp is gearing for take-off.

“Pizza?” The toddler asks once Harrington shuts his own door and starts the engine, low rumble vibrating through the car.

“Pizza,” you confirm sweetly, then glance at Eddie through the rearview mirror. “Is that okay with you?” You ask the musician.

“Sure,” he says rather flatly, but quickly catches the indifference in his tone and course-corrects, shifting his body in the seat so that he’s facing the back of the car. “I love pizza.”

“Pizza is my favourite,” Messer announces, the r falling short of a proper pronunciation. “My mommy likes it too. Uncle Steve brings her pizza when she’s sad.”

Eddie’s eyes flicker towards you yet again, but you ignore his heavy gaze and reach to ruffle the kid’s hair in retaliation for giving away such an intimate secret, although the action is very playful.

“I’m not sad, lovey.” You tell him, knowing Eddie is listening, “I’ve got you, and grandpa Wayne, and the girls from work, and uncle Steve too. What possibly could I be sad about?”

It’s rhetorical, the question. You’re affirming there’s a lot you have to be grateful for in this life you’ve built following the curveball that’s been thrown at you. Plus, you don’t want your three-year-old thinking you’re walking around sad. He’s just a little kid. He shouldn’t worry about his mom.

Messer however, doesn’t understand the stylistic tone, and he answers you anyway.

“Because my dad isn’t here.”

And your heart stops momentarily.

Fuck, you drawl the thought, then slowly, you tilt your head to look at Eddie who’s own gaze shudders under the declaration. The mahogany tint in his eyes darkens with emotion and his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows a shallow breath.

Eventually, after an excruciating minute of awkward silence, he reaches for the kid, placing a hand on his tiny calf.

“I’m sure he’s very sorry about that,” Eddie says simply and he prays you can detect the sincerity in his tone, because he is… sorry.

As the drive continues, Eddie stares out the window and silently promises himself to not leave Hawkins until he makes all of this right.

He doesn’t need Messer to know his dad is here now, but he’d like to show you, in particular, how good it could be if the truth was out there. He’s not some fuck up that seemingly everyone in his life seems to take him for. He’s a good guy with mistakes that continue to chase him, but for a change, this is not one of the messes he wants to run away from.

Eddie’s quietly hoping the other slips won’t find him here, when his phone vibrates in his lap, catching his attention.

Glancing at the text from his agent, Smith Lyne, the rockstar’s chest tightens momentarily.

Smith Lyne (dickhead): Edward. Charges have been dropped. Eddie: thanks, man Smith Lyne (dickhead): The team managed to keep the whole debacle out of the press for now,  but continue to lay low for a few weeks.  Smith Lyne (dickehad): Will be in touch with the next steps soon.

as always, thank you for reading! pls support your writers by commenting & reblogging <3

story masterlist

tagging some cool people that expressed interest (if you want to be removed, just let me know), and if anyone wants to be added- also let me know:

@tvserie-s-world @probablyin-bed @the-dumpster-fire-of-life @darknesseddiem @kellsck @althaiareads @streamafterlaughter @ali-r3n @ratsematary @alyisdead @kravitzwhore @aestheticsunflower19 @s1mp-4-ga11y @monstermunsonswife-blog @xingyuluvr @ari-joe

[ladybugwritess]

stain my skin

headcanons

pairings: demon!sukuna x florist!reader

genre + content warnings: 18+!!, swearing, mean sukuna, banished sukuna, sweet reader, light dialogue, mentions of nudity, down bad sukuna, feral sukuna, sukuna sukuna sukuna sighh

a/n; ahhh day five post wisdom teeth removal does it get better?? i’m so sore and still can’t eat but i wanted to post a little sum sum for y’all. also im not sure why the coloring is a little off and changes so i’m so sorry for that, i tried to fix it but it just doesn’t wanna work with me lmaoo love yall lots and hope yall enjoy <3

demon!sukuna who finds himself banished from up above and sent face first into the city.

who as stubborn as he is, can’t shake the humiliation. yet he brushes himself off and continues to walk. and apparently the stares and weird noises humans make as he walks by are socially acceptable.

who do they think they are?

he was close to a god. well he sat next to one anyway. which is a lot more than what these mere mortals ever even dreamed of, much less prayed for.

demon!sukuna who finds himself stopped by an old lady who offers her coat and some fruit, claiming she owns the small farmers’ market down the way and does everything in her power to help the homeless.

whatever the fuck that means.

he scoffs and takes the fruit, along with the coat that would barely fit over his arm. only now giving a shit to glance around he sees that everyone is…clothed. apparently that’s a thing here and all the stares and snickers were directed towards him.

he borderline growls at the people passing by and they quicken their steps, eyes glued to the concrete now. he barely acknowledges the woman and simply grunts out a deep “take me to your leader”.

and poor lady because her confusion is unreal but she nods, playing along, assuming maybe this humongous man needs more help than she thought and she guides him through the busied sidewalks.

demon!sukuna who abruptly stops and with a short sniff he jerks his head towards the store next to him. the glass displaying an array of flowers and other colorful decorations.

ones that any other day would make sukuna roll his eyes and burn it all down, made him instead tilt his head in subtle curiosity. and through the flowers of different assortments and variations he catches another scent, almost sweeter, and his gaze hones on you.

oblivious you behind the counter, fingers tapping mindlessly against the softly lit surface. a soft smile on your face as you watch the few people sniffing the flowers and asking you questions that he couldn’t even try to understand if he wanted to.

it’s fucking flowers.

there can’t be much to talk about, but you feed into each and every question, adding on as if you actually liked talking to them.

demon!sukuna who stares at himself as he focuses back on his reflection through the front of your store. black markings litter his body and he’s in nothing but the thin coat wrapped around his waist and pieces of fruit dripping down his chin.

he scoffs to himself. if he were anywhere but here he would have someone tripping over their feet, practically running to clean him up. but apparently no one has respect for their higher ups around here.

going against his entire being he shoulders the front door open, ignoring the old woman’s confused sputters as she follows him in.

your chirpy voice was ready to be activated at the sound of the bell connected to the door, letting you know another customer has arrived, and was probably only going to sniff a few bundles of flowers, ask the price, ask for a discount, and probably definitely end up leaving. but you wouldn’t want it any less.

the flip side was being able to hear other’s stories. what each bouquet is for and who it’s from. each flower personally showing how much one means to another. whether it be an anniversary, a funeral, a birthday gift, or even just a personal gift to themselves because they realize they have the free will to do so.

working in this field you’ve seen old, young, poor, rich, and even stray animals sometimes wander their way into your shop. but you’ve never quite seen a man like him before.

he’s huge hovering over your rows of flowers and displays of bouquets, so out of place that it makes you pause.

whatever greeting you had sizzled on the tip of your tongue and never came out. watching the brooding man stand at the entrance, with only a coat hanging around his waist. it certainly doesn’t cover much if anything at all. the nice old lady that owns the farmers’ market a few blocks down from you was simply standing beside him talking to him.

it seemed she didn’t even exist because she was dismissed and he was only looking at you.

clearing your throat and excusing yourself from the other customers you were helping you start to walk towards the two.

you nod to the woman in familiarity and she nods back and glances at the man.

demon!sukuna who is almost positive he’s having a heart attack. stupid humans and their weak bodies. you walk closer to him and the smell gets sweeter, intoxicating. it soaks into his skin and he finds himself taking a deep breath.

he barely heard your soft voice over the beating of his pulse. more evidence of how human he is now, the beating of his heart goes a beat out of rhythm when you tilt your head at him awaiting his answer.

fuck

he should’ve been listening because now he looks like a goddamn fool standing clueless like a dumbass.

“how can i help you guys?” you repeat yourself, gaze flickering between him and the woman.

yea…fuck this he’s definitely going to drop dead in this colorful pollen-filled shop. “well for starters i think he’s lost, found him with nothing on and almost shivering like a lost cat on the side of the road” the woman explains to you.

he jerks his head down to her, an insult flaring on the tip of his tongue because he was not the week piece of shit she just explained him to be. but before he could fully disrespect his elder (even though he’s definitely older than her by hundreds of years) he stops himself at your sympathetic “hm”

demon!sukuna who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone, especially not a pathetic woman who owns a flower shop. yet, he doesn’t exactly turn it away. instead he feeds into it.

“could use a damn meal” he states matter-of-factly and doesn’t pull away when you lightly tug on his forearm and lead him towards the back. the old woman nods towards you and with a quirk of her brow she turns and leaves, muttering about what a hell of a day it’s been, and how she needs a nap.

demon!sukuna who lets you pull him to the seat behind a desk in the back. a small fridge and microwave accompany the corner and various cut up stems and petals are messily in a pile that somehow also looks put together.

“-found some old clothes from this donation shelter i used to volunteer for” your muffled voice calls out from who knows where. he’s too distracted glancing around the small office. pictures from different years placed crookedly across the wall, but somehow it all fits.

demon!sukuna scoffs at your squeak when he’s handed the clothes and immediately removes the coat revealing his entire bare self to get changed. he grunts and watches you turn around as he puts on the clothes that are still too tight over his bulky form but it’s better than nothing.

or is it? who knows, humans are so weird with their bashfulness. painting nudity as something more than just a body. but if it makes you feel any better he supposes he could wear the tight garments that reek of other men and detergent.

so when he finally grunts out that he’s done and you turn to face him, giving him that sappy sweet smile again he hopes the human body can withstand two heart attacks within the same hour.

demon!sukuna who can get used to the suffocating colors and floral scents if it meant that you were in the middle of it all. don’t get him wrong humans were still pathetic and weak and stupid but maybe you were an exception.

and just maybe he’ll be visiting the flower shop a lot more, not for the sweet plants but for the even more sweeter woman running it all.

a/n; should i make this into a full series or leave it as is?? i honestly had so much fun writing this and had to cut down a lot of scenes to make it shorter, reminding myself that it was just headcanons.

request + inbox is open!

[felixitate]

sunkissed — lyb (m.)

pairing: felix x reader

summary: you blame the summer heat for this sudden thirst towards your cute best friend.

rating & word count: 18+ | 4.3k

genre/au: fluff, smut, slight angst?, best friends to lovers, summer au!

warnings/content: handjob, making out, groping, exhibitionism, dry humping, body worship, clothed breast play, slight cum play ig? 💀

a/n: listen, that 230529 photoshoot ruined me lmao i've got more fics (5 including this) from that alone back in 2023 😭

Felix thinks he’s going to faint. The reason could be the heat or you.

“Lixie!” you call for him excitedly when he’s strolling behind you.

He’s still trying to process how you boldly came at him earlier today. Hearing direct compliments from you is pretty rare though Felix can easily read your eyes when you appreciate how someone looks. You're pretty intentional when you do it so he couldn't help but assume he's now one of your targets.

As your best friend, knows how you are with boys, having to unfortunately witness you date many guys, particularly boys above your year since you both were in high school. That continued in college but you never took anyone seriously, just flirting with pretty boys to his distress.

Felix is somehow the only exception to any of these.

He's a pretty man as what many people describe him. However, you've never tried anything on him until today. Not only he's your best friend but being around the same age, he's never seen you looked once to anyone from your year and below no matter how hot they are.

So he's left confused and nervous.

He once thought you never found him attractive as he doesn't seem to fit in your type of guys. So to say that he was taken aback with your change of demeanour is an understatement.

Normally, Felix would react to it dramatically but since he's unsure of what's running through your mind, he chose to be quiet and wait it out.

“Wow you look cute today, Lix!” you exclaim, doing him a one over.

Okay, maybe a normal compliment doesn’t count.

Felix's eyes shift away from you, embarrassment flooding his cheeks at your simple compliment. He can still feel your stare as his mind scrambles to tell you something, anything in return. He's got many, way too many and now he's overthinking too much.

As usual.

You find Felix so adorable with how shy he was at your words. Complimenting him felt just natural because he looks really good, especially today. You've never really looked at your best friend this way but your breath hitched earlier as soon as you saw him. It wouldn't be the first time so you ignored it like many times before.

Felix does surprise you sometimes but it's normal isn't it? Aside from your girl friends, he's the only guy you spend time the most.

Platonically of course.

Now he's looking at you warily, probably thinking you're just teasing him. It became your habit the moment you discovered how he gets flustered easily.

Well, you didn’t lie cause he does look good today.

Felix has always been gorgeous to you since you were younger. That's what everyone says and you're not blind. But since you were so used to his presence, you didn't think of it much. Now though, you are looking at him for reasons you don’t even know.

You've won't ever admit it but his mullet has been haunting you since he had his hair done. His blond hair already made you look twice at him and when he started growing his hair longer? You find yourself avoiding his eyes each time he comes near.

It's one of your favourite hairstyles on guys.

Seeing him today sporting this look has ignited that — the plain white tee and light brown pants with a bandana around his neck that you wanted to utilize somewhere.

Hold up, what?

This must be the heat then, making you feel strange things the moment he arrived.

You simply wanted to stroll the beach today, texting him right away to check if he's free to join you. He quickly responded which not only caused a relief in you but also excitement. You felt giddy and a little nervous to see a guy which doesn't really happen pretty often.

You're just glad that Felix is coming since you need him. That's just it. Most likely, you'll need someone to take photos just in case you feel like it and he's the perfect person for it. Or you just wanted to hang out with your best friend.

Both for sure.

“You look pretty” he says quietly which you almost missed.

Felix winces internally at his attempt of complementing you in return. You’ve probably heard many iterations of this word already so it won’t mean anything. He could’ve been more creative with it but his nerves won the best of him. To his relief though, a small smile appeared on your face, almost shy which he thankfully catches.

And Felix swears it almost blinded him which the sunlight didn't achieve.

He watches you walk hurriedly towards the rocky area of the beach, away from other people. He followed, knowing you're aiming to take pictures during the golden hour. It's the perfect time to call you pretty while you're busy climbing the rocks so you won't notice how nervous he is.

