#vi’s shitty art tag

[violetmessages]

something something intricate rituals

[outeremissary]

9 people you’d like to know better!

Tagged by @turbulentpumpkin43. Thanks for thinking of me!

Last song: Super scription of data by Eiko Shimamiya. Using all my force of will, I am not giving you a Higurashi Rei infodump. But only because you're about to get my unsolicited review of Arcane.

Currently Watching: Arcane, kinda? I've been watching every week with a friend who is a League fan. Tbh after three years of being a bitch and refusing to watch it because I dislike League I am a little disappointed, I expected more from the hype. Shocked that I am really not a CaitVi guy because Vi deserves better than the most boring damn character in the show. Cait and Jayce both have a way of eating up time that could go to more compelling characters. I find Mel and Viktor so much more fascinating than Jayce and he is only tolerable because he's better at facilitating the stories of more interesting characters than Cait is. Anyway I voiced my feelings about the rumored CaitVi romance to my friend and he was like "I think Vi deserves better, but if this is what makes her happy..." We're her parents barely tolerating the new girlfriend.

Currently Reading: The Ten Thousand Deaths of Ardor Benn by Tyler Whitesides. Reasonably good so far, so I'm hopeful. Really need shitty conman protagonists in my life (recently finished She Who Became the Sun- yes those murders were very girlboss gender neutral).

Current Obsession: I played Kingmaker for twelve hours yesterday. I am in the trenches. I have. So much art that needs finishing. And starting. Lot of Vio in there. But this is just generally a waxing phase of the years long obsession. Aside from that, I'm enjoying Limbus Company! Happy Yi Sang part two day to me.

Because it's been two(?) days and I'm going out in a bit I will not be tagging anyone (sorry!) because I just know if I spend the time tracing the network of who has been tagged and who hasn't this won't be posted for like a week. Also like, I don't think I have nine people at the best of times.

[teaandinanity]

So I found a meme template for 'About You: Video Games' which I wanted to do except a) we all know I am incapable of Not Talking, b) the boxes were tall and skinny and that is Not Ideal for shoving game titles into because they generally need width to be legible, and c) what the fuck do you MEAN I can ONLY PICK ONE so I'm converting it into text form. Also I'm rearranging the order because all time fave should not be first that's what you wrap up with c'mon.

I am also hoping other people will steal this formatting and tag me so I can go 'ooh that sounds neat!' about other people's games lists.

[cut because this will probably go long]

1. Childhood Game

Cannot pick.

The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time still holds a soft and nostalgic spot in my heart. Music! Horseback riding! Puzzles! I was terrible at it and did not beat it but I LOVED it.

Persona 2: Eternal Punishment, which I also did not beat but which also nonetheless did SOMETHING to my id which persists to this very day, because it is fascinatingly batshit.

The Longest Journey has also left imprints on my id; I think it was the first adventure game I managed to beat, maybe the first game I managed to beat at all.I’d tried some of the King’s Quest games but I kept getting myself stuck in unwinnable situations and/or dying which obviously was not that fun. But TLJ wanted you to see the story; as far as I know, it’s impossible to get yourself into an unwinnable worldstate, so outside the sections where you’re beating your head against a puzzle it’s just wonderful.

2. Best Soundtrack

I already mentioned Ocarina but honestly a lot of the games I grew up with had excellent music, perhaps because the system limitations (midi instruments on a shitty tube television) meant the songs really had to be able to stand on their own. Other stand-outs for me include Legend of Mana and Final Fantasy VI, each of which has more than one song I remembered well enough to hunt down the soundtracks more than a decade after I played them. Also obviously there's things like Bastion now, which has amazing music, and Dragon Age: Inquisition has tracks that (between the music itself and the associations) give me Very Large Feelings.

3. Best Art Style

I have to at least mention Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning here. I still can’t believe a game that is this lovely while playing got such unutterably boring box art. Who did that to you, KoA:R, you deserved so much better. It's got the punchy, amped-up kind of color palette you see in World of Warcraft (which I love; gritty realism and unrelenting brown are boring) but with higher-quality textures and better models than an MMO that needs to be able to run on a potato can handle, and honestly the whole thing is just Nice To Look At. 

Also mentioning Legend of Mana again because the art was cute as fuck. A lot of the older pixel stuff had so much charm!

Throwing Winter Voices in, too, because while the game itself is an incomprehensible clusterfuck like 40% of the time, the other 60% it is quite lovely. It remains the only game where the SKILL TREE made me go, 'oh gosh that's so PRETTY.'

4. Relaxing Game

Flow is a good one. Also Stardew Valley. And Spiritfarer. Roots of Pacha.

5. Stressful Game

When I saw this one on the list I was like 'but I hate being stressed' and that is true but also:

Long Live the Queen is HORRIBLY stressful but also kind of neat?

And bits of Scarlet Hollow have stressed me out but I am VERY MUCH having a good time with that. Delightful horror-themed roller coaster of a game; it wants me to be having a good time even when I’m going AAAAAH! and trying to make impossible choices.

6. Tons of Hours Played

Rimworld. We’re not looking at my time played on this. 

Also every MMO I have ever played but especially WoW (which I am emotionally invested in still, WHY) and SWtoR (because if you let me decorate a house I will spend SO MANY HOURS decorating a house).

Also Crusader Kings, which is basically a Telenovella Creator if you’re successfully avoiding combat and is therefore delightful - I usually manage at least two generations of absolute nonsense before someone murders me horribly or I lose against the rebellion my aunt has raised because oops there are too many branches of the family tree and some of them are overly successful and have turned into kudzu and are now here to strangle me to death.

Also The Sims, over the course of all of these games the hours played are definitely horrifying. The hours just on 4 are um. Bad.

Baldur’s Gate 3 has over 100 hours already. Oops.

Dragon Age gets this also although that’s also why I haven’t replayed Inquisition; too much of it is spent schlepping across the Hinterlands  a g a i n.

7. Favorite Protagonist

For more defined characters: The MC in Gilded Shadows. So relatable. So snarky. Love her.

For less defined, I ADORE the Dark Urge route in BG3 - set enough to feel really connected to the world, but still so much freedom for the player to go nuts. Also the things that are set are UNHINGED, it’s fantastic.

8. Favorite Villain

[nervous villainfucker laughter]

Solas probably counts as an antagonist. Manerkol from The Soulstone War. Sarevok specifically in BG2:ToB when you could Found Family/Power of Friendship him into being less of a dick yes this was partly because I thought he was Very Hot shut up it’s not my fault his VA was Like That.

TBH if I find the villain compelling I probably also want to kiss him it is a recurring problem.

9. Favorite Ending

To The Moon made me cry, but like, in a good way.

The ending of Fire Emblem: Awakening was pretty darn satisfying imo.

I liked Tresspasser very much but I’m still a little irked that DAI was like ‘the real ending is DLC.’

10. Favorite Boss Fight

The final conversation in Trespasser. No, shoosh, it counts and I DESPERATELY want to see more climactic conflicts in games that aren't solved with violence. I loved Planescape: Torment and Fallout: New Vegas for letting me circumvent combat with other skills but Trespasser is the only instance I can think of off the top of my head where you just... Do Not Fight the Final Boss. The POINT is that you don’t fight. I love that.

11. Game You Always Come Back To

I have replayed Choice of Romance SO MANY TIMES and 95% of the time it is with the same MC. Ana is now a comfort character.

7KPP, partly for the fandom, which is full of friends <3

12. Guilty Pleasure

This would require me to feel guilty about my games and I generally don’t? I mean, I have admitted to playing the homophobic horse game to people I work with.

That said the homophobic horse game probably counts because I’m constantly like ‘why are you like this’ about the company as a whole and most of the people who work there and also a significant chunk of the player base.

Maybe World of Warcraft also. ActiBlizz as a company is more than a little bit Yikes.

13. All Time Favorite

I think I’m giving this to RimWorld. The base game was solid and fun and I played a zillion hours. The updates have been good. The dev actually listens to the player base about what’s wanted and then builds it into the game. Modding is allowed and adds some awesome stuff too. The expansions are great and add a ton to the game. It creates very compelling little stories. There are a bunch of youtubers with amazing playthroughs. I found a perfect map seed.

Like, my ALL TIME favorite game is the one in my head, that’s like 30% Breath of the Wild, 30% UnReal World, 20% RimWorld, 20% the homophobic horse game, but unfortunately that does not actually exist. Maybe if I win the lottery.

[cloudbends]

As per usual, I had a conversation with @ponytailzuko about how zuko's temper tantrums seem to the ship's crew members, who were somehow stuck in the position of receiving orders from a 13 y/o teenager, and somehow ended up with a shitty phone doodle of zuko, so here you go.

[ID: a digital drawing drawn in a simple, doodle-ish style of zuko from atla. He is drawn from his profile, with his book 1 haircut, with his scarred side facing the viewer. His expression is angry, and he appears to be yelling. Out of his mouth there's a minimalistic speech bubble who read "UNCLE!". The drawing is uncolored with the exception of zuko's scar. End ID.]

[gameboyhamazing]

Help I can’t stop drawing chompy please

Also I really want to make a to be continued/we’ll be right back joke with the second thing lol

[space-blue]

Blue, loved your gifsets on Arcane’s behind the scenes documentary. Since it seems you’ve done your research on the inner workings of the show, I wanted your opinion on something. The co show runners Christian and Alex at one point admitted that they weren’t good writers and hired writers for their show. A lot of the show at first seem to rely on common tropes when fleshing out characters and settings but in the end they totally subvert them in dare I say, never before seen ways? I hope you won’t mind me for assuming that such writing choice surely didn’t come from self-proclaimed shitty writers Alex and Christian lol. But the documentary didn’t really go into detail on all the people who were behind the writing of the show. For example, do you know who are behind the breathtakingly original villain/ antihero/ tragic characters like Silco and Jinx? LOL Jinx is NOTHING like Arcane Jinx and Silco never existed outside of Arcane. Although it’s kind of obvious in hindsight that Silco was created to mainly to help transition Powder into Jinx still they created in my opinion one of the most interesting antagonistic characters in recent memory to accomplish this task. Who do you think are the brains behind his creation. Also the show was TOTALLY devoid of the cheap male gazey depiction of women and even men? Who (maybe plural) are we to thank for deciding to create and depict the story and characters this way?

Hi Anon!

Thanks for the compliment! Those gifs have been doing very well for themselves, and I've been very happy to see the animators and their hard work get a lot of love and praise in the tags. They deserve it.

However, that being said, I'm not any more knowledgeable than you. I've seen the show, and that's it.

I think we can look at credits a little to help... As you can see episode 3 lists :

Ash Brannon was a writer for Toys Story 2, so probably more experienced than Alex and Christian, but they apparently came up with the story with him and Conor, who seems to be a senior writer for Riot.

From the show, it looks like they had a lot of beats there already prior to Amanda joining the crew. Since she made comments about "fixing" the first episode, that was meant to open with Silco's drowning scene. That to me means that Silco's character was already fleshed out well enough prior to her being brought in.

I also assume most of the very early concept art was already done, since they had that gap after crafting most of episode 1, where they went and did K/DA.

But beyond that, I have no idea who did what. Was Silco Brannon's idea? Was Alex a long time fan of Warwick with strong ideas as to what his human side would have been up to? I just don't know. They really didn't tell us much, and since all the twitter talk has been from Amanda's account and mostly promotion, I really can't tell.

I may be an enthusiastic writer, but I've sadly never worked as such professionally, so I'm also very hazy has to how such writing credits would work/what they imply.

