#yellow one is actually the least out of the loop; but he does whatever the heck he wants so it doesnt help a bit haha | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cal-daisies-and-briars · 2 months

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⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️(that newest chapter was so lovely!!)

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸(i have been consumed by this story and i must know what happens next!)

📚📚📚📚📚(so intrigued by ravi and his brother!)

✉️✉️✉️✉️✉️✉️(buck just loves chris so much! Sending him postcards like he did for maddie!)

🌌🌌🌌🌌🌌(steal my sunshine boys are almost at resolution! Love that for them!)

🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿🌿(complicated family angst going straight to my heart! I love this universe!!)

…i will admit that i’ve gone a bit deranged in this request but can you blame me? Your writing is just too addictive and i am but a girl

(THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS YOU’RE AMAZING!!)

I think I got close to 30 of these and yours is the FINAL ONE! THANK YOU FOR SUBMITTING <3 <3

I appreciate you very much anon!

30 new sentences for⚡️(thank you! I'm, glad you enjoyed it!):

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They’re just gonna make an appearance to welcome all the people who need welcoming. Easy peasy, in and out.

What Buck isn’t expecting is for Eddie to go insane.

As they walk into the house, and do the requisite rounds of hellos, the moment Buck notices his parents, and notices them noticing him, Eddie loops an arm around Buck. Which would normally be fine, except his arm is so low and loose on Buck’s waist, that he is very close to grabbing Buck’s ass. Might as well just slip a hand down his pocket.

“What are you doing?” Buck whispers.

Eddie turns his head so he’s speaking directly into Buck’s ear, like they’re having some sort of suggestive conversation.

“Making it very clear that they shouldn’t plan on trying to confront you,” he says softly. “They won’t be getting you alone at any point this evening.”

Buck feels a little shiver run down his spine. He likes this, whatever the hell it is.

“I love you,” he tells Eddie.

“Love you, too.”

But then his parents are walking towards him, and Buck wants to puke. He wants to turn and walk the other way. He does not want to play at niceties, no matter how resolved he is to do just that.

Buck takes a steadying breath. Eddie’s grip on him tightens.

“Evan,” his father says. “It’s good to see you.”

Beside him, Buck’s mother purses her lips. He can tell which one of them has taken things more personally. Which, fair. It was personal.

“Hi,” Buck rasps. “Uh, you remember Eddie.”

From such fun occasions as the time Buck nearly died in a factory fire and the time Buck nearly died in a thunderstorm. What fun awaits them tonight, pray tell?

---

18 for 🩸(THANK YOU! I am so happy to hear that!):

---

Sophia is leaning in his open doorway, wearing striped sleep shorts and an oversized Texas Rangers tee shirt. Her pixie cut - a newer development - has yet to be styled, and is sticking out in a myriad of directions.

“What?” Buck huffs.

“Mayor did a press conference this morning,” she says. “We’re down to yellow.”

Buck practically flies up into a sitting position.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” she replies, lips curling into a smile. “Wouldn’t lie about that and you know it.”

“Have you spoken with your parents yet?” Buck asks.

She shakes her head. “Figured we’d want to strategize. Coffee is brewing.”

“Has Chris…” Buck trails off, body tingling with joy.

“You should be the one to call him,” she tells him.

---

15 for 📚(Thank you! Excited to share my Ravi vison):

---

At least Buck is also arriving late to the party, and doesn’t like him yet. That will definitely change, though. Anil is charming and Buck is easygoing. Unless you’re Ravi in your probationary year, of course.

Ravi walks up to the kitchen table with Buck, mid conversation.

“No, I swear,” Anil is saying to Chim. “It was Jesse Palmer.”

“You sold the host of The Bachelor a house?” Chim asks, awestruck.

Damn it. How did Anil sniff out Chim’s fascination with that show?

“We had a call on the set!” Chim exclaims. “All the contestants wanted to sleep with Buck and Eddie!”

“Yeah, I didn’t actually enjoy that,” Eddie mumbles.

---

18 for ✉️(He does!):

---

“And then, I-I thought… He’s a kid, you know? He got angry, he made a really big, serious choice. And-and he was probably scared shitless right away, and missed you, and maybe missed me, too, but was still hurt and angry and didn’t know what to do about that. And I remember what that’s like, so… So I-”

“So did what helped you, when you left home,” Eddie finishes for him.

“Yeah,” Buck nods. “Exactly. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Eddie whispers. “Did he write back?”

Buck chuckles, eyes wet. “He texted. Not at first, but after the second one.”

Buck pulls out his phone, scrolls back up through some messages, and then hands it to Eddie. Eddie reads over a quick conversation where Chris acknowledges the postcards, pretends they’re lame, and then not so subtly tells Buck not to stop sending them.

“Wow,” Eddie exhales, handing Buck back the phone. “He wasn’t even taking my calls then.”

---

15 for 🌌(Yeah! Almost done!)

@steadfastsaturnsrings

---

“You’re okay,” Buck says, snaking a hand up the back of Eddie’s neck to cradle his head. “You are going to get through this.”

Eddie allows himself to be held, sagging forward into Buck. Buck, who has always been his safe place, even when loving him represented something that felt so dangerous. But it hasn’t been. It hasn’t been. Eddie has had it all wrong.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie tells him again. “I never meant to…”

“I know.” Buck says into his hair. “I know that.”

“Please forgive me.”

“You know I do,” Buck sighs. “I just… This can’t go on like this, you see that, right?”

---

And 24 for 🌿(Yay thank you!!!):

@goldenbcnes

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“Well, I’m not a little kid,” Jee pouts. “I can understand.”

Maddie smiles back at her beautiful, smart eleven year-old. Yes, she is still a little kid. Thank you very much. But Maddie isn’t going to burst her bubble of self-perceived maturity.

“Your uncle and I had a very different childhood than yours,” Maddie says. “Our parents treated us very differently from how Dad and I treat you, or how Uncle Buck and Uncle Eddie treat Nico. They love you, Jee, and I am so glad that they do. But there’s a lot of hurt for your uncle and I.”

“But you still see Grandma and Grandpa,” Jee points out.

“I do.”

“You’re not mad at them?” Jee asks.

Well… Yes. Yes, she thinks some part of her will always be mad at them. And how to answer this? Tell her daughter it’s easier not to be mad? To suck it up. She doesn’t want to say that. She… Well, she would want for Jee what Buck has done for himself, if she and Howie were ever so callous towards her.

“They’ve tried very hard to make it up to me,” Maddie says, instead. Though that doesn’t sit comfortably with her, either. Maddie begins to feel a little sick. Had Buck been right?

#daisies and briars writes #things we're all too young to know fic #this postcard tells you where we've been fic #no one can be born too many times fic #long death fic #steal my sunshine fic #i hold it like a grudge fic

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sillymeter · 2 years

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i would like to hear about the yellow puppet guy

GLADLY. this is so long and im only like partway through it holy shit . so we don't really know what's going on in the tv show, or why they're there. everything is up to interpretation! it's meant to be scary, funny, all sorts of things. i don't think the goal of it is to "understand" it. i don't think that's the way their world works. i want to understand it, i want to rip it apart and figure out each piece, but that's not going to change how horrible their reality is. each of the three seem to go through this revelation. (much less on duck's side) yellow more than once. let's see how. (spoilers below)

in episode 2, death, duck's newspaper refers to the blackout in episode 6. we're not entirely sure of the timeline, ever. in the same way the original series was a loop of june 19th, this tv show follows up on it with june 20th, over and over. all three of them went missing on june 19th, presumably together as they are seen posing morosely together for a photo on their missing poster & the side of the milk carton. it's uncertain why duck and red are there, but we get hints about why yellow is here. and none of them bode well for the other two.

REMEMBERING PAST ITERATIONS: at the start of episode 6, yellow guy talks about things that happen at the end of the episode, things he shouldn't know yet. "Hey, I know! It's when you can't remember that over the top of you, there's... bigger ones. That are bigger, and bigger, and then over the top of it there's a smaller one of- all of it, at the top of that." duck also does the same in death! listen to his song! those are the other 'teachers'! TARGET AUDIENCE: in the big boy room (where the other "two" actually participate in lessons willingly, which is... wrong.) there isn't another yellow guy. just.. those two. he isn't satisfied with it, and leaves, finding the staircase to the bigger boy's room. where, once again, there is no other him. the other two are just engaging in the mindless torture of something under the guise of studying it. he once again isn't satisfied that this mindless torment is the answer to everything, which leads him to lesley. despite the fact that there's clearly a level above her, he seems 'satisfied' with the answer and takes the book downstairs to the others, where he gets his batteries taken back. i don't think the batteries make him smart. as he says, they make it easier for him to think. maybe he chose to shred it, knowing what's inside, maybe removing his batteries really does make him forget. we don't know. the other two don't really seem to have a reason to be here. we've seen other red guys, maybe they're just.. out there. in the original series red guy presumably manages to make it to the 'real world' which ends up to also be inside .. whatever they're in. but other red guys are shown again in family, and red is very very insistent on leaving the house. duck has nothing. we know the least about him. there are multiple duck guys in lesley's drawer. he is replaceable. yellow guy talks to the audience in jobs, asking them to call the three numbers (what company films an ad in a fucking bathroom?) and even inside his brain, everything is presented as a tv show. red guy wants out of this reality, somehow intrinsically knowing it's wrong, duck seems helpless to discover it due to being replaced so often, and yellow has seemingly discovered the truth before but is doomed to forget it.

#this got so out of hand and now my head is spinning #i might talk morelater sorry . i gave myself a headace

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berryblu-arts · 2 years

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So... who's gonna tell them?

#ajajahshjsg #one of the funniest oc dynamics ive made thus far #they use each other as refference of 'normal people' lmaoo #yellow one is actually the least out of the loop; but he does whatever the heck he wants so it doesnt help a bit haha #glow stage #my art #my ocs #doodle #also theyre found family ^^; no ships here :3!!#ara #(blue one)#theo #(yellow one)#natalie #(green one)

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animefreak1145 · 3 years

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The Brilliance of Break On Through

Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War Mission Break on Through—An Analysis

I have replayed the campaign of COD:BOCW numerous times—too many times truly. Did a whole playthrough where it was Hardened and soon I’m sure I shall do Veteran(something I have never done for any COD game. Not even Hardened.).

All missions have their own unique qualities—parts where the player gets a little rush of adrenaline depending on the kind of mission and how they choose to play it (Nowhere Left to Run just a plain shooting match while Brick in the Wall you can choose to remain stealthy like the good spy you are or go crazy like an eager homicidal maniac).

Even within the safehouse, there are plenty of little details to discover if you take the time to look around and observe everyone. Or, everything. (The radio if turned to a Russian station/correspondence, Adler changes it back immediately before Da Nang mission. Watching Park’s body language, as you talk to Adler and she periodically looks over to you two. Adler suspicious when you go to the Red Room or the locked room with the arcade. The T.V. being turned on in the Red Room)

But the amount of details, details, in the mission Break on Through is outstanding. I have played this mission more than any other due to me wishing to look at all the details. There’s so many, I think I may miss some. And I can’t show them off all to you cause I suck at creating gifs and don’t know how to transfer that from Xbox to my phone.

To lighten it up a bit, I won’t focus on the four different scenarios you go through—at least not each one. That would take too long and I do not have gifs/pics to show it off since Tumblr limits it to ten anyways.

I will, however, try to guide to what parts of the game you all can explore if you choose to do so. As well just how detailed they did this mission.

I am going to start with the different statements Adler says to you throughout all the Scenarios(17, 6, 11, 1). We only go through four in the actual game—but the fact it goes up to 17 or possibly more shows just how far they went in and messed with Bell’s mind.

Now, Adler seems to be a bit bipolar on how he talks to you whether or not you listen to him and all his directions. Either totally blasé and cold to giving you and pumping you up with more MK or meds, or actually a tad concerned and patient as he guides you through.

If You/Bell Stands Still/Does Nothing:

Example 1

“So you did nothing? What were you, in shock?”

He throws the words callously, mocking. As if Bell isn’t confused and lost at what is going on. He even sounds irritated that you might actually be in shock due to these memories that are just fake—not even real. Not like what he has.

Example 2

“What’s wrong with Bell?” -Adler

“I’m not sure. . .” -Park

“I guess we’ll just wait on you to proceed, Bell.”

The contrast is dizzying. He sounds concerned when he asks Park on what could be wrong with you. If he pushed you too far and now you’re just frozen. And, instead of rushing you due to how the fate of half of Europe is at stake, he decides to give you space. Just wait for you and you’ll come out of it soon enough.

He does these sort of reactions numerous times. Jumping from intimidating to the Adler we knew as the player, as Bell—kind and always in your corner that believes in you. He switches tactics based on what he believes will work really—or he just felt really on edge at times and threw the farce that you two were friends out the window.

Other examples include:

Scenario 11–Napalm Strike-in the lab in the room where you were brainwashed

“Christ, what’s happening with them?”-Adler

“A mild seizure. Sims, past me a benzodiazepine.” -Park

Again, concerned. Worried. Almost…at unease?

In the lab—tripped up on drugs. If you run through the tight shrinking hallway back and forth like so(I suck at making gifs, I’m sorry):

“Why is Bell repeating themselves?”

“Bell, stop speaking in circles.”

Now, as others may have suspected, Bell is talking to everyone as they’re stuck in this horrible loop of mental torture. Most likely muttering, hands clenching and arms pulling against the straps of the gurney, moving their head back and forth depending on what they’re seeing. I always saw Bell as muttering quickly in Russian as they go through all of this—their mother tongue where it may comfort them as they’re panicking and speaking to Adler.

It’s just a nice detail showcasing how exactly Adler knows that Bell is on script—Bell saying what they’re seeing and doing and what’s going on. It shows also just how hard they put Bell through the ringer(badum tss. I’ll leave now).

All the details too when the game shows how the drugs they put in Bell affects you. Like so. The hallways appearing long. The lights looking yellow. You feel so fast—look how quick you can run. Run towards the Red Door that Adler so desperately wants and maybe this can stop. Ah, why is it running away from you? What’s going on?

I don’t know about you, but I was so lost and confused at what was going on my first playthrough. For the majority of this mission, the possibility of me being brainwashed didn’t reach the BACK of my mind till probably I actually saw the flashes of scenes about Vietnam and calling Bell a subject. So like right here.

I personally thought that I had a repressed memory or something due to me going through the Vietnam War. That whatever I saw with Perseus, I—or rather Bell—repressed it from our mind due to how violent or horrible what we saw or experienced was. And that Adler suspected and just really wanted to know about it.

I didn’t expect for the man to actually brainwash my character—us—Bell! The game made Adler your mentor, who always defended you from Hudson and believed in your skills very highly. How he and Bell were basically perfect partners when the two of you were together.

It’s amazing—cause I think that’s what the developers were going for. The absolute trust. The loyalty. The denial that ‘maybe Adler is being a little harsh but hey, this is to help Perseus so it’s okay?’ It’s perfect. Because I’m sure that is what Bell actually felt in real time.