Felix saying it out of nowhere almost made you slip in your step. You must be hearing things all of a sudden because of your best friend's close proximity. Being the sweetheart that he is, he's complimented you several times before. However, his words today seem to affect you differently.

Pretending to not hear him will be easier. You could use the sound of waves crashing against the rocks as a reason you missed what he said if he asks you about it later.

.

After reaching the flat are on top of the rocks, you turn to Felix who looks unsure while staring at you. He's probably waiting for some sort of answer form you and now you feel bad for pretending earlier.

"Take several shots, like paparazzi ones 'mkay?" you instruct him fondly as if he doesn't know how you want your pics to be taken already. He nods regardless, returning your smile and takes out the camera from the handbag he took from you earlier.

Doing random poses have never felt awkward to you. Especially with Felix behind the camera. The man has seen you during your pre-photogenic era and is actually the one who taught you with poses and expressions as he's a natural in it.

Today however, you're having a hard time looking into the lenses of the camera. The slight guilt from dismissing Felix earlier re-emerged and you wonder if he can read it on your face. You try to shrug it off, hurriedly taking the camera from his hands to tell him it's his turn. You didn't even wait for him to answer, immediately coming down from the rocks and he thankfully obliged, positioning himself near the edge of the rock for you to see his whole body clearly.

You may have started to regret doing so.

Felix looks ethereal from your view below. The wind blowing his long blond hair makes your hand shake a bit. You've shouted instructions through the crashing waves, hoping he couldn't see your struggle from there. When focusing on capturing his face, it took you while to get the perfect shot because you were just staring. He's just so beautiful that you’re so taken aback at how he's making you feel by simply looking at him.

You pulled yourself back by adjusting the lenses, acting like he has no effect on you at all and took more shots than you expected.

The only thing left is a picture with you together. It became an unspoken rule between you and Felix to take at least one whenever you're together. For memories, he explained after you caught him designing a whole scrapbook last time which he refused to show you.

You didn't take it to the heart when he did since he's probably not ready but that didn't kill your curiosity to see it one day. Unlike him, you only post online to record them, treating your socials like a digital diary. You tried journaling during elementary but gave it up, the laziness taking over you which Felix reprimands you about.

"Lix, let's take more pics together!" you smile at him, opening your free palm for him to take. He immediately takes it and helps you climb up, standing in front of him to face the golden sunlight.

Neither of you brought a tripod so you'd have to use your phone. You fished it from your sling bag after placing the camera back inside Felix's bag. You've extended your arm to quickly take a few selfies of you both with him automatically joining from beside you. His face is right beside yours and you're fighting to focus on the front camera.

But Felix is not making it easy. Through the camera, you notice him tilting his head slightly so he's facing you, his eyes are scanning your features, almost like he's about to kiss you. Your thumb clicks the screen faster with your heart hammering in your chest. You drop your arm and step back a bit to breathe but your foot landed towards the edge of the the rock, shaking your balance.

Luckily, Felix caught your waist just in time. His touch sends a tingle around your middle, his grip around your waist almost made you squeal. You did gasp in surprise, both from almost falling and your best friend's arms around you. The height of the rocks are not even too tall from the sand but if you fall, the chance of you landing on the rocky surface is pretty high.

"Thanks, Lix" you breathe out, staring into his eyes. Neither of you moved after, just waiting who'll break this weird tension between you.

Eventually, your hand shoots out to take another picture. Out of instinct, Felix pulls your body closer to his, almost protectively. You can feel his solid body, the mix of woody and marine scents reach your nose, making your knees buckle.

"Smile.." you sound breathless which rises a concern in Felix. He's too focused on figuring out what's wrong that he misses your other hand reaching around to grab his neck. His eyes widen when you pull his head closer, his lips almost touching your cheek but he did look at the camera and smiled as you snap another picture like you didn't almost fall over the rocks.

It's his turn, almost falling backwards.

You're always actions first before words and Felix sometimes scolds you for doing things hastily. You're aware that he's coming from a good place, out of pure concern of you. You do feel bad worrying him but that what you've been wired for. It's your reflex whenever you're in an awkward position, choosing to ignore instead of addressing the situation.

You don’t know why you did it. Your body moving on its own before you can think twice so it kind of just happened. It's been happening since you meet up with Felix and you can't explain why.

Putting down your arm, you turn around to face him, switching your focus solely on his face. No camera can ever capture how truly beautiful your best friend is. Up this close, you can see how pretty his natural freckles are. They're noticeable even from afar but you rarely see them once Felix started using makeup to cover them up. He knows you hate it when he does so he never does it when he's with you and refrains doing them if he can.

You've seen Felix's face up close before but not like this, where he's staring right into your soul. You can feel his gaze but you haven't met his eyes yet. Your heart's been hammering in your chest and you think it'll burst the moment your eyes finally met.

Felix may have his eyes always on you but this is the closest distance his face has ever been with yours. His eyes are trained on you, unsure and nervous as his gaze shifts down at your lips. Then suddenly he's leaning in and you did too out of instinct.

Your lips touch briefly then your mouth opens to reciprocate before Felix jolts back. You were confused when he pulled away but he's stunned that you kissed him back.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I don’t know what came over me” he explains, already panicking but you just chuckled, smiling at him brightly. “Silly, I want you to," you drape your arms around his neck to pull him closer again. "Why else would I kiss you back?"

Felix doesn’t know what was happening anymore.

You gave him a peck before quickly grabbing his hand, dragging him to the secluded area you somehow found behind the big rocks. Lots of questions have been running through his mind. Where are you bringing him and why? He wanted to ask a lot but you look giddy so he doesn't want to interrupt whatever's going on.

Felix ended up just following you.

Like always.

You push him to sit down and lean on one rock, thinking you just want to take a break here. But then you suddenly swung your legs across his lap, cradling his face before kissing him again. He didn't repel you unlike earlier, instantly melting under your touch.

Felix's mind is still processing what's happening. That it's not a dream or a random thought of you that passes his mind unconsciously. It's actually happening — you initiating on making out with him.

Felix is lost for words; mostly nervous because he might be subpar from the other dudes you made out with. He tries his best in matching your pace, deepening his kisses as he raises both his legs to push your body closer to him. He doesn’t know if he’s doing it right but you made a pleased sound and pulled his neck closer so he must've been.

The deep rumbles from his chest causes a shiver down your core. Felix's deep voice is lethal and he knows about it, even using it to his advantage. As his best friend for many years, you thought you'd eventually get immune to it but that's not what's happening.

Hearing his grunts just magnified the electricity coursing through your body. You've been wet since earlier and when you feel him harden underneath you, you couldn't help but begin grinding on him. Felix's reaction was instant, his body freezing after releasing your lips.

But behind his subtle attempt at touching you, his body language still feels unsure.

"Are you okay?" you ask, breathless, as you pull his attention back to you. "Yeah, just don't know where to put my hands on, really" he chuckles, averting his eyes from you. He's nervous but you don't point it out, afraid it'll ruin the moment.

You cup Felix's jaw, scanning his pretty features and found no trace of hesitation, just uncertainty. Smiling reassuringly at him, you take his hands and guide them under your sundress, hinting for him to touch your bare legs and ass if he wants to.

Felix feels more at ease now but he still didn't dare touch you yet. His hand remains suspended on air, shaking lightly. He makes up for it by kissing you back fiercely for you to not notice his hand faltering. Felix's only goal is to keep up with you, hoping it'll be enough. Your moans pushes his nerves to leave him slowly, and by the time his teeth bites your lip unconsciously for more, he's fully relaxed.

Your mouth leaves his, proceeding to kiss his beautiful jawline down to his neck. More deep groans emit from him when you grab his blond mullet at the same time which made you smile against his skin. Your lips meet the bandana around his neck so you took it off, contemplating to use it on him.

Although Felix knows how you are, you don't really share your sexual habits with him and so does he. He might not be ready for it yet and you don't want to push him further.

That will need time, maybe. If there will be after this.

You drop the bandana on top of your handbag beside Felix, deciding to play with him instead. Lifting the hem of his white shirt, your hands skirts down to his lower torso but he stiffens so you pull back.

“Wait, you’ve done this before right?” you ask cautiously.

“Y-yeah of course!”

He answers indignantly but you're still suspicious. With that beauty, you knew there's a huge chance that he's telling the truth. Even though you're best friends, Felix never shared to you his sexual experience. You don't know why your chest tightened a little after hearing his confirmation, that you're not his first.

Why does it even fucking matter? You never cared and he wasn't even your first, so?

Anyway, what you don't get is the reason why he's nervous and awkward around you like how virgin boys are.

After a moment of silence, Felix surprises you when he grabs your face to kiss you again. It shocked you but you respond immediately, resuming like nothing happened. You moan into his mouth, hands continued moving lower until you reach the hem of his pants, slowly stroking his hardening bulge.

Felix panicked earlier with your question. It truly isn't his first time but you're not just anyone. He's not reacting like this because you're his best friend but because it's you. He wants to be good or at least decent since you do have more experience than him. The nerves have gotten him again, afraid that you’ll stop with all this if he's not good enough.

"You sure with this?" you ask as soon as you release his lips. Felix just nodded, pupils dilating as he stares at you desperately and that's all you need. You didn't waste any more time and fumble his pants right away, pulling it down along with his boxers just enough to take out his dick.

"Your cock’s pretty.." you muse while staring at his half-hard on.

Felix quietly curses when it twitches at your compliment. Even with your constant reassurance that you're enjoying him, he's still nervous and shy if you’re gonna like his cock or not. You've had better dicks before for sure, but it wasn't that he's lacking. He takes pride of his girth and to his delight, you're drooling over it.

“So pretty..” you mutter once more and started stroking him.

Felix is a goner after that. You’ve spread his pre-cum around his head before spitting on his dick, making him gasp in between laboured breaths. You wanted to see him crumble in your hands, alternating your pace but you’ve noticed that he’s still hesitant to touch you.

"It’s okay Lix, you can touch me," you say as you grab his hand and guide it to your supple breast. In an instant, he squeezes it like he’s testing them. Then his expression brightens when your moans increased in volume.

"Fuck, Lixie, more.." you whine as your eyes close, arching your chest more to his palms. He looks satisfied with how you're reacting, deciding to do it rougher and pinches your perked nipples through your thin dress. You momentarily stop stroking his cock in result, too distracted from the pleasure his hands are giving you.

Felix didn't even realize that you haven't worn a bra until now. He debated on parting your dress to take your breasts out. Maybe pop them in his mouth if you let him. However, by some miracle, you've recovered and resumed stroking him, faster this time while playing around his frenulum.

And he finally loses it. Completely.

"C-cumming! Shit, I'm cumming.." he moans loudly and before you can reply, he explodes in your hand.

Copious amount of cum covered your fingers while you stroke Felix some more. His eyes are shut as his cock keeps spurting more, hip unconsciously rising up thrust into your hand despite the overstimulation.

You're trying your best not to waste any drop when you remove your soaked hand from his length, raising your hands immediately to get your cum coated hand under the sunlight.

Felix was horrified at the sight of you spreading your cum-soaked fingers in the air, his eyes widening as he scans the surroundings to check if anyone's around.

"What are you doing?!" he screams out of panic, pulling your arm back down immediately. Your little stunt took him out of his euphoria, his brain having a meltdown. Thankfully, there's only the two of you here. "'Jus wanna see if they sparkle" you pout, shrugging his hand off your arm to grab some hand wipes from your mini sling bag.

He's still processing everything when you reach out to him after, about to clean him up when he stops you. "I might get hard again" he admits, embarrassment evident in his tone and you grinned. "Would that be so bad Lix?" you tease as he takes the wipes from your hand to clean himself.

He didn't answer and instead, stands up from the ground. The shift of the playful atmosphere drives your smirk to a slight frown. You pretend to be fine with it but Felix dismissing your suggestion slowly affirms your doubts before this whole thing started.

That this might be all he wanted from you.

What happened may have changed something between you but Felix is still your best friend. And as much as you want to fuck him after, it's his comfort that truly matters to you.

He opens his hand in front of you, offering to help you again which you reluctantly accepted. There was a small moment of awkwardness, the both of you at lost on how to continue the conversation from here on.

"Do you always carry those with you?" he suddenly gestures to the wipes on your hand, cutting the tension. You shift the topic and you dramatically answered. "Of course, I'm always prepared!" you pretend to be offended to lighten up the air, causing a fit of awkward laughter between you.

Felix wanted to pull his hair with the question he just asked. He can't always be blaming his nerves whenever this happens. What's even worse is that he didn't know how to respond to what you're insinuating.

Very lame.

Now you probably think he regretted what transpired between you earlier. On the other hand, Felix is trying to refocus; to see clearly if you were being serious. He can't figure out if this was all just a quick fun for you or you feel something for him.

He'd been delusional but instead of asking you the truth, he prefers to stay oblivious until then. It doesn't matter to him what you see him as, so long as he remains to be your best friend. There were many times where Felix think he's going to lose that place in your life but that never happened and he'll hold on to that.

He's your best friend and will always be no matter what.

You're watching Felix as you both walk back towards the beach. He's been quiet while observing your surroundings, probably absorbed in his head again. It gave you the perfect opportunity to grab his hand suddenly, surprising him even further when you clasp your fingers around his after.

"You’re hot you know, be more confident” you blurt out, copying him as you look straight ahead. Felix stops in his tracks before turning to you. "I didn’t think you’d find me hot” he admits, gripping your hand and starts swaying it while you two walk.

"How so?" you start, though you know where this is talk is going. "I'm not exactly your type?" he voices out, sounding unsure.

There it is. A big grin breaks on your face after hearing his dilemma. The one thing he's been hiding from you for who knows how long. To your relief, he couldn't see you since you're facing the sea instead of him. "And my type is…?", you goad even more, turning to him this time.