The documentary does say however that Alex and Christian always loved Jinx and had strong ideas about her and her past, and I think it'd be doing them a disservice to assume they aren't the one who came up with a complex and respectful take on her backstory.

They are clearly on the shy and unassuming side of the personality spectrum. I wouldn't exactly be surprised if much of the core concepts and character beats came from them. Just because they don't see themselves as talented writers (a comment maybe also spurred by the fact they were now working with much more experienced writers in Brannon and Overton), doesn't mean that they aren't good story tellers/guys with excellent ideas.

As for the sexualisation of characters, this is the sort of stuff that has to have been decided early on. They had tests, like the Vi vs. Jayce, that still looked very much like champions, with exaggerated, bulky armour. You just gotta imagine a meeting deciding on the style and whether this is supposed to be appealing on a low brow level or not, whether it's meant to be cartoony or more serious. I assume Fortiche also had input on the topic, so IDK if the praise can be handed out to a single person or team.

I'm not surprised they opted out of heavily sexualising the character designs, given how dark and adult the narrative is. They're very aware of their existing fanbase, and the criticism they can deal, I'm sure they're also very aware of all the horny fanart LoL generates.

You can see the work they did on K/DA, and I think those creators really understand how to tune their female characters. All the girls on MORE and Pop/Stars have wicked outfits, and they all straddle the line of "cool" and "absurdly hot" without ever being disrespectful.

[jughead-is-canonically-aroace]

elaborate on kitsch and mass culture in the 50s? i'm interested 👀

oh yeah so i picked this book up at the secondhand store from the 1$ rack like 5, 6 years ago or something and only just got around to reading it, it's flight maps: adventures with nature in modern america by jennifer price and it's about america's changing relationship with conceptions of nature. i'm only halfway through but i'm really enjoying it.

it was on the 1$ rack because the prev owner had done a LOT of underlining, tho curiously not on this chapter, which of course has me acting in suit. the chapter in question is "a brief natural history of the plastic pink flamingo", i.e. the tacky king of lawn ornament kitsch. i'd recommend the whole chapter really (the whole book really), but in particular, re:the post i left that tag on, page 134, where i left the comment "my tumblr dash about marvel movies" in the margin in reference to basically the entire page.

here's a few choice quotes:

Greenberg warned that kitsch "[drew] its life blood" from real Culture and Dorfles now lamented that the "vampire kitsch" had evolved into "one of the crucial problem sin the history of art and aesthetics."

Critics had assailed the mass-produced arts for many decades, but the evils were multiplying as fast as plastics, and from Right and Left, the new Jeremiahs fulminated against mass art, fiction and movies -- and were on the verge of uniting against the nascent sins of television.

"Mass culture threatens... to cretinize our taste."

Mass culture, Macdonald feared, "voids... the deep realities," and "substitute[s] for the... originality... of real life." Greenberg had attacked kitsch as "vicarious experience and faked sensations" and "the epitome of all that is spurious in the life of our times." Dorfles agreed: it "killed all ability to distinguish between art and life."

now obviously some of this is a bit more dire than people tend to talk about marvel, but it's definitely following a long tradition of moral panic about mass art and mass culture - the idea that watching these shitty ass movies is eroding our ability to appreciate good art and preventing or harming the ability for good art to be created and appreciated by ruining our abilities for critical thought

honestly vis a vis marvel and critical analysis i think it's probably kind of the other way around - people are complicated and the culture is complicated and i think it's more likely that people enjoy marvel movies because they don't have critical thinking skills because of a variety of things going on in our society (school systems which teach to the test rather than actually teaching, the internet making it really easy to encounter a lot of information from a variety of sources of various repute with no way of telling which are actually reliable & allowing you to form long-lasting and relatively insular communities and form echo chambers, puritanism) than that people watched marvel movies and their critical thinking skills immediately shrivelled up and died.

but that's also not to say marvel movies are a neutral entity - just that they're not solely responsible for the death of all art or anything, they just suck ass, aren't good, and also are military/imperialist propaganda. which is the real reason why no one should watch them

(tho honestly if you wanna watch braindead propaganda drivel fuckin whatever. if you're aware and not internalizing the harmful messages like. who give a shit. it's your time to waste. the harm comes not from the consumption of media itself but from the lack of critical thought to prevent you from internalizing the bullshit, and the resultant actions you take)

(just dont pay for it for gods sake)

[gayregis]

it sucks so much that a lot of the time i just simply am not able to make art/fanfic with confidence because i’m always aware that horny people on tumblr would eagerly misinterpret it as fetish art or ship.

is that still how you put a read more on mobile? lol idk anymore

this is a vent post to give anyone who isn’t sure about what i’m trying to say / is interested in the bad experiences i’ve had more context

when i was fourteen (14!! a baby!!) on here i made a general ‘body positivity’ post for a character (just saying that they were beautiful and desirable to a partner, because a lot of posts liked to make them out as ‘ugly’) and a nsfw fetish blog reblogged it (and interacted with me. fml) and it got a bunch of notes because they were popular in the fandom and i was too young to know what fetishes were.

when i was older but still a teenager (must have been what, 15? 16?) my (adult, in their early 20s) mutual DMed me and we talked for a bit about AUs and ships, and then they started talking about what if this character grew multiple limbs during sex :)? what would you think about that? ... i tried to say i was uncomfortable with where this conversation was going and tried to steer it back to regular topics, but they kept pressing it so i just didn’t respond anymore.

when i was still older, and getting into the witcher fandom now (17, maybe early 18) i rapidly found out how much disgusting fucking geralt x ciri shit there is. i was trying to cope with my shitty relationship with my dad by finding solace with geralt and ciri, and nope, there’s some ship art or fic of them. literally i got 1/4 through a fic on a blog about geralt and ciri in brokilon where she was scared and held his hand, my gut felt weird about it because this was a post on a blog that seemed to do mostly ship fics, i scrolled to the bottom of the post and there it was tagged with ship tags and fetish tags.

so now i’m just stuck in this space where i’m afraid to make anything that could be misinterpreted, because of how it could potentially be recieved, what kind of people it will attract. and “anything that could be misinterpreted” is a very broad topic, but it’s broad for a reason, because literally anything can be misconstrued and taken from you and seen as a fetish, or a ship, etc... more specifically i’m thinking about my vampire headcanons (on the topic of giving characters fangs and people being extremely horny for that) and ideas about regis and angouleme hanging out (because tumblr both doesn’t know what a familial / parental relationship is, and fucking loves to ship old men with young women vis-a-vis the regis x shani art i’ve been unlucky enough to see on here).

plus way too many people are horny for regis on this site and i’ve tried to block them all but the thing is that it blocks from my mainblog and not my sideblog, so now i can’t see them but they can see me and still reblog my content on this sideblog, thanks tumblr... literally nsfw blogs reblogging my posts about regis like i want to go insane on you stop it...

literally it’s like:

me: here is my headcanon for how regis looks [subtext: appearance based upon professors ive had who have reminded me of him / inspired me / made me feel safe in their presence / oh god i miss that kind of feeling with my dad / okay anyways haha here’s the post]

accts who i HAVE BLOCKED but tumblr allows them to reblog my posts because i’m a sideblog and your blockslists are specific to your blogs and not your entire account because this site’s block “function” sucks: wow this man i want to fuck him UNFFFFFF

anyways it’s 6:30 am i’m tired and hungry but yeah this is why i’m always fucking second-guessing myself lol and never end up creating things anymore. i of course really enjoy writing analysis posts, but in some ways, it’s the only thing i can do because other mediums such as art and fic are way too often taken from their creators and purposefully misinterpreted, if i write a long post however it’s more difficult to misinterpet it (more difficult yet still so many do... re: all the gerlion posts i’ve made hating on geraskiers, cue many geraskiers reblogging said posts like #omg so true... no look in the mirror because i was talking about you lol.)

if anyone is reading this (vent post, as i said, a personal post that is not intended to be reblogged or consumed by the masses) like “wow what a bitch and a hater for hating on my fetishes, i’m going to send them a really strongly worded anon that starts with ‘No. You know what, fuck this. Fuck you—‘“ then i don’t care, just block me and fuck off like i really do not want to talk to you. i’m not hating on your fetishes i’m saying you need to act appropriately in sfw environments and not bring up nsfw content to minors or people who haven’t consented to seeing it, or interact with others’ sfw posts in a nsfw manner.

be a decent adult

[splendidlyimperfect]

When Natsu runs into five-year-old Sting and Rogue at the Grand Magic Games, he thinks they're cute kids with a serious case of hero worship. But when it turns out that they're both Dragon Slayers and they belong to the ruthless Sabertooth Guild, something doesn't feel quite right. Natsu and Gray quickly grow protective of the two little kids, and they do their best to build a relationship with them to try to keep them safe and figure out what exactly is going on at Sabertooth.

alternate chapter art here

Chapter Summary: Natsu and Gray are both unsettled by the revelation about Sting and Rogue's dragon slaying powers, and Gray realizes he has something in common with Rogue.

Chapters (2/?): 1 | 2 Fandom: Fairy Tail Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Natsu Dragneel/Gray Fullbuster, Rogue Cheney/Sting Eucliffe, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine Additional Tags: Canon Universe, Not Canon Compliant, like not even close, Dai Matou Enbu | Grand Magic Games Arc, Sort Of, Childhood Friends, Cute Kids, Hero Worship, Fairy Tail Dragon Slayers, Protectiveness, protective Natsu, Protective Gray, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Parenthood, sorta - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Character, Nonbinary Character, Trans Gray, Trans Sting, Nonbinary Rogue, they're just adorable baby dragon slayers and Natsu wants to adopt them, and kind of does, Mutual Pining, because Gray and Natsu are idiots

-----

The walk back to the inn was quiet. Erza and Lucy quickly slipped into a recap of the day’s events, but Natsu was edgy and distracted, still trying his hardest to figure out what had felt wrong about the two boys.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you think too hard.” Gray appeared beside Natsu and bumped his shoulder, knocking him out of step.

“Hilarious.” Natsu nudged him back, but it lacked the usual enthusiasm of their bickering.

“I try.” Gray shoved his hands into his pockets, staying next to Natsu as they made their way through the dark streets. He didn’t say anything, which wasn’t unusual for him, but Natsu felt like there was a weight behind the lack of words.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Natsu finally said once they had arrived at the inn and the girls had headed in to sleep. He leaned against the wall next to Gray and stared up at the sky. The sun had set, and the sky was a dark tapestry littered with pinpricks of stars. “I dunno why it’s bugging me so much. We weren’t much older when we joined Fairy Tail.”

Gray nodded, absently patting his pocket where he used to keep his cigarettes. Natsu batted his hand away, trying to ignore the warm spark when their fingers touched.

It doesn’t mean anything, Natsu thought as he pulled his hand back and shoved it in his pocket. He’s your best friend.

Continue reading on AO3

Gray didn’t answer for a while. The silence that settled between them was easy and familiar, and Natsu felt himself unconsciously leaning closer to Gray. Everyone always teased Natsu about how much he talked, but when he was alone with Gray, it didn’t feel necessary. The urgent need to fill the air with cheerful words was replaced by a deep, quiet sense of familiarity that felt like home.

“I think,” Gray said after a while, keeping his gaze on the sky, “it feels wrong because they’re alone. I mean, not alone, but there aren’t any other kids in their guild.” He kicked at a rock, watching it bounce across the street and clatter down into the gutter. “They’re so young. And nobody’s looking out for them.”

“Yukino is,” Natsu pointed out, and Gray nodded. “But she seems…”

“Afraid?”