Yet, if you go through the total rebellious choice of not listening to Adler, some thing’s make sense. The Rebellious Side shows you way more than if you just listen to Adler like a Dutiful Soldier.

You go through this room if you choose the rebellious route, the T.V.’s automatically turning on the closer you get. Of Vietnam. And now, all those T.V.‘s that turned on by themselves(the Red Room, Lubyanka, Cuba) make sense. You were actually being brainwashed. Poor Bell probably can’t ever have a turned off/broken T.V. again. The trauma.

Said trauma being shown multiple times too. Not just the T.V.‘s. But the absolute terror that Bell felt, before they became Bell, with Adler.

Like do you see this? This terrified me when I saw it at the end of the hallway. I just saw a red shadow in the distance and I legit thought I was about to be chased. Call of Duty became a horror game(I also went through the door to the ground too my first playthrough, so before this I went through zombies and I think my heart was going to jump out my chest) I thought. I didn’t want to get closer. I had to, with each step I see that it’s not a shadow but a body. And than I see the familiar jacket, the sound of whirring in my ears and see it’s Adler’s head being twisted back and forth, side to side, up and down, in a speed that in inhumanely possible.

Makes one wonder if Bell themselves sees Adler as inhumane. Not human. Adler seeming to just be a god in their head. All the Adler shaped rocks/boulders you go through and see. Even one point the V.C. becoming Adler and you killing him over and over and dead bodies of Adler being everywhere.

The man has entered Bell’s head and won’t leave. Just like Adler won’t leave Bell alone.

Heck, there’s one point in my playthroughs of this mission I was by the bridge yet there were parts of the lab by it. I jumped towards it, noticing down below there were different floors of the lab that eventually reach the ground. I jumped to reach the next floor and missed and I died.

And Adler mocked Bell committing suicide.

That was the kicker really that Adler truly is indifferent towards Bell. Like complete disregard. I know it’s fake. We know it’s fake. Adler knows it’s fake—but to Bell, it felt real. That’s the crazy part. All of this—this whole sequence feels real to Bell so each time they die they actually feel it. It’s insane. It’s cruel.

But we all know that Adler isn’t known for his kindness. Still like his character though, he’s layered.

I don’t have the exact quote he said, didn’t wrote it down like the others. I was shook he said it at all.

Moving on to the final details I’m going to talk about.

When you go through the room, I believe this comes out for both rebellious and dutiful, really depends. You see it filled with post it notes, articles, plans, and newspapers. And you see once more just how Bell has been scarred.

I don’t know Russian or German, but I imagine the notes are similar to what the English one’s say. If I’m wrong, please point it out.

There’s also post it notes which I believe is in code as well due to all the numbers—I’m not sure what those could mean since I am no decoding expert.

Poor poor Bell. And with all these pictures and plans—of Adler included—it begs the question that Bell may have been warned about the famous America’s Monster beforehand. Had to have—since Adler is basically Perseus’s adversary due to how stubborn the American man could be. It just adds more to the story, despite Cold War having quite a short campaign, they made it up somewhat with all these details everywhere.

When you finally and actually reach the room.

As you grow closer to the table, to your chair in the conference room while everyone else seems to have their own spots, there’s something I noticed.

There’s glasses. As well as a hat. And it’s Bell’s. Or at least, it used to be. Why else is it on their side of the table? By their chair? I believe it might be reading glasses due to all the decryptions Bell does, whether on paper or through a computer, it’s hard on the eyes. (I’m sure I’m not the only one who noticed this. For look at @second-vtoroy ‘s Bell)

I believe through the brainwashing, Bell might not need glasses anymore. After all, apparently they were a smoker like Adler before too but they took that out of you. What else they changed of Bell? It makes one wonder how far they truly went into molding a person.

Which just adds onto how mind boggling this mission is—this game is. This is my favorite COD game, despite how short it is. The details and choices and interactions with everyone and able to create your own character(albeit it’s very standard and not specific but it’s good enough for me) is AMAZING. I’ve always been a sucker for RPG’s and able to get that even a little in a COD game? Truly wonderful.

I couldn’t touch on everything because it would’ve gotten long, but the fun of the Break on Through mission never gets old. It’s genius multiple ways you can do it. All the details. The feelings you feel as a player as you go through it.

They truly did a unique job with this and I hope they continue with this type of game storytelling. Hopefully longer as well.

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this rant basically!

Gifs made by me and used the video down below to help.

https://youtu.be/t6QkmkGGHSQ

youtube

#russell adler #call of duty #cod #black ops cold war #call of duty cold war #cod cold war #cod bell #cod analysis #cod:bocw #call of duty analysis #bell call of duty #Adler and Bell #Cold War

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jackrrabbit · 3 years

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cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

if you are still taking request I think that it would be so cute if lily convinced remus to go to the nail salon with her, and he was going to just get like a manicure and clear coat, and he changes his mind and comes home with his nails done sirius' favorite color as a surprise and sirius is just like dumbstruck by how much the little things remus does makes him fall even more in love with him and fluffy cuteness ensues

This is adorable! Enjoy some Loops and Lily, ft. fluffy Coops on this lovely Monday. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Remind me why I’m coming with you again?” Remus sighed as they turned the corner. “It’s just going to chip off in two days anyway.”

“Because you had a shitty weekend and deserve a hand massage,” Lily said briskly. She looped her arm through his and tucked her hand into her pocket, tilting her face up toward the sun and trusting him to guide her along the sidewalk. “You don’t have to choose colors if you don’t want to.”

“If I have to go, I’m not going to half-ass it.”

She grinned and cracked one eye open. “There’s my Remus.”

A gentle bell jingled above his head as they ducked into the shop—Lily called it a ‘salon’, which he didn’t really understand, but it sounded fancy. One woman looked up from a client’s nails and waved, then pointed to the far wall. “Pick whatever colors you’d like! I’ll be with you in a few.”

Remus stopped in his tracks. “That’s…a lot.”

Lily rolled her eyes and dragged him closer. “You’re not chickening out on me over some colors, Lupin. Which one do you like?”

“I don’t know! There’s too many!”

“There’s green,” Lily huffed, planting him in front of about three dozen different shades. “Go nuts.”

“I’m not putting green on my nails. It’ll look weird.”

“Then do red and gold!”

“That’s lame. Can’t I just watch you get yours done?”

“No,” Lily groaned. It wasn’t the first time he had asked, and likely wouldn’t be the last. “It’s about the experience, Re. If you want just a clear coat, that’s fine, but you said you—”

“—didn’t want to half-ass it, I know,” he finished with a grumble. Colors. Colors aren’t that difficult. Green would be odd, orange would be worse…

His eyes caught on a little bottle near the base of the racks. It was a plain, pretty blue; nothing special, yet calming. Sea You Later! the base read when he picked it up. Lily made an approving noise over his shoulder. “That’s cute.”

“It’s not bad.”

“Looks like Sirius’ shirt, actually. The one with the dogs on it?”

Remus rolled the bottle around for a moment. “It really does, now that you mention it. Huh.”

She patted his hip and went back to the shiny, shimmery ones on the right. “You should give it a shot.”

---------------------------------------

Painting nails took a really, really long time. Much longer than Remus was anticipating when he hesitantly rested his hands on the towel and tried not to think about how much bigger they were than Lily’s. He felt awkward in a place like this, where everyone seemed so put-together and comfortable.

His worries were quickly dispelled when the nail artist began rubbing the tension from his joints with peony-scented lotion; he immediately relaxed into her touch, letting the calluses from sticks and weights be soothed. Judging from her pleased hum when she inspected his nails, he hadn’t accidentally been butchering them his whole life—the scrape of the nail file made him grimace, but she didn’t have to do much before a coat of clear polish went on.

“It’s a protector,” Lily said at his confused look. “So your nails stay healthy and don’t turn yellow.”

“This is a lot more complicated than I thought it would be,” Remus muttered as he stuck his hands underneath the miniature fan.

The nail artist laughed as she rolled her chair to Lily’s station. “First time?”

“Yeah. I can’t imagine you get a lot of guys in here.”

She shrugged. “More than you’d think, I bet. There’s nothing wrong with wanting your hands to look nice, and a pop of color never hurt anybody.”

“Good point.”

The clear polish—base coat, Lily said with a teasing smile—dried quickly, and soon two perfect layers of blue shone under the bright lamp. Lily’s design was much more complex than his own, with shimmery bits and spiraled paint, but he liked the simplicity. It even matched his socks.

Lily and the nail artist chatted the whole time, swapping stories about summer activities and everything that had happened since she last visited; Remus waited patiently with his fingertips under the fan and people-watched as the sun grew higher in the sky.

After an hour, they were finally done, and Remus couldn’t stop rubbing his hands together as they headed back outside until Lily smacked his arm. “Stop it, you look like a Disney villain.”

“I’m sorry, they’re just so soft!” He brought his hands to his face and breathed in the soft floral scent. “Here, feel.”

“I’m not going to feel your hands.”

“Feel them.” When she shook her head and kept walking, he jogged ahead and held them out, palms-up. “Lily! Feel my hands!”

“Alright, fine!” she laughed, grabbing them both. Her eyebrows rose. “Damn, they are soft.”

“Told you so.”

“That color looks really good on you, too.”

“Yeah?” Remus looked down at the polish again, smiling to himself. There was just something about them that made him happy. “They match my socks.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” He reached down and pulled his pantleg up, startling a snort out of Lily.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said as she linked their arms again. “Did you have fun?”

“It was nice,” Remus said with a shrug. “I don’t know if I’ll go back a lot, but I had a good time listening to you two talk.”

Lily nodded, looking quite self-satisfied. “Good. I bet Sirius will get a kick out of them.”

“You think so?”

“For sure. He always likes mine.”

Remus thought back to the many, many times Lily had displayed her freshly-done nails to them with great pride; Sirius did have a penchant for colorful and sparkly things, after all. Why should his ordinary blue nails be any different?

Lily made sure to take an obligatory Instagram photo of their hands before they entered the house, then immediately laid out in front of the fan by the back door while she uploaded it. “Hey, Lily, it’s good to see you, too,” Sirius said drily as he came in from the backyard. “I’m good, thanks for asking. It’s pretty hot out there, but—”

“Shut up,” she laughed, grabbing the back of his ankle when he stepped over her. “Where’s my lover?”

“Your husband is tormenting my dog,” he called over his shoulder before winding his arms around Remus’ waist for a kiss. “Bonjour, mon amour.”

“Hey, you.” Remus bumped their noses together with a grin he could never even try to hold down. “You know how I never half-ass things?”

“Mhmm.”

He held his fingers up. “Ta-da!”

“Oh, pretty.” Sirius’ eyes went wide as he took one of Remus’ hands. “Your hands are so soft!”

“I know, right?”

“He made me feel them!” Lily groaned from the floor. “It was so weird.”

“You love it!” Remus shot back before leaning onto his tiptoes to kiss Sirius’ forehead. “I figured you’d like the blue.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t do green.”

Heat rose to his cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the sunshine. “It’s your favorite color, right? Not too green, not too purple. Reminded me of you.”

Sirius’ eyes grew impossibly soft and he cupped Remus’ jaw, pulling him in for an unhurried kiss that melted his brain into his toes. “Je t’aime.”

“Love you, too,” he breathed. His face was definitely redder than a fire engine by that point, but he hardly cared.

There was a light squeeze around his hand. “These look really nice.”

A spark of joy lit in Remus’ chest. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Ugh, love,” Lily scoffed, despite the fact that James was pressing a million and one kisses to her neck as he hugged her from behind. 6

Sirius thumped his forehead on Remus’ collarbone. “You are the worst sister-in-law of all time.”

“I know,” she said with a smug smile, tilting her head to kiss James’ cheek. “Hi, lover.”

“Hi. Your nails are so beautiful.”

“I didn’t get them in your favorite color. Sorry.”

“I’ll never recover,” James sighed. “Well, at least we’re not a terrible rom-com cliché.”

Remus flipped him off over Sirius’ shoulder; the nail polish gave the gesture a little extra oomph that certainly canceled out the grin that made his whole face ache.

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years

Text

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 4:

You’re paranoid.

Terribly, terribly paranoid, and even if you’re aware of it, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Nothing you can do to quell the anxiety that wells up every time another person enters your space. Every time their skin nearly brushes yours, even accidentally, just for a split second.

It’s maddening. Nearly debilitating the way you’re flinching away from people. You can see your co-workers notice too, fellow nurses suddenly giving you odd looks every time you reject a high five. Even when you’re wearing your gloves. It’s just a panic reaction at this point- a fixation on trying to keep your quirk as least exhaustive an experience as it can be.

On one hand, you still really dislike Bakugou- nearly hate him for bringing it up to you- but, on the other hand, he did manage to figure it out. He somehow managed to figure out what you never could, and all in a matter of minutes from your relatively short interactions. It made you think that maybe he could be really smart- if he didn’t spend so much time killing his own brain-cells with every juvenile insult he spewed at you.

You wondered if that was just him, or he really did hate you that much. Surely he couldn’t be that much of a monster to other people, right? Right?

Wrong.

You remember Kirishima, how he apologized for Bakugou nearly the second he walked through the door. It hits you then that you’re definitely not the first person he’d seemed to mercilessly terrorize- you’re not sure if that makes you feel better or worse.

Actually, on second thought, maybe it makes you feel worse. No, it definitely makes you feel worse. So much worse, in fact, that just the sight of his face nearly sends you into an irrational rage. Even now, weeks after the last time he’d personally ruined your day, you were still mad. Still angry. Still cursing every time you saw those red eyes on every billboard, newspaper, and billboard in town.

Well, lucky for you, you didn’t have to look at those printed eyes anymore. Not when the real ones were right in front of you- scaring you shitless as you leave the hospital.

You had left the hospital from the back exit, tired and crabby from your late shift, grumbling as you stepped out into the alleyway. You’d hardly seen him, just the slightest glimpse of movement behind the tall dumpsters, before he’s practically in your face.

“Jesus!” You gasp, curling your arms around your stomach. Your legs feel like jelly. “Don’t do that! Scared me half to death!”

“Oh, chill the hell out, ya fuckin’ baby. You’re fine.” Bakugou rolls his eyes, falling into step next to you.

He looks worse for the wear, just like every other time you’ve seen him, exhaustion coloring his complexion something sickly. There’s an angry purple bruise covering his cheek, a few cuts, and even more bruising dotting his scarred knuckles. A tiny, vindictive part of you thinks it serves him right, but you keep it to yourself. You’re better than that.

You want to be nice to him, truly you do, but he’s made it pretty hard. Concerning you, Bakugou’s pretty much dug his grave at this point, and he only makes it worse with his next works.

“You need to do something for me.” He orders suddenly. “Now.”

“A-are you asking me? For help? Is that what this is?”