Your best friend may be the type to pour out his feelings at any chance he gets but he's quite careful around you about any discussions of romance. Not that you're different; you're even repulsed to the topic more than anyone Felix knows.

It's a miracle that you were able to coax it out of him today. You might get the whole truth if you continue.

"Those bad boy looking ones..." he mutters, looking anywhere but you.

"Did it make you feel anything, Lix?" you add. You've pondered on skirting around but you might not have a chance to ask him these again so you push through. "Mhmm? Your type? Or the guys you date?", he nervously asks and your smile widens even further.

He's already blushing, the sunlight hitting his cheeks even made it visible to your eyes.

It's now or never.

"Both" you tease.

Felix takes one glance at you, seeing the shit-eating grin on your face and immediately pulled you in to him. Your eyes widen, not expecting this bold move against you, staring at him in surprise.

"I feel like I could just show you?" he offers, suddenly sounding confident. It took you by surprise how easily he switches up. Whether it's the nerves that are pushing him or that he's finally ready to confront himself after your encouragement.

"If you want," he adds, voice a little softer as he stares at you intently.

You're still speechless after a while, too mesmerized at his beauty again that you find yourself nodding at his words. His signature bright smile then appears on his angelic face, the relief in his eyes apparent as he looks at you.

To anyone passing by, they're probably think you and Felix are on a date. That doesn't really sound bad actually. With the way he's looking at you? You wanted to see where this goes. You'll always love him either way, whether as a best friend or a possible boyfriend in the future.

Which you've never had before. Seriously, at least.

e/n: i just realized that i haven't really posted in this blog for more than a year. i'm ngl, i've had the longest writer's block for stray kids but seeing them live for the first time ignited my love for them once again 🥺

[adara-of-the-flame]

Mars shaked the leaves out of her long hair and gave Hoggle a thumbs up. "I'm okay!' From this angle on the ground, some of the dwarf's physical changes since embarking on the quest caught the half-Urru's eye: the faint, sparkle of sunlight on his lengthening hair. She wondered if he'd change anymore the more they continued on in the Seasonal domains.

...Did this mean the other Seasonal Archfaes didn't always look as they did?

She turned her snout skyward to the gargantuan Summer Queen: The Uber-Fiery. The thought of Hoggle suddenly sprouting to the proportions of a kaiju amused her.

Dusting her knees off, the half-Urru stood to her feet, and obediently began picking some of the new bounty. "How'd you know I liked roasted corn?"

"Lucky guess." Selva Roja shrugged. She turned to Hoggle, her face taking on an air of bemusement. "What 'sheers'? You tell the plants what to do, and they do."

A large pepper plant shook at the slight gesture of her hand, it's random bunching of leaves and branches taking on a shape more angular. A square-shaped plant, with little, square-shaped peppers for good measure. Another plant stretched itself out like a vine, plucked a ripe bunch of grapes from a nearby bush, and dropped it neatly in front of the dwarf.

"It's all at your command. Can you do this?"

==============================

Iced berry juice had proven to be adictive to Yumika, who was now on her her third glass. Next to her, Dumpling sipped a smooth, mango concoction through a straw. How the hundun could sip anything without a mouth was beyond the kitsune; she'd learned not to question such things.

A slice of mango was also given to their courier fairy, who no doubt would have much to brag to her sisters later about tasting things few Labyrinth fairies had ever even heard of.

With a pang of sympathy, the kitsune could since the uneasiness in Beetelglum's writing. She wished she could be there for him. But she had her Duty, and he had his.

'Info was bartered. The Gate traded in gossip. Jareth's past offered.

Hoggle heard from you. Stolen Babe is thief of time? No one knew the truth.'

And, this was true. The death of the Owl King was heralded when the Veil called his name. Yet...all these years, no one, not even Cornucopia Sunfall herself knew how...or why. And, then, that new kid, that...Stolen Babe just showed up and took the crown.

No one in the Seasonal Courts liked that. Not even ailing Saisho No Me, and he liked everyone.

Yumika wondered if Jareth knew just how many people he'd offended just for existing? He probably didn't even care...

'If Autumn calls you I will be there if I can. Barrier or not.'

She let Dumpling seal the scroll with a pawprint before sending it off.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the stench of this terrible blog…bleck!”

[rooatgumpoint]

OC LORE 💥

CW: mentions of suicide, abuse, historical inaccuracy probably, murder I guess, neglect, ummm I’ll add more later tbd

Alrighty we’ll start from the beginning I guess ? So, Maebelle’s parents are both from noble families and were married for the benefits that their marriage would bring both their families. Then they had Maebelle so they could raise the perfect daughter to marry off to some other wealthy noble family for bonus points or aura farming I guess ?

Well obviously that didn’t work out too well because she happens to be a human still… not that it stopped her mother from treating her like a doll and shaping her to be “perfect.” On top of being a shell of herself with barely any freedom to think, she experiences Very vivid and unsettling hallucinations. Which she can’t really react to since she needs to keep up that perfect facade lest she is punished… they cause night terrors too so she hardly sleeps on top of everything else.

THIS IS WHERE FREDERICK COMES IN. In this au(? I guess?) his parents decide to try to marry him off as a last ditch effort to salvage some usefulness from him after he failed to live up to their standards. So these two miserable people with mental issues and terrible parents get hitched, which neither of them care for but they kinda have to. Anyway they live in the Arquette manor in France or whatever because Frederick’s parents are still disappointed in him and Maebelle’s parents need her nearby to control her because of course they do.

Their marriage! They don’t really…. Talk much…. Frederick spends most of his time crashing out at the piano or whatever it is he does when he’s trying to be a good enough composer for his family while Maebelle makes social appearances and expresses the few thoughts she can in her journal just to cling to the notion that she’s more than a soulless doll ! The few times they do interact are very strained and awkward because. Well. His opinion of her is rather low and she doesn’t exactly get to hav e opinions.. um anyway

Now comes the incident that changed everything! After having a mental break while home alone one day, Maebelle attempted to take her life. Her parents arrived back home early, and attempted to stop her, not wanting to lose such a valuable asset (everybody boo these guys) However Maebelle was uhh well she was going through it. Her mind was cloudy from the treatment she endured her whole life, and her hallucinations violated any trust she had in her eyes. All she knew was that someone or something was grabbing at her, and she frantically slashed at the horrible, overwhelming visions.

When she finally came to, there was blood everywhere. It took her a few minutes to process the identities of the bodies beside her, and she sat there in a dazed state for even longer. Then, for the first time in many years, that thick fog over her mind cleared, just long enough to tell her to run. To survive. To finally live, for the first time in her life. So she did. Maebelle picked herself up and she tore off the least bloody fabric she could find to deal with the worst of her wounds for now, grabbed some cash and inconspicuous clean clothing, and ran for the hills.

The authorities arrived shortly after, declaring both of her parents dead at the scene and ruling Maebelle missing. Meanwhile, she had hopped on the first train that would take her the farthest away from the only life, or lack thereof, she had ever known. From here, Frederick is exiled from his family and his story continues as canon. Though now he has a grieving widower card to play and he’s kinda haunted by what happened since they didn’t find a culprit or anything

So what happened to Maebelle after she fled France? Aha well I’ll tell you . She arrived in England and first visited a doctor for her injuries. Obviously couldn’t have done that sooner since she would’ve been recognized … anyway she travels for some time, looking for a place to take shelter and well. Not die of starvation or hypothermia or exhaustion or anything. Eventually she stumbled upon the Kreiburg Racecourse! The perfect place to live while she recuperates and adjusts to being a human being!

So she hunts and forages for food with the same knife that got her here in the first place (she cleaned it first dw) and sleeps in a makeshift hammock in one of the stalls in the stables. She explores the place and cleans it up a bit as she goes since she’s living there and she might as well. How is her demeanor now that it’s not controlled, you ask? Well, she’s getting used to having thoughts again ! She talks to herself a bit to practice just generally being alive, and she still uses her journal to help her with having thoughts and such (I know I didn’t mention it before but of cOURSE SHE BROUGHT THE JOURNAL !!! It was her ONLY SAFE SPACE HER ONLY SOLACE and also key evidence in her parents murders so) the haphazard chopping of her hair to remind herself that she has control over her life now helps a bit too

She gets pretty buff after a while since she does a lot of manual labor in maintaining the racecourse and also not being starving to death anymore (the sleep deprivation is still an issue of course since now she can’t stop hallucinating her parents corpses… more on the Guilt later if I remember) and she also acquires more clothes that fit her better and are far more comfortable and inconspicuous. These clothes being her current outfit. Don’t ask me how she acquired them she probably just found them lying around or she went to the nearest town and bought them.

After lots of time taking care of the racecourse (which she couldn’t help but notice shared a name with her husband) nurturing the many plants growing nearby and creating a little memorial for Mary after discovering newspapers from the incident, she eventually wandered to the Oletus Manor. Idk I assume it isn’t very far I think she probably just didn’t notice it at first behind the grandstands or whatever.

quick manor anatomy headcanons for you so you understand what I’m thinking here. So Maebelle stumbles upon the gardens and she’s like. Wow these look terrible who hurt you (plants) and starts taking care of them because… idk because she wants to and she has freewill now. The manor is understaffed anyway since Orpheus wants to keep the operations there close to his chest (this is another headcanon sorry) so they don’t really have a gardener or groundskeeper anymore. However Orpheus doesn’t communicate with the staff very well (blasts you with another headcanon) so they all just assume that the baron of the manor or whatever he is just hired a groundskeeper and didn’t tell them.

Of course, Maebelle’s not about to correct them. Partly because having a job is a step in the right direction and partly because she doesn’t really talk to anyone at all. She does open up to the staff a little bit over time, but she finds that she prefers keeping to herself. The maids and such are a little intimidated by this strange nameless muscular person who doesn’t express any sort of emotion on their face ever, but they warm up to her as she takes more work off their heavy caseloads.

Maebelle’s actually pretty content with just quietly working and doing what they ask of her (and she does eventually start getting paid… don’t look at me like that I’m not the one paying her they just figured she’s already there so might as well idk) so this works out. After a while they make her actually sleep in a room at the manor instead of wandering off to go pass out in her hammock in the elements. Devastating. She still doesn’t really sleep because the hallucinations and night terrors are a permanent debuff. She can usually tell when said hallucinations are happening, they’re just extremely off putting so she’ll just kinda flinch and tense up at the sight of them for a split second before she registers that it isn’t real.

Now for the fun part !!! Two years after the incident that changed her life forever, the events of AoM occur ! Frederick arrives at the manor and on day one, encounters her in his room swapping out the flowers on the desk for fresh cornflowers. They both just stare at each other in a moment of awkward silence before she vaguely gestures at the flowers, mumbling “fresh flowers for you,” before brushing past him and leaving the room.

Despite my confusion as to when/if he would recognize her in my previous lore post, he does. Immediately. Of course, he doesn’t say anything, since he’s both confused about what happened and irritated that she ruined things with his family. Not that it’s a very rational line of thinking, but that’s how he feels. He knows she’s not to blame, but the only other person he can think to blame is himself, and he can’t stand thinking about that. Spoiler alert it’s not EITHER of their faults when will bro figure out that he just has sucky parents…

Frederick does his best to avoid Maebelle, but he can’t. Seriously, he can’t. Why is she everywhere? Isn’t she the groundskeeper? Why can’t she mind her own business? The reason for this is that he keeps refusing to go to the dining room for meals and the staff have found that he responds best to her bringing his meals to him. It is a prison of his own making but that’s what he gets for sitting at that stupid piano all day instead of going to go eat.

Maebelle, on the other hand, doesn’t mind. She doesn’t care at all, actually. She barely knew him to begin with, but she does linger a bit when she hears him playing. Sometimes she tries to listen for anything familiar she’s heard him play before. She just can’t help herself. It’s rather soothing for her, though, especially with those headaches she gets from the bustling sounds of the manor on days when her hallucinations are more frequent.

They were especially bad one day, and she could hardly handle it. She had ducked into the living room to get away from the noise, disturbing Frederick in the process. He looked up at her with a glare for a moment, though it faltered when he noticed a troubled look on her normally blank (and tired) face. Upon realizing she’d interrupted him, Maebelle turned back to the door and quickly reached for the handle. “You can stay and listen, if you want.” The words were so softly spoken, Maebelle almost thought she’d imagined them. She thought she had, when she turned to look at him, his eyes on the keys as if he hadn’t said anything. Then he started to play again, the music soothing her overwhelmed mind as she stepped away from the door.

The two of them manage to bump into each other quite often, both literally and figuratively. Frederick wonders if Maebelle really needs to steady him like that every time he even slightly stumbles. Maebelle is too busy being concerned about bumping his injured leg to notice that her hand on his waist makes blood rise to his cheeks. He has yet to realize that the addition of a cane to his person is her cause for concern. They are so dumb

Things kinda start to go downhill when he pulls a gun on the british orphans though. Maebelle was busy working at the Kreiburg Racecourse that day, when she heard a gunshot. She stepped out to see where it came from when a certain man who had his trauma aired out over breakfast that morning smashed into her at full force. Will they ever meet each other without collision? Apparently not. Before she could even ask questions about his velocity regarding the gunshot, Frederick grabbed her by the arm and started pulling her along behind him. “Ask questions later. We need to leave, now.”

Now, Maebelle didn’t exactly have a problem with being dragged off on an adventure by her weaponized limping husband that she hadn't seen in two years. The issue was the lack of questions regarding the situation. If he wanted to leave, she could get him out safely. She knew about what was happening at the manor, of course, and she lived at the racecourse for two years. If anyone had the means to get out of there, it was her. She was already hoping to get him to escape before anything happened to him, anyway.

So, naturally, she pulled him behind a wall to talk for a moment, not bothering to acknowledge that yanking him around like a ragdoll has once again led to Frederick colliding into her. Seriously, you’d think it’s on purpose at this point. He doesn’t get the chance to glare at her again before she gets straight to the point. “You know that if you want to get out of here, I can help you, right? Tell me what’s going on.” Frederick wasn’t pleased with being stopped, but he didn’t have the time to waste on complaining about it, so he just showed Maebelle the heirloom and gave a short summary. “Taking this and running,” he replied curtly.