“Mm. She doesn’t really fit with them either.” Natsu sighed, prodding at a bruise that was still forming on his ribs. It was courtesy of a vicious kick from Orga during their fight that morning – one that Natsu and Gray had nearly lost to Sabertooth’s ruthless tactics.

Silence fell between them again. The soft chill that normally radiated from Gray was tempered by Natsu’s heat, keeping them both comfortably warm in the cool spring air. Natsu absently held out his hand and summoned a small flame, running it back and forth across his knuckles. Gray blew a stream of frosty air at it, and it froze for a second, glinting orange and gold in the dim light of the streetlamp.

“I think Sting’s trans,” Gray said as the flame went out.

Natsu raised an eyebrow, tipping his head to look at the soft expression on Gray’s face. Natsu still remembered the day he’d come out, even though it was years ago. They’d been nine or ten, sparring as usual, and Droy had told Natsu that he shouldn’t hit girls. Gray had yelled that he wasn’t a girl, said some words that he’d probably picked up from Gildarts, then punched Droy and stormed away from the guild. Natsu had followed him down to the river and they’d spent the afternoon together, carefully holding hands and watching the water sparkle in the afternoon sun.

Nothing had changed. Gray was still Gray, and Natsu had still loved him just as fiercely.

“How do you know?”

Gray shrugged. “I dunno, something…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely. Natsu nodded. He’d known right away that Rogue wasn’t a boy or a girl, just like Freed, but he couldn’t quite explain how.

“I wish they could come with us,” Natsu said. “There’s something off – not just about Sabertooth, about them. I can’t figure it out and it’s driving me crazy.”

“You could try to talk to Yukino,” Gray suggested. “Not to take them or anything, just to maybe, I dunno, offer to help them. Train them, I mean. With the dragon slayer stuff. Jiemma might go for that if that’s what he’s… keeping them for.”

“That’s… actually a good idea.”

“I happen to have those sometimes.”

“Only when you’re inspired by my brilliance.”

Gray laughed – a rare, quiet sound that made Natsu’s cheeks warm and his stomach twist in a gentle, familiar way.

“C’mon,” Gray said, pushing himself off the wall and nudging Natsu’s arm. “It’s late, let’s go to bed.”

Natsu swallowed back the disappointment that washed over him – he wanted to stay here, shoulders touching, talking quietly in the night. He liked having Gray to himself. It happened so rarely now that they were adults, and Natsu missed the afternoons they used to spend by the river. He missed holding hands. He missed falling asleep together under the afternoon sun and waking up with his head on Gray’s shoulder.

“I’ll be right in,” he said, forcing himself to smile.

Gray frowned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Natsu said quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

~

“You shouldn’t drink so much of that; you’re going to have a heart attack.”

Gray glared half-heartedly at Lucy over his fourth cup of coffee. Even with that much caffeine flowing through him, he was still exhausted. Sleep had evaded him for most of the night. At first, he’d spent his time waiting for Natsu to come inside, wishing he’d stayed out with him. Then, once Natsu had finally crawled into the bed across from Gray and was snoring softly, the nightmares had started.

Gray hadn’t dreamed about his mom in a long time. He’d woken up in the early hours of the morning, skin and sheets covered in a thick layer of frost, and had been surprised to find tears frozen to his cheeks.

“’m fine,” he mumbled. “Stupid beds are uncomfortable.”

Lucy nodded sympathetically as she sat down at the table across from him. The inn had its own small kitchen, and Gray was grateful for the option to eat here, mostly alone, instead of heading to the market to find food with everyone else. He still felt unsettled and wasn’t quite ready to face the world.

“Are you okay?” Lucy’s gentle question made the fragile barrier around Gray’s heart splinter a little and he sighed, dropping his head into his hands. Somehow, she was always able to see past his bullshit.

“Just bad dreams.”

“Is it because of the kids?”

Gray peeked up at her. “You’re freakishly perceptive, you know that, right?”

Lucy laughed, poking at her pancakes. “So that’s a yes, then.”

“I guess.” Gray rubbed his face. “I dunno. They’re little and alone.” The words stuck in his throat and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself together. “It just…”

“Reminds you of yourself?”

“Would you stop that?”

“Nope.”

Gray groaned. “Yes, okay? And I know a lot of us had shitty childhoods, but it made me think about my mom, and how it sucks they don’t have their parents. That’s all.”

Lucy reached across the table and took Gray’s hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s okay to miss your mom,” she said gently. “I miss mine, too. And I know that Natsu’s thinking about his dad. You’re not alone, Gray.”

He let out a noisy breath and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Yeah, I know.” He squeezed her hand, giving her a small half-smile before letting go and grabbing his coffee again. The taste was bitter as he downed it in one gulp, then stood up and pushed his chair away from the table.

“You’d better get going,” Lucy said, gesturing at the clock on the wall behind him. “I’m pretty sure you’re up first this morning.”

“Mm.” Gray stretched, then leaned across the table and quickly kissed the top of Lucy’s head. He pulled away before she could say anything, turning toward the door so she couldn’t see the redness in his cheeks. “See you later?” For some reason it came out as a question, almost seeking reassurance.

Of course, Lucy provided it. “I’ll be cheering for you,” she said. “Good luck!”

~

The fight was exhausting. Gray was matched one-on-one against someone named Renne from a guild he couldn’t even remember, and the lack of sleep caught up to him halfway through the fight. Something hit him hard in the forehead and he stumbled backward, blinking when blood dripped into his eyes.

C’mon, Princess. Natsu’s voice filled Gray’s mind and for a moment, he thought it was his imagination. Then he glanced up into the stands and realized that Natsu was staring down at him with Max by his side, borrowing his telepathic magic. You’ve got this.

Gray shook his head to clear his blurred vision, launching a barrage of ice blades from his hands as Renne teleported behind him. Another hit landed on his jaw and he grunted in pain, stumbling forward and cursing under his breath. Frustration and embarrassment washed over him as blood filled his mouth.

The kids are watching. Natsu’s voice appeared again. Look up.

Gray spun around, gaze moving from Natsu’s grinning face to the enormous screen that panned across the crowd. Right now, it was focused on Sabertooth, and there, leaning against the railing, were Sting and Rogue. Sting had a wild grin on his face and was bouncing up and down in excitement, turning to talk to Yukino as he pointed at Gray. Rogue was standing behind him, looking much more subdued, but when Gray realized they were still holding the snake he’d made, something warm flooded through him.

Fuck this, he thought, spitting blood onto the ground and turning back to Renne. I’m not gonna lose. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

As soon as he thought about it, the devil slayer magic he’d been ignoring for so long started to thrum under his skin. An anticipation grew along with the power, layered with an irritated almost-whisper of, why did you wait so long, let me out, let me free, let me destroy.

Gray gritted his teeth, pushing back against the destructive desires of the magic. It itched and stung, just like every time he called on it, pushing at him like it didn’t quite fit in his body. The black marks raced across his skin like ink on parchment, twisting in patterns that Gray still didn’t understand. He didn’t use the magic often – even after a year, the new powers still unsettled him.

He exhaled, letting the tension and fatigue flow out of his body, then looked up at Renne again. Everything about her was sharper. Gray could see her magic now; a purplish-blue aura that darted around her, quick and nimble. It tasted bitter, overpowering the coppery tang of blood that clung to the inside of his mouth.

A look of surprise appeared on her face that was quickly replaced by disgust, and she cursed as she charged at him. Her magic flowed just ahead of her, and Gray watched the movements carefully, stepping out of the way of her attack. She stumbled uncertainly, then glared at him as she disappeared in a burst of light.

Gray closed his eyes, letting the magic flow out of him like a sixth sense, feeling through the air until it found a heartbeat. He whipped around as the magic snapped back to him, crystallizing along his arms until sharp blades spread from his fingers to elbows. Renne appeared exactly where he’d expected, and her nasty grin was quickly replaced by a look of surprise when he caught her blow one-handed and tossed her to the ground.

A hungry sensation raced through Gray at the expression on her face, but he pushed it back, refusing to give in to the vicious desires of his magic. The commentators shouted something, and a cheer spread through the crowd, but it all turned to a dull roar as Gray pushed the magic out again, letting it crystallize into a group of wicked-looking ice shards that hung around Renne.

“What the hell kind of magic is this?” she hissed, pushing herself to her feet. The shards moved closer to her, bathing her in the bruised purple light of the devil slayer’s ice.

“Mine,” Gray said simply. Then he closed his fist and detonated the ice. It exploded into thousands of tiny fragments that whipped around Rennee, sharp and deadly. She swore as one of them nicked her arm, then scowled at Gray and teleported away.

He closed his eyes again, following the magic as it moved. It darted back and forth around him and through the air, leaving behind a sour, acidic smell, then stopped on near the edge of the stadium. Gray quickly dropped to one knee, pressing his hands to the ground and sending out a shockwave that culminated in a mass of razor-sharp ice spikes exploding underneath where Rennee reappeared.

She disappeared again and Gray could feel her anger and resentment, a dark blue color seething through the lines of her magic. It made her even easier to track. He kept his eyes closed, shifting to follow each teleport and block it with the hungry magic that flowed through him.

A few attempts later, he caught her. She materialized into a prison of dark purple ice that raced across her skin until it covered her torso and pinned her arms to her chest. She stumbled forward, landing on her knees and not standing again.

The commentator’s voices were fuzzy as a cheer raced through the stadium and the Fairy Tail logo filled the screen. Gray exhaled in relief as he released the magic around Renne, pulling it back to him and letting it dissolve. The marks quickly disappeared into his skin, leaving him worn out and oddly cold.

“Freak,” Renne hissed as she stumbled to her feet. “That magic is evil. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Gray didn’t have an answer for her, and he dropped his gaze to the ground as she turned on her heel and walked away.

I knew you could do it. Natsu’s voice appeared in Gray’s head again and he looked up to see the stupid, brilliant smile that always made his heart ache. You looked pretty badass, too. Gray was glad he was far enough away from Natsu that he couldn’t see the embarrassed flush that crept into his cheeks. I think you’ve got a new fan, Natsu added, nodding to the screen again.

The camera had panned to the left, but the edge of the screen still caught the Sabertooth viewing area. Sting had been cut out of the picture, but Rogue was still there, clutching the snake to their chest and gazing down at Gray with a wide-eyed look of adoration. The warm feeling from earlier swelled in Gray’s chest again – for some reason, that look was worth more than all the cheers from the rest of the stadium.

~

The dizzy, uncomfortable feeling that always appeared after using the devil slayer magic plagued Gray for the rest of the day. He tried his best to shake it off and cheer for his team, but the feeling dug its claws into him and wouldn’t let go.

Freak.

Evil.

Demon.

The echo of Renne’s voice drifted around in his mind, next to the headache and the unsettling feeling of his skin not fitting quite right.

“You okay?” Natsu asked once they’d left the stadium for the day. The evening sky was a soft pink and cast gentle shadows across the cobblestone street. The market was closed for the evening and the quiet was a calm reprieve from the shouts and excitement of the games.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Gray grumbled. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.” Natsu gave him a sideways look but Gray refused to return it. “You look like shit.”

Gray snorted. “Thanks.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” Gray caught Natsu’s grin out of the corner of his eye. “Seriously, though. You used the magic.”

Gray’s stomach twisted. “Of course I used magic,” he said quickly. “It’s called the Grand Magic Games.”

“That’s not what I meant, idiot, and you know it.”  