“What? No- obviously fucking not.” He sneers, nostrils flaring. “Why the hell would I go and do something like that. That’s stupid. Weak.”

“Oh. Okay. So then two seconds ago, when you were telling me that I ‘need’ to do something for you, what was that?” You squint your eyes at him, eyebrow twitching with annoyance. “That wasn’t you asking for help?”

“No. ‘s an order.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay- an order. Because you’re totally in a position to make those.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.” You spin on your heels, nearly crashing into his chest since he followed so closely behind you. Still, you figure the promixity is all the better for gesturing, so you don’t miss a beat, waving your hands emphatically. “My shift just ended, alright? That means I’m not on the clock, and you’re not a patient. I don’t have to suck it up and help you unless I want to. Understand?”

Bakugou seems to bristle at your tone, eyes narrowing as his lip curls. You just try to shrug it off. If he wants to be mad in the middle of the alley, fine- but you’ve had a long day and you’re going home. You spin around again, walking briskly into the street, and it takes him a few moments to catch up.

“I told you, Bakugou, I’m not helping you just because you tried to order me to.”

“I know.”

“Then what’re you doing?”

“Walking.”

It’s his tone; that same needling, challenging edge to it that has your blood boiling. If anyone else said that, you’d probably believe it. But he’s not just walking and Bakugou’s smirk makes that very clear.

“No. You’re following me.”

“Same fuckin’ direction. Sue me, leech.”

The street lamps cast spots that yellow out his already pale skin, and the longer you walk the more withered he looks. Bakugou seems utterly burnt out, and when you look really close, all his features are slumped. It’s a stark contrast to Dynamite’s turbo-charged public persona, and it makes you wonder why he’d even let you see him like this at all. You figure whatever it is must be making him pretty desperate.

Suddenly that same, sinking, sympathetic feeling has you letting up a bit. You slow your pace, catching his gaze as you internally curse your own soft heart.

“Okay. Fine. What’s up. What can I help you with?”

Bakugou squints his eyes, almost like he doesn’t believe you. You think that’s a little fair- most times, even you can hardly believe all that you’re capable of forgiving.

“Sleep.” He finally says, bitten out tightly under his breath.

“You want me to help you sleep?”

“Yes. Obviously.”

“Not obvious.”

“Would be if you weren’t such a shitty nurse.”

“If that’s supposed to be a dig- save it.” You roll your eyes, trying to tamper down the irritation. “I did notice. That you look tired. Just didn’t mention it out of kindness, so don’t think you can start bringing my skills into question.”

You turn down another side street, and Bakugou follows. There’s less light so you miss the way his eyes scan the lurking shadows; intense and immediate, like a habit he can’t help himself from indulging in.

“You really live around here?” He suddenly asks, voice low and gruff.

“Yep. In the apartment complexes just up there.” You point off into the distance. “Why-”

“And your shift always end this late?”

“Yes?”

“God,” He laughs something disbelieving under his breath, rolling his eyes at you. “I was fuckin’ right. You really are the stupidest goddamn person walking the planet.”

“That’s- Do you ever think about your words? Seriously!” You huff, curling your fists. You hope it’ll quell your sudden urge to hit him. “Just because you think it, doesn’t mean you should say it! And who the hell are you to judge anyway-”

“You’re fuckin’ asking to be attacked. That’s stupid. ”

“By who?”

“Weirdos, idiot.”

“You’re the weirdo! You’re the one following me home right now!”

“I’m not following you-”

“Really? You’re not? Because right now, the way you’re walking? Maybe all of two steps behind me? On a dark street? At night? Sort of seems like creepy following is exactly what you’re doing!”

“I told you, you need to do something for me. Not leaving till you do.” He grumbles, digging a bruised knuckle into his temples. “And keep it the fuck down. Your screaming sounds like a dying animal.”

“My-” You seethe for a moment, hardly able to stand his attitude. Then you take a breath because you prided yourself on being a kind person, and kind people do not kill national heroes- even when they’re being asses. “You know, it is almost unbelievable how bad you are at asking for help.”

“Told ya, already. ‘m not fuckin’ asking for help.”

“Then why are you even here bothering me? Go bother someone else!”

“If fuckin’ anyone else could do anythin’, believe me, I’d go to them instead.”

“God, do you even understand how rude that is?” You ask him incredulously, hand grasping at the door to your apartment building. “No, seriously, are you even aware of what you sound like to other people?”

“Not my fuckin’ problem that other people are sensitive.”

Your eyes bulge at that, mouth nearly dropping in disbelief. You couldn’t believe him. You just couldn’t believe that a single person could possibly go through life with that callous of a mentality. It was insanity. Pure insanity.

“So, leech, you gonna put me to fuckin’ sleep or not?”

Just kidding- that was insanity. That sentence alone was proof of just how ridiculous your life had gotten since he’d crash landed into it.

Bakugou seems to realize his words simultaneously, his cheeks flushing red under the outdoor lights. You almost laugh, but then he’s glaring, eyes sternly set and murderous. For a moment, you really believe he was gonna blow you up right where you were standing.

“Say a goddamn word. Do it. I fuckin’ dare you. Leech.” He sneers. “Try me.”

“At this hour? No, uh, no thanks.”

Bakugou does seem to relax at your joke, albeit begrudgingly. He drops his shoulders, rolling his eyes, and clears his throat. “Now, seriously, you gonna fuckin’ do it or not?”

A part of you wants to say no- to hold your gift over his head, to lord it just out of reach until he figures out how to not insult you with every breath. Then you think of your job, of all the civilians who come in swearing up and down that Dynamite was a hero. And you believe them, truly, but you think that Bakugou has a long way to go. An especially long way.

But, even so, your fingers are itching again in your gloves. There’s that urge coursing through your veins, your thoughts a constant loop of heal, help, save and so it’s decided. Quickly. Almost like it was never even a question in the first place- and, knowing yourself, you suppose it never really was.

“Fine. I will. On one condition.”

“Condition? When the fuck did I say it was a negotiation. It’s not.”

“It is and I’ll tell you why.” You spin to face him completely, jumping back when you find him much closer than expected. Your retreat till your back hits the door, but you feel no less cramped than before. “You need me. You do. Don’t bother denying it because you wouldn’t be here otherwise. And the funny thing is, I would’ve done it! Would’ve done it entirely free of charge if you just asked nicely, and-”

“Will you get to the fuckin’ point already?”

“See! That! That’s why there’s a condition! Because you’re needlessly rude! All the time from what I’ve seen. And that’s got to change. Especially if you’re gonna ask for my help more than just this one time.”

“God- how many fuckin’ times do I need to make this clear to you? Hah?” Bakugou growls, leaning in even more. You can see it in his wild eyes- he’s trying to scare you, crowding you against the door. “I’m not asking. I’m telling you- You don’t make the fuckin’ rules here.”

“In this I do.” You swallow nervously, trying not to let your intimidation show. “So you’re gonna listen. My condition is this- if you want me to help you, then you have to learn to play nice. That means no names, no insults, no threats, no complaints, and no attitude. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

Bakugou swears under his breath, eyes blazing as he holds his stare. Truthfully, it makes you nervous, but you’re not one to back down. At least, not when there’s no threat of job loss involved. So you just squint back at him, jutting your jaw out in defiance. There’s a tense few seconds of silence, his eyes searching, but then he backs off. Nostrils flaring like a bull, Bakugou relents.

“Fuckin’ fine. Whatever. Jesus.” He swears, hand curling into a fist at his side. “If you’re gonna be such a bitc-”

“I said, no names, Bakugou.”

He just rolls his eyes, face so very pinched, and you briefly wonder if he’s going to explode. There’s anger as he suddenly shoves you away from the door, yanking it open and letting himself into the building. Then he’s stomping through the lobby, and you’re hardly able to catch up by the time Bakugou stops in front of the elevator.

“What fuckin’ floor, leech?”

“Once again, I said no names. None. Especially not that one.” You tell him sternly, trying to keep your voice down. “And you didn’t agree. You’re not following me and I’m not helping you unless you agree.”

If possible, you think Bakugou’s expression grows even more irritated, his eyes widening as he sets his jaw. Another few seconds pass, and when he sees you won’t relent, Bakugou nods. It’s tight and strained, stunted like the acquiescence physically pains him.

“God, you’re lucky I’m nice.” You tell him, nearly stabbing the elevator button as you press it. “Really lucky.”

“And you’re lucky I don’t have enough energy to beat the shit out of you right now.”

“No threats, Bakugou. You agreed.” You say easily, stepping into the elevator as it opens.

“Had to. Because your fuckin’ terms are bullshit.”

“Hey, no complaints. You agreed to that too.”

You think you hear something strangled leave his mouth, but it’s swallowed up by the sound of the elevator ascending.

Now that you’re standing in better lighting, you can see Bakugou’s face clearly. He looked bad before, but he looks worse now. There wasn’t just one bruise on his face, there was multiple- his jaw colored burgundy and his nose and lip split open. There was no blood, but there wasn’t a lot of scabbing either. It was new. These injuries were new.

You think back to that first visit- when he told you he never really got hurt. You wonder what’s been going so wrong for him lately. It seemed like all he’d done since you’d met him was get hurt.

“Stop fuckin’ staring.”

“I-I’m not. Not like that.” You say. “I’m assessing. You’re gonna need a butterfly bandage, on your nose- skin moves too much. And a cold compress for your jaw. Maybe some disinfectant on your lip. Probably should get your knuckles wrapped too and-”

“Jesus, I fuckin’ get it.”

You roll your eyes, ready to retort, but then the elevator dings. You walk out into the hallway, Bakugou trailing behind you like a shadow. It’s not until you’re at your door, twisting your key into the lock, that you pause.

You’re about to enter your apartment, with Bakugou of all people. A guy you’re not even sure can tolerate you. And yet you’re doing it- because he needs help. Because he looks like walking death and you’ve got a first aid kit under your bathroom sink. Because he’s pretty much proved himself to be an irredeemable asshole, but yet you still can’t bring yourself to leave him out in the cold.

Because you’re an empath, and that, by default, makes you an idiot.

You turn the key. Bakugou, to his credit, looks a little uneasy, but then you’re waving him through the door, and pushing it shut behind him.

“So, you wait here.” You gesture towards your couch, moving aside a few pillows to make him room to sit. “I’m gonna go get all that stuff I talked about.”

“So, what, you’re just like playing fuckin’ nice nurse again, now?”

“Bakugou. No attitude please- I am nice, okay? All the time. Or, at least when others are nice to me.” You say, levelling him with an unimpressed look. “And even if they’re not, I still don’t like seeing them hurt. Not if I can do something about it.”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ help.”

“No, but you need it. And since you’re too stubborn to ask for it, I’m just gonna have to force it on you.”

“Do you even fuckin’ hear yourself?” Bakugou prickles, voice rising. “Acting like a goddamn savior. Like you’re so fuckin’ good and holy. It’s bullshit.”

“It’s not.” You say flatly. Then you’re pivoting on your heels, leaving him behind and you grab the first aid kit. You open the bathroom door, calling over your shoulder. “And if you have such a problem with it, then leave. Nobody is keeping you here.”

You hear Bakugou swear again, so angry and seething that you almost believe he’ll take you up on your offer; but then you hear footsteps across the floor, the creaking of your couch.

You reach under your sink, pulling out the kit and a few extra rags for a compress. When you look in the mirror there’s exhaustion lacing your features, your eyes worn and dark with bags. The sight makes a part of you want to forget it all- makes you want to surrender to the ache in your bones and tell him to leave; but that’s just a small part. The larger part is telling you that you’re not spent until you’re unconscious, and that right now, Bakugou looks a whole lot worse than you feel. It’s telling you to hurry up and help him and you agree.

When you walk back out, supplies in hand, Bakugou’s slumped on your couch. He’s got his head tilted over the back, one hand resting on his stomach and the other thrown over his eyes. He shifts at the sound of your approach, dropping his hand and as blinks blearily. You think his eyes look a little duller than before- less like raging wildfire and more like smothered embers. If you didn’t know any better it would look like begruding acceptance- but this was Bakugou, and you knew better.

“So,” You start, setting all of your things down on the couch next to him. “You wanna go to sleep now? Or wait until after I fix up pretty much the entirety of your face?”

He looks at you unsurely, eyebrows creasing.

“Wait, actually- how are you planning to get home?” You continue, hands on your hips. “Where do you even live? Around here? Close? Because you were out in like, 10 minutes, maybe, the last time I touched you, so it’s gotta be close. You live close right? Because-”

“God, cool it with the fuckin’ word vomit. Shit’s annoying. Shut up.” He grumbles. “I’m sleeping here.”

“Who decided? You?”

“Yeah. Obviously.”

“Bakugou.” You balk, striding closer to the back of your couch. You lean over him, forcing him meet your eyes. “This is what I’m talking about! With the learning to play nice thing! I would’ve let you stay here, I would’ve, had you asked. You can’t just bulldoze your way into my house and refuse to leave!”

“Yeah? ‘n just what the fuck are you gonna do about it if I do?” He scoffs, curling his lip as he snarls. “Nothing. Because you’re so fuckin’ nice, right?”

“Don’t say it like that. It’s not a bad trait and I won’t have you insulting it. I’m not embarrassed of who I am.” You try to work through your frustration, centering yourself with a deep breath. “Look, bottom line is, ask next time. Or I’m not helping you until you do.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

You try to shrug off his petulant response, taking another calming breath as you shuck off your gloves. You replace them with latex ones from the kit, pulling the material over your fingers as you grab the antiseptic wipes. You decide to start around the cut on his nose. It’s the largest and widest, spanning over the entirety of his bridge and into his right cheek. It’s a nasty thing, deep and red, all exposed nerves beneath a thin scab and you can tell it hurts him. Bakugou fights to keep from wincing, eyes scrunching slightly as you wipe the remnants of dirt and oil from his skin.

“This from another villan?” You ask calmly, finding an easy peace in performing familiar tasks. “One today?”

“Cuts are from today. Bruises were yesterday.”

Blinking down at him, you’re a little surprised by how easy his answer was. You expected him to fight, to be difficult just because he could, but Bakugou wasn’t doing that. He was lying relatively and still and sated under your fingertips, the only sign of any tension are his minutely pinched eyebrows. Briefly, you check your gloves- for a moment there you were sure you’d accidentally touched him.

“Oh. Okay.” You reply, taking a small butterfly bandage from your kit. You press it over the cut with gentle pressure. “How’s the other guy look?”

“Fuckin’ terrible. Beat ‘em to hell.”

“I’m sure you did.” You snort, moving on to clean the cut on his lip. “Hey, you wanna know something?”

Bakugou peeks a red eye open, studying your face above him. He nods.

“I actually end up treating a lot of your victims, you know.”

“Criminals. Not victims.”

“Mhm. Sure. Well, either way, they’re always covered in burns. Mostly minor, but sometimes pretty nasty ones.” You try to keep your voice light, even and steady as you dab at his lip. “Honestly, at this point, I’m pretty sure you’re entirely responsible for the hospital’s chronic burn-cream shortage.”