Well, I guess that explanation was good enough for her, so she pointed him in a safe direction to run and wait for her. In the meantime, she laid out a decoy of the heirloom somewhere the tripping orphans would find it before meeting back up with Frederick. How did Maebelle find a convincing decoy, you ask? She found a lot of stray jewelry lost around the racecourse while she lived there, why wouldn’t she have found something close enough to pass as the heirloom? They probably didn’t get a close enough look at the real thing to tell the difference anyway.

I haven’t gotten too far into their lives after escaping the manor yet… for now they probably hop on a train back to France so Frederick can pick up his things from his apartment or wherever he was living for those two years before they go to return the heirloom to his family… romantic comedy of Maebelle trying to get Frederick to figure out that maybe he doesn’t need his parents approval to exist, him completely oblivious to the fact that he’s not the problem, lots of lore dropping since they barely knew each other before and if they’re going to convince Frederick’s family to love him again they’re going to need to trust each other !! Or something !!! Man idk

IT’S FINALLY OVER. THE LORE. I probably missed a couple things I don’t want to proofread allat… some things I remembered later and had to squish back in so it’ll probably be a bit messy but if there’s any plotholes just ask and there’s probably a great explanation for it and a 50% chance that I didn’t make up the explanation on the spot. Umm I’m sure I’ll retcon some stuff at some point especially since the original story involved her being a guest at the manor as an archeologist who had loving parents …. Ummm I hope I didn’t forget anything I probably did since it’s 3 am and I’ve been writing this for . 14 hours apparently

[capseycartwright]

Every year, the night before my birthday, I write myself a letter - it’s a tradition I’ve kept up for more than a decade now, started when I was a teenager, continuing throughout my twenties, right up until now, the night before my 30th birthday. Even on the years I haven’t wanted to, I’ve written myself this letter, a reflection of the year just gone, a diary of my hopes and dreams for the year ahead - it’s not something I ever intended to become such a cornerstone of my life, but it’s one of the very best things I do for myself. Taking the time to reflect on a year passed has proven to be the best way for me to find the good in every year, the best way for me to process the bad, to reflect on all the ways I am constantly changing, and growing.

When I was thinking about how best I could sum up my 29th year of life, the word that kept coming to mind was grief. It’s not all bad, I promise - actually, this has probably been one of the best years of my life in a while - but grief has been a persistent red thread throughout my year, and I don’t think I could do this year of my life justice without talking about grief.

I think the grief began this time last year, when I turned 29 and realised this was the final year of my twenties. I have no doubt many people in my life would argue I’m the kind of person who’s been an old soul, my whole life, and there’s an element of truth to that, but I often wonder if that’s by circumstance, rather than by nature: I’m the youngest child in my family, the youngest cousin, the youngest grandchild, and some of the age gaps are as wide as you can imagine, and so sometimes, I wonder if I’ve been an old soul all my life because I was surrounded by them.

Regardless - I didn’t expect to feel the kind of grief I did, entering the final year of my twenties. I have had such fun, being in my twenties. Going to university was the best thing that ever happened to me - the four years of my undergrad took me from being a teenager who was afraid of her own shadow, to a confident young woman, one who had the confidence to move abroad, to a city she’d never been to, entirely alone - I’m still not sure how I did that, not once, but twice. My masters abroad was one of the pivotal years of my life, and gave me the bug for this grand life of adventure that I’ve lived abroad for almost seven years now. I met some of the most important people in my life that year - ones who still cross oceans to see me. I moved again, and started life over again at 23, and it was messy, and beautiful, and brilliant. I’ve had four flats, more flatmates than I can count - good, and bad, and the very best I could hope for, right now - several lost bank cards, coats that have never been picked up from nightclubs, and glasses stolen from cocktail bars. I had such fun, in my twenties, and I don’t have many regrets - a few, yes, but I think anyone would be a liar to pretend they don’t have some regrets. Despite that, the grief of leaving behind this era of my life has felt heavier than I’d imagined it being - and I think that’s because so much has changed in my life this year that I wasn’t ready for.

In April, my auntie died, after a short, but hard fought battle against cancer. She was - and remains - one of the most important people in my life, and in so many ways, she is my first real, grown up grief: my grandparents have always been hazy, well-loved memories, two gone before I was born, two gone in the first five years of my life. I had my auntie for twenty-nine years of my life, and I will miss her desperately for however many years I have left without her. She was brilliant - utterly, completely brilliant - and the ache of grief I carry in my chest at the thought of never seeing her again is a reminder of how deeply I loved her, and how much she loved me. I stood in a church and I eulogised her, this spring - the first time I have ever had the privilege of eulogising someone’s life, a life that was incredibly well-lived - and I promised to live a life that honoured hers: one full of adventure, and holidays, and letter writing. She wrote the most brilliant letters, ones that admired the beauty of the mundane, and she loved to read anything I wrote - in a strange way, I think maybe that’s why writing has come easier for me, since she’s been gone, because it’s something I know she would want me to make time for, something she’d encourage me to keep doing. I like to think she’s had a hand, in the way that the words have flown so easily from my fingertips lately - she’s sent me a lot of signs, these last few months, reminders that she’s not gone, just different. I’m different now, too, for having lost her.

Grief takes different forms, and a few weeks ago, I found out that the organisation I work for is being shut down by our parent company. I haven’t been allowed to talk about it, much, and I think that’s maybe been good - it’s given me time to sit, and write, and process what it means for the dream job to be over. I’ve worked in the same place for almost seven years now, doing several different jobs over the span of almost a decade, and I think the best way I can describe it is by telling you it completely and utterly changed my life. I know that sounds grandiose, but the 23-year-old version of me who walked through those doors wouldn’t recognise the woman standing in front of her now. I think she’d be in awe, actually. Sometimes, I’m still in awe - of how I’ve spoken on panels, and shaken hands with powerful politicians, and done things that mattered, things that have impact. I have loved every single brilliant, often batshit minute of it - and maybe one day, when this chapter is officially over, I can tell you more about it.

The most important thing about my job, though, is the people - and the people are more brilliant than I have words for. When you live abroad, your friends do become your family - and these people are so much more than just my co-workers: they’re my closest friends, my family. They are the ones I lean on when life gets hard, the ones I go to for help - they’re the ones who cried in stairwells with me, when I was struggling, the ones who held my hand and reassured me I would learn not to drown in grief, after my auntie died, the ones who’ve encouraged me, helped me, shaped me into the person I am today - personally, and professionally. My manager’s husband does all my DIY projects - I text my boss book recommendations and she sends me trashy romance novels her best friend rips off the internet (her husband thinks it's inappropriate to send me pirated smutty novels - I think it's fantastic). I spend my evenings, and weekends with these people. I work eight hours a day with one of my very best pals, and we can still spend an hour on the phone to each other every night. Even the people who don’t work there, anymore - we still meet for drinks, catch up over coffee, call, and text, bonded together forever by a job, and a team, that has always been the dream: and not only my dream, it’s been a dream shared by dozens over thirty-something years of history, a dream built on the plans and ambitions of people who are no longer with us; and in my 30th year of life, that dream will come to an end for us all, and I’m not quite sure what to do with the grief of this incredible, frankly magnificent chapter of my life coming to a close. It’s been a privilege to live it, and it will be a privilege to miss it, I think.

Earlier this year, I wrote myself a list of thirty things I wanted to do before I turned 30 - I didn’t do them all. I’ll still try to, even after my birthday, because it’s an entirely arbitrary deadline, and most of those things will still be important when I’m 30. I did do some of them, though, I promise - including three solo concerts, a newfound love for journaling, visiting new city, and an ill-advised experiment with baking (I’ve always been more of a chef, than a baker). I thought, for a while, that list would be the basis for this letter - but as I sit here, and write, I think maybe it would be more fun to tell you 29 things I have learned in my 29 years of life. Cliche, I know, but I have always loved a good cliche.

No one cares about your weight as much as you do. Stop letting it take over your life - it gets boring, to have spent so much of your life thinking about a number on the scale, and how your arms look in a tank top. Wear the shorts - get your arms out. You will never be a size six: that doesn’t mean you aren’t beautiful. Bodies aren’t supposed to all look the same.

You’ll always love the music you liked when you were fourteen - it just gets less embarrassing to admit when you’re older. The Eras Tour was, objectively, class.

Drinking too much sambuca is a life lesson you have to learn for yourself, but there’s really no need to learn that lesson three times - stop drinking it. It’s disgusting.

You are more capable than you could ever imagine - one day, you’ll look back, and realise you got on a one-way flight with absolutely no plan, and you still managed to make a life for yourself. That’s pretty fucking cool.

Meeting your internet friends in real life is as brilliant as you can imagine. Your internet friends are generally as brilliant as you can imagine - keep them. Maybe you’ll never meet some of them, but they’ll keep proving themselves to be the best people to have in your pocket.

The hobbies you think are embarrassing when you’re a teenager are the ones that you’ll embrace, one day. Half the people I work with know I write fic (I’ve told them they can read it if they guess the fandom - no-one’s gotten it yet). Weirdly, those hobbies can become transferable life skills. Who knew all those years of making my own Tumblr icons would make me so damn good at using Canva pro for work?

There is a distinct difference between being alone, and being lonely. Learning how to be on your own is a powerful thing: embrace the solo coffees, art gallery trips, cinema nights, wanders about town. Being alone can be more fun than you realise: but don’t let yourself get lonely because you get too used to being alone.

People do love you, and they want you around. I haven’t had a birthday party since I turned 21 - and this week, I’ve had three, and people showed up, because of course they did. They love you. You’re pretty great, you know.

Sometimes you don’t get closure. It’s a hard thing to accept, because it’s human nature to want answers, but sometimes, you won’t get them - and you’ll have to learn to live with that. It sucks. You’ll manage, though.

Not every friend will be for life. You don’t always get to choose who stays, either. It hurts - friendship breakups might be the worst kind of breakup there is - especially when neither of you have done anything wrong. Sometimes, your people don’t stay your people forever. It doesn’t make them matter any less. Wish them the best, and move on.

Some people are for life, though. You’ll know which ones they are. Keep them - invest in those friendships. Give them the time, and energy they deserve, because they are the people who will show up when you need them the most. That means you need to show up for them, too - put a brave face on when you don’t know what to say, send the thoughtful texts, and be a good friend. You’ve got to be a good friend to have good friends.

Go to the gym consistently. It’s actually good for your brain - Big Gym is correct.

Self care isn’t always face masks and getting your nails done - though, that’s important too. Sometimes self care is cleaning your room and making yourself healthy meals, and asking for help. Ask for help. People want to give it - and sometimes the best self care is knowing you don’t have the capacity to care for yourself, there and then, and you need a hand.

It’s your parents' first time living too. Enjoy the little moments with them - the new cities you visit, the new food you try. It’s as new to them, as it is to you. Soak up every minute you get with them.

Soak up every minute you get with everyone you love - there’s not enough time. There’s never enough time. Life is shorter than you think it is. Make the most of the time you have.

Take more photos. These tremendous chapters of your life will be memories, one day soon, and you’ll wish you had more photos.

There will be new dreams. Over, and over, you’ll come up with dreams far beyond what you can imagine, here and now.

Do live in the moment, though - sometimes your dreams can wait, in favour of enjoying the life you’re living now. This version of your life was a dream once, too.

Sometimes, a person is your right person, wrong life. Sometimes they aren’t your right person at all. You’ll learn to tell the difference, but it never makes it hurt less. It’s not always the person you want it to be - sometimes they’re meant for someone else, and they’re meant to be your friend. That hurts too - but not as much as you’d imagine. You can never have too many friends.

Buy the coffees. You’ll probably never own a house, anyway.

Slow down, sometimes.

Book the flights. Sorry to sound like a travel influencer, but sometimes the best thing you can do is be somewhere else - visiting one of those friends who love you very much, seeing the family you’ve left behind at home, going somewhere new. The world is big - and you’ve seen so little of it, despite your best efforts.

Honesty is usually the best policy, but sometimes a white lie - or three - to protect the people you love is necessary. Don’t feel bad about it.

Stretch more. And wear sunscreen. It sucks when your back hurts, and you’ll never actually tan, given you’ve got the complexion of Caspar the Friendly Ghost.

Miss home. Don’t let it consume you - but miss it, all the same, appreciate the rolling green hills and freezing blue sea you left behind. It’s a beautiful country, Ireland, and it’s not the place you need to be, right now, but it’s the place that raised you - the place you’ll go home to, one day. Be obnoxious about how much you love it. It’s home, after all.

You don’t have to meet the love of your life on a schedule. The people you’ve loved in the in-between matter, too - for the lessons they taught you, and the love they gave you. Don’t let time make you bitter toward them. Don’t let time convince you to forgive them, either. Find a balance, somewhere in the middle.

Do tell people when you have feelings for them, though. Regret lingers far longer than rejection does. Regret hurts more, too - because you never get to know what might have been.

Never sleep in your makeup. Wash your face, even if it's 5am.

Stop putting pressure on yourself to have it all figured out, right now. You’ve got time.

And here’s one more - a bonus, if you will, the best reflection I can make on my twenties, and something that’s allowed me to be genuinely happy, this year, even amongst the grief of it all.

30. Your life rarely looks how you imagined it would. That doesn’t mean it’s not good. Happiness doesn’t need to be complicated - and it’s easier to be happy, when you stop comparing yourself to others and know that your life is made perfectly for you.

This has been 29 - and tomorrow is 30. And we’ll see how it goes.