Gray sighed, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. He missed being able to hold Natsu’s hand. They’d done it for years, and the gentle warmth of Natsu’s palm against his had always been enough to make Gray feel safe. Then they’d grown up and it had started to feel like something else, and it hurt Gray too much to keep touching Natsu and knowing he couldn’t have him like that.  

“I just—”

Gray’s words were interrupted by a yell, and a familiar voice shouting, “Stop it!”

“Sting?” Gray frowned at Natsu, looking around the empty market for the little boy. It took a second and another shout for him to see the head of curly blond hair on the other side of the fountain in the center of the square.  

“Are they out here again by themselves?” Natsu asked, sighing in exasperation as they both quickened their pace and headed toward Sting. “I swear, I’m gonna—”

“Leave them alone!”

Sting yelled again, and they arrived at the fountain just in time to see someone shove him. It was a boy who looked to be a couple years older than Sting and Rogue, and an ugly look crossed his face as Sting stumbled backward.

“He’s stupid and you are too,” the boy said, hands clenching into fists. A terrified-looking Rogue stood just behind Sting, and a spark of protective anger flared in Gray’s chest. Sting’s cheeks were red, and he looked like he was about to cry, but he didn’t back down. His hands shook as the boy took a step toward him.

“Hey!” Natsu’s shout caught the boy’s attention as he stepped forward, and he whipped around to face them. His eyes widened when he realized who Natsu was. “What do you think you’re—”

Before Gray could grab him, the boy was gone, darting out of the market and into the maze of alleys that wound through the city.

There was a moment of silence, and then Sting burst into tears.

“Hey bud.” Natsu’s voice was gentle as he crouched down next to Sting. “Are you okay?” Sting shook his head, and Natsu made a sad sound, pulling the little boy into a hug. “It’s okay,” Natsu said softly as Sting pressed his face into his shoulder. “You’re safe.”

Gray turned to Rogue, who was staring uncertainly at Sting and Natsu. Gray hesitated, not quite sure if he should step in or let Natsu handle it. Kids weren’t his forte – even with Asuka he sometimes felt awkward and out of place, unsure of how to respond to her exuberance and desire to play.

Then Rogue rubbed their face and Gray realized they were about to cry as well.

“Hey, c’mere,” Gray said gently, holding out his hand. Rogue stared at Sting for a few more seconds, then cautiously took Gray’s hand and followed him over to the fountain. Gray sat down on the edge and lifted Rogue up to sit beside him, surprised by how light they were. Rogue quickly curled up against him as they sniffled and tried to hide their tears.

“Is Sting in trouble?”

“Of course not,” Gray reassured them, wrapping his arm around them as they snuggled closer to him. The easy trust that Rogue seemed to have in him made Gray feel warm and important. “That kid was a jerk,” he said. “Neither of you did anything wrong. Did he hurt you?”

Rogue shook their head, sniffing and wiping their face with their sleeve. “He said my eyes was weird,” they said quietly. Anger flared up in Gray’s chest again and he contemplated chasing the kid down. “Sting telled him to go away but he didn’t listen. Why he was mean?”

“I don’t know,” Gray said honestly. “Sometimes people aren’t very nice and there isn’t a good reason for it.”

Rogue didn’t answer, just rested their head against Gray’s shoulder and played with the frayed edge of their sleeve. Gray looked back at Natsu, who was still crouched next to Sting with a hand on his arm. Sting had stopped crying and his face was set in a stubborn frown, and Gray almost laughed when he realized it was the same look Natsu had always worn at that age.

“You’re nice,” Rogue said, pulling Gray’s attention back to them. “I like you.”

Gray stilled, not quite sure why the words made his cheeks burn. “I like you too,” he said carefully. He looked back at Natsu, who had managed to get Sting to smile, then back down at Rogue. He felt wildly out of his element and he had no idea how to make Rogue feel better. Then he thought of the way Rogue’s face had lit up at the snake sculpture he’d made the day before.

“Hey, you wanna see something cool?”

Rogue looked up at him, half of their face hidden behind a curtain of dark hair. “See what?”

Gray held out both hands, summoning his magic as slowly as he could. Snowflakes drifted up and around his palms as they started to glow with a faint blue light. Rogue’s face immediately brightened with excitement and they leaned forward, staring at the magic.

“You can make a snake again?” they asked as they gazed at the soft blue light.

“Sure,” Gray said, relaxing as Rogue’s tearful expression transformed into a small, shy smile. “I can make anything you want.”

“Anything?” Rogue’s eyes widened further.

“Yep.” Gray moved his fingers and the ice twisted into a snake again, then into a thin, delicate snowflake, then into a small cat. Rogue watched the whole time, head tilted to the side, entranced by the movements.

“You can do it black?” they asked, looking down at their own hands.  

Gray frowned. “Black?” Rogue touched Gray’s forearm and his eyes widened as he realized they meant the devil slayer marks.

“That’s sort of—”

“Like mine.” Rogue held his palm out next to Gray’s and a tiny, black wisp appeared. “See?” Gray watched as it flickered and twisted, then dropped back down onto Rogue’s hand. A bit of it spread out under their skin for a moment, just like the marks on Gray’s arms. “It’s only little cause I did a big one and it scareded Yukino but it was an accident. I didn’t mean to.”

The uncertainty and shame in Rogue’s voice made Gray’s heart ache.

“I’m sure she was just surprised,” he reassured Rogue. Then he pushed away his exhaustion and slowly pulled at the devil slayer magic until a pattern of dark marks swirled across his arms. The soft blue glow in his palms darkened as he focused the magic, keeping it from overwhelming him. He jumped when he felt something on his wrist, but it was just Rogue’s fingertips, tracing the pattern of the marks.

“Show me yours again,” Gray said, nudging Rogue’s hands. They hesitated, then held up their palm next to Gray’s, summoning another wisp of shadow that danced along their fingers. “You can make it bigger,” Gray said. Rogue gave him a dubious look. “It’s okay, I promise.”

“’kay.” Rogue squirmed forward, bringing their other hand up as the shadow grew, spiraling and flickering until it was nearly the size of a house cat. Gray nudged it with his own magic, drawing the shadow into the cloud of dark snowflakes.

“See?” He smiled at the delighted expression on Rogue’s face. “It’s not scary. It’s pretty.” The marks on his arms shifted again and he felt the magic trying to stretch. “What should we make?” he asked, trying to ignore the sensation.

“A frog?” Rogue asked. “I like frogs.”

Gray laughed, shifting his magic alongside Rogue’s and molding it into the shape of a small frog that fit in the palm of their hand. Instead of the bright, clear blue from the other day, this one was deep purple, with wisps of shadow twisted inside the ice. It was beautiful, in a strange way.

“Thank you.” Rogue tipped their head onto Gray’s shoulder, letting out a happy sigh and snuggling close as they ran their fingers over the frog. He exhaled, letting the magic sink back into his skin as he wrapped his arm around Rogue again.

They sat in silence for a while as Gray watched Natsu and Sting. Natsu had moved to sit cross-legged on the ground and Sting was in his lap, still red-eyed but no longer crying. The soft, fond feelings that Gray tried so hard to keep to himself surfaced easily as he watched the two of them. Natsu’s smile was genuine and his hands were gentle, and he was beautiful in the shadows of the setting sun.

“All right, you two,” Natsu said eventually, standing and scooping Sting into his arms. “Oof, you’re heavy.”

“I’m five,” Sting said, managing to look indignant even while wrapping his arms around Natsu’s neck. “That’s big.”

“That is big,” Natsu agreed, giving Gray a soft smile as he stood as well, holding a sleepy Rogue in his arms. “Now, let’s go find Yukino.”

[violetmessages]

hottest companion

[pomrania]

Great AO3 tags VII

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI)

More stuff I found during my TMA AO3 binge.

Canon-Typical Existential Horror at the Reality of your Existence

Jonny Sims I love you but would it hurt you to add a sexy vampire

Implied/Referenced beating up a shitty old man

we're all trans and we all want to be monsters

somehow the epilogue is longer than the actual chapter lmao

Beautiful Pieces of Art and Architecture That Might Be Made of People

theres a cat!

this could technically be read as platonic but you know. you know it ain't

another member for the Buried Alive Club! meetings are gonna be a teensy bit more tense now

what should you do if you accidentally get a body? put on some eyeliner

once again i don't know if this would work in canon but too bad

May I Offer you a Goof in this Trying Time

personhood is when you're smart enough to be an asshole

(But I Saw The Other Fics This Fandom Has And Mine Is Really Fucking Tame)

Im not putting british people in my fic thats disgusting

au in which they dont wait until THE END OF THE WORLD to get together

Incorrect Use Of Office Supplies

fellas is it gay to tenderly bandage your boss's wounds

How Not To Use Professional Grade Cleaning Chemicals: A Guide

proper harmonica maintenance techniques

this is really sad but like in a gay yearning way not in a 'end of the world' way

Pointedly Ignoring That Your Coworker Is A Spider

true love is covering up a murder together

someone is fucking cranky and gay and it's not me this time

s5 update: [sighs loudly and removes 'canon compliant' tag]

less worms than canon-typical worms but more worms than otherwise expected

so I'm gonna treat canon like I'm a picky eater carving up a roast

the inherent eroticism of being an absolute nuisance

Canon ATYPICAL amount of Birds

i waited for someone else to write this and finally did it myself

Too Kind for Canon Too Mean for Fanfic

The Major Character Death in this fic has already happened in canon as of February 2020

who would win: the very concept of losing your grip on reality or one edgy boy

i claim no responsibility for acts of arson committed by readers

[askplayerpkmn]

Q&A

What is this?

A story based Pokémon ask blog. It’s set in a post-post-apocalyptic PMD world. There’s quite a few characters to keep track of, haha. Also everything is completely normal and there is nothing sinister going on don't even worry about it.

Any rules regarding asks?

There aren’t many rules to what kind of asks you can/can't send besides:

no NSFW (flirting is totally fine tho!)

no human characters interacting

no magic anons (unless I ask for them)

Legendary pokemon technically allowed but not really for casual asks (since theyre extremely rare and important to the world). Depending on the legendary, I may choose not to answer your ask if I have to do a lot of write-around for it. (especially for arceus and mews specifically! sorry y'all)

if while sending an ask on anon, if you would like to appear as a specific pokemon, clarify in the ask! ex: "(bulbasaur) blah blah blah" NOTE: you totally dont have to do this!! this is mostly just for fun :)

Feel free to send as many asks as you would like (within reason)! The same blogs/characters interacting repeatedly is totally cool! Just dont spam my inbox and we're fine :)

Are there any trigger warnings I should know about?

Yes!! There won’t be much triggering content in the majority of posts BUT it will be there in a few of them! I’m the type of person who copes with shitty things by writing about it.

All triggering post will be appropriately tagged. If there is an untagged post OR another tag you would like me to use, please send an ask or DM and let me know! It’s very important to me that I don’t accidentally trigger anyone so please correct me if i mess up! Here’s some content I’m going to tag:

blood/gore

child neglect/abuse

transphobia, homophobia, etc.

Who is the mod?

Oh! Hello! I’m Milo! Here’s all you really need to know lmao:

My pronouns are Vi/Vin/Vis, He/Him/His, and maybe Ae/Aem/Aer (here's a guide on how to use them!)

I’m finally 18!!! hell yes

I’m a demiboy, acearo, polyam, and bi gay dude... so I'm a big queer basically

My main pokesona is a vaporeon (vis name is Watercolor), but I also really love porygon and arcanine!