Bakugou does seem to smile at that, exhaling through his nose as his eyes flutter briefly. “Wouldn’t be fuckin’ short if people just stopped tryin’ to pull stupid shit all the time. ‘s not my fault they’re so fuckin’ bad at running away.”

“Bakugou.” You balk, unable to keep the laugh from bubbling out your lips. “You can’t say that!’

“Why the fuck not? Hah? It’s true.”

“Because! You’re supposed to be playing nice, remember?”

“Yeah. To you.” He mumbles, voice rough and raspy. “Because you fuckin’ schemed your way into forcing me. They didn’t.”

“Okay- First, I’m like, pretty sure schemed and forced are the same thing, so we definitely don’t need to say them both. It’s just overkill. Second, that’s a borderline insult, so I’m gonna need you to watch your mouth. And third,” You cradle his jaw in your fingers, turning it to the side. “How the hell did you manage to get a bruise behind your ear?”

“I don’t know- probably the same way you somehow managed to become a nurse; even with such shitty fuckin’ bedside manner. You suck, leech.”

Your jaw drops.

“Bakugou!”

He cracks his eyes open, something small and pleased settling at the corner of his mouth. There’s almost as much venom in his voice as before but his eyes are softer now. They’re kinder, crinkling just slightly at the edges.

He’s joking. You realize. He doesn’t actually mean it. Not this time.

“You dick.” You reprimand, flicking his hairline lightly. “You absolute dick.”

His eyes just seem to grow a little brighter at that, just for a second, and then he’s shutting them again. There’s still a smirk on his face though- one you’d swear you’d slap off if he wasn’t actually being somewhat pleasant right now. For once in his life, it seemed.

“Alright,” You announce, rounding the couch quickly. “Your knuckles look just as bad so give ‘em.”

“No thanks.”

“It wasn’t really a suggestion.”

“I don’t need anymore of your pity help, leech.”

“It’s not pity. Not even a little bit.” You sigh. “Look, I know you’re not gonna understand this, but I seriously cannot chill the hell out without at least trying to take care of people. My quirk makes my fingers literally itch when I see injuries. They itch and they don’t stop itching until I do something about it. Helping people, healing people, is hard-wired into me- it’s as much something I do for me as it is something I do for others.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen at that. He sits a little straighter, fists clenching as he presses them into the cushions. A few beats pass and then he’s grumbling, throwing himself back as he thrusts both of his injured knuckles forward.

“God, you’re so fucking irritating.” He gripes. “If you’re gonna be such a weirdo about it, then get the hell to it already.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead kneeling next to your coffee table and settling on the ground. You take his hands in yours, bending all his fingers to make sure nothing is broken. When nothing is, you look up at Bakugou, planning to tell him the good news, but he’s already looking at you. Your eyes meet, and he blinks, once, twice, before averting his eyes quickly. You think that maybe he blushes too, but he turns his head so sharply you’re almost convinced you imagined it.

You just try to shrug it off, focusing your attention back on his hands. You notice how warm they are again, nearly feverish and strangely unblemished. When you start rubbing bruise cream over knuckles, kneading the joints between your fingers, Bakugou sighs slumps back into the couch. He closes his eyes once more.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No. Can’t. Fuckin’ told ya already.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me why.” You set his hands back on the couch, moving instead to unravel a bandage. “Not that I won’t help you, but have you tried any other remedies? Melatonin? Or lavender? Maybe chamomile? Any of those?”

“Mhm. Falling asleep isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?”

He opens his eyes, squinting at you from above. “None of your fuckin’ business.”

“Bakugou, I’m trying to help here.”

“I don’t want-”

“Yeah. I know. You don’t want it. Or you don’t want to rely on it. I get it. But you wouldn’t have even came here if you didn’t absolutely need it, right?” You insist, grabbing his hands into yours again. “God, you know, I’ve had toddlers who were more cooperative than you. Why’re you so difficult?”

“I’m not fuckin’ difficult.”

“No. You’re difficult. Very difficult.”

“And you’re fuckin’ annoying. Do me a favor and go back to being nice.”

“Nope. Sorry. Pretty sure you didn’t like me then either.” You start wrapping the bandage around his knuckles, taking extra care to apply the right pressure. “And I was only nice to you because I was working, you know. I’m only actually nice to the people who deserve it.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes at that.

You finish wrapping the bandage, securing it into place with a bit of medical adhesive. All things considered, Bakugou looks better than before. Or at least, better than the death incarnate he’d been portraying himself as.

“All done.” You smile, turning away to start packing up your supplies.

“Finally. Took ya fuckin’ long enough.”

“God, you are literally devoid of manners, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. ‘s part of not bein’ an absolute bitch.”

You gawk, spinning around to face him. Bakugou’s relaxed into your couch, arms laid across the back leisurely as he smiles. There’s that same softness to his eyes from before, the crinkling just at the edges.

“Wow.” You scoff, smiling sarcastically. “You really think you’re so funny don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Yeah. Because you’re fuckin’ brainless.”

“Brainless? Me? Swear to god, you only know, like, three words and all of them are probably swears!”

Bakugou just shrugs, looking abnormally pleased. Content even. You figure that’s probably right for someone like him- only happy when everyone around him is devolving into chaos.

“Actually, you know what, I think I’m done yelling for the night.” You say, shucking your gloves off. You wiggle your fingers at him, a smirk plastered across your face. “I think it’s time you’re euthanized, don’t you?”

Bakugou just blinks, minutely shrinking away from you.

“Because you said you wanted me to put you to sleep, right? To put you down. Like a dog.” You continue, nearing him, coming close even as his lip curls up. Bakugou is glaring fully now, fists clenched, and you stop just a few inches out of his reach. “Or, you know, in ruder terms- not a dog, but a bitch.”

Bakugou snarls, lunging at you as you duck away. He’s fast but you’re faster, vaulting behind your couch to create some distance. There’s fire in his eyes, blazing and hot in his irises, but it isn’t scary. If you look close enough, you’re almost sure it’s just warmth. That same rare amusement from earlier.

“You leech. Swear to fuck I’ll make you regret that. Say your goddamn prayers!”

“Touch me and you’ll fall asleep!” You tease. “Or I’ll use my quirk and see into your brain. So I guess it’s more of a ‘pick your poison’ for you, really.”

“It’ll be the same for you.” Bakugou growls, hands grasping the back of the couch as he leans in towards you. “Open casket or closed, it’s still gonna be your fuckin’ funeral.”

“Really?”

“Really. Leech.”

“No thanks.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘no thanks’,” Bakugou mimics your voice, his features twisting. “I’m killing you. You’re dead. You don’t get a choice.”

“No, I really think I do.”

“And just what the fuck makes you so goddamn confident?”

“This. You not attacking me.” You smile easily, voice daring as you stare right back at him. “If you really wanted me dead, I’d be dead. Isn’t that right, Dynamite?”

The name sends Bakugou recoiling, shrinking backwards and scoffing in outright shock. You watch him stumble, legs hitting your coffee table and nearly causing him to fold. He recovers quickly though, albeit with his cheeks flushing wildly.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Nah. Thanks for the offer though.” You smile brightly, before throwing your arms above your head and yawning widely. “As fun as that was, I’m pretty tired. You ready to fall asleep, yet?”

“Jesus fuck, yes. That’s the entire goddamn reason I’m even here. Idiot.”

“No name calling. You agreed.”

“I didn’t agree to shit.”

“You did.” You affirm. “Now, c’mon, like last time, hold your hand out.”

With surprisingly little dramatics or resistance, Bakugou listens. He thrusts one of his bandaged hands forward as he sits on the couch again. When you touch his fingers, you feel that faint warmth again. Like fire and embers coursing through your bloodstream. It’s uncomfortable, a relentless sensation that has you cringing. You briefly wonder what it would be like to always live with it. Like Bakugou seems to.

His eyes flutter shut just like last time, and you can see the way he staggers. It’s like the fight leaves him entirely, and then he’s falling boneless into the couch. You can hardly place a pillow onto the cushions before he’s driving his head into it.

“Jesus,” You mutter in disbelief. “How long has it been since you slept? You look dead.”

“Weeks.” Bakugou mumbles.

“Since the last time?”

“Mhm.”

If his words alone didn’t confirm the severity of his sleeplessness for you, his response time did. Bakugou answered quickly, without fight, like he’d been wanting to spill for the entire night. And, you suppose, maybe he did; or was trying to. In hindsight, you begin to realize a lot of his screaming could just as easily have read as cries for help- not that you’d ever tell him that. You’d probably have to prepare a will if you ever tried telling him that.

“You want a blanket?” You ask a little unsurely, not exactly confident in your approach to this entirely different Bakugou. “All you’re getting is the couch, but I could probably scrounge up a few blankets.”

Bakugou doesn’t respond. All you hear in response are tiny little snores and slow breathing.

You find it reminds you of the last time- the way you’re reaching into a cupboard and grabbing out a blanket for him. Except this time, it’s a little bit different. Somehow you’re settling the blanket over him with a little bit of genuine kindness instead of begrudging sympathy.

After all, you can’t help but feel a little bit of pity- no one would ever fall asleep that fast unless they really needed it. Especially not in a stranger’s house.

--/--

enjoy my lovelies :))

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#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bakugo #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou fic #bakugou series #bnha fic #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #mha fic #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x y/n

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0poole · 4 years

Text

I LOVE No Straight Roads

Honestly it’s hard to keep me away from a game with great visuals and even greater character design. I knew from the INSTANT I saw these characters that I was going to love it. I just finished it because it’s (unfortunately) pretty short, and even though I cheesed the final boss through it’s very lenient death mechanics (Instant respawn at the cost of a good rank) I actually appreciated that it wasn’t a pure cake walk. I’ve yet to rematch all of the bosses, but since I had genuine trouble with the later ones I’ll hold off on that.

But who cares about gameplay, am I right? I sure as hell don’t. I would’ve bought the game no matter what the hell it was. I wanted the characters (and the music, although I realized that second) and that was it.

First of all, I love any world that is super fantastical but cheesy in its concept, ala a city powered by music, and battles between artists using music. Ideas like this only spawn from a mind that wants to create a fun atmosphere, if nothing else, and it was sure as hell fun. I genuinely love when someone goes so far into a crazy idea and doesn’t waste your time explaining it with real world logic. Wanna know how a city can be powered by music? Shut up and look at the cute virtual mermaid. Lord knows I did. Every once in a while, it does you good to just let the player/reader/viewer just revel in the idea without having to go out of your way to make things seem realistic. It’s not about “turning your brain off” or whatever, it’s picking your battles.

Also, I can seriously love a world with great background characters to it. Any game with the right situation to insert the random nobodies you find onto the streets into the art in the credits really played into the greatness of the world’s less important characters, and that’s always a good thing. It’s technically world building. But, since I always love to pick favorites, I’d have to say my favorite background character is easily Mia, the NSR infodesk assistant. It’s funny, because you can literally search “nsr characters” into Google and she’s the third image result. I love how jumpy she is when you first interact with her, since NSR probably spread the word about B2J suggesting they’re rock thugs who’d beat up anyone, so for all she knows she could die right then and there with a guitar lodged in her skull. She’s probably just some intern trying to pay for college. She don’t want trouble.

Also, I just realized that 90% of the characters in this game have the same body structure that I always love, that being having arms/legs that sort of fan out in width into relatively large hands/feet. It’s a kind of limb structure I fall into so much because it just really hits me right for some reason. I really can’t explain why.

Anyways, I gotta talk about the big boys individually:

Mayday and Zuke are an amazing duo. I’m always a sucker for a cute and crazy girl, but honestly Zuke hit so many of the right notes too. I will say it’s weird to pair the martian Zuke with the humanly-skinned Mayday, but honestly it doesn’t even matter because he looks so cool on his own. I love his weird blocky blue dreadlocks, and his weirdly shaped shirt which bares his chest in the weirdest way... And, oh my god, Mayday’s weird Spongebob background flower eyes? It’s little tidbits like that that really make me jealous. How could I have ever thought of that? It looks so perfect, and I don’t know why. And her little booty jig she does in her idle animation? Adorable. I played as her as much as was reasonable not only because I’m a filthy button masher with little strategy but also because she’s so damn cute. I can also appreciate how she has a tough-as-nails persona while still keeping a semi-girly attitude, like with her falling for 1010 and Sayu. Characters are so much better when they’re a perfect blend of characteristics, instead of being all one-note, like how Zuke is the quiet one but gets heated against DK West, and all.

Honestly the voice acting for every character is great, but I love when Mayday’s VA’s accent shows through. It’s a perfect twang to accent (consider this the only acknowledgement of a pun in this post) her snarkiness.

DJ Subatomic Supernova was going to be an easy favorite since he’s all space-themed. Also, I don’t know why I always end up liking the egotistic characters. Not in the sense that I like their egotistic-ness, but in the sense that I like everything else about them and they just so happen to also be egotistic. The same applied with Empoleon (maybe like my 2nd favorite Pokemon) and Rarity from MLP, probably among others. Either way, I’ll never not love space themes. Not to mention he’s got a funky disco theme, and I’m slowly starting to realize that I am in extreme love with techno-funk styles of music. The instant I heard his music he cemented his place into my playlists.

As for design, I still have no idea what the fuck he is. Clearly AI is at human levels in this world, but if he’s a robot why does he still have hairy legs? But, if he’s a human, is that weird orb his head? Is it just some sort of puppet which he controls from inside his giant jacket? I know I dissed explaining things realistically but I actually want to know with this guy. Even the wiki doesn’t say. Either way, he’s clearly the logical extreme of “being at the center of your own universe.” Even his jacket depicts a solar system, with his hood being the sun. Didn’t see that until I tried to draw him. I really wish this guy wasn’t so tied to his DJ stand so I could reasonably draw him without it. I don’t want to draw his hairy ass legs. It is a great touch for his design though (although I prefer his beta look with pants and long boots, another design trait I tend to gravitate to) since DJs could reasonably not wear pants, since they’re always behind a table.

Sayu is my favorite. It’s so plainly obvious. It’s weird to say that sometimes, because some characters like Sayu are so clearly engineered to be as adorable as possible, to the point where they’re basically a parody of whatever they’re supposed to be emulating, but then they do that so well that they are still likable for what they’re trying to parody. Also, even though I’ve never looked into any vocaloid superstars myself, the fact that they exist and are loved in real life is absolutely perfect to be used as a character design in a world like this. It’s so weird conceptually, but we all know it’s normal and realistic. But yeah, she’s a giga-cutie whom I’ve already drawn and I’ve listened to her theme on loop on many different occasions. Favorite character, favorite track, favorite weapon of choice (What did I say about Empoleon?), which, and I wouldn’t have noticed this myself, looks like the USB symbol you see above USB ports on computers. How crazy perfect is that?