[k1llerfr0sst]

It really did! Thanks for the response ❤️ I do still have some questions tho lol😅 Mainly regarding Gotham itself. Do u think the city can be fixed? Like at all. If the inhabitants of the city civilians, hero’s, and villains alike are all feeding into the chaos of Gotham how can it be fixed and should it be fixed? I’ve heard that in some comics Gotham is cursed or corrupted by manic and/or supernatural. If that is true how can the city be fixed and should it ever be? If it should be fixed then who should be one to do so? Should one of the Bat fam do so or should a someone else do it? And if the city isn’t cursed in any sense then I feel like that means that the people of the city are the cause not the effect. Also curious what u think of other Bat fam members. Is NightWing, Red Robin, Spoiler, etc better than Batman and RedHood in their morals or are they all the same? Are they all causing more damage than they fix and how much does Gotham really need them? I’m really passionate about the Bat fam and I love to word vomit on them especially Bruce.😅

Thank you for all the comments I love them so let me yap

Can Gotham be fixed?

- Right now, Gotham is a city where everyone is shaped by violence. The villains exploit it, the heroes try to contain it, and the civilians are caught surviving inside it. But none of those groups are innocent and none of them are beyond saving either. The problem is that everyone’s playing a role in a system that’s designed to never change (considering constant violence/action is a main thing for superhero stories)

- Batman fights crime without addressing its causes. Villains lash out as symptoms of a broken society. Even the average person in Gotham has been written as numb or resigned to the chaos. That’s not a city it’s a cycle, one needed to continue a story/comic. Gotham can be fixed, but only if it’s stops being a stage for vigilantes and rather like a real city with real people who deserve more than constant violence

- fixing Gotham wouldn’t be about stopping Joker or Scarecrow. It would be about systemic, long-term change and restorative justice. Not exciting comic book stuff—but the real kind of justice that prevents crime before it starts.

- So yes, in theory it could be fixed, but in practice considering Gotham is fictional and a background, it probably will never be fixed for the sake of Batman’s story

What if Gotham is cursed?

- Some stories (Gates of Gotham, Batman: The Cult, Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth, and more recently Detective Comics) suggest that Gotham is literally or metaphorically cursed. Some runs even suggest Gotham itself is alive or has a malevolent will of its own, shaped by centuries of exploitation/colonialism/suffering.

- If that’s the case—if Gotham is cursed in a magic sense—then fixing it becomes about more than just infrastructure or policy. It would require a kind of spiritual healing (a more comic-book magical plot rather than real world issues I focused on in my other analyses.)

- It’s a powerful metaphor though, Gotham being cursed, especially when you consider how real cities carry legacies of genocide, torture, violence, and destruction.

- So should Gotham be fixed, even if it’s cursed? Yes. Maybe the idea of a curse is really about what happens when pain is never acknowledged and rather only passed on. If a city like Gotham is “haunted” then healing it means naming the ghosts, honoring the hurt, and choosing not to repeat it. Even then Gothams curse is just another magical metaphor for real systemic rot or history

Should it be fixed—and by who?

- Speaking from if I was in the dc world, yes, it should be fixed, bc Gotham is full of people who deserve more than survival. Speaking from a comic reader perspective, if Gotham was fixed, there would no longer be a need for Batman, and despite the comic being imperfect, Batman is a hero that teaches many valuable lessons and betters irl society, so I wouldn’t want it to end.

- But if it would be changed, who gets to lead that change? The solution can’t be one person it has to be collective. The Batfam could help if they actually shifted from punishment to rebuilding. Change would require a full shift and a full dedication from most of gotham, the poor, the rich, and everyone in between (which is unlikely).

- So maybe the question is, who could light a spark to make people stand up. And honestly, I don’t know. But it would be good for superheroes to try—not because they can fix everything, but because of what they represent. Batman has always been a symbol of fear to criminals, but what if someone in the Batfam became a symbol of hope to the people instead

- Superheroes are icons, cultural forces. They inspire, and we’ve seen glimpses of that. Like the “We Are Robin” movement, it was powerful not because it was led by a hero, but because it was picked up by regular kids. Duke Thomas the baddie didn’t tell them to idolize Batman—he gave them a symbol they could use to stand up for themselves. That’s what superheroes could be doing: not just saving people but empowering them.

- So while the real change has to come from the collective—from workers, activists, educators, and survivors—the Batfam has the reach and visibility to amplify that change. They can step back from being guardians of the status quo and instead become allies in transformation.

And if Gotham isn’t cursed, and just this way…?

- Then yeah the people in part are responsible. But only because they've been shaped by decades of systemic failure. If there’s no curse or no supernatural explanation, then we’re looking at a city that became cruel because it was built to be that way. It’s realistic and sad. But that means people can reshape it, because if the system made it this way a different system can unmake it.

Opinions on other Batfam..?

- The Batfam definitely share similar forms of justice with Batman and Red Hood—especially in the comic book sense (where justice often means chasing criminals and punching bad guys without addressing the deeper systemic problems) they’re mostly locked into the same cycle: reacting to violence rather than preventing it. So they all operate under the same flawed framework.

- But morally they do vary. Nightwing has a much more empathetic people-first approach and tends to prioritize protecting people over punishing anyone.

- Red Robin is more tactical and cerebral—very much influenced by Bruce. He can veer into surveillance-state thinking especially in his solo comics. He means well but sometimes leans a little too hard on the “ends justify the means” logic like jason (less murder tho)

- Spoiler has a strong moral compass. She questions authority, challenges Batman’s methods (Batman: War Games (2004), she consistently voices discomfort with the escalating gang violence that Batman’s war causes)

- Signal is my fav, he believes in community-driven justice and empowerment, He prioritizes visibility (working in the daytime) and focuses on uplifting people rather than just punishing criminals. His morality is rooted in rebuilding rather than retaliation. He is who I think of when I think of a person sparking hope for Gotham

- Robin (damian) starts off deeply indoctrinated by the League of Assassins’ ideology, but over time he slowly carves out his own moral code. his morality is defined by the tension between nurture and nature

- Black Bat has one of the purest forms of morality in the Batfam—nonverbal, deeply empathetic. She understands violence intimately and thus rejects it with quiet conviction. Her morality is rooted in redemption and restraint,

- So while they’re all still shaped by Gotham’s endless trauma loop (and still mostly fighting symptoms instead of causes) they each approach justice with different priorities and values. But unlike Bruce and Jason, who represent two extremes (detached idealism vs. rage-driven retribution), the others tend to exist in more nuanced middle ground.

- In the end they’re all good people trying their best. They just haven't escaped the limitations of the world they’re written in

[bluiela]

Okay the second ask is definitely heavy Gwynriel so I saved the best for last 😅

I think it’s hard to ignore the absolute change in Azriel from the beginning of ACOSF to the end, even if he was a side character, even if it was subtle. Then again he IS my favorite and despite loving all the characters he’s the only one I actually have counted down pages to get back to, so I probably pay a bit more attention to him than most. Apparently it’s been that way for me since I first read about him in 2017. What can I say, at least I’m consistent 😂

But I’ve noticed with this current reread I’m doing, just how much we’re subtly shown how he is NOT doing well.

At the beginning:

He’s staying at the House of Wind clearly for an extended period of time before Nesta’s arrangement was made. No one seems to know why, he never tells anyone what he’s suffering with or why, Cassian assumes it’s just because he likes his space.

He’s moody and more distant. Something noted by Cass at least a few times, especially when he notes it would be easier to get a mountain to move than to get Azriel to open up.

That conversation he and Cassian have after they find out that Feyre’s pregnant and Cass asks if he wants a child. Az’s “it doesn’t matter what I want” was heartbreaking. Also I’ve seen some from the other ship argue that he meant he didn’t want kids in this statement? I get we all interpret things differently, but to me, I truly felt like that was him at his lowest mindset yet. He’s used to wishing and hoping and desiring things he never gets so it came off to me a lot more like what he wasn’t saying was “it wouldn’t matter if I said I did, it’s never happening for me so I’m not going to bother to hope”.

Azriel tells Cassian he’s been in the training ring at night when he can’t sleep—which is then confirmed how much he’s struggled to sleep lately, in his BC so I assume a lot of that was spent up on the roof training

He’s more combative when defying orders in that scene where Rhys and Feyre no longer want him or his spies watching Briallyn. Like it didn’t just stop with the scene we read on page, Cassian even mentions they go on to have a further argument later where he finally relents though he’s not happy about it. Yes, he’s defied orders before but he’s never done it sounding like a petulant child before. This and the way he acted before Rhys in the BC was clearly his lowest against his High Lord and High Lady.

He continues to torture himself by staring a hole into Elain at Solstice and dwelling on the fact that he has to be near her. This might be an unpopular take, but I don’t think we’ve ever truly seen him feel sorry for himself with everything he’s been through, his awful early childhood, the challenges he faced getting a late start to training and flying, heck even the situation with Mor, until this point with Elain. Which makes me believe it truly was his lowest point at this time during the book.

It’s definitely a lot more subtle, but I truly think there was a minuscule shift in him from the moment he and Gwyn enter each other’s orbits. Yes, there’s two or so other scenes after that with Elain (I can’t remember if the him not wanting her around the dread trove thing was before or after him and Gwyn’s first time seeing each other again) but I know the dinner smile and the solstice night was the only other two. So no, he’s not over Elain at this point and obviously not even considering Gwyn as anything other than a priestess he and Cass are training and probably just Nesta’s friend. But his first reaction to her—obviously remembering who she is and the day they last saw each other—was to offer her comfort and stability. The small, reassuring smile he gave her, especially when he was more aloof and quiet for the sake of the other Priestesses he had began training wasn’t because he resented himself or was afraid to be himself around them/her like he does with Elain (and Mor frankly) but it was because he knew it was something she needed in that moment. He wasn’t thinking of himself and it was a teeny, tiny, selfless gesture but obviously that led to so much more. It just impresses me even more how she comes into his life and already she’s changed it for the better even if he’s so oblivious to it right now lol

Which also makes me so curious to know what’s been happening when we left off in ACOSF up to HOFAS. Cause he’s got an even stronger friendship with Nesta—I honestly love their friendship so much—but he’s also more open than we’ve ever seen him. More relaxed, more happy and even more comfortable in his skin he seems. All I could think of is, is someone busy catching some feelings out here? 😏

This is such a beautiful take and so spot on. That tiny moment when Azriel offers Gwyn that quiet, grounding smile is so easy to overlook, but it’s actually a huge deal for someone like him. He’s in this new, careful role, surrounded by trauma survivors, and yet when he sees her, his immediate instinct is to reassure. Not to perform, not to hide, not to brood but to show up for her in the smallest but most meaningful way.

And you’re right it’s not romantic in that moment. It’s not some instant spark of realization. But it’s kindness without calculation. It’s empathy. It’s safety. And when you look at how Azriel operates how guarded and internal he is that choice to offer comfort says so much about what Gwyn brought out in him from the very beginning.

It really highlights the quiet power of their connection. No mating bond, no obsession, no possessiveness just two broken people slowly building something unspoken and genuine.

[chirpthingz]

ordem newsletter (july 2025) translation !!

this just got posted as of 4:55 PM (CST) in the discord/twitter accounts from cellbit himself. this post only contains the new images from content we haven't seen before! please note the actual newsletter has a slightly different format. the link is here!

tldr: end of last year was insane for ordem, edm development (dlc) plus console ports are going well, opd hq is almost done; some things had to be changed, hq vs. rpg "what is canon" nuance; initiation hq replaces canon but everything else is rpg first, more accessible versions of the hqs maybe soon, system similarities with tormenta addressed, new ordem seasons will use soh primarily. spinoff teaser at the end?

---

Very good... night? Day maybe? Afternoon?

For some time I have thought of making posts detailing a little better the development of Ordem's projects to keep you guys more updated.

Part of me liked the "mystery" of being able to arrive with a sudden surprise, but Ordem is already 5 years old and I think that it is time to be a little more transparent with whoever really is interested in what is coming. This update, outside of new things, and being the first, will have some clarifications on last year's releases that are worth it to make as well.

And, before everything, thank you for the patience and support like always. I know I take a while sometimes, but I promise you it will be worth it. Let's go.

POST 2024

The end of last year was insane, in all ways - positive and negative. Releasing EDM, a project of more than 4 years of development, at the same time as producing an 14 hour Christmas RPG special was probably the maximum overload of work I have ever had. I had a few medical problems as a consequence, and it was definitely a learning curve(?) of routines I will never repeat again. Despite all of that, both projects were an enormous success, which makes me very happy.

ENIGMA DO MEDO

Since the release, all the main bugs of EDM have been fixed and we have reached almost 10,000 reviews on Steam, 95% positive. Not bad for a little game about investigation and enigmas with a release focused on a niche group of people in Brazil. Seeing the reactions of the people, even from those who didn't know or care about Ordem, was what definitely kept me going. The art book – which got delayed because of changes in the Dumativa team – is still being produced and the development of the DLC is going well.

The new main mechanic of the DLC has already been amply tested and we are certain that it should work well, and now the team is working on blocking out all the new scenarios, which are a little more complex than the base game for a... ambiguous... motive. The DLC area should be the equivalent of a entire new region (the size of the Spiral Castle, more or less) – and, to get their, it will be necessary to resolve a little ~enigma~. Who would have thought?

Dumative is also continuing to work on the console port and is in constant meetings with companies for us to be able to have a global console release that should happen with the release of the new DLC.

BLOOD SPIN OFF

The development of the season has come back in full force. As a result of the exhaustion I mentioned above, the first few months of this year were rather stagnant for the production of the spin off itself. As compensation, at the moment we have advanced a lot in an internal project that will make a big difference: We are developing our own "tabletop" for the seasons.

It is a tool for internal use that should greatly lower the problems with the millions of improvises we had to do in the past seasons using Tabletop Simulator. This is the season with the largest number of 3D maps, and the most technically ambitious until now. The theming and the aesthetic of the season also have very different intentions than anything we have done before. There is always the chance that something will go wrong, and I would not be anymore motivated to try. The plan is that the new season will begin and end within this year.