I used to run @occasionallyarcanine and @dailyowten

My main blog is @gayboybeetle and my art blog is @vaguelymammal

Do you care who follows you?

oh yeah for sure, I don’t want nasty folks around me if I can avoid it.

DNI IF YOU: Are an exclusionist, transmed/truscum, terf (including secret terfs), radfem, gender critical, LGBTphobic, anti-neopronouns, racist, far-right, trump supporter/someone who voted for trump in 2020, anti-BLM, or antisemitic. Y’all aren't welcome.

(also please don’t follow if your main is a NSFW blog, it makes me uncomfy)

and because I've seen a bit of drama in the pokeask community, I'm going to say it again: If you are transphobic do NOT follow me. In fact, block me.

(and this very much includes if you purposefully do not use someone's correct pronouns/name/etc. yes, even if they're being shitty. you don't get to pick and choose who is allowed to be gendered correctly, you're just an asshole.)

thanks y’all :)

[subasekabang]

A Redbud’s Name in an Ink-Splattered World

Rating: T Word Count: 7676 Pairings/Characters: Neku Sakuraba/Yoshiya “Joshua” Kiryu; Neku & Joshua & Beat & Rhyme & Shiki & Eri; Neku Sakuraba, Yoshiya “Joshua” Kiryu, Daisukenojou “Beat” Bito, Raimu “Rhyme” Bito, Sanae Hanekoma,  Yodai Higashizawa. [Other Characters(9)/Ships(1) to appear in later chapters.] Warnings: Frequent Canon-Typical Violence, Injury; alluded to, but neither appear in the chapter. Swearing, mostly from Neku. Summary: It’s summer in Inkopolis, just after the chaos that broke loose during the last celebrations—and yet, even in its aftermath, a delicate balance meant to be enough to wrap up the mess that was made isn’t anything close to scrubbing the grime and stone under the city’s waves. Yet, when something pulls at the balance and tugs the seas of color too far and too thin, he finds himself of all people squidnapped and sunk into an underwater espionage, stubbornly searching for what hides in Inkopolis’s murky depths. As much as he hates the ‘people’ part of it…

Well, maybe he’ll find he’s submerged himself in much more than he agreed to—both in his missions and in the hearts of those he works with.

Partners: Vi, Turtel Author’s Note: I’ll be posting this on ao3 eventually (probably with way more gushing than I can fit here!!) This was the only chapter I managed to complete, but I’m happy with how it turned out. Thank you so much to everyone I talked to and worked with along the way!!

The day that Neku’s world starts isn’t when he’s born, but it is the last Saturday of July.

It’s a day when less than a week has passed since the last Splatfest, at a time when both celebration and cleanup are as remarkably chaotic as any of the other 18,994 or so weeks Neku has endured have ever been. Now, the sun pours over Inkopolis Square like a cast in a mold. The city, absolved of the mess and dissonance that had fully collected itself nine days prior, wafts a gentle balance into the air once again, its citizens ambling once more along its glowing streets and sunlit buildings.

So it claims.

By all means, Inkopolis should be—and is far better, if it is—a place of peace. In the days following the final festivities, Neku and his mother saw lotuses and water lilies hung from the other tenants’ windows in rows. All turf wars and activities had declined, even during peak hours. Any hints of disaster from the Splatfest should have dissolved, leaving its hosts, participants, and spectators behind with the precarious rubble—and to Inkopolis, that was exactly how it seemed. If this had kept up for longer, Neku would have been pretty pleased.

It does not take long for him, a normal, law-abiding, doing his best to survive now and that’s it Inkling, to walk straight into disaster.

He doesn’t even mean to, honest! It’s a complete and utter mistake that shouldn’t be one—the most glaring reason being that this was the quickest way home, and his normal path home. Plus, it was supposed to be relatively safe; sure, maybe he could find people fighting or tagging the walls, but that was a rare occurrence and a given for Inkopolis. Turf wars and art were indispensable to the city: the two together were its blood, its infrastructure, and its entire world.

Perhaps it’s the absence of both on his way home that hurls him into another world.

When Neku walks home from Inkopolis Square, often a twenty-seven minute trip if he speedwalks, there are no brawlers and no graffitists. Every drop of ink that dripped and spilled was gathered up by the air before sunset. Now, there is he, his bag and tank, his cherry-blossom sketchbook, his Permanent Inkbrush and the concrete floor. He walks with only one companion, and that is the music streaming through his headphones—not a single other being is in sight.

And then, of course, it happens. Because nothing can go without a hitch in Inkopolis.

Neku doesn’t register exactly when he bumps into a stranger, but it’s after three songs and four seconds into a “Twister” remix, which seems to place it at a solid fourteen minutes into his walk. When he does, it’s because he’s falling face-flat onto the floor, and because he almost hits it if not for his last-second scrambling.

That’s weird, is the first sentence that comes to mind. There’s nothing to trip over on this way home. Unless someone thinks that kicking rocks into incoming pedestrians’ paths is supposed to be funny, Neku knows this route enough to use his phone or daydream on the way back, and that requires a very specific amount of certitude in the neighbors’ goodwill.

In an uncontrollable wave of curiosity, Neku turns his head, then his arm and bag, then his legs—

And he finds himself staring not exactly face-to-face with a towering, 100 percent glowering Inkling. He has dark brown hair, ancient ram symbols all over his clothes, and fluorescent sneakers that disrupt the menacing vibe he’s trying to pull off, and Neku swears that he’s never met him before in his life.

As unexpected as this is, Neku devises a plan. It’s short and simple; after all, there’s only one solution to this, panic-led or not.

He breathes. Sighs.

Then, he turns back around and starts walking away.

It is an incredibly ingenious plan, which is also probably why it fails so quickly. No more than four steps forward and Neku swears the start of the lyrics in this remix sounds horrendously off-beat, which shouldn’t be a problem when he’s listened to this version again and again.

Then, of course, the obvious sets itself into motion. The drums thud closer and faster until they cease; the air shifts behind Neku and sends goosebumps through his shirt; in one swift motion, Neku yanks his Inkbrush off of his shoulders and jerks his ink tank back in place, and dashes forward in a stroke of ink before any foreboding hell can break loose.

A few seconds pass before he pivots back around, granting an unwavering stare towards his imposing assailant. His Inkbrush drips at his side, knuckles white around one of the two black grips as the others brush against his walkman.

The song skips and a different mix encompasses the fray, swallowing all but the stranger’s words.

“You,” he rumbles, shaking the ground but little of Neku himself, “why swing that measly pastry brush along this concrete?”

Neku grimaces. Nobody calls a paintbrush, let alone his Inkbrush, a goddamn pastry brush, and gets away with attempted murder. It’s an insult and injury he isn’t standing for, so he weighs out his conversational choices and comes up with, “Pretty sure we both know the reason why, dude,” and gives a shrug with his spare hand.

“Hmph.” The man scowls, and he drags his roller back. Neku studies the length of the roller and the gold paint covering it; he realizes how normal it looks in comparison to the man, who looms over both him and his own weapon with ease. “Of all foods, I could not have expected you to be a citrus peel. Your bitter bark is just that: a bark that none dare bite.”

“And your point is…?” Neku could laugh at how bad that was if he wasn’t in danger. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

“You need not play coy. You are just the same as them. Unlike the raw morsels of this city, you are consumed by your desire.” The roller draws in further, and Neku steps back. “Even after this haluhalo of chaos and order, there is still something you want, isn’t there? No matter what it is, they are just the same—and soon enough, you—”

“That’s enough out of you, isn’t it?” a voice echoes from the nearby alley, stepping out of its maw and into the fray. Out tumbles a boy made of shades of platinum and lavender, the bell sleeves of a silvery blouse trailing behind him as he tiptoes past the puddles of orange and brown. When he stops, he stares straight up towards Neku’s assailant. “I would think your group would have more dignity than go after odd passerby on the street, but I must have overestimated you.”

“Quite the way to prove a point, isn’t it? Perhaps next time, you should be more covert in your preparations.”

“I see no point when there won’t be a ‘next time,’” Neku’s ally—maybe an ally? he can’t really tell—shrugs, still turned away from him. “He has no relation to our missions. If you’re looking for a fight, then I regret to say that it’s me you’ll challenge.”

“I desire no challenge. This recipe was issued to me not so long ago, and it was purely to the point. But, if you must stand in my way—”

The man lifts the roller behind him, high in the air, and the boy in front of Neku sidesteps out of the ink, glancing to him as he does. Neku’s gaze lingers on his odd acquaintance; he even squints until the man’s attack comes back to mind, and he springs off of the sidewalk, possessions rattling behind and around him as he rolls onto the road. The roller meets the concrete and thuds, cracking the tiles Neku had once stood over as he drags himself off of the asphalt.

Smooth, he grimaces, rubbing a red spot on his shoulder. Dangerous, too, considering his lack of skill with rolling.

Cods, if this is some kind of evaluation, he’s certainly failing it.

“How long do you intend to keep this up, Higashizawa?” the boy asks, crossing his arms. “You should know by know that you can’t defeat us.”

Neku’s eyes narrow. He’s not particularly keen on being included—hell, he hasn’t even done anything himself, but… has this guy even pulled out a weapon yet?

He tries to ignore that fact to focus on his assailant. Higashizawa—that must be his name, if not ‘the man who tried to kill Neku, like, twice with shitty food jokes’—stands like a statue, unmoving, his eyes trailing their every move and nothing else. For a while, the noise is deafening. The cold stone reverberates fire and whistles. The strange boy hums an odd, harmonic tune. Neku observes both, his hearts rasping a fast, arrhythmic beat, and waits for a signal.

Higashizawa moves first. He slings his roller over his shoulders and turns away from them, sending a wave of nervous heat over Neku as he remains silent. Then, finally, he speaks, slow and steady.

“How shameful. You would prefer the table set and appetizers cold before cooking the main dish?” a ‘tsk’ slips from under his breath. “It will be an unpleasant meal. Let us see if you liven it up once all has been said and done.”

Neku watches the man turn away and disappear on the path to the square, and a final wave of relief washes over him, letting his breath escape like steam. He looks back to the boy, who turns at the same time that he does and quirks a small smile.

“You’d best be getting home, wouldn’t you? Go on. He won’t be back for a while.”

“Yeah, great hearing that from a stranger.” Neku snorts, but he considers it. He turns around and takes a step forward before a realization settles in his head, and he jerks his head back to the boy.

“Hey—who even are you, anyways?” One of ‘them’ might be a good guess, considering what Higashizawa said, but… who the hell, and why?

The boy is already a good distance away when Neku yells at him, but still within hearing range. It doesn’t stop him from continuing onwards, giving naught but a cryptic silence in response.

“Hey! Answer me!” he yells again, and the boy stops, pivoting on his heel and leaning back. His phone glows, tinting his face blue as he speaks.

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough, won’t you?”

The boy doesn’t deign Neku with another response after that, even when he yells once more. He turns the corner up to Inkopolis Square, and Neku spins back around, leaving the dissipating puddles behind.

What the fuck just happened? He wishes he knew. Maybe that would’ve helped him give his mother a reason it took five extra minutes to get home and get ink over his shoes.

The next day, Neku takes the time to process what the hell happened, and doesn’t come up with shit.

The day after is when they—unfortunately—cross paths again.

Call him an idiot for it, don’t call him one—whatever. It shouldn’t exactly be Neku’s fault that Inkopolis Square is at the peak of popularity and Inkopolis Plaza is the ghost town four minutes away from his house, or that that means that all of his clients are up and kicking ink at the Deca Tower instead, but maybe it should be his fault for taking a trip outside to sketch their commissions in the face of possible danger.