Even apart from my unbridled love for cute monster robot(?) girls, her boss fight is probably the 2nd greatest of them all, at least conceptually. She’s just a hologram, so you can’t touch her, but you CAN disconnect the artists which control her in order to defeat her. It’s the kind of concept for a boss fight that could only work for this type of character. I’m a sucker for the cute girl that provides her voice, but I love how the animator (video editor? the yellow one) actually attacks you with a mouse and lowers the brightness of the setting once he appears. Also, the mocap guy being the deeply-voiced type but still providing the adorable movements of her body. It’s such a great combo of characters, and their little extra art in the credits makes me like them even more. I just wish we could interact with them individually.

DK West was probably one of the most interesting characters visually, especially since I knew of every other NSR member long before the game came out, but I only just heard of him closer to the release. I wasn’t sure where he was placed, but I definitely assumed his gig was the weird shadow demon we saw in the trailers. When I finally saw him in game, I was shocked to hear him speak an entirely different language most of the time, which was really cool. Also, finding out he was tied to Zuke and wasn’t strictly an NSR artist really made him more interesting. You know, if his fucking shadow clone magic didn’t make him crazy cool enough. Even though I suck at his game and am not especially fond of his raps, the visual of him rapping with this giant monster behind him and dozens of weird shadow wingmen by his side hyping him up was probably one of the coolest in the entire game. The dark way they were hyping him up too gave such a bizarre atmosphere, especially since it parallels his seemingly chill and smiley demeanor.

I definitely hope they’ll introduce new bosses as DLC in the future, and make them sort of in the same vein as DK West, where they aren’t the biggest artists ever, but they want to pick a fight with B2J. I’d kill for any extra content this game can provide.

Yinu is obviously special since she was the subject of the demo they put out for the game. Even though I knew all her bells and whistles, she and her mom still beat me a few times in the full game. Considering she’s semi-tied to story-ish spoilers I kinda want to go more into her in a separate section. It is worth considering playing the game first since it’s not hard (with the easy going deaths) and it’s short length.

1010 seriously grew on me as I learned more about them and interacted with them. I got their shtick when I first looked at them, but after seeing that animation of them touring the city on Youtube I was kinda falling for them. Then, I learned that they’re apparently repurposed navy war robots? I mean, maybe not them specifically, but it seems to heavily point in that direction, with the warship cars and “attention!”s and all. It took me a bit to get into their music too, but once I actually fought them and put their actions to the music I fell in love with it. I swear, Neon J’s weird dancing can has some of the smoothest moves in all of gaming. I don’t know whether they mocapped out those movements or got one of the greatest animators ever, but it looks so impossibly clean his part of the song gets me like 30x more hype than it would normally.

Also, their little art piece of them looking at fan mail in the credits is probably one of the most adorable things ever. Even if they’re just Neon J’s puppets, that piece of art really makes it seem like they love every one of their fans. I’m not gonna lie, I might swoon a bit too if they picked me out and gave me some special attention.

Oh yeah, and the fact that Mayday was super sad in her showstopper against them was adorable and hilarious at the same time. The little tweaks they made to the showstopper for each fight were great.

Eve just has to be Lady Gaga, right? Like, an even crazier Lady Gaga. DJSS is Daft Punk (or any artist with a helmet persona, you know what I’m talking about), Sayu is Hatsune Miku, DK West is Kanye West, Yinu is a generic child protege, 1010 is a KPop boyband (just pick one) and Eve is Lady Gaga. That’s just how things are. But, again, this is the kind of boss fight that only this type of character could provide. It’s not just surreal imagery, it’s ARTISTIC surreal imagery. The fight is so mesmerizing in every way, especially by how it starts off so slow and calm and progresses to insanity, as well as the increased emotional investment in the fight making you feel so much more into it than just “That’s the boy band. Let’s fight.” Not only does it get you more invested, but it makes her artistic persona go deeper than just “she looks weird.” She is genuinely conflicted about her relationship with Zuke, and naturally that leads her to literally split him and Mayday apart. That mechanic specifically was the coolest, although I do wish they made it more obvious when you needed to switch over to a different side. I was getting pulverized by her fight too, since there were so many things to pay attention to. Her fight was definitely the best one.

Tatiana and Spoilers:

Let’s be real with ourselves, the twist was so obvious. I do also think, though, that obvious twists aren’t bad if they’re just good reveals. At some point, a person just has experienced so many stories that “only pretty good” twists are easy to spot. It doesn’t mean that the twists are bad, it just means you yourself experienced.

I feel like her transition from rock to EDM was pretty understandable, even as a non-musician. She was so caught up in what she assumed was popular that it basically consumed her. It’s easy as an artist to want to forgo what you truly want to make in favor of what makes you popular, and clearly since her transition to EDM made her the CEO of the biggest company in the city (world?) that probably made her think she truly needed to change her outlook. Then, when she saw B2J try to bring it back, she sort of coined them as being as misguided as she was and knocked them down a peg. Plus, they were kinda being jerks about it.

It’s kinda like the Trolls sequel, where everyone pegs rock music fanatics as being too stuck up in their own heads to appreciate other types of music, which honestly seems more like the case than the alternative. When I first heard of the story of the game, I was seriously hoping they did put an asterisk on B2J’s ambitions because they were a bit sketchy from the start.

That’s kinda where I want to talk about Yinu, because she was the true turning point in what they were doing. She’s literally 9 and yet she’s getting dragged into all this BS. When she said “I hate you all” at the end of her fight, and played a somber tune on her broken piano after the fight destroyed it, you kinda got a kick in the face to realize you’re kinda being an asshole to some of them. Sure, they fight back, but they wouldn’t fight in the first place if they didn’t have to. They are just people who play music under a joint name that B2J just so happened to get in hot water with.

Then, of course, there’s Kliff, who also reeked of surprise villain, and who’s basically the embodiment of the bad side of B2J, where he just wanted to destroy for his own sake and not for the actual greater good. Once B2J realized their mistake, they backed off, but Kliff was so hard pressed to do what he planned on in the first place he wouldn’t stop. I kinda wish he got a bigger fight to his own since he’s clearly a big enough tech genius to divert a whole satellite into one specific building. Maybe the Elliecopter chase bit was his thing, but I do kind of wish he was there to fight against them too.

Even though Tatiana did kind of reform a bit quick, It’s still not too crazy to assume she could see that B2J was just misguided and the fact that they worked to revert their wrongdoings for her sake would make a pretty strong impressions. They clearly can hold their own, so it’s not like she wouldn’t want them to join NSR too.

Oh yeah, and her boss fight was clock/time themed. If there’s a theme under space that I love, it’s clocks/time.

And If I am to be respected by the internet, I must provide a negative opinion to balance out my positive one. I will say that the character model physics (like Mayday’s braids, DK West’s vest thing, Neon J’s fluffy neck thing, etc) got kinda funky at times. Especially DK West’s vest, which was completely messed up for every scene he was in... Also, even though the voices are mostly great, some lines felt a bit off. Just a bit. That good enough? Good.

But yeah anyway that’s another favorite game to add to the pile. Eventually I’m gonna have to compile a true list of my all-time favorite games/movies because I do kind of want to have a solid idea of what my all-time favorites are.

#nsr #no straight roads #bunk bed junction #dj subatomic supernova #sayu #yinu #dk west #spoilers #1010 #eve #tatiana #rambling #review #poole #etc #opinions #rant

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inkdemonapologist · 3 years

Photo

[BatIM Call of Cthulhu Masterpost]

what episode are we on, THIRTEEN??? is it 13??? I think it’s 13. LUCKY EPISODE 13

anyway a LOT happened this session (sammy got attacked by an Angel! HES FINE) but ONE of the things that happened is that:

Prophet Sammy and Jack and Norman and Pete were sent off to get projector lightbulbs, because we needed a working projector to activate a magical artefact (AS ONE DOES)

we lost norman, so we took..... every lightbulb since we didn’t know which was the right one

we ran into a sleeping snake in the music room, and we were gonna just sneak past, so Prophet told everyone to keep quiet

Jack’s recent sanity loss resulted in a compulsion to defy orders

Jack defied orders

we actually all failed our rolls to be quiet except for Pete, so we determined that Sammy failed his own stealth check by responding with “WHAT ARE YOU DOING” at top volume, we are a very competent team

ANYWAY HAVE A SMATTERING OF OUT-OF-CONTEXT QUOTES,

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Jack] I have no feelings. [Jack] Well, I have one feeling, and it is: Party.

[Sammy] Sammy will tell him he's the Prophet of our lord! [Joey] Not the Yellow King. You should probably clarify that, [Sammy] (Sammy looks OFFENDED)

[Sammy] And he will pull out the angel trap for, whatever we're planning to do with that... what ARE we planning to do with that? [Jack] Step one, trap an angel. [Jack] Step two, question mark? [Jack] Step three........ Prophet is already here, we skipped ahead a few steps.

[DM] Preach at it! [Sammy] I don't really expect the angels of the False King to be, um, receptive to my message,

[Henry] If no one suggests helping Norman, I honestly don't think he's going to think of it... [GM] Norman is easy to overlook, in Henry's defense. [Henry] But it would be really handy to have... okay, I'm gonna say just before he does it goes, "wait, Norman, you--" [Sammy] (Is Norman receptive--?) [Jack] (Is Norman still there) [Joey] (Actually, Allison's there now? It's really weird.) [GM] (Tom's there now!) [Joey] *cracking up* (The local Tom species is well known to be found in cultist huts!) [Jack] (He's actually just astral projecting from New York, he just thinks he's having horrible PTSD,) [Sammy] (Actually, this is just another loop of Haiti. It's just a really long loop)

[GM, as Norman] Not sure now's the time for a party trick? [Sammy] Just smear your blood on people's hands! At a party!!!

[GM] Okay! 7 more temporary strength damage! [Henry] I'm at 52... [Joey] Joey could beat you in an arm wrestling match! [Sammy] OH NO, oh that IS bad! [Jack] If we're going by Strength number... Henry, having passed out after magical overexertion, is still stronger than Jack!

[Joey] Joey's gonna put a hand on Sammy's shoulder, and tell him that he did a good job! [Sammy] *muttering* ...Sammy does not require the praise of men... he seeks only to please his lord. [Joey] Well too bad! [Joey] He clearly has no taste.

[GM] The Angel is basically in between you and the huts. [Sammy] Cool, cool, cool. That's exactly where I wanted an Angel to be.

[GM] It's Jack's turn! [Jack] Hm, [GM] Joey's growing spear arms-- [Joey] (Pitchfork.) [GM] --Pitchfork arms... Avedon's freaking out... Henry's collapsed and is bleeding again... *cheerfully* Jack can appreciate all of this! In full detail now!

[Jack] Norman, hurry up and come to your senses so you can save your... whatever the heck Avedon is to you! [Sammy] Seems like friends at least. [Jack] Maybe more! [Jack] Imagine~

[GM] Henry is still down for this round, but is there anything he wants to take this opportunity to communicate or do? [Henry] *mumbling quietly* I'm fine, I'm fine... I just, I'm-- I'm fine,

[Sammy] Out of character, I'm alarmed. Sammy doesn't care!

[GM] Norman doesn't really want to leave someone to die. He's assuming everyone's on the same page, but... I guess we'll see!

[Joey] I think he's going to toon-hand, to reach out, and just like... open, the Angel's mouth? [Jack] That is cartoon logic! [Sammy] Put a stick in there. [Joey] Yeah! [Joey] NO, ACTUALLY, THAT'S GREAT [Joey] I'M STEALING THAT

[Jack] OH YEAH. Gives Jack an insanity, immediately forgets the insanity, [GM] It's good that everyone helps out on these! Because I'll tell you what, I do not remember all of them, [Joey] I feel like normally you shouldn't need to remember this many? I feel like we have maybe, uh, gone, a little far with them,

[Jack] The Lurker is a Bendy, he’s been training for this!

[GM] Avedon is muttering, intensely! [Sammy] That's-- that’s good! -- he's fine! See! He's back to normal!

[Joey] Joey is right next to Avedon, and holding him in his freakin, large cartoon hand.... and he rolLED A NINETY THREE ON LISTEN, he has, he has chosen not to listen to a word this man is saying. He is doing the opposite, he is REJECTING LISTENING. [Sammy] I rolled an 83, I don't know what Sammy's listening to but it's not Avedon! [GM] Bendy's also cackling delightedly, which isn't helping. [Sammy] Ohhhhhh that's what I'm listening to, the joyful laughter of my lord.

[Jack] What is stopping us from doing Moon Lens-y things? [Sammy] (oUT OF CHARACTER, I THINK THAT'S A REALLY GOOD IDEA!!!!)

[Jack] Maybe we should do, NOT this! and instead do, SOMETHING ELSE!! because it seems as though we have, just a little bit of a time limit!!!

[GM] It's gonna try to claw Moonlight free! In hopes that he can free it later. [Joey] Maybe it'll roll really badly-- [Sammy] Accidentally kill Moonlight, [GM] Let's see if it, like, fumbles... oh no, it does? whAT?? It rolled 98!! [entire party cackling with delight] [GM] Awkward,,,

[Sammy] If you don't shoot it, then Henry's gonna try to use magic again and it's just gonna be a mess. [Jack] He better not! [Sammy] Yeah, but it's Henry, so- [Jack] If he does, Jack'll beat him up himself! [Sammy] Oh, yeah, those sOFT LYRICIST FISTS, YOU WATCH OUT!!! [Jack] Jack punches Henry and Henry gains health

[GM] It stumbles a bit, but it's still coming. [Henry] *calmly* Shoot it again, please.

[Sammy] Sammy just doesn't take a sanity penalty because he's doing great, and is extremely sane. He doesn't have ANY insanities! [GM] I feel like the preaching one might still apply... [Sammy] It's not a compulsion, he just makes bad choices.

[Joey] Norman, did you bring your flashlight? [GM] Hm. Did Norman bring a flashlight to a swanky party...? [Joey] *muttering* he brought a GUN,

[GM] Make sanity checks, those of you who possess sanity!

[Joey] He's immediately going to turn around, and pull out the stone, and try to convert it! [Sammy] *softly, with feeling* ...you asshole...! [Henry] Uh, nonono, hey, uh-- [Sammy] (That's my job--!) [Joey] He's specifically trying to convert it to... not the Messenger, [Sammy] *DISTRESSED SCREECHING*

[GM] People who register as normal humans should be fine? [Jack] Does Sammy count as a normal human, currently? [GM] He does! [Sammy] Alas. He still must exist in this prison.

[Henry] Henry's going to say something along the lines of "Don't make me regret this," and he's going to start warding the door. [Sammy] (gOSH,,, whY ARE YOU, LISTENING TO HIM????) [Jack] (They just enable each other!) [Sammy] *incoherent yelling*

[GM] There's a big ol' snake! In the chair! [Henry] snair (snake chair) [Joey] Oh! You guys have to grab the snake, for Henry! [Sammy] We... don't! [Henry] For his collection!! [GM] Snare the snair!! [Sammy] NO! We're not gonna grab the snake chair! You didn't tell Sammy, 'now if you see a snake chair while you're out, make sure to grab that!' You DIDN'T TELL HIM THAT, YOU SHOULD'VE PUT IT ON THE LIST before you send him out like this, and not TEXT HIM EXTRA THINGS WHEN HE'S HALF-WAY THERE!!!