DESCONJURAÇÃO Vol. 1

The production of the HQ is practically finished – and it is probably the story with the most adaptations in relation to the original RPG until now. This was inevitable, Desconjuração is probably the season with the most amount of information in each episode in the entire RPG. It is within it that Ordem is really established, with the complete explanations of the Entities, occultists, rituals, the Order as a whole organization, and dozens of new characters. I had so many fucking things to show. For being such a complex season, it [the HQ] also had many revisions. The last file of revision/adjustments/changes for the HQ that I sent to the team had 53 pages.

I think that Yabu did a good job of summarizing the first 6 episodes of the season, balancing well the focus for each character, which was difficult even in the actual RPG. It's impossible to put the entire RPG in the HQ, and maybe the people will miss some moments (such as Anthony's "lecture") – but many scenes were not removed entirely, some of them were just reorganized to appear earlier in the story.

I am also speaking with Jambo about the possibility of releasing the next volumes with another more accessible option that can still bear the costs of production. The editor releases, after a period of time, a digital PDF version, which is a much more accessible option than the physical print, but they will study the possibility of making a more "simple" version of the physical HQ for the next volumes. The HQs are a celebration and a way to relive these stories again – there is never a moment where I am revising and my eyes don't fill up with tears – and I think that this will always be the most important point.

HQ vs RPG

Continuing on that subject, it's time to finally address the big question!!! What should be considered "canon" in the Ordem universe now that the stories are being adapted? For me, it's relatively simple: Initiation is the only story where the HQ replaces the RPG canon. Some details/references of the RPG can still appear in the story, but the behavior of some characters in the RPG didn't make much sense, something we fixed in the HQ adaptation. For the other seasons: the RPG continues being canon. However, the NEW SCENES that didn't exist in the rpg and were added in the HQ (as flashbacks) were also revised by me and can be considered canon. So, outside of Initiation, the HQs do not ALTER the canon, they only add details. In other words, if a scene in the RPG was cut or altered in the HQ because of timing/page limits, it continues being canon as it was in the RPG. The dates/passage of time between seasons continue the same as they were in the RPG.

(translator's note: AGATHAAAAA 😭😭😭😭)

ORDEM PARANORMAL RPG

Currently, I am working with Jambo on some new content for the Ordem Paranormal RPG coming this year(?). We have some new ideas for little packets (canon, revised, and approved directly by me) that I think will be very cool to keep the game alive with a greater frequency and even explore characters in a new way. Cool. last year we also had a big release, Surviving the Horror, which I personally am very proud of. When the base system was created in 2021, using Tormenta (another RPG) as a base was something that seemed to make a lot of sense to me at the time, thinking that a majority of Ordem's fanbase (at the time) would be buying their first RPG and would not have bought Tormenta before. The story was also gigantic in Calamity, a season based on action in a gigantic war of powerful creations and dozens of people. Despite being very proud of the book as a whole: the artworks, ideas, texts of lore and the general quality of the book, it was my first experience with RPG game design (the development of EDM was about puzzles and narrative, something I was already very familiar with). Outside of this, I didn't know Tormenta very well – so I really was not the most capable in involving myself in questions of balancing or mechanics. Taking this into consideration, basing it [Ordem Paranormal RPG] on a successful system with years of balancing seemed the safest and smartest option to deliver the best first product. With the passing of years and evolution, of Ordem, the fanbase and mine, the similarities between Tormenta and the fact that it is a RPG based on fantasy start to weigh a little more, with many valid criticisms. The book works very well to realize seasons like Calamity, The Secret in the Forest, and Signs from the Other Side – which despite having investigation, are seasons about COMBATING the Paranormal. There is combat in almost every episode. But, there are of course, missing mechanics to develop more investigative, dark and slow seasons like Desconjuração, Initiation, and The Secret on the Island. Ordem, despite having action as one of it's pillars, is not JUST about fighting the Other Side. Sometimes it is about surviving it. It was for that reason that I decided to produce Surviving the Horror. This time I was much more experienced, and I decided to involve myself a little more in the decisions for design and balancing – Jambo also did a wonderful job of compiling all the missing elements that were lacking the most and brought very good ideas to make the system really feel like an Ordem Paranormal experience, much more original and unique. I feel that we hit the mark on this one, and I want to keep hitting it.

THE NEXT CHAPTERS

In the next Ordem seasons I will continue using primarily Surviving the Horror. As always, I will continue creating and experimenting with mechanics, creatures, and surprises that aren't in any book. I don't see the RPG seasons as a demonstration of what we have put in the books, but rather a new step in the direction of creating new things. That was how this universe was started, and it makes sense that it is how it will continue growing as well.

There is no way to un–do the mistakes of my inexperience in the beginning, but on the way I have learned to be a little more patient critical to make sure that things release better. And... it's too early to talk about, but we already have a new big expansion for the Ordem RPG in pre–development, that will only be revealed in the right moment.

AND IT IS HERE...

For now, this is all I have to say! I will return eventually, when I have a new relevant update. Maybe it would be cool to finish with an impactful phrase here? Don't close your eyes. Or something like that. I don't know I've never watched this thing. I've come to offer you... No. Not that one. JOEL 2:31 [translator's note: this phrase is biblical, and says: The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and terrible day of the Lord come.]

---

aaaaaand that's done. this thing is long as shit. do you mfs know how hard it was to write this with half of a damn keyboard? anyways. NEW ORDEM SJAHTRHWASGDAHBDFSYIAHDASD ENIGMA DO MEDO!!!!!!!!!!!! AGATHA VOLKOMENN!!!!!!!!! NEW TABLETOP!!!!! AHSDGHASHDAHJD

[akari-of-moonlight]

Kamimura Kazutoshi and the Unfortunate Reality of Interpersonal Socilization - Chapter 4

hehehehehehehe. eheheheheh. ehehehehheehhehe. sorry I love this chapter so much. you can probably tell I got carried away it's like all dialogue.

no beta we die like my last braincells trying to finish this chapter at midnight last night.

Chapter 4 - Watari Nishino (Apparently Headaches Dress In Red)

Kazutoshi was trying to clean his desk when Watari kicked down his door.

“Ma-na-mi!” She singsonged, stepping into a forward roll after the door had been sufficiently put in its place. 

“Not home!” Kazutoshi yelled, grip tightening around his pencil case. He questioned whether it was worth it to throw it at the scarlet firestorm of lilting tones and assorted screaming noises that had burst into his room unannounced, but reluctantly decided he’d rather not break another pencil. 

“Oh! Hey Toshi!” Watari chirped, bouncing up to standing like a video game character. She seemed to be apparently unbothered by his obvious ire.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he muttered.

Watari sighed dramatically. “You’re so grumpy, Toshi! It’s a cute nickname!”

“It’s a fucking embarrassment,” he snapped, crossing his arms. 

“You–”

“Wait, how the fuck did you get in here?” Kazutoshi demanded. “Did you break the fucking door?”

“I would never!” Watari yelped. “I knocked, politely, and then when I was oh-so-rudely ignored, I… went to go get Wada’s spare key…?”

Kazutoshi groaned. Of course it was fucking Wada’s fault. 

“But, hey, while I’m here, I’ve been wanting to talk to you!” Watari chimed.

“Oh, wow, lucky me,” Kazutoshi snarked, rolling his eyes. “Congratulations, you talked to me. Now get out.”

Watari pouted. “That doesn’t count! Come on, just a few questions!”

“Why the fuck would I say yes to that?” Kazutoshi shot back. 

Watari sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “Because I’m a beautiful young lady who wants to see past your tragic, edgy, loner boy persona to your bleeding heart inside.”

Kazutoshi squinted at her. “The fuck?”

“And, also, you know, I brought some of Mai’s cooking,” Watari added.

Kazutoshi glared at her. What was her problem? Barging into his room and trying to bribe him with food like a fucking dog? 

He knew her type. All surface, no depth, bouncing around like a stone skipped on a lake. The kind of girl who would try to talk to you under the guise of being “nice” so she could get more fucking brownie points. The kind who would turn their back the second they weren’t being martyred. 

What did she even want from him, anyway? He’d already made it clear she wasn’t going to get a good conversation from him, and there wasn’t exactly anyone around for her to be performing for.

Whatever. What she wanted didn’t matter. What mattered was his time, and his privacy, and his fucking dignity. 

Kazutoshi finished the last of Mai’s soup as Watari watched him eagerly.

He glared at her over the lip of the bowl.

“So?” Watari prompted, resting her head on her crossed fingers like every girl at every sleepover ever. 

Kazutoshi rolled his eyes. “So?” He countered, setting down his bowl as softly as he could, a habit he’d developed after Ken had mentioned that the sound of clattering dishes bugged him. 

“So, what’s your deal?” Watari asked, eyebrows apparently trying to escape to join her sense of subtlety in heaven. 

“Hm, well, I guess it all started this one day when my peace and quiet was obliterated by some girl kicking down my fucking door,” Kazutoshi snarked, crossing his arms. “I don’t think I’ll ever recover. Actually, I might collapse and have a seizure right now.”

“You do not have seizures,” Watari challenged, wrinkling her nose at him. After a pause, she asked, “Do you have seizures?”

“I have everything,” Kazutoshi snapped. “Fuck off.”

Watari sighed dramatically, leaning against the strip of wall she’d been loitering in, between Kazutoshi’s desk and his bed. When he continued to ignore her sighs, she seemed to drop it, changing her focus to scritinizing Kazutoshi’s room. She frowned, poking at the corner of Kazutoshi’s cork board, hung up above his bed. 

“What’s this?” She asked, ignoring Kazutoshi’s glares.

“It’s a corkboard,” Kazutoshi deadpanned. 

Watari made a face at him. “I know it’s a corkboard, I mean what’s on it?” 

“Uh– I mean, I don’t know. Just shit I don’t have any other place to put, I guess,” Kazutoshi sighed.

Watari made a “hmm” noise, examining the board. “Lot of pictures,” she noted. 

Kazutoshi shrugged. “Manami’s polaroids. I made her promise to give me all the ones I’m in.”

“Oh, right! I have a ton of those! Hanano really likes getting her picture taken, but she’s kind of touchy about the photos Manami takes of her. So I don’t have, like, a ton ton, but… I have photos.”

Watari looked over the board for a few more seconds. Kazutoshi kind of wanted to tell her to go away again, but clearly that wasn’t exactly a winning strategy with her. 

“What are the other papers?” Watari asked. “Is that your handwriting? I… can’t read it.”

“Most of it’s mine,” Kazutoshi replied. “To-do lists and shit. Some of it’s Hasegawa’s. His is the fucking four point handwriting.”

“Ooh, is he writing you letters? Oh, yeah, he totally seems like the hopeless romantic poet type.” Watari exclaimed.

Kazutoshi blushed. “Wha–? I– Fuck off! It’s just fucking notes. For our classes,” he lied, praying Ken’s handwriting was messy enough to be indecipherable to Watari. He wasn’t about to tell her he had pinned up Ken’s lists of book recommendations. 

Watari wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, bo-ring. You guys are such nerds.”

“Shut up,” Kazutoshi snapped. “You’re more than welcome to leave, you know.”

Watari ignored him – a repeating pattern apparently – and turned to survey the rest of his walls. 

“What the heck, Toshi! You barely have anything in here at all,” she wheedled.

Kazutoshi rolled his eyes, waving his hand. “I’m not Rui. I’m not going to suffocate my room with throw pillows, and fairy lights, and posters on posters, on posters of random fucking women.”

Watari sighed dreamily. “I love Tamba’s room. Not that any of the girls on her wall can ever compare to my wonderful, beautiful Hayashi, but, you know, they’re cool too.”

Kazutoshi blinked at her. “The fuck?”

“Hmm?” Watari raised an eyebrow.

Kazutoshi struggled for words. “I mean– What the fuck? Hayashi? Really?” He sputtered, losing horribly to said words. 

Watari beamed. “Of course! I mean, it’s Hayashi. She’s… she’s Hayashi! She’s the perfect girl. Smart and talented, and so, so beautiful. Her eyes are like rubies, or sunsets, or… or fire! Right! A beautiful, endless, passionate fire that could swallow me whole. And believe me, I know about fire.”

“You’re a freak,” Kazutoshi informed her. 

Watari pressed her face between her hands, dramatically swooning around the room. “You wouldn’t get it, Toshi. It’s girl stuff.”

Kazutoshi rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure by the end of the purgatory that was whatever this interaction was, his optic nerve would be completely severed. 

Watari sighed, sitting down and leaning against the frame of Kazutoshi’s bed, which was annoying, but not as bad as if she’d chosen to sit on his bed. Kazutoshi squinted at her out of the corner of his eye, wondering again what the hell she was still doing here.

“It’s so quiet around the dorms now,” she complained.

“I mean, we’re a few months in. I guess the novelty of things wore off. Everyone’s just tired now,” Kazutoshi pointed out, using his soup spoon to punctuate his point. 

“Already?” Watari whined. “It’s college! We’re supposed to be throwing parties, and falling in love, and getting in trouble!”

“You’re supposed to be getting a higher education,” Kazutoshi muttered.

“Bo– ring!” Watari yelled. “Where’s the drama? The gossip! Quick, Toshi, who do you have a crush on?”

“No one. None of your fucking business,” Kazutoshi snapped. He wondered if anything on his desk was worth sacrificing to throw at her.

“Augh!” Watari drew out the groan, voice cracking in the middle. “You’re killing me, Toshi. I’m literally dying here.”

“Does that mean you’ll shut up when you’re dead?” 

“Never,” Watari whisper-yelled. 

Un-melting-into-the-floor, Watari stretched, apparently no longer “literally dying.” 

“It is kind of weird, you know? I mean… I feel like we don’t do anything anymore,” she said forlornly, her tone almost serious for once. 

Kazutoshi shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I never did anything to begin with.”