But it should so not be his fault that they meet at one of the freshest coffee shops downtown. That’s a factor he doesn’t take credit for.

All things considered, it’s quite possible that he should: Neku has always found solace from the city’s constant chatter within a corner of CATfish Café, where a small table and two chairs are enough for him to seat himself, his things, and his coffee while doing whatever. But that is exactly why—because after a year and a half of visiting the store, from the moment winter froze the rest of the town over to now, when summer burned it to a crisp, he’s never seen the other enter the store once.

Until now.

It’s like a freaky coincidence—the chance that they meet while waiting near the pick-up counter, standing side-by-side because there’s no other place to stand when it’s so crowded. Neku doesn’t notice until he turns left out of curiosity and looks straight into the same hair and shade of lavenders. He has on a periwinkle button-up and dark jeans, and the longer that he stares into that orange phone, the more Neku realizes he’s either ignoring him or he genuinely hasn’t seen him.

For four seconds, Neku considers what to do, until he resolves to speak first, harshly, “It’s you. You’re that kid from Saturday.”

All that Neku gets is another flick down the blue screen.

He tugs the boy’s right sleeve once, twice as he continues, “Hey, you didn’t answer me last time. What the hell did you mean by—”

“Shh.” The boy budges away from his pull. He places the index finger of his free hand over his mouth, even as he continues to look over his phone. “Try not to be loud about it, will you, Neku? We’re in a public space. We wouldn’t want to drag anyone else into this fiasco, would we?”

“As if I signed up for this in the first place,” Neku grumbles. He pauses, processing every word as two Inklings, teal and fern hair respectively, take an order from the counter.

Wait.

“How do you—”

“Oh, you know.”

No, he glares pointedly, I certainly do not know! “Fine. Fine,” he sighs, throwing his hands out in front of him. “Okay. What do you want from me?”

The boy smiles again. “Isn’t that obvious? I came to talk. Go find us a seat, will you?”

“Only if you get my order,” Neku mutters, but he doesn’t give him his receipt and swivels to find a seat instead. Luckily enough, the corner is still open, and he drops all of his belongings gracelessly over one of the seats before leaning back in it himself. He waits, tapping his foot over the wooden panels and glancing at the mural-like segments which pop in bright colors from the walls. Eventually, the other arrives, their coffees both landing like airplanes over two runways and the stranger following suit in an opposing chair.

“Alright, first things first,” Neku starts, crossing his arms. “Name. So I don’t need to make a stupid name for you like ‘Salted Cod’ or whatever that ancient jellyfish says.”

“Straightforward,” he notes, and clears his throat before responding. “My name is Yoshiya Kiryu. My parents would call me Joshua, however—and seeing as how we’ll be meeting in the future, feel free to say the same.”

Oh, he really hates that.

“Okay. Joshua. Great,” he says, uncrossing his arms and pointedly avoiding his loathing. “I don’t need to introduce myself, so shoot: what the hell happened yesterday?”

The boy replies quickly. “You were attacked by Higashizawa on the way home.”

“Dude, I’m not dumb.”

“Of course,” he lilts, though the smile on his face says otherwise. “But he did have a reason, as incorrect as it may have been. He thought you were one of ours.”

“Is this that ‘them’ thing he mentioned yesterday?”

“Correct! You’re rather smart, aren’t you?” he hums, “He was talking about the ‘Cephalosquad.’ I suppose the other group would call it a ‘secret society of heroes,’ but there’s nothing quite heroic about defeating lower-level fighters.”

“What a name,” Neku rolls his eyes. Cephalosquad. “And the reason he thought I was involved was…?”

“Presumably the wrong place at the wrong time. We’ve had missions all over the city.”

“So that just prompts premeditated murder? I could’ve died there—”

“And it’s likely that you wouldn’t have. You wouldn’t have given up and died, would you?”

“…No,” Neku resigns, and Joshua smirks, “Exactly.”

It’s unfortunate that he has a point.

“Now that that’s settled…” Joshua takes a sip from his coffee, setting it down before steepling his hands. “How would you feel about actually joining?”

Neku’s hand freezes over his own coffee, the heat ineffective to thaw it. “What.”

“It’s nothing complicated, really. You’re already rather involved in this, regardless, so it’s not like you have much of a choice.”

Joshua’s voice is careless, as fluous as honey and as calm as the snowfalls in storybooks. Neku’s bridges the gap between nettles and marcato notes as he leans forward. “I told you, I didn’t ask to be a part of it. What, do you want me to say ‘yes?’ Oh, sure,” he hisses, voice bristling yet dulcet in tone, “I’d be happy to die the next time I go outside, thanks a bunch for the offer!”

“…So you’re saying no.”

“With pleasure.”

The table falls silent. When the sound over their coffee returns, it’s from Joshua chuckling, his smile even more evident on his face. It’s saccharine, and it’s sickening, and—

“So, did you have anything else to tell me, or can I go? I have a job to do,” he says, even though his sketchbook is the first thing he meant to grab when he got to the table and not anywhere else.

“…Hmph,” Joshua frowns, his eyes narrowing. “No, I don’t. If that’s what you really want, then I won’t stop you.”

He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it; by the time he can possibly say a word, however, Neku’s already gone on his way, his person and belongings wholly absent from the opposite chair and his shadow ten steps away from that of the café overhang.

He doesn’t see Joshua again for a while, but it doesn’t mean the boy’s presence ever leaves him.

Which is godawful unfortunate. When he had said that he wouldn’t sign up for whatever joke of a ‘Cephalosquad’ that the boy was a part of, he had meant it—and he still does, even three days after their talk.

And, technically, one could say that the other had done the same, following through with the words that he had said before Neku had left—but it seems today that it isn’t the case, not when Neku’s pocket is yet again disrupted by someone out of the crowds.

It happens when he’s drawing those same commissions that he had meant to the day of the past incident, right in the midst of a more complex one: it’s a poster for two twins, an Inkling and an Octoling clad in yellow and purple as they gesture and yell through a microphone in close composition. It’s not as special as it’s been made out to be, whether by him or the client—their mom, apparently, even though she’s got hair dyed with lime and not sunstone or amethyst—but considering the quality, it’s an oddly significant one.

He can’t really fathom why someone would request so much from a high school student, but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it.

“Excuse me,” a voice snaps him out of his thoughts, tapping the table before lifting their hand back up, “Did someone named Yoshiya Kiryu come by here yesterday?”

An Inkling looks down at him from the tableside, a cup of coffee wrapped in her hands. Her fingers peek from rosy sweater sleeves, and she smiles the sun from under a black beanie and a skull pin. For every second that she speaks, a brown bag around her shoulder and her hip rustles, blown by the wind of every note nearby.

He’d feel bad snarking to her, but she’s the one who sought him out. She should definitely see this coming.

“Sure did. And I met him.” Twice, he doesn’t add.

“Oh, good.” she speaks, and then there’s a look of regret on her face that adds, well, not really. “I was wondering if I could talk to you. About—well, what he was supposed to talk about.”

“I think he talked plenty,” Neku grumbles, erasing a harsh line, and the girl winces.

“Well…” her voice trails off. A finger taps her chin before resting over the cup sleeve again. “Yes. I’m sure he did. But I don’t think he said the right things. Otherwise, we probably would have met somewhere else.”

“What, are you expecting me to join because you’ll say something he didn’t? ” Neku rolls his eyes, glaring up to the Inkling shortly afterward. “ You’re bullshitting it at this point, aren’t you.”

“I’m not, really,” she sighs, and she pauses. The music overhead drowns as it ends in the crowds, and she speaks as the next track plays. “Please, will you hear me out? I don’t have any reason for funny business, honest.”

Neku feels a little sorry for her, actually. She came all this way and now he’s turning her down without a second thought, his mouth opening not seconds after to respond—

And then he looks up at her one last time, her eyes pleading under knotted brows and her fingers cutting small dents in the paper mold, and his first words fade to naught.

The beat of a drum echoes through the speakers. It is quiet, waiting, expectant.

Neku groans. This is going to kick his ass, and he knows it. 

“…Fine. Go ahead.”

Her face lights up like the sun, and as she nears the opposite chair, Neku just knows that he’s screwed more than a hundred times over.

“May I?” she gestures. Neku nods, and her face nearly glows, the effect only disrupted as she sets her coffee down with a ‘clink.’

“Alright. Thank you,” she smiles, steadying herself in spite of the shakes and glee in her voice. 

“Before we get started, we should introduce ourselves, shouldn’t we?” The chair drags along the white tile and she slides swiftly into the seat as she speaks. “My name is Raimu Bito, but Rhyme’s just fine. Joshua and I have been working together for the past eight months.”

She nods once again, then twice, eyes training on him and waiting, and Neku jolts himself out of his commission-induced stupor to speak.

“Neku Sakuraba. I’m, uh—pretty sure you know how we met.”

Rhyme interlaces her hands in her lap, barely visible between the table and the loops of pink. The edges of her mouth turn upward, and her eyes narrow in turn, apologetic but almost laughing in Neku’s eyes. “Well, Neku, it’s nice to meet you!”

He doesn’t grant her a response. The weariness pales her face.

“Alright—back to business,” she says, and sips her coffee. “So, did Joshua at least tell you about the Cephalosquad?”

“Yeah. And why I’m stuck in this mess.” Neku says, leaning into his sketch. “That’s it.”

“Is… that when you left?”

“No, I left after he said I didn’t have the choice to join or not.”

Rhyme pauses, fidgeting her hands as she mulls over what to say. Eventually, she half-whispers, “…Neku, I think you might be barking up the wrong tree.”

Unbelievable.

“What the hell is there to mishear from that?” Neku leans back, eyes narrowing. Rhyme continues to stare up at him, no sign of being unfazed. “Well, nothing. It’s what he didn’t tell you that might’ve helped, you know?”

She takes another sip of her coffee—although by now, Neku’s pretty convinced it’s just tea. “He probably said you got caught up in this because of a coincidence, right? It’s partially true. Sometimes, you just happened to be somewhere by chance. But other times, it would be on purpose.”

“We’ve got a little… no, a big problem on our hands,” she whispers, her eyes now glancing between Neku and her own palms. “To tell the truth, we’re not a big group—after all, we haven’t worked together for long, and we can’t reach out to too many people. We wouldn’t want anyone to catch on, you know?” her shoulders lift and plummet. “But, of course, that means that we’re not prepared when something like this happens.”

“Like… what, exactly?”

“Something’s… happening. We’re all sure of it,” Rhyme murmurs, and Neku raises a brow. “We’ve been hearing about these people in town called the ‘Reefers,’ and their name hasn’t yet sunk to the bottom of the sea. We’ve been tracking them ever since we first heard about them—and one of them was the guy who nearly killed you.”

Her fingers interlace again, twisting into untangleable knots. “After what happened… we really have to be on full alert. Whatever they’re after, they’ll get it—and if they’ll harm strangers, then they’ll likely get rid of anyone in their way if they have to.”

She falls silent. The café, from the people to the music, takes in a breath, a pause.

“Sorry. That’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?” Rhyme sighs once more, and her hands fall apart, the palms briefly white as a sheet. “We really need the help, though. I know it might be a fixed decision, but would you at least think about it?”

Neku stares at her, gaze unmoving. She locks eye contact with him, and they stare and stare, the café and music picking back up in their place.

…Ugh. “Okay. And what are you going to do if I don’t?”

Rhyme regards it quickly, thoughtlessly, like she’s considering the tirade of a fifth grader. “We’ll find someone else who’ll help.”