[GM] *describing weapons that can be found in the music room* There's lots of blunt instruments around... [Jack] NO!!!

[Henry] He's not going to be able to physically restrain Joey for the entire time you guys are gone!! [Jack] Because we all know that's the only way to stop Joey Drew.

[Joey] He's going to fix the story, and he's not going to let the Messenger ever mess with them again! [Henry] WE CAN DO THAT ANOTHER TIME, DREW

[GM] What is Henry trying to convince him, exactly? [Henry] *so, so tired* To just... stop.....

[Henry] ...I don't know... he wants to take as much strain off of Joey as he can-- [Sammy] DON'T TIE YOURSELF TO AN ELDRITCH ARTEFACT! [Henry]..........yeah, I'm going to listen to the ghost of Sammy.

[GM] You get to the closet, and find lightbulbs! [Sammy] So Norman has found what we need. [GM] No. Norman's not there anymore. [Sammy] .................what. [Joey] *cracking up* (ALLISON is there!)

[Sammy] *muttering* Okay, let's move very quietly through the room and not wake up the snake. [Jack] ...is he saying that out loud? [Sammy] ..........yes. [Sammy] Probably something more like, "Stay quiet, my sheep" [Jack] HMMMMMMMMMM [Sammy] I'm sorry, Sammy doesn't know about your insanity [Jack] HMMMMMMMMMMMM! [Joey] *laughs* Oh, we're disasters! [Jack] Theoretically, what would I do to suppress a compulsion...?

[Jack] And Norman isn't in this room? [GM] No, he is not. Although, uh.... yeah, nope. Nope!

[Joey] I honestly did not think Joey was going to get this far. I thought people would be back by now. [GM] There was a snake, [Sammy] We had to take a bit of a circuitous route, and SOMEONE is playing the piano! Even though I told him not to! [Jack] Also, snircuitous. [Sammy] (Why is this happening to me.) [Jack] I'm helping you method act Sammy Lawrence!

[GM] He does hear some of that laughing again, sounding very pleased, and an unpleasantly loud metallic sound. [Sammy] (.......is Norman actually becoming the Projectionist!? Eps is gonna be THRILLED!)

#call of cthulu: haunted hijinx #sammy lawrence #Jack Fain #prophet sammy IMMEDIATELY ditched the mask #it is not the mask his lord gave him!!!! a false mask!!!#anyway the concept of jack with a >83 expression is too good not to draw

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mymegumi · 3 years

Text

canis lupus familiaris

pairing: bokuto koutarou x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 3.0k

warnings: meet-cute, dog walker!bokuto, maybe ooc!bokuto + swearing/maybe

note: if this piece seems familiar, it’s because it was the last thing i posted on my old account (@/zumisace) before i deactivated it! i loved it and really wanted it out there hehe. i’m gonna be posting some old works that i really enjoyed mwah. help reading this again the dialogue is so blegh

Labrador Retriever

The first day you notice him, he’s dressed in a pair of athletic shorts, black leggings extending past his knee to the middle of his shin as he stretches. There’s a bright orange leash that’s looped around his hand as he crosses an arm over his broad chest, a happily panting yellow labrador on the other end.

He is single handedly the most beautiful man you think you’ve ever seen, and you have to be careful you’re not drooling when you steal glances at him.

You’re lucky you even saw him, because you never go through the park near Main Street. It’s too crowded, and there are too many men that try and assert their dominance over you—overall you avoid walking this direction towards your favorite bookstore every weekend.

You’d only done it this weekend because there was some sort of construction going on West Street, but you have to sit down at a park bench momentarily just to gape at the handsome man jogging around the park with a dog at his side.

His hair spikes up in discolored disarray, but what might seem messy and uncoordinated on a lesser man, seems attractive on this one. He’s got a wide chest, shoulders broad that fills out his dry-fit shirt as he does some more stretching, and watching him while he does so makes you feel almost like a pervert, really.

You’d taken a quick detour in the park just to sit and watch him, book in hands forgotten as he crouched down, hands rubbing underneath the dog’s jaw with a loving touch. The smile on the man’s lips are wide, and you’re almost positive you’ve seen the smile before but you’re not really sure where.

When he looks up, your eyes catch with his and the smile he sends your way is blinding. You have to hold the book in front of your face just to hide the embarrassment clearly written across your face, but when you peek out a moment later, he seems none the wiser to your blunder.

You’re not usually one to base your attraction to other people solely on looks alone, but there’s something about this guy that tugs at your heartstrings. He’s good with dogs, too, and men that are good with animals are always a plus because they’re good judges of character.

“Hey, how are you?”

You look up to see the dog walker smiling brightly at you, a yellow labrador sitting at his side with a smile that almost matches his. Setting the book aside, you match his greeting. “Hi, I’m doing good, how are you?”

“Ah, I’m okay.” His hand rests on the dog’s head, who whines when he removes it to scratch the back of his neck. “I’m Bokuto, I just saw you looking at Rusty here and thought maybe you were too shy to say something.”

Well, at least your cover wasn’t blown just yet. You introduce yourself quickly while you reach a hand out to run along Rusty’s jaw, heart swelling when the dog seems to lean into your touch. “You caught me. I love dogs, is he yours?”

“Naw,” Bokuto crouches down now, just below your eye level as he rubs Rusty’s chest with a heavy hand, “I walk dogs when I’m not busy with practice, because it’s good exercise and I can get some pet time in without having to make the commitment of a dog, yet.”

“Yet? Do you plan on getting one at all?” Looking up at him, you tilt your head to the side as he shrugs.

“I’m not really sure yet.” Bokuto looks off into the distance as Rusty gets closer to you, nudging your legs apart with a wet nose to rest his head on your lap. “I travel a lot for work, so I’m not sure getting a dog would be smart.”

You hum thoughtfully. Bokuto seemed like a different type of person, from farther away. You hate to make assumptions about people without really getting to know them first, but he really seems like he dives into things head first without thinking things through. It’s nice to know that he cares for the potential dog he might get in the future enough, though.

“I’d get a pet, but I’m not really sure what I would want,” you start as you look back up at him, “I’m not even sure I’m a pet person, to be honest.”

“Everyone’s a pet person as long as you love them enough,” Bokuto encourages you with his hands outstretching, orange leash dangling from his hand making Rusty pick up his head briefly, “I hate to cut this short, cause it was really nice meeting you, but Rusty’s owner here is gonna pick him up in a little bit, and I gotta run him back to his house.”

“Oh, totally fine, I’d hate to keep you here.” You wave as he begins to jog off, taking a semi-willing Rusty with him. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah! I’m here every week walking dogs, so maybe I’ll see ya?”

As his figure retreats into the distance, you can practically feel your heartbeat in your chest. Pressing a hand to your chest, you think it might calm the racing beat as you bite your lip, smile shy as you think about the exchange you’d just had.

Bokuto was a weird guy, is the first thing you think of. Normally, people don’t come up to others in a park just because he’d managed to catch you staring. If he caught you staring at him, you appreciate the fact that he saved you the embarrassment and gave you the dog as an excuse. He seems nice enough, and you’re sure that in another world, maybe you’d regret letting the conversation flow as well as it had, but in this one, you liked talking to him like that.

Maybe you would be back next week, construction on West Street be damned.

French Bulldog

You were absolutely pathetic.

Never in your some odd years of living did you ever think that you’d be the type of person to exercise just because you wanted to see a guy again.

A very tall, adorable, muscular guy that handled dogs well and came up to you with a smile brighter than the sun, but a guy, nonetheless.

Dressed in a set of workout clothes that had practically been collecting dust in your drawers, you were stretching very awkwardly at the park, feeling out of place and uncomfortable. You weren’t someone that worked out often, and you prayed to whatever upper being was out there that no one looked at you weird.

You’d been pacing around the front of your apartment for a good twenty minutes before you decided to jog to the park, trying to keep a slower pace than normal because you didn’t want to be huffing and wheezing when you got to the park.

When you got there, you spotted Bokuto almost immediately. He was surrounded by a small crowd of people, looking embarrassed as they seemed to be asking for his autograph. A thinner, royal blue leash was wrapped around his hand as he waved and posed with some people for pictures.

Was he famous or something? You weren’t exactly sure, but he did have a familiar sort of face. You’d thought you’d seen him before the first day you had seen him, so maybe you’d seen him on your explore feed on Instagram or something.

You weren’t going to intrude on the festivities, content to just continue stretching and maybe actually exercise, but when Bokuto caught your eye, he waved at you with a hand over his head, movements large and noticeable.

“Sorry, I have to go, but thanks for supporting me!” was the part of the conversation that you had caught as you watched him jog towards you, a small white and brown French Bulldog happily trailing after him.

“Hey,” you’re tying your shoe now, crouched on the ground and you hold out a hand for the small dog to smell, “Funny running into you again, stranger.”

“Nice to see you again, you really saved me.” There’s relief in his voice as he holds his hands on his hips, chest heaving gently as he smiles at you. “Y’know, I love my fans, and they’re usually really respectful, but I guess someone caught wind that I started walking dogs and a whole crew of people were here when I got here with Porco today.”

You really hope Porco is the name of the dog.

“Your fans?” You straighten yourself off of the ground and give him a raised eyebrow. “Are you a model or something? I wouldn’t be surprised, you have the looks for one.”

The words leave your mouth before you can really think, and maybe it’s worth not having a filter for that brief moment to see the rosy red blush spread across the bridge of his nose and across the planes of his cheeks. If you look close, you’re pretty sure you can see it start to creep up his neck and on the tips of his ears.

“I’m not–! I’m not a model.” His words are quick as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I’m a volleyball player, I play for the MSBY Black Jackals!”

“Oh, I’m not really into sports all that much.” You shrug lightly as you feel a weight on your foot, looking down to see Porco resting his butt on your sneaker. “I’m surprised I’m just now finding out you’re, like, famous, though.”

“I thought you knew I was a volleyball player, honestly.” Bokuto looks a little sheepish as he says it. “Usually, people recognize me right away so I just talked about it like you knew.”

“It’s fine! Don’t worry too much, I didn’t even notice.”

Porco makes a strange noise, something between breathing in too hard and sneezing, and it honestly stops your heart for a good minute. Looking at Bokuto, you’re concerned but it soothes off of you when he leans down and just pats the dog’s back lightly. “Sorry, French Bulldogs actually have really bad nasal issues, so Porco tends to do this when his nose gets too dry.”

“Y’know, you sure know a lot about different types of dogs for a guy that doesn’t want one,” you remark as you crouch down with Bokuto to scratch under Porco’s chin lightly.

Bokuto’s laugh is something akin to an angel’s and you want to make him laugh for the rest of his life. “I really wanted a dog when I was a kid, but my mom thought I was too irresponsible, so I did a month long project where I just researched about different dogs.”

“Guess it stuck with you, huh?” He nods, and you’re not sure if he does it on purpose but his shoulder bumps yours gently. “Did your mom end up getting you a dog?”

“No! My sister got a hamster and my mom was worried a big dog, like I wanted, would terrorize it.” his tone isn’t accusatory or spiteful, just reminiscing on the past as he continues to stare at the small dog before him. “It was probably for the better, cause I think I would’ve been heartbroken if the dog died before I was able to make it to the professional leagues.”

Talking to Bokuto is one of the easiest things you think you’ve ever done.

The two of you end up walking around the park when Porco calms down after a while, and the conversation flows as smooth as a river. Whenever there might be a moment of awkward silence, he manages to fill it effortlessly by mentioning something, or even just talking about his experiences as a volleyball player.

Honestly, even the moments of silence aren’t even all that awkward. There’s something soothing about the sounds of both of your feet hitting the pavement and the birds chirping that makes the entire experience one of the better ones you’ve had.

So, when he asks for your number, you give it to him without a second thought.

German Shepherd

Bokuto really likes texting people at odd hours of the day, you’ve learned.

Sometimes you’ll wake up to a text on your phone from the man that he sent at about one in the morning, often asking you something that he had just thought of and can’t bother anyone else with. When you wake up, you typically try and answer his question to the best of your ability, and if you can’t figure it out, the two of you brainstorm the next weekend at the park to see what the answer could possibly be.

The pair of you have slipped into such a routine that seems so domestic it makes your heart clench whenever you have to remind yourself you’re just friends.

Today, at the park, Bokuto has a dog that you’ve seen before. A friendly German Shepherd named Ace that loved to slobber on your hands if you scratched underneath his chin for long enough.

A bright green leash is looped around his hand as he does his triangle stretches, Ace sitting between his feet acting well mannered. Bokuto waves at you as you walk over, tucking your phone away as you greet them both.

“Any clue where in the park we want to go today?”

“You think you’d get bored of the park after a while,” you say off handedly, watching as Ace’s ears perk up at the sight of two squirrels chasing after each other.

When Bokuto doesn’t say anything for a good minute or two, you turn to look at him. “Well, honestly? I was gonna stop coming to this park a few weeks ago.”

“Really?” This is the first you’ve heard of it, and you’re sure your surprise is drawn on your face if the way Bokuto reacts is any indication. “Why’d you end up staying?”

He coughs into his hand, and you’re sure he’s tugging his jacket’s collar up to hide the red dancing across his cheeks right now. “...You.”

You couldn’t have heard that right. You stop walking for a minute, coming to a full stop in the middle of the walking path as you process what he says to you. “You were gonna stop coming to this park… until you met me?”

His hair shakes a little bit when he nods, and he doesn’t meet your gaze. “Yeah. I had that Labrador for some guy, and I was gonna go to a different park cause he seemed like, bummed at this one, but I saw you sitting at one of the benches.”

“I started talking to you, and then I just had to see you again, so I came back the next week, too.” He looks up at you with a sense of alarm in his eyes. “That’s not weird, is it?”

“It’s not weird, Bokuto,” you reassure, stepping closer to him and hitting your shoulder against his easily, “I might have done the same thing. I usually go near the park on West Street.”

His smile is radiant, and you think that you’d love to see that smile every day of your life if he’d let you. There’s something about it that makes a small part of your heart swell, the feeling that you’re the one making him smile like that rears its head over the part of you that knows you aren’t with him.

That could always change, though, you think as Bokuto tugs on your arm as Ace rushes ahead of the two of you, eyes set on a squirrel running up a tree somewhere. His laughter is contagious as you’re pulled along by the dog, and you know that Bokuto could stop him from running, but maybe he enjoys the way the wind runs over him like you are.