“Not true! You went out with me and Tamba that one time! And you’re literally, like, tied to Hasegawa,” Watari pointed out. 

“Okay, one, I hated going out with you and Tamba, and two, I am not tied to Hasegawa. And three, you really need to learn the definition of the word ‘literally.’”

“Even Hanano is busy now,” Watari complained. “How am I even supposed to get out of my bed when all that’s waiting for me is school, and responsibilities, and boring, terrible stuff like that?”

Kazutoshi paused. Watari’s words struck a chord of familiarity in the back of his mind, resonating with someone who he didn’t want to call “him.” 

He grimaced, mentally going to war with himself over whether or not to say something. 

And, as always, he lost.

Sighing, he turned in his chair to face the sadly liquifying girl wedged between his bedframe and his desk. 

“Look, it’s probably just a busy season. I’m sure Okazaki will be back pulling her shit soon, if that’s what you’re waiting for,” he tried.

Watari sighed dejectedly. “I guess. I’m just… I don’t know, lonely, or whatever. College is supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be my chance. That’s why I came here. It’s supposed to be, like, exciting, you know?”

“I… I mean, you’re plenty exciting on your own,” Kazutoshi pointed out, adding a glare, for good measure. “That’s not a compliment. It’s fucking annoying.”

A ghost of a smile flitted across Watari’s face. Kazutoshi squirmed, trying to get to his point.

“But, like… Manami likes it when you invite her out, and Ruiko talks about your stupid events and outings all the fucking time.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I mean… Whatever. You’ll be back terrorizing the prefecture soon enough, I’m sure.”

Watari blinked for a second, looking him up and down.

“I… Thanks, Toshi.”

Kazutoshi flicked her forehead. “Don’t call me that.”

Watari giggled, rolling over to her stomach. “It’s cute!”

“Get off the fucking floor. God, you’re just like Rui,” Kazutoshi grumbled, turning back to his desk. “You’re practically asking for me to run you over with my chair.”

“Speaking of!” Watari exclaimed. “You, like, know stuff, right? Can you use your science… thingies to make me smoke bombs?”

“Wha– How the fuck is that ‘speaking of?’ And no, why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because it’d be cool,” Watari wheedled. “Just imagine, I’m having a conversation with someone, and then I throw a smoke bomb, and disappear!”

Kazutoshi squinted at her. “Why the fuck would you do that mid conversation? How bad are the conversations you’re having?”

Watari lifted a finger to Kazutoshi’s face, but he dodged out of her reach. “Shh! That’s not the point. The point is I need smoke bombs, Toshi!” She declared. “I think Hanano might have some, but she won’t let me use them.”

“I– Okay, that’s fucking terrifying,” Kazutoshi remarked.

“I need them,” Watari whined. 

Kazutoshi scoffed. “How is that my problem?”

“I’m going to be your problem!”

“You’re already my fucking problem!”

Watari ignored him, rambling on about her ideal smoke bombs. Kazutoshi leaned against his desk, pointing out all the logical inconsistencies in her plan and then mentally cursing himself for enabling her at all. He concluded the headache he was going to have after this was not worth the soup, and he would, in fact, likely never talk with anyone again. Whatever thougths he may or may not be having about smoke bomb logistics were just scientific curiosity. 

Kazutoshi sighed for the millionth time in the past hour, flicking the side of Watari’s head as she tried to poke around in his desk.

What a fucking pain.

[elzifelzi]

PHANTOM

CHAPTER TWENTYTWO

Chapter 22:Raid the Hallows Part 1

Skulker sat there, sharpening his dagger in anticipation of the moment when he'd be able to finally drag Dan by it. The feeling was almost euphoric; he'd never imagined that he'd get such a thrill out of hunting a prey like him. He'd also never imagined that he'd ever leave his prey unattended for so long.The Box Ghost stood there, listening to the grating sound of the chisel moving up and down the edge of the hook. While his eyes were almost fully healed, his vision was still impaired. Somehow, with his limited vision, the noise of the hook became even scarier, causing him to shudder in horror. They remained like that for a few minutes until Technus approached them.

Skulker stopped sharpening his weapon and diverted his attention to Technus. 

Skulker :”Where is the old man?”

Technus:”he went back to the human world, said he had something to take care of…”

Technus: “I'm skeptical about this human's claims, he says that this “haunted hallows” will lead us to the Awareness but that doesn't make sense!! If haunted hallows was part of the ghost zone as he claims, how would it have entered the human world?”

Skulker facepalms and takes a seat on his throne. 

Skulker :”As always I need to do all the thinking for you.We know that to move haunted hallows to the human realm would require immense power,  we know that the awareness gives immense power to any ghost that enters it.  We also know that only 2 ghosts have been successful in actually accessing the Awareness in over 1000 years.”

Technus:”yeah, so?”

Skulker:”and we know one of those ghosts hasn't been active in over 1000 years so that leaves?.....”

Technus' slapped himself in the face for not realizing it sooner. The answer was so obvious and yet he hadn't realized it up until now.

Technus:...”Clockwork.”

Skulker:”Exactly,and clockwork being the guardian of time means that he needs to do everything in his power to allow time to flow its natural course. Sealing off the awareness by sending haunted hallows to the human world must've been one of them.”

Technus:”how would the awareness affect time though?”

Skulker,enraged by what he deemed as a foolish question seized him by the throat and positioned his hook in the middle of Technus’s forehead. Technus trembled with horror as he felt like he was about to lose a life that he didn't have. 

Skulker :”ask me another foolish question like that again and I'll be sure to turn your head into a pin cushion!”

Technus tried to muster words, but Skulker's death grip made it next to impossible for him to speak. He could only manage to mouth the words "I'm sorry" before Skulker tossed him to the floor and continued speaking.

Skulker :”Think about it, the awareness was never meant to be accessed by the ghosts that exist outside of it, its very existence shouldn't even be known by us!!”

Technus:......... 

Skulker :....”Which means that time should naturally flow the way that it would have had us ghosts never found out about it. Us actually accessing it would probably screw up the time stream..or at least change its course of events.Which of course puts more work on clockwork. That's why he moved haunted hallows to the human realm.”

Vlad :”You are very much correct.” 

Vlad emerges before them holding an old book.

Skulker:”where have you been??”

Vlad:”I went back for this.”

He Hands Skulker the book.

Skulker :”The spectral archives!?”

Vlad nods

Vlad:”I figured that we'd need this book if we are to have any luck in finding the awareness.”

Skulker:”perfect,everything is falling into place.”

He then turned to the box ghost. 

Skulker:”come here..”

The half blind apparition clumsily to find wobbled to Skulker's side much to the Hunters amusement. After the box ghost had finally arrived at Skulker's side Skulker then gave Technus a camera-like device much to his companions' confusion.

Technus:”What's this for?”

Skulker:”You're going to use your ability to turn this into some device that'll help Box ghost see..”

Technus:”and why would I do that?”

Skulker:”We need that 2nd ability of his which he unfortunately can't use without his sight and I grow tired of waiting.”

Technus lets out an exasperated sigh..

Technus :”finee….”

Vlad:”What's going on?”

Technus:”I have the ability to control technology,I can reshape ,restructure and control any piece of technology I touch.”

He demonstrates this by turning the device Skulker gave him into a phone,a watch and a clock much to Vlads amazement.

Technus:”It doesn't matter what the device did originally, so long as I have a clear idea of what I want its new function to be.”

Vlad:”That's incredible!”

Growing more impatient by the moment Skulker stamps his foot onto the ground knocking Vlad and Technus out of their conversation.

Skulker:”Hurry up!”

Technus groaned and then turned his attention to the box ghost, he placed the device in the ghost's hands and in a flash of green light the device turned into a pair of cybernetic glasses. 

Technus:”Hurry up and put those on.”

The box ghost did as he was instructed and was shocked to realize that he could finally see again.

Box ghost:”I can see!”

Vlad looked on in wonder.

Vlad:”That's some ability,it seems practically limitless! You could make technological strides in the human world with an ability like that.”

Technus:”you're telling me! Who do you think retrofitted Skulker's armor!”

Skulker :”Enough with all this Time wasting!”

He turned To the boxghost.

Skulker:”Hurry up and use your ability to locate The ghost boy!”

Vlad:”And might I ask what this technique is?”

Box ghost:”It's called soul searching,I can pinpoint the location of a person's soul with 90% accuracy and since Dan is half human it should work for him.”

The box ghost's eyes and body began glowing a purple aura and began floating 6 feet above ground. Some kind of holographic map in the shape of earth appeared before him and on it a red spot started blinking rapidly before completely stopping.

Technus:”The hell does that mean?Where is he!”

Box ghost :”hmm this is strange, Dan was here recently no doubt about that.

Technus:”So what's the problem?”

Boxghost:” my map can't tell whether he's still there or not. It's almost like he was pulled out of existence but there's only one ghost who could do that…”

Technus and Skulker :”clockwork!!!”

Vlad:”box ghost what's the location?”

Box ghost :”no direct name is given for it but it's somewhere in between amity city/amity Park and Wisconsin.”

Vlad: “haunted hallows!we need to leave now!”

???? :”Well Skully,quite an interesting team you've got here.”

Skulker :”So you finally show your face.Hello Ember.”

To be continued….

New Chapter .This one is a whole bunch of setup but I'm sure it'll be worth it in the end. What is skulker cooking?

READ ALL AVAILABLE CHAPTERS HERE.

[laskar1s]

Finally, fate didn't decide to complicate things even more and the dead didn't head in their direction, continuing to walk straight ahead as they tended to do unless there was a noise drawing their attention and altering their course. She had been worried that they've screwed up, been too loud, and the dead had heard something, but apparently that wasn't the case. Or maybe they hadn't been able to pinpoint where the sound of their footsteps came from. Either way, Magna would sure as hell want it to stay that way, which is why she shut the heavy door behind her as quietly and carefully as possible.

Continuing to walk exactly in the direction from where the dead had come from felt like a damn suicide trip, but Magna didn't even want to argue with Kyleigh at this point. None of the choices available ever felt right; anything came with a tremendous risk.

With the damn sound of the alarm, they wouldn't even know what awaited there. Whether there were more. Once they'd be able to hear them, they'd probably be a little too close, and there weren't too many options to hide in hallways, they'd been lucky to have had that door.

"They must have busted out of some room..," Magna noted with furrowed brows, not being able to explain where the hell the dead must have come from otherwise, after all they had seen the screens. The path had been clear just moments ago. "Looks like the doors are giving in. We have to watch out."

As they strode forward, Magna considered sacrificing some speed for the sake of being more quiet, but the shrill sound of the alarm still ringing and the sight of the main electrical room nearby was enough for her to pick up the pace and swiftly open its heavy door, relieved to see that it hadn't been locked. Stepping inside, she still held the door in place, knowing those fire-protection doors tended to shut automatically, unable to stay open unless you wedged something between them and they always made noise. "Let's find that switch and turn this thing off."

She noted how there was a window in the back of the room, something Magna thought they might wanna check out, as the screens didn't show every small corner in the prison and with the amount of undead? Things could change very quickly.

As soon as that door had opened up far enough Kyleigh saw a blur of a body go by her and realized after a few seconds that it had been Magna. Not bad, the half lycan's feet finally catching up and pushing her to chase after the other woman. The way to that game room must have been ingrained in Magna's head for her to just run like that, a feat she would have admired if she was given the chance to do so. Kyleigh was still going to rely on that map that she had memorized, pushing all the other noise out of her head for the time being. There were going to be dead, she knew that, but damnit every single time they seemed to catch her off guard. And she hated the fact that about ninty-nine percent of them were prisoners. If she could find the asshole that gave the okay to just leave them all behind she would literally rip their head off. But for now she forced herself to focus on this path they were taking, wanting more than ever to get out of that prison.

Just as quickly as Magna had taken off she flipped the switch on Kyleigh, running back towards another door. She wanted to ask her what the hell that was for but as soon as she turned she saw the reason why. Shit! She hadn't expected them to appear that quickly! Following the woman she tucked herself behind the solid door as well, trying to take as few breaths as she possibly could. Maybe if that thing didn't know they were there it would just keep going, the half lycan's eyes glued to the floor so she could see it's feet.

The seconds went by painfully slow, the growl of the undead getting closer and closer. If she never had to hear that sound again Kyleigh could die happily, but not in that prison. Her heart was beating so loud in her ears she swore everything around them could hear, all the muscles in her body cramping up with how stiff she was standing. If they could just get through this then they could get back out there and onto the game room. One step at a time, one inch closer towards freedom.

Finally the damn thing went completely by them both, not even pausing to look around. It was only going to be safe for them to move once the thing was further down the hall, so Kyleigh waited until its groans started to become less loud. Very softly she moved towards the edge of the door, sticking her head out slowly so she could get a look. The hall was clear now, the half lycan finally letting out her breath.

"Alright come on, it's gone. Shut the door behind you before we go, it'll trap that thing so it can't come back after us."

[mjjune]

A Personal Update

I usually only post these newsletters on substack and patreon, but because you've likely noticed I have not been active on tumblr in... well... months, really, I thought I was share it here as well.

I am going through a deeply personal shift in almost every aspect of my life, and since it has not only impacted me but my readers, my tumblr and my newsletter, I thought I would take this week to reframe for myself everything that has happened.

This year has been the second worst of my life so far (and to be frank, if it doesn’t get better, will probably end up as worst). My father was in and out of the hospital for 6 months straight with cancer treatments and near-death experiences, my previous job’s productivity standards became entirely unethical starting in Jan/Feb, and my boss slowly starting to gaslight and abuse me over it for months…

It became clear, through my neglect of my own life, my hobbies, my blog, this newsletter, and my writing itself, that I needed to change. It hit me about a month ago that I hadn’t written anything since about March. No brainstorming, no word vomit “outlines”, and I hadn’t even read anything. My reading challenge for the year is empty. I have not finished a single book since January.