“And if you don’t?”

“We have to,” she says, hope persistent in her voice.

“But if you don’t,” Neku snaps, and she smiles.

“I think we will. But, if not, then… I guess we’ll try to do it on our own.”

The silence returns. This time, it drags on, stretching as thin as a wire. Neku watches it pull along, focusing on Rhyme, her drink, his own and the notebook and the table, until it finally snaps in two with his own voice.

“Your damn team isn’t gonna leave me be, will it.”

“Well, I will, and I’ll try to stop them. I can’t make any promises, though.”

Something in her eyes shifts; then, her seat creaks, and she rises from the table, taking her drink with her. The clasp around her bag opens as she starts walking—but she doesn’t leave the vicinity before turning back to Neku one last time.

“Neku? Thank you, at least, for hearing us out. It really means a lot.”

And then, before Neku can say even the smallest of words—she’s gone. All that’s left is all that belongs in his hands, and a thin sheet of paper with cursive letters and neat prints of numbers.

How clever.

He tucks it away between the pages of his sketchbook, and his world shifts back to normal once more.

Frankly, Neku isn’t sure how he got so caught up in this.

The Great Zapfish casts a shadow overhead. It slinks around the Deca Tower and chimes like a bell. Neku catches a glimpse of its oil black skin when he looks up, its whiskers jittering as it appears and disappears. With its departure, he glances back down to the conversation in the palm of his hands, the bright hues fluorescent under both shadow and sun as he scrolls through the few messages from the night before.

> August 1, XX19.    

    neku. (20:07) hey. this is neku     neku. (20:08) ill do it

    rhyme! (20:19) Perfect!!     rhyme! (20:19) Can you meet in front of the Deca Tower, tomorrow, at 12?

    neku. (20:22) sure w/e

    rhyme! (20:22) ٩(•̤̀ᵕ•̤́๑)彡ᵒᵏᵎᵎᵎᵎ I’ll see you there!

He’s dumber than a stream of minnows. Why did he agree to this when that’s the equivalent of casting away any normalcy in his life?

He sighs again, peering around for any sign of rose knit or black. There’s little to find in the crowds of people, all arranged in a spectrum of designs as usual, so Neku casts his eyes back to his phone and the headphones slung for once around his shoulder.

“Neku, over here—!” A familiar voice bursts from the crowd, and Neku turns his head, one hand halfway through to pulling his headphones back up. He ducks through some of the passing crowds, ensures any chance of actually bumping into them never becomes true as he makes his way to Rhyme. When he finally catches sight of them, he notices another next to her—another Inkling with the same color hair, taller, and dressed in a loose tank top and cargo pants—and he seems to recognize him at the same time, his voice raising as he looks Neku over.

“So’s this the guy you and priss kid were talkin’ about?”

Rhyme beams. “Yep! Neku, this is my brother, Beat. Beat, this is Neku. He’s going to be working with us from now on.”

“Yo!” He grins as well, waving his hand halfway in the air. “Wassup?”

Neku responds with silence.

“Well, jeez,” Beat mutters, crossing his arms, “if that’s what you wanna do.”

Rhyme cuts through the tension with a tilt of her head and a step forward, then another as she walks past them. “Okay—we should get going, right? I bet those two are waiting for us back there!”

“They can’t have been for a while,” Neku shrugs, following behind her and her brother. “Why’s your brother here, anyways?”

“You got a problem with that?”

“Beat!” Rhyme yells, turning around once before continuing. “He kinda wanted to go with me. Plus, I thought it’d be a good idea—you guys could get to know each other on the way!”

“How long is the walk?”

“Not too far! But striking a conversation like this never hurt, right?”

Honestly, Neku’s surprised that she can keep up a smile for this long, stop, and bring it back so quickly after. Still, instead of arguing with her, he merely resigns, “…Sure.”

He’s gotta say, though, the silence that follows seems almost laughable. Finally, after a few minutes of it, Rhyme brings up another topic again, drifting to Beat’s side and leaning past him as she does.

“So, what’ve you been up to this summer?”

“…Nothing.”

Rhyme tilts her head, a finger tapping her chin in thought. “Really? I mean, besides turf wars or Grizzco? Like, at The Reef, or Arowana, or— ” suddenly, she nearly jumps, eyes widening as she notes, “ Oh! What about the Splatocalypse?”

“You mean the last Splatfest?” Neku raises an eyebrow, and Rhyme continues on.

“Yeah! But calling it the Splatocalypse is pretty fitting, too, isn’t it? It makes it unique.”

He’ll ignore the destructive parameters of that name—cods and carps, of all things those hosts could call it, it didn’t need to be that—and pretend like it’s still just the ‘Final Splatfest’ that they held. “Whatever. What do you mean, ‘what about’ it?”

“Well, which team were you on? It’s always interesting to hear about everyone’s teams and opinions during the Splatfest.” Before Neku can swat away her and her question, she adds, “C’mon, we‘d never make fun of your decision!”

Well. Now she’s just forcing him to. He should get some kind of reward for this, like what they give in games when you tell the truth or a good option.

Neku glances around them, then back to their group, and finally gives in. “…Pretty sure I joined Chaos.”

“Someone like you joined Chaos?” Beat says, and Neku almost laughs at how contrary his words are to Rhyme’s own.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nah, there’s nothin’—” Beat gives up, and leans a ways back— “I just didn’ expect you to join it.”

“You don’t have to say why. I’m sure you had a good reason,” Rhyme hums, “But, if it says anything, Beat and I actually joined Chaos, too! Right?”

Beat grins and yells, “Hell yeah we did! And those Team Order punks got their asses beat hard!”

“…Well, basically,” Rhyme laughs, though she jabs him lightly in the shoulder soon after. “You’re exaggerating, though. We lost a few of those rounds, didn’t we?”

“Well—yeah, but what about the other rounds? Order got served, and most of it’s ‘cause of us!”

“I can’t disagree with that,” she sighs, but she smiles again before looking back in front of them. “Hey, Neku, guess where we are?”

“…‘Here’?” It doesn’t take much skill to notice the difference in setting, but only when Neku actually bothers to look around. When she gives him a small nod and affirmation, he’s only even more stunned than he was prior. Color him surprised more by the fact that they barely needed one topic to cover the distance—though maybe they were walking pretty fast, and maybe most of that time was covered by a wash of silence.

Something’s… kind of weird about this, though. Taking a look around, most of the walls and path has faded to a dull grey and obsidian; Neku faintly thinks he’s seen this before as they pass by the sound of rushing water, a background noise that only heightens as they pass through the area. When they step over panels of white chalk and splatters of old graffiti, Neku realizes exactly where they are, and the shock nearly escapes through his voice.

“Wait, isn’t this Angelfish Canal?”

“Yep. But we built the base over here since it was quiet. Nobody would notice us.” She gestures to him to approach a grey door, the windows covered by blinds and steel frames, and knocks twice before pushing the door open. “Anyways, welcome!”

Neku steps through, not expecting much from the dreary exterior, and subsequently tries to avoid the shock that resurges and follows.

They’re in a main room, vast in size but nearly void of spare space. Instead of the light steel from the windows, black steel melds around the clear glass windows, the stark white shelves and hangers, and all else that hangs around and in the room. A white tile snakes from one entrance to another, passing white napkins and containers and a glassy table with white borders prominent in the room’s center. The only difference in color are the chairs surrounding it, black but splattered with color alike a construction paper and crayons. 

“…Yeah,” he winds up hissing, “I did not see that coming.”

Rhyme shrugs and responds, “That’s fair.”

“Is that the new kid?” A voice bursts from a separate room. Its speaker soon follows: a man with similar monochromatic tones in his clothes and hair, walking calmly through the doorway almost incognizant of anything that had occurred prior. He slouches back, one hand in the front pocket of his pants and one against the doorway. Rhyme waves to him as she notices him.

“Yep! He said he’d do it!”

“Nice,” he pushes himself off the frame and waves, wrapping his free hand around the nape of his neck. “Well. Welcome, Phones! Feel free to make yourself at home.”

Oh, Neku has absolutely seen that face before. He’s exactly sure he knows where, too.

“Mr. H?!” he sputters, falling back onto one leg. “Aren’t you normally at—”

“Nah, we’re closed this morning. Had some ‘deliveries’ to make.” The man laughs; his shades glint, the same ones Neku’s always seen him wear behind the counter, and continues on. “But, hey, thanks for joining. Really livens up the place, you know?”

And here Neku thought it was lively enough with the cast and decor, but now, this— “Sorry, are—am I getting some kind of explanation for this? Like, what’s going on?”

“ Yeah, of course, Phones. ”

“Neku,” he frowns. “It’s Neku Sakuraba. I’ve told you this a million times before.”

“Gotcha! Sorry, Phones,” Hanekoma gives a thumbs-up in response, and Neku wishes the door weren’t so far away now.

“As for your question, though: what we’re doing is all top secret.” He walks towards Neku and the rest of the group, pointing at the two around him once before bringing his hand back to his neck. “We have agents, here, so to say—like Rhyme and Beat, here. That’s three down. Then, there’s support: there’s two on communication and three on designs. They‘re the same; you’ll see ‘em soon enough.”

“Then, of course, there’s me. Sanae Hanekoma. Blood type A, March 3. By day, your hip café barista. By night, local sponsor, leader, third designer, the works.” He jabs a thumb towards his chest, and Neku raises an eyebrow. He’s pretty sure he’s heard the first half of this before.

Hey, though. Maybe he should be glad the guy didn’t give even more of a personal ad than before.

“Okay. Sure,” he groans. “So what am I supposed to do?”

“How good are you at Turf Wars?” He asks.

“What, is that going to affect what I do?” Neku says, raising a hand up in a half-shrug.

“Nah, it won’t. But it’ll affect how good you are at it.” Hanekoma looks around, even past Neku and the others and even lowering his shades to squint past the window blinds and the front door. “…Seriously, he can’t be this backed up. I know the others are workin’ shop, but where’s—”

A single, sound knock echoes on the door, and the door creaks open. Neku whips around, nerves and fears filling his head at the singular knock versus the two of Rhyme’s own, and looks back to a bright lifevest. It soars through the air, the original orange and white just barely visible under layers of cream and neon pink ink as its owner enters. “Sorry, did I miss something?”

The owner’s hair is noticeable first, a pale silver and lavender against the black and contrasting hues. Even then, his hair and his skin seems to be covered or singed in patches of the same hues of ink, and Neku doesn’t think he’s ever regretted a decision so much in his life as this.

“There’s the kid of the hour!” Hanekoma yells, waving in the agent; Rhyme gives a smaller wave, short and curt, and follows up with a soft, “Welcome back, Joshua.”

“Why, thank you both. My apologies for the delay—I was rather caught up during the mission.” He grabs a hand towel off of one of the racks and swats the ink off and away from him, and Hanekoma waves him off.

“’s alright. Actually, you showed up just in time.”

“Oh?” Joshua looks up from the towel, already stained in the foreign ink, and his eyes widen slightly before he speaks. “Oh, Neku! You actually showed up. Color me surprised.”

Neku crosses his arms and scoffs, stepping back from the boy. “…Yeah, no thanks to you.”

“Not even one? I’d like to think I had some effect on your joining.”

Beat jumps in, standing solidly between his group and Joshua alone as he yells, “Yeah, well, you almost ruined it! What if Rhyme hadn’t stepped in to help, huh?”

Joshua wipes the last of the ink off and drops the towel in a small hamper nearby as he points out, “But she did.”