Bokuto insists that you wait for him to drop off Ace at his owner’s house, telling you that you have to come with him or wait for him at your apartment. You love Ace, but you’re not too keen on meeting his owner at the moment, so you’re sitting on the steps of your apartment, changed out of your athletic wear in something more fitting for your day to day.

He comes back to you, jogging lightly as he waves at you from down the street. His outfit is the same as earlier, just a pair of black shorts with a navy blue hoodie, and yet you’re sure he’s even handsomer than you’d just seen him before.

“Ready?”

You make a noise of agreement as the two of you set off, yet you’re still not sure where you’re going, instead just following after him without questioning anything. If you were more paranoid, you’d think this would be the perfect time for him to just kill you.

“So, no questions on where we’re going?” God, he always knows when to get you out of your thoughts.

“I just thought you were taking me to a dark alleyway to kill me,” you give him a smile as he makes an incredulous face, surely offended that you even thought that of him.

“No, I was just, uh,” he coughs into his hand, and you’re sure his cheeks are red again without even having to look, “hoping to take you on our first date.”

Smiling at the floor with a grin that doesn’t seem to fade, you clear your throat, “Walking the dogs doesn’t count as a date?”

“Ah, you’re right,” he concedes, dipping his head in a fleet apology, “our first date without any dogs.”

“Unfortunately,” you start, hand outstretching and seeking his, “I was only talking to you for the dogs.”

He laughs, hand intertwining with yours and tugging you closer. “Of course, the dogs were the only selling point I had, right?”

“Absolutely,” you nod in agreement, “I definitely didn’t want to go out with you, just wanted to see the dogs.”

The two of you are laughing and joking like you always do when you go into the small little diner, where you end up having your first date, without any dogs.

#hanimehub #hqcorenet #bokuto x reader #bokuto x you #bokuto x y/n #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto koutarou x you #bokuto koutarou x y/n #hq!! bokuto #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! bokuto #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto fluff #grind for the wealth

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gohyuck · 4 years

Text

pairing: best friend!mark x reader; some neighbor!jaemin x reader

genre: university!au, angst, slight smut

word count: 4.7k

warnings: unrequited love ft. oblivious mark, sex that ends in crying, general heartbreak because what else would it be

playlist recs: heather - conan gray, cayendo - frank ocean, i found - amber run, fools - troye sivan, from here - kafka tamura, drive safe - rich brian

I still remember Third of December Me in your sweater You said it looked better On me, than it did you Only if you knew How much I liked you

“I fucking hate frats,” You grumble, dabbing furiously at the front of your shirt with a crumpled napkin. There’s red - remnants of what you think must be jungle juice - scattered across the yellow cloth of your top, and you just know it’ll remain stained for eternity. “This cost, like, ten bucks at Walmart! I don’t have that kind of money to throw away, you know.”

“That’s just an hour’s worth of wages from the bookstore.” Mark, your best friend, points out, handing you another napkin when you exhaust the one in your hand. There’s mirth in his eyes and the threat of a laugh underlying his tone, but the warning glare you throw at him has him putting his hands up in surrender instead of making fun of you.

“God,” It’s only when someone pushes past you, opening the door behind you to get inside the cursed party house you’d been so quick to rush out of, that you realize just how cold it is outside. The warmth emanating from the inside of the house you feel against your back is short-lived as the door slams shut, but the damage is done: you’re already hyper-aware of what you don’t have. “God, it’s freezing, what the hell?”

“This is literally an end-of-semester party,” Mark, ever perspicacious, points out, adding insult to your injury without a second thought. “It’s early December. Be glad it isn’t snowing.”

“I’m in a t-shirt,” You only whine in response, ignoring everything your friend has said. The night hasn’t gone your way, and if Mark wasn’t here with you you wouldn’t have come at all. Unluckily for you, Mark Lee is popular amongst fraternity circles on account of being Jaehyun Jung’s hometown neighbor and friend, so you find yourself attending parties intermittently. If you could say no to Mark, maybe you wouldn’t smell vaguely of vodka and artificially flavored fruit punch right now.

“I’m in a t-shirt,” You repeat, ignoring any and all thoughts of your best friend you’re having, as always. “And it’s wet which is making me even colder. I hate it here.”

Mark only rolls his eyes, though you’re surprised to see him shrug off his windbreaker before pulling his black sweater over his head to reveal a thin white shirt. He hands it to you wordlessly before pulling his jacket back on and zipping it up, and when you only stare at the piece of clothing he’s given you, he has the audacity to laugh.

“I’m tired of your complaining,” He explains when your gaze meets his, though he jovially knocks his shoulder against yours when your eyes narrow momentarily. “And besides, you always look better in it than I do. Before you ask, I’m not cold anyways, so it’s all good.”

You don’t miss the comment about you looking better in it than he does. For a moment, just a moment before you pull the proverbial wool over your eyes and black polyester over your head, you imagine that he actually means it. He does let you borrow it an awful lot, after all: it’s in your dresser half as often as it’s in his.

“I wasn’t going to ask,” You huff out a lie, putting an arm through before pulling the rest of the sweater on. You’re immediately met with Mark’s cologne, and you pull his sleeves over your hands into sweater paws on habit. His clothes are always just a little long on you. “You’re like a human furnace.”

“Whatever dude,” Mark rolls his eyes again, though there’s fondness evident in them. “Come on - I’ll walk you back to your place.” He loops his arm through yours in a way you’ve gotten dangerously used to, dragging you away from the Nu Kappa Theta house.

He keeps his word, leaving you right in front of your door. When you go to take off his sweater, he stops you, telling you that there’s no rush to get it back to him. A quick hug and a short goodbye later, Mark is walking down the hallway, hands shoved into his jeans’ pockets. You watch as he gets to the stairwell, so desperately wanting him to turn back.

He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t - you aren’t Heather. You fall asleep in his sweater hours later, still drowning in his cologne. Come morning, you fold it neatly and place it in the bottom drawer of your dresser, out of sight and out of mind.

But I watch your eyes, as she walks by What a sight for sore eyes Brighter than a blue sky She's got you mesmerized While I die

You still remember the first time you’d seen her. It was mundane, really - she’d sat next to you during your first Computing class of the semester, and you’d introduced yourself to her and found her to be a sweet girl, the kind of girl people like being around. There wasn’t anything past that - the two of you went on with your lives, sometimes making idle conversation in class. You hadn’t thought much of your meeting with her until later.

Far more importantly, frankly, you remember the first time Mark had seen her, even if he doesn’t remember it himself. You’d been lounging under a tree, Mark’s back against the bark while you had your head in his lap. He’d been rambling on and on about something Donghyuck had said during their intramural dance team’s practice when he’d stopped speaking mid-sentence, forcing you to turn your head to see where his eyes were leading him.

Heather, in a pleated skirt and a beige sweater over a pristine white button down. She’d looked positively radiant while standing in the grass and laughing with friends, the sun shining brightly directly behind her. Mark, feeling your eyes looking up at his slack-jawed expression, had unfrozen eventually, raising a hand to scratch at the nape of his neck out of embarrassment. He’d been about to launch back into his story - this time likely punctuated by glances over at the other girl - when you’d interrupted him before he could begin.

“Her name’s Heather,” You’d told him, mentally kicking yourself even as you spoke. Who tells the love of their life the name of someone they’re obviously ogling? You hate the value you place on your friendship with Mark almost as much as you hate the fact that you’re in love with him. “She’s in one of my classes. She’s really nice, if you’re into that.”

“Of course I am,” Mark had muttered then, ears burning red. “Why wouldn’t I be into nice people?”

“You spend all your time hanging with me and Hyuck.” You’d pointed out, reaching a hand up to poke at his chin. He’d flicked your fingers away from him, though he’d immediately grabbed your hand right after, holding it tight for a moment on impulse and as if to show you he’d never really hurt you.

You’d wished the constant Mark-inflicted ache you’d felt - feel, still - was physical.

“You’re nice, dude,” Mark had insisted then, finally looking down at you. You’d felt suddenly insecure then, realizing that the angle you were at wasn’t the most flattering. There was no way you could compete to Heather, not with your disheveled hair and eyes that pierced through Mark like arrows. You’d wrapped your arms around yourself in insecurity and Mark had thought nothing of it, only continuing to speak. “You’re nice enough, at least, when you aren’t kicking my ass. Hyuck is… a thought best left for another day.”

You’d laughed then, and Mark had responded in kind. The rest of your break between classes had been spent like that: talking and laughing with your favorite person, irreplaceable by all accounts.

If he hadn’t chanced glances at Heather throughout it, you might’ve been able to consider that he found you irreplaceable in the same way you found him.

Mark hadn’t been subtle then.

He isn’t subtle now.

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half, as pretty You gave her your sweater It's just polyester, but you like her better Wish I were Heather

Mark asks for the sweater back the day before you leave for winter break. Your flatmate is staying back - has research to work on through Christmas - so you’re free to visit your parents back home, and although you dread all the questions you’ll be asked, you can’t help but feel the slightest bit excited.

“I’ll drop by and pick it up before I head out, then,” Mark says, voice still warm as ever even as the phone makes him sound the slightest bit tinny. “What time is good for you?”

“I’ll be at the bus stop by 5,” You respond, phone between your shoulder and your ear and heart between your mouth and your chest as you pull his polyester sweater out of your dryer. “Come by any time before then.”

He drops past your place a little before 4, eyes sparkling when he tells you that Heather only lives about a half an hour away from him, so he’s taking her with him on his drive home. You muster the brightest smile you can when you tell him how wonderful that is, all while handing back the sweater that smells like your own detergent for now but you’re sure will soon smell like Heather’s perfume.

A week after seeing Heather for the first time, Mark had, by chance, joined your university’s Literature Club, not knowing that the girl who’d stolen his breath was a member. He’d had the same sparkle in his eyes when he’d regaled his first conversation with her to you, talking for ages about her opinions on The Picture of Dorian Gray and Slaughterhouse-Five. They’d clicked immediately, in his words. Two fitting puzzle pieces.

You’d bawled like a baby into your flatmate’s arms once your best friend had left your apartment that night, feeling entitled to the tears after so many hours of half real (you truly were happy for him) and half fake (you truly were sad for yourself) smiles.

It’s been three months since then. Heather and Mark aren’t dating just yet, but they’re an inevitability. You remind yourself of that after Mark leaves, sweater in hand and a promise to text you once he gets home sliding off his tongue.

He messages you a picture - a selfie of him and a smiling Heather - five hours later, a ‘we’re home safe!’ text accompanying it. It isn’t a surprise to you that she’s wearing the black polyester sweater in the photo, but it still stings nonetheless.

Mark had said you look better in the sweater than he does. Heather looks far better in it than you do.

When you reach your own home, you’re not alarmed to see Jaemin, your next-door neighbor who’s home from his own school for break, sitting at your kitchen counter and eating grapes out of a plastic bowl. His parents and your parents are great friends, and you’ve always gotten along fairly well with him. His hair is dyed a light blue, gelled back slightly to show his forehead, and he smiles the same cheeky smile he’s had since his sophomore year of high school at you. Jaemin’s always been breathtakingly handsome, always been as good looking as he is just good. He’d been a decent friend to you when you’d lived here, close enough to tell secrets to but not so close that he’d reveal them to anyone.

Jaemin had been your first kiss way back when, had been your first time barely after that, and you allow yourself to see the purely sexual tension that still exists between the two of you. You feel nothing but friendship - maybe just acquaintanceship - for him, and he for you. It’s perfect.

When both sets of parents go out for dinner, unable to drag the two of you out with them, you pull Jaemin up the stairs to your childhood bedroom to ride him frantically as if you’ll never feel this good again. He coaxes not one but two orgasms from you, cool hands roaming your body and nails raking gently over your thighs. Jaemin fucks up into you when you can’t move any longer, when your thighs shake from overwork, and he doesn’t complain, not once.

He pulls you down to him, bites your shoulder hard when he cums, spilling into the condom he’d managed to get on in the rush to be inside of you. When you don’t pull off of him afterwards, instead only beginning to sob quietly into his shoulder, he’s kind enough to run his hands over the span of your back to soothe you.

“That bad, huh?” He jokes, not letting you go. His hands are warm now. You shake your head adamantly even as you know he’s kidding before muttering a ‘it’s not you, it’s Mark’ into his skin.

“Did you just ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ me?” Jaemin questions, this time more confused than anything. You shake your head again, your tears glistening against his collarbone as you pull away enough to look him in the eyes.

“Mark. It’s Mark,” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. You’ve never voiced it aloud before - that it’s Mark. That it might just always be Mark. Jaemin’s okay, though - Jaemin won’t tell. How could he? He doesn’t even know Mark.

Your childhood neighbor stares at you, though not unkindly, for a long moment before nodding slowly in understanding and pulling you into his chest once more for a tight embrace. He doesn’t ask any questions - you assume he just gets it.

Jaemin manages to finger you to one more climax like that, with you curled up in his lap and your head against his chest. He murmurs sweet nothings that really mean nothing into your ear as he does, and you find that you could get used to this. You won’t, but you could. When you cum again, you only whimper and moan, incapable of forming words.

Mark’s name is on the tip of your tongue, and even though Jaemin would understand if you say it, you don’t. You can’t tempt yourself with a reality that isn’t available for you. It would be too cruel.

By the time your parents and Jaemin’s parents get back home, you’re wearing a sweatshirt you hadn’t been wearing earlier, mainly to hide Jaemin’s bite mark. You hug your neighbor goodbye, and he whispers a ‘it’ll be okay’ into your neck before pulling away, giving you a soft version of his devilish grin and waving before leaving with his mom and dad.

Maybe it will be okay someday, but for now, God, how you wish you were Heather.

You only text Mark back right before you go to bed, a quick ‘damn, guess i’ll have to hire a better hitman next time. for you, not for heather, she’s lovely’ before you rest. Is she at his house, her head against his chest as they talk about books or movies or whatever they talk about? Or is she on her way home right now, wishing for more time with Mark?

Your sleep is dreamless that night, despite the thoughts of Mark and Heather, Heather and Mark that run through your mind constantly. It’s the one stroke of luck you have.

Watch as she stands with Her holding your hand Put your arm 'round her shoulder Now I'm getting colder

You sleep with Jaemin intermittently during your break, finding quite quickly that he’s very willing to solely be a receptacle of your pent-up urges catalyzing. It’s hard to have sex with people at school because you’re always aware that Mark could be waiting at your apartment with food when you get back, or that he could be texting you while you’re getting laid. With Jaemin, you can truly push Mark out of your mind, if only just for a moment.

It’s good that you find a momentary respite in your childhood neighbor, because once you’re back on campus, it feels like the universe is purposefully tugging your stars out of their alignments just to torture you.

The weather still leaves much to desire, and although it isn’t as cold as it had been in December, you still carry a hoodie around with you wherever you go. They’re easy to pull over long-sleeved shirts and sweaters; after all, Heather’s always pulling Mark’s favorite forest green hoodie over the familiar black sweater that she wears.

Before, it had just been you, Mark, and occasionally Hyuck getting together and hanging out. At restaurants, you and Mark would sit on the same side, sharing appetizers while Hyuck actively guarded his food from your roaming hands. Now, when you go out to eat, you sit beside Donghyuck, Heather right across from you with her perfect smile and kind eyes while Mark sits right beside her, leaning back with his arm thrown over the booth behind her easily.

She’s genuine: when she asks about your hobbies, your likes, your dislikes, she truly wants to know. It’s good of her: after all, you’re one of the most important people in Mark’s life. You figure she must know that, the closer she gets to your best friend, the closer she should get to you.

You appreciate it. You also hate it.

When Heather gets up mid-lunch to go to the bathroom, parting from the three of you for the moment with a dazzling grin and an airy laugh that makes Mark visibly redden, the boy she’s wooing turns to you and your other friend, eyes full of hope. Donghyuck arches an eyebrow even as he knows what the other man is about to say.

“Man, isn’t she literally the best? There’s something between us, right? I should ask her out?” Mark’s running a hand through his hair as he speaks, a nervous habit he’s had the whole time you’ve known him (freshman year Intro to Film, he’d spilled his cold coffee all over you and panic-offered you his black sweater to wear as a cover-up and, the rest, as they say, is history).

“She’s on the higher end of the cool spectrum, yes there’s something, and it’s your life, dude, I can’t tell you who to date or not date.” Donghyuck responds before you can, and you catch him darting his eyes over at you in mild concern as he speaks. You haven’t told him about how you feel about Mark, but you’re sure he’s known for some time. He’s nothing if not deductive.

Mark rolls his eyes, mutters something about Hyuck always being the bare minimum amount of helpful, and then looks you directly in your eyes, waiting for your verdict. In that moment you know that he’ll seriously consider whatever you say, that if you don’t like Heather, he’ll do his best to dislike her too. Friendship above all else.

The word friendship leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, even if you value it so highly.

“Ask her out,” You finally say, the corners of your mouth quirking up together. The smile you wear doesn’t reach your eyes, but Mark’s too elated to notice. Under the table, Hyuck gently rests a warm hand against your knee for a split second, a show of ‘I’m here’ that you’re grateful for.

Before you can continue speaking - what would you even say? - Heather is sliding back into her seat, back from the bathroom. You can’t very well talk about her while she’s there, so you close your mouth inconspicuously, watching as Mark puts his arm around her shoulders rather than against the booth this time, pulling her just a little closer to his side.

You’re wearing two layers of clothing, but the air suddenly feels freezing. Donghyuck casually hands you a fry off his own plate, not keeping his food all to himself for the first time ever.

You accept it, even though it’s cold by now. Bleakness added upon bleakness changes nothing.

But how could I hate her? She's such an angel But then again, kinda Wish she were dead, as she Walks by What a sight for sore eyes Brighter than a blue sky She's got you mesmerized While I die

He asks Heather out a week later with a bouquet of flowers you help him pick our just hours before his trek to her apartment. Donghyuck comes over the night of your florist trip - your flatmate had left for a trip the night earlier, leaving you a tub of ice cream and a pile of 80s movies as a placeholder for human comfort - and holds you for hours, not saying anything as you sob through The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Stand & Deliver.

“I w- I wish she didn’t exist,” You hiccup into your friend’s shirt as he rests his chin on top of your head. “And then I feel awful because she’s just so nice. She’s always so nice. He likes her because she’s so nice.”

“It hurts worse when they’re nice, especially when you’re also nice,” He murmurs into your hair, pulling you closer into his chest. “Because then you can’t plot ways to get revenge without ending up being the asshole.”

“The jilted ex,” You agree, though it only causes you to cry harder. “Except I’m - I’m not even an ex.”

“Someday, you’ll be glad that you aren’t one of his exes.” Donghyuck assures you, and you know he’s right so you say nothing else, only wrapping your arms tighter around him. The healing process for your heartbreak starts then, as you stain your friend’s thin shirt with your tears and he rubs soothing circles into your back. Your heart might just sew itself back together.

The single stitch holding the halves of your heart together rips easily when Mark brings breakfast to your doorstep the next morning, obvious hickies dotting his collarbone once he pulls off his white pullover. The sight alone makes you feel like your lungs are airless and will forever remain so, and you realize that you’ll have to start healing all over again.

Still, you welcome your best friend into your apartment for breakfast like you do every Sunday morning, right before he goes to Church. Mark’s bought bagels today, from the café at the end of the block, and once he’s prayed like he always does before eating he spreads strawberry cream cheese all over one half of his bagel while talking about how well his ask had gone and thanking you for your floral expertise.

“I just thought they looked pretty,” You shrug, mentally begging for him to stop relating you to any aspect of his relationship. “No need to thank me.”

“I’ll always thank you, dude,” Mark says with ease, licking cream cheese off of his thumb. “You’re my best friend.” With this, he finishes off his breakfast, stands up from his chair at your breakfast nook, and wears his pullover again.

“Gotta pick Heather up, she said she wants to come to Church with me,” Mark says, and your heart twinges at how quickly she’s been introduced to the more intimate aspects of his life. You say nothing, only smile and nod, and Mark thinks nothing of it. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“We literally have a class together.” You scoff, doing your best to banter with Mark like you always do. He rolls his eyes at your statement, though his grin never falls from his lips.

“I’ll see you,” Is all he says, before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. He’s halfway out your door before he turns back - turns back like you’d always wished for him to - and calls your name.

“Yes?”

“You really did do me a favor by helping me with the flowers,” Mark says, giving you the most grateful smile you’ve ever witnessed. “She said the bouquet had all her favorites. I don’t know how you do it. You’re a lifesaver. Love you!”

With that, he’s out the door, and you can only watch as it slams shut behind him, trapping in his last two words as they curl around you like currents, pushing you deeper into the water that’s drowning you. It’s platonic, of course it is, it always has been. Still, you believe that if you never hear those two words together again, you might be all the better.

The bouquet had all of your favorites, too.

You need to stop wishing you were Heather.

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half, as pretty You gave her your sweater It's just polyester, but you like her better I wish I were Heather Wish I were Heather Wish I were Heather

It’s a little less than three months later when you’re out shopping by yourself at the local mall, in desperate need for some winter clothes before the next year’s winter starts. Everything’s on sale now, and you’re not one to pay extra money for no reason at all. You’re sitting through a rack of jackets when your phone vibrates, and you fish it out of your pocket to find that Mark has texted you four images, accompanied with a message asking ‘which one should I post O.o’.

They’re all of Heather in that black polyester sweater - the one you used to wear often - at an ice skating rink, and you assume Mark’s just gotten home from a date. She’s grinning brightly at the camera in the first picture while finishing tying up her skates. In the second one, her back is to the camera and her head is turned to the side, her hand holding onto Mark’s as she leads them across the rink. She’s looking right at the camera in the third one as well, eyebrows raised sportingly as she sips hot chocolate from a styrofoam cup.

You tell Mark to go with the fourth one: a candid of her just stepping on to the rink, eyes wide but smile even wider. Her head is turned, though she can’t see that her side profile is being captured. She’s beautiful without effort in a way you refuse to find in the mirror, and you know the fact that Mark has even taken a picture of Heather without her posing means he wants to cherish every memory with her. It’s sweet, and you tell him so.

You pocket your phone before reading his response, doing your best not to let his earnestness affect you. Mark is a good man, and Heather is a good woman. They’re good for each other, and you’re good for both of them as a friend.

As you turn around to inspect another set of for-sale winter clothes, this time on a table rather than a rack, you realize that, over the past few months, you truly have done your best to try and move on. It had been slow at first, yes, but by throwing yourself into your studies, taking time for yourself, and hanging out more with Hyuck and your other friends - though not less with Mark - has done you good. The ache has weakened, the stinging has stopped, for the most part. You’ve killed almost all of your Mark-related hangups or fixations, almost all of them except…

You rest your palm on top of a light blue sweater - cotton, not polyester - and run your thumb over it, exhaling slowly and blowing air out through your barely-parted lips as you do. It’s pretty, and your size, and you’re in need of one, and the one sweater you used to wear the most isn’t available to you anymore.

Jaemin’s words from months ago echo in your mind: ‘it’ll be okay’. You grab the sweater and make your way to the cashier’s counter, suddenly not needing to buy anything else anymore.

The breath of air you take upon leaving the mall, sweater in bag in hand, feels like the first one you’ve taken in a while. As you settle into your car and turn the ignition key, placing your purchase on your passenger’s seat, you’re hit with a realization that you didn’t think you’d ever have.

It’s all okay...

And you’re starting to no longer wish you were Heather.

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half, as pretty You gave her your sweater It's just polyester, but you like her better Wish I were..

#neowritingsnet #kwritersworld #nct-writers #mark lee #mark lee angst #mark lee fluff #mark lee smut #mark lee scenario #mark lee scenarios #jaemin #jaemin angst #jaemin fluff #jaemin smut #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct 127 scenario

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internalsealpanic · 3 years

Text

Sugar and Spice

Summary: You join the Great British Bake Off for fame, glory, and the excuse to bake. Wait, why does everyone keep looking at you like that? A/n: Basically, this is inspired by my other fic Stiff Peaks and Soggy Bottoms. The format for this series is going to be weird. Please feel free to tell me if it's too confusing or lacking in anything. This fics series is just meant to be a highlight reel of all the baking shenanigans I come up with. Warnings: confusing format

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

[Week 1: Pie week]

Tim needs to calm down. To breathe. It's easy... Ok, not easy. It's manageable. He's made a pie before. He's helped Alfred bake pies loads of times. His heart shouldn't be pounding this much.

Tim uses his shaky hands to gather his hair. One hand stretches the elastic band. See, this is fine. With an easy memorized motion of his hand, he loops the band around his dark locks. This is fine, he reminds himself.

Snap.

Tim's heart sinks.

Mechanically, his head swivels in the direction the band went. You're standing there wincing with your eyes scrunched closed like you'd been hit. Tim looks down only to see the remains of his band on your countertop.

Crap.

Crap was the only word that crossed Tim's mind at the moment. It wasn't his best moment.

You open an eye, nose still scrunched. Your eyes drop down to your workbench, eyes finding the remains of Tim’s hair band before your eyes flick back to him. Tim braces himself for a reprimand. He’s only been here ten minutes and he’s already ballsed up.

To Tim’s surprise, your face melts into an amused smile. You flick your wrist motioning for him to come closer to you. Tim, at a complete loss of what to do, steps closer. You grin at him, pressing something into his hand. He opens his hand to find a red scrunchy festooned with bright yellow and black stripes freckled with stars. Tim looks up at you and he’s not sure what to say.

“Well go on, I doubt the judges want hair-flavored pie.”

*********

Interview:

(Y/n): Why do I have extra scrunchies? Oh, it’s cus I have two older brothers. They keep forgetting to remind me I already have one.

***********

“So the fridge broke.” Kyle says, looking befuddled, hand resting on his hip.

“You sure?” Kon asks, coming up behind him.

“Dunno man, fridges are supposed to be cold, right?”

“On this planet, yeah.” You say ruffling your hair. The fridge sputters and steams. The smoke coming out of it looks almost black. It was a little concerning.

Kon side eyes Kyle. “Sooooo…. How’d ya break it?”

“I didn’t!”

You look at him suspiciously but shake your head instead before crouching to get a better look at the fridge. You blow out a raspberry squeezing yourself into the small space behind the fridge. You gently pull the plug before shuffling back in front of the refrigerator. Pulling the access panel open, you’re greeted with more black smoke. You wave then cough then sigh.

“What’s the verdict, Doc?”

“The evaporating motor is broken. Coil in the motor must have shorted out.”

“So…. dead then.” Kyle sighs.

“Not quite,” you hum. “I… might be able to fix it. Might.”

“(Y/n), you’ll need a miracle to fix that thing.”

“I will if no one hands me a tool box.”

*****************

Interview:

Tim: I really have no idea how Kyle broke it.

Kon: why are you asking me?

Bart: I’m guessing it was an alien thing.

Cassie: Totally an alien thing.

***************************

You groan into your hands. Your show stopper was dreadful. It was by far the second worst thing you’ve made. The first being that one fruit cake you’d made with tomatoes. It was a dare but at the same time… You really should have been charged with a war crime for that. A human rights violation at least. Whatever. Something.

You slump into the couch beside Tim. He looked equally if not more nervous than you. You feel the tiniest bit guilty for feeling better. At least, you weren’t alone but you not having enough time to finish decorating really was your fault. You should have left fixing the fridge to the crew. You sigh.

You’re all pretty quiet which is understandable given the circumstances. Bart looks like he’s gonna pop though. You all watch him, waiting to see if he’ll implode and create a black hole or explode and burst into fireworks or something.

“So which of you weirdos believes in aliens?” Kon breaks in.

Tim perks up at the question but stops before answering.

“I do.” Kyle says a little too confidently. You wonder if he’s seen one or something.

“I do too,” Cassie says turning to Kon,”I’m looking at one right now.”

Bart sits up straughter swinging his legs. “Nah! He’s definitely a clone.”

“I’m 100% original.”Kon scowls.

“Says the James Dean impersonator.”

“Who?”

“Uncultured swines all of you!” Tim exasperates jokingly.

You turn, finally shaking off the excess anxiety. “Well, what do you think?”

Tim purses his lips. You have the urge to tell him they’re chapped but you decide against it. “Well, there really isn’t a reason why they shouldn’t exist. The universe seems to be too large for one planet to be the only hospitable one. Besides, if you think about it statistically-”

“Oh my god, please don’t give me a statistics lecture! I am here to escape my miserable existence as a Chem Major.”

“Buddy that sounds rough.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Can’t cus I actually picked a major that isn’t about pulling teeth.” Cassie says smuggly.

“Which is?”

“History.”

“Yeah. That sounds worse.” You say mildly.

“How?! What’s your major?”

“You assume I’m a college student.” You say, crossing your arms.

The others look at you like you have three heads.

“You’re not?”

“I am. I just wanted to know what gave it away.”

Tim laughs, his features coming to life. He’s kind of pretty, you think. “Fair but how do you know how to fix a fridge? Technical college?” Someone asks. You’re not quite sure who.

“I wish. I’m a Biology Major.”

“That answers nothing.” Well, they’re not wrong.

“We keep samples in freezers.”

“Like regular freezers?”

“Yeah. Were you expecting something more high tech?”

“Slightly?”

“Sorry to disappoint.” You chuckle.

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish , @birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

#tim drake x reader #tim drake #tim drake imagine #conner kent #bart allen #cassie sandsmark #young just us #young justice #kyle rayner #Great British Bake Off AU

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binniesthighs · 4 years

Text

hello stranger | reader x changbin |

Part 3

Pairing: self insert, female reader x seo changbin, female reader x han jisung

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst

Tags: (of this part) college au, rapper!changbin, rapper!jisung, artist!reader, establishedfwb!jisung, skz side characters, explicit