The only other time I went this long without writing was, you guessed it, the worst year of my life. In 2021, I did not write from January through November, and then I exploded in writing. That’s when I finally wrote and finished a first complete draft of AVOF’s sequel.

This time, it fortunately didn’t take me 11 months to realize what was happening. About a month ago, I hit rock bottom. With my father being a full month out from any life-threatening incidences—he’s finally turning around and improving now—the effects of being in a constant state of fight or flight for 6 months combined with my job’s new 100% productivity standard just demolished me.

So, I applied for a different job. I restarted therapy with a new therapist. I put in a short notice, meaning I am now blacklisted from ever working for that company again. I’m taking a $13k pay cut, but this job offers significantly more time off, less rigorous hours, I design my own schedule, and allows me to be much closer to my parents, who are still adjusting to my dad’s new post-cancer normal. (I’ve also managed to score a much larger apartment!)

There is something poetic about this shift all happening literally a month before I begin releasing AVOF. In all the stories I have written, this is the one I always end up coming back to. When I am down, when I am alone, it is Danny and Lara and Helio that remind me I’m not.

It is this, actually, that made me realize I was in a state of burnout. Every night for five years, I have thought about Danny and Lara and Helio. I imagine scenes already written or AUs or probably-canon-but-will-never-exist scenes as I drift off to sleep.

I had not been able to do this for 6 weeks. I was so burnt out, and frankly depressed, that even my most beloved characters were lost to me. This was the final straw, the trigger that made me realize this was not something I was going to be able to move past; that I needed to get out.

In a way, they have saved me again. I thought Danny and Lara had already saved me, back in 2020-2021 which were such difficult years for me. The story has been written, completed, for years, and I thought its impact on me was over. I thought it was out of me, finished, and had become something to be shared with others.

I see now that stories can continue saving you even long after you’ve written them; even when you are no longer the same writer anymore. Funnily enough this epiphany is not dissimilar to what Danny experiences in book 2, though that’s still a long ways out from being shared with you all.

It is quite fitting that, as I realize this, as I feel closer to Danny than I have in a really long time, is when I will begin preparing his story for release.

Something something... fate... something something lol

If you’re still reading, thanks for sticking with me. I know this was a more personal post, but hopefully it didn’t bore you too much.

There is only one more substack before AVOF starts releasing on Patreon!! Check them out if you're interested!!

PATREON

SUBSTACK

~MJ

AVOF TAGLIST: (message or comment below to be +/-) @aritany @artbyeloquent @ashirisu @bebewrites @ceph-the-ghost-writer @cljordan-imperium @elijahrichardwrites @eventideintrigue @faithfire-writes @flowerprose @garthcelyn @ghafasinej @jezifster @knosium @isabellebissonrouthier @lexiklecksi @little-mouse-gardens @malimaywrite @sarahlizziewrites @sm-writes-chaos @the-inkwell-variable @thyroidhormones @tracle0 @vacantgodling @void-botanist @vollzz @wildswrites

[zhonglissummeroutfit]

[meltedmush]

Keep making the Binghorse. We gotta ward off people from entering this fandom. We need to keep it pure. I fr don't want this fandom to become famous. I'm scared that there will be toxic fans left and right.

HAHA I absolutely understand the sentiment. I feel a bit contradictory since I want more people to appreciate SVSSS, but the at the same time I like small tight knit communities and I personally can’t handle large fandoms whatsoever. 😭

Although I do feel as though describing the SVSSS as pure is very funny for how lawless this fandom is. But behavior wise, it is definitely a very positive and supportive space!! I haven’t met anyone or seen anything unpleasant since I’ve entered the fandom. Albeit, it’s only been a few months since I’ve started interacting with the fandom, and over half a year since I first read SVSSS, so I have no clue what horror stories the SVSSS fandom has. (I honestly haven’t interacted with that many SVSSS fans tbh…. Even though I want to.)

In addition, funny enough, I feel as though the book almost acts as its own barrier of entry. SVSSS isn’t the type of book you can read once unless you’re good at reading against the grain and noticing all the nuances and subtext. I know the first time I read SVSSS, SVSSS disturbed and confused me so badly. I talked to a few other people who read SVSSS once, who said that LBH and SQQ’s relationship felt like Stockholm syndrome. But people who’ve read SVSSS several times will know, that is not the case, and that SQQ is an INSANELY UNRELIABLE narrator.

I honestly find it funny how effective Binghorse or all the other skin creatures is at filtering toxic fans.😂

There’s always a general reaction to the skin creatures: “Omg, cute!!”, “wtf, but I like it”, “wtf”. Or getting blocked, or death threats. (I haven’t received any…? I don’t think…? One message I received is definitely debatable since I can’t tell if it’s sarcastic or not….😭)

But regardless, I’ll definitely keep drawing Binghorse!!! It’s actually really enjoyable!

[dxfiedfxte]

[{ 🦋 }] - "Whaaaat? Me? Naaaaaah, not me, no idea what you're talking about, babe."

He playfully quipped, a soft chuckle after his words. He knew she heard him, but she knew him very well, so he knew she wouldn't think anything of it coming from him. Minato really hoped the guy would finally get the hint after all those years, but again, it was great that she no longer needed to deal with him in person anymore, so at least there was that.

After they moved onto the topic of high school romance and young love, that was something they certainly had in common, from the way she spoke about this person, it sounded like it was the same sort of situation with Fuuka, just a little bit different, but a very similar general experience, as they both used to have deep feelings for the person, of course the romantic ones faded with time. In truth, Minato was just grateful that Fuuka was still in his life, much like this person she spoke about, Minato knew life wouldn't be the same without Fuuka Yamagishi's friendship.

He had told her about Sonia already, and while he could tell there was faint bit of pain in her eyes when talking about her during their last video call a few days ago when they had caught up with each other, Fuuka still managed to wish him and Sonia well, which meant a lot coming from her. One day, he was curious to know more about her high school years, but he would wait for the day they fully spoke about it, there were other things to focus on right now, but he didn't mind going over the topic a bit more before it would eventually change to another.

He nodded in agreement, she was right, those type of relationships really did stick with people beyond school years, it was a great feeling, aside from Fuuka, Minato was truly grateful to still have all his close friends in his life. It was expected that everyone would be busy with their own lives now these days, however he was still fortunate to be in contact with his best friend Junpei, in fact the two of them spoke a day or two ago on a video call as well, it was great hearing from him again. Minato could still recall Junpei's face when he told his best friend whom he was dating.

Unfortunately, much like other guys, though, even his number one bestie had been amazed and shocked to learn he was dating the Princess of Novoselic, he kept addressing her as the Princess, but Minato was quick to correct him and tell him that she was so much more than a princess. She was everything, a normal young woman who had a few peculiar interests, but their interests and hobbies coincided with each other well, just one of the many reasons Minato and Sonia were very compatible with each other aside from the unfortunate complications that kept them from going public.

[{ 🦋 }] - "I couldn't agree with you more, Sonia-Chan. That's how I see it, too. Some can definitely disregard everyone, forget and move on with their life, but I couldn't do that either. I was a... very cold and different person back at the start of my high school year in this city. They opened my eyes and helped me change for the better. I would be nothing if it wasn't for my friends and the relationships I've made during those days." He explained, giving her a bit more details about how he used to be back then.

After returning to her side after purchasing the tickets, he nodded, giving his lover and warm smile, four days couldn't come soon enough, this movie date would be all he could think about now, which was probably a good thing because it would be the perfect way to distract himself from the troubling thoughts that had been plaguing his mind ever since the boat ride her, so he would push those to the back of his mind and continue to revel in the hype and excitement of their first actual movie date, one where they had the privacy to actually be a couple in the safety of being behind closed, private seating in their very own V.I.P box.

[{ 🦋 }] - "Of course. Like I said, I've wanted to do something like this with you for a while now, so I wanna make sure you and me were guaranteed our own personal, private space. Considering how many fans and admirers you and I have, sitting in public seating at any theater probably isn't a great idea." The squeeze of his hand was quickly met with a return squeeze of her hand-- a quick showing of limited affection, even if only very brief, a fraction of a second was a welcome touch, any kind of physical contact, really, no matter how short.

As the couple left the front of Screenshot, Minato lead her into the area with the strip mall. Once they were there, he let Sonia look around since this was her first time seeing a strip mall. He was rather curious, what other things did she not know about due to her very sheltered upbringing, he hoped to be able to show her more things that were new to her. After she took a good look around them, he turned to face her and hear her thoughts now that she'd seen what a strip mall looked like firsthand.

[{ 🦋 }] - "You got that right, plus, it's part of the train route leading deeper into the city where most students live. So it's a convenient place, it's even a bit busy at night, but nowhere near as much as during the day." He explained, further elaborating what made this location a perfect stop for those who wanted to hang out after school hours.

[{ 🦋 }} - "The bookstore? Sure. Since we're here right now, we can go there first. It's usually pretty dead there around this time, too."

Taking a quick look around them, the few people around seemed to be minding their own business and not even look their direction, using this to their advantage, he quick but gently took her hand in his own and in they went, a little chime of the bell above to let the owner know she had some customers. Out from the back came a 40 year old woman with brown shoulder length hair, she wore a simple outfit that consisted of a simple pair of loose comfortable fit grey jeans with a faded green blouse that had flowers on it circling a rose. The woman smiled upon seeing the young man.

"Well well, long time no see Minato-Kun!"

[{ 🦋 }] - "Kikyo-San! Sorry I haven't visited in a while, works been killing me, I hope you've been well."

"I've been great, thanks. I had a busy week, so I'm perfectly fine with a slow day, today." She laughed lightly, looking over at him she noticed someone was with him.

"Oh hey, I see you brought someone with yo-" Her eyes widened slightly upon realized exactly who was next to him, she saw them holding hands so it didn't take long for her to tell they were a couple.

"Holy mackerel! Princess Sonia, welcome to Bookworms!" She quickly gave a respectful bow before sitting down at the chair behind the till.

"I was not expecting you to walk in with someone as influential as her, but honestly, you two really look cute together, so don't worry. I'll make sure this little discovery doesn't leave my store. You have my word!" She added with a little wink.

"Feel free to take a look around. Today, we have a few sales. Two used books for the price of one, we also have a mix and match sale, two used books with one new, you get 15% off. If either of you two need help finding a book or genre, please don't hesitate to let me know."

Sonia realized that trying to explain her classmates to those unacquainted with Hope's Peak was a futile mission. They were best met and encountered in person, if just to make all of their traits that seemed to conflict with reality true. Maybe Minato felt the same, it being a driving reason why he'd brought her to the island despite most of his friends having scattered elsewhere. "You want someone dead now?" She inquired, raising an eyebrow. In her teenage years, she had professed the same, but now as an adult in her twenties she just hoped Kazuichi had moved on to other passions. Or obsessions, as long as they didn't focus on her and weren't illegal.

At least that line of conversation seemed to cease when she brought up high school romances. Something they shared, it seemed: someone they felt fondly for back then and still did, albeit not in a romantic sort of way. Nevertheless, Sonia wasn't sure how he'd interpret her feelings of wanting, no, needing, Gundham Tanaka in her life even if they were no longer lovers. She couldn't imagine a life without him in it: besides Chiaki, he'd become her closest friend over the years. Of course, in the time immediately after their split they'd needed space but the distance was intolerable in the end. Overcoming jealousy was something the both of them could only achieve with time, and now Gundham didn't visibly tense when she spoke about Minato over the occasional meal they managed to share when they were in the same place.

"Those relationships truly do stay with you, do they not? After so many years out of the high school classroom," Sonia commented hopefully, carefully, as they walked through the streets to approach the movie theater. "I suppose that is one of the traits anime seems to get right in their storytelling: maybe high school isn't the pinnacle of one's life, but the friendships, relationships, one makes there last forever. If you let them, anyway: maybe it is simple for some to simply forget everyone upon graduation, choosing only to look ahead to university and beyond. But I simply could not do that: school was, really, the last time I felt something like freedom. I guess that is different for most people, who feel much more free without the demands of education on their shoulders."

It went without saying how difficult it had been for her to even arrange time away from her family and royal duties for the holiday they currently were embarking upon: only a few trusted, plainclothes security had followed them with the clear orders that unless it was truly an emergency, they were not to drag her parents into it. She would return at the agreed-upon date and resume her section of the royal diary, rested and clear-headed. As far as her parents knew or cared, she was at a rejuvenation spa, recovering from the multitude of royal appointments and appearances for the autumn holidays, culminating with the annual ball and her birthday celebrations.

And so her security kept their distance, even as Minato left her side in order to purchase the movie tickets. Sonia didn't doubt that some of them would purchase tickets for other private boxes, or the general audience seats, in order to keep an eye on her. But they'd wait, at least, until the pair had begun their journey to the next destination. "Oh, that is wonderful! Thank you, Minato-kun," She beamed, resisting the urge to kiss his cheek and instead taking his free hand in hers, giving it a small squeeze. "And I do appreciate the extra precautions to our seclusion. You would think that moviegoers wouldn't be terribly interested in celebrity gossip, or at least those attending a horror film marathon. But we should be cautious, just in case."

She nodded, letting him lead the way to the strip mall which, thankfully, was not as salacious as she originally thought. Instead, it resembled a high street of sorts, but with fewer individual buildings and narrow streets in favor of connected structures and a large car park. Sonia supposed that was practical, particularly if it was necessary to drive in order to get anywhere: Novoselic, being as small a country as it was, generally only needed cars deep in the countryside: buses and trains were quite prevalent, and inexpensive, for citizens and visitors alike to travel on.

"I can see how this would be quite a welcoming place for students when given the opportunity to visit," She remarked, peering at every shop and restaurant as they passed. "I am not terribly hungry yet, but I would like to visit the Halloween shop. And the bookstore, if you do not mind: I quite enjoy visiting bookstores in various places during my travels. Italy is particularly fortunate: you can find quite a few antique texts containing exorcisms there."