“Guys, not the point.” Hanekoma steps in the center between all of them, both of his hands out towards the two. When they’ve both backed down—though, arguably, Beat certainly hasn’t, a hand still held out in front of Rhyme—he straightens up and turns to Neku. “Anyways. Neku—you’ll be working with Josh as an agent.”

Neku feels his mouth go dry, his gaze unmoving from the other as he struggles to speak.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you have a problem with that?” Hanekoma sighs, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “I know you might have some qualms with it, but we’ve been needing a second agent for a while. Our team’s usually out in partners. Safety reasons, y’know?”

Frankly, Neku’s calling bullshit.

“Okay,” he says, throwing his hands in front of him, “well—then why can’t Beat or Rhyme go with him?”

Beat turns, his face scrunched up as he mutters, “‘Cause I ain’t goin’ with that priss.”

“Beat…!” Rhyme says, half-gasping and half-warning as she places a hand over Beat’s arm.

“Sheesh, see what I put up with?” Hanekoma sighs, his hands digging deeper into the ends of his pockets. His voice cracks with amusement soon after. “…Kiddin’. But he already was—and then after a mission, he didn’t want to. He’s been with Rhyme ever since—and hey, that’s why you’re goin’ in his place!”

“I—” Neku feels his voice rising into a yell— “You could have told me beforehand!”

“Does it really matter, Phones? It’s the same goal either way! You’ll just be farther out on the field than the rest. Isn’t that what you signed up for?”

He hates to admit it, but… he does have a point, and it’s hardly refutable with how he’s phrased it. “…Sure. Yeah,” he gives in, and Hanekoma grins.

“That’s the spirit! Now, Neku, apologize to the kid, will ya?”

Wow, this is not getting any better, is it? “…What?”

“Did I stutter? I told you two you’d be workin’ together, didn’t I? How are you gonna work together if you won’t even talk nice?”

Neku glares daggers at him, at Joshua, at all of them—and, in the end, it doesn’t do anything. He sighs, “…Fine. Okay,” and takes a deep breath, and he runs through the few points he can apologize for. “I… am. Sorry. For being a jerk and telling you off five or so days ago.”

It doesn’t seem like more than a half-canned response to him—at least, that’s the amount of effort he put into it, anyways, and Rhyme’s clouded stare back must have noticed it, too—but Hanekoma nods and turns away. “Alright. Josh?”

The boy looks up towards him, a smile faint on his face as he says, “Yes?”

“C’mon, get over here. You’re included in this, too.”

“Really?” The smile falls from his face, drowning quickly under the waves of apprehension before he shrugs it off. “…Well, alright. I’m sorry for what happened four days ago. I understand that it jeopardized our objective, and I apologize to Rhyme for just the same.” He looks back to Hanekoma with the same expression: Is that good enough for you?

Apparently, it is.

What a damn low standard.

“Good! See? You two are talking to another! That’s an improvement from before, isn’t it?” Hanekoma turns back to all of them. His face, momentarily alight, grows pale. The lights around them flicker once, twice, and again, and for a moment, it feels like all of the winter has seeped past the summer heat. “Now, before I can dismiss you four, I’m gonna need you all to remember something—especially so this sort of thing doesn’t happen again. Alright?”

“Trust your partner. You remember when I said that last time, right?” He looks through to all of them but Neku, watching each of them nod slightly before he continues. “I meant it. You can’t face these Reefers without one another. You can trust yourself all you want, but you’ve got to trust each other—and more than ever, you’ve got to trust your partner when you’re here. No matter how far apart, no matter what happens: you need to remember you’re not alone. All of you are stronger together. If you can open up, reach out, and tell them what you’re thinking, then you’ll only grow stronger. You all got that?”

Beat and Rhyme nod once more. Neku tries, as fake as a nod would be, but his chin and his mouth clam up, frozen by frost and wind, and all that comes out is silence.

“…Josh?” Hanekoma asks. “Phones?”

His voice is a fire, quick and unsteady to the ice; Neku places his hands to his elbows, and musters the little strength and masks he has after to mumble out, “Yeah, sure.”

“Yep,” Joshua follows him, nods. “Got it.”

Neku spots the man’s eyebrow raise just above his shades—and then, he sees it lower, falling in place of a sigh. He takes his hands out of his pockets and places them firm around his waist.

“Alright! Well, class—you’re all dismissed.”

The lacking reception begins, and it ends almost as soon as it starts. “…Kidding, kidding. I’ll see you kids back soon, yeah? I’ve gotta open up shop. Why don’t you all stop by later? Especially you, Phones—maybe you’ll see the others, while you’re at it.”

“…It’s fine. I think I’ve had enough coffee for one day.” Neku grumbles. “I’m just gonna go.”

“That’s cool. Hurts a little, but it’s cool.” Hanekoma places a hand over his chest; it falls from it just as easily, and he laughs Neku’s words off with a wave of his hand. “I’m kiddin’. Go and be on your way.”

Neku doesn’t take long to approach the door before he hears another yell.

“Hey, Phones: one more thing?”

“…What?”

“Get a good rest. You never know when a mission could pop up, you know. We try to be available whenever we can.”

“…Sure,” he chokes out, half between laughter and half between exhaustion. Hanekoma? Acting as some kind of dad for him? Where did that come from?

The answer never comes—he pushes the door open and enters the open canal again, and the visions of jet black and white and silver hues fades back to a dull grey. The water fills his ears once more. But just as easily as he pulls his headphones over his ears, everything floods back in a blur—what happened six days ago, four, one day ago, and today, all else washing away with the waves and debris—

and, honestly, the whole way back, Neku wonders what the hell he got himself into, because he sure as hell never thought it’d be this.

…It’s going to be a long summer.

[localmagicalboi]

✨ astro thottery.

their sign: cancer sun, babey. overemotional, kind of a freak of nature, might be a little evil sometimes, most likely to fall in love with the local drug dealer. first love: virote’s first love was a scorpio art gallery owner. who’s married. older. and very, very fine... he was ready to risk it ALL for that man! longest relationship: a shitty capricorn. he was the worst of the capricorn stereotypes. just obsessed with money and power. hope he falls off a cliff, tbh! mom’s sign: his mother is a scorpio. it shows. it really does. like, yeah. nuntida’s a pretty chill lady! she gets hellbent on revenge an will snap someone’s neck with one hand, though. vi has a nasty streak when it comes to getting payback. all in being water signs..! dad’s sign: a sagittarius in every sense of the word. udom srisati is a straight up disaster. at least he’s fun? sibling( s ): his little sister is an aries! sanoh is quiet, but she’s competitive and aggressive when provoked. she may be small and silent, but make no mistake. she’ll ruin you. will literally break every bone in your body. but she tries to keep it chill! worst relationship: the shitty capricorn. we’re rooting for his downfall, babey. best sign: he gets along really well with... fire types lmao. sag, aries, leo. not too wild about water signs despite being water dominant, but he still he attracts a lot of them as friends. earth n air = mixed bag. heart belongs to: S C O R P I O S . you a mean, strong, tall scorpio? marry him, babey.

✨ TAGGED BY: stole from @sharkapologlst n tagged by @east--moon ty!! ✨ TAGGING: @deadmenanddemons @heartmemos @eternalodango + um... idk who’s an astro ho around here. if ur an astro ho please do this i wanna read it!!!

[frenchibi]

Tag game

I tagged myself by @gone-to-oregone (*vine voice* is that allowed???) bc I wanna talk to more starkid ppl and get to know y’all better?? Pity I don’t rly know many people to tag yet...

(Nick)name: French

Zodiac: Pisces

Height: 5′08 (155cm), I’m smol but my bouncy-ness makes up for it

Hogwarts house: Gryffindor/Ravenclaw, varying results but I associate with Gryffindor more

Last thing I googled: “backstreet boys” (this is my sister’s fault)

Favorite musicians: I don’t rly have fave bands/singers, I just listen to songs I like (thanks, spotify discovery queue, for my life) but there are tendencies, I guess? I love OMAM and Imagine Dragons, Chvrches, dodie? Also I have a lot of favorite musical theater actors/singers, the first to come to mind is always Ramin Karimloo :D

Song stuck in my head: The intro song to Little Shop of Horrors bc I’ve been rehearsing it for a concernt xD it’s so CATCHY??? (bop sh’bop, you’ll never stop the terrooooor~)

Following: around 1.7k though most of those are probably inactive by now, I’ve had this blog for like 7 years what is life???

Followers: 700 exactly!!

Do you get asks: occasionally? I’ve been fandom-hopping a lot bc I can never confine myself to one interest, and people’s engagement with me largely depends on how long I have been in one particular fandom xD (especially for my writing! no one’s gonna send me prompts if no one’s heard of me yet haha and the fandom my writing was most popular in... I have been gradually losing interest oof) Maybe I should make a sideblog finally but tbh that feels like so much effort to uphold idk, I just dump everything (art, writing, singing) here usually

Regular amount of sleep: 7-8 hours because I am old, tired and gay and if I tried to subsist on 4-5 hours like I did back in school/uni I would pERISH, sleeping is self-care y’all, especially sleeping early

Lucky number: oof idk?? 3, 6, 9, 4?

What are you wearing: just a top bc I’m cramping and in bed but what’re you gonna do lol that’s just how it be sometimes

Dream Job: I wanna be a STARSHIP RANGER ok but seriously I want to do musical theater sO BADLY I could cry, yet here I am, a lowly translator with considerable writing and singing skill but no physical aptitude (yet) :’D Maybe someday I’ll get there though, I’ve done workshops and those were AMAZING, I wanna work on making that more achievable even if I’m sometimes afraid I’m too old to start anymore

Dream trip: I rly wanna go back to India to see my dear friend @joanofarcticmonkeys again??? My first trip was so great & I miss her oof

Do you play any instruments: Yea!! I used to play the saxophone, I’m... barely passable on drums and currently trying to teach myself to be better at piano with varying degrees of success (and lots of impatience, yikes) - but really I’m a singer, I’ve had classical training for 10 years and I sing in a high-level classical choir! (Wish there were more accessible Musical Theater options in my area tho)

Do you speak any other languages: Oui, Sí, Ja, Yes, हाँ, はい! Native German and English, don’t @ me about my Hindi though it’s shitty bc I have nowhere to practice properly (I’m quite good at French, Spanish and Japanese tho, if I do say so myself... languages are just my Thing)

Favorite songs: ok this changes all the time but currently... dodie’s Guiltless, Outlaws by Delta Rae, We Do by Ocean Park Standoff, Love Stuck by Mother Mother, Nos vies by Zaz, Talk Too Much by COIN, No Hands by Attica Riots and Spies are Forever from Spies are Forever, it’s SO GOOD

Random fact: My video camera broke last week and I am UPSET bc I had some cool ideas for stuff to make and now I’m gonna have to buy a new one first... not impossible but expensive and a pain? BLEH

Aesthetic: there are a lot of things but... large windows, books stacked to the ceiling, black tea with milk, thunderstorms and WIND, sundresses and homemade mint-strawberry ice tea... Oh, classical architecture & concert halls... Rooms w/ loads of potted plants... Yeah xD

Cats or dogs: Listen I love both and am terribly allergic to both :’D

I tag @pixelnerd, @halfpasteleventhhour, @kick-marks-head, @snarlsleftpaw, @fandomshadowart, @morqv3 @ellayouneedtostudy - I hope y’all don’t mind, no pressure or anything :’D

[gameboyhamazing]

Help I can’t stop drawing chompy please

Also I really want to make a to be continued/we’ll be right back joke with the second thing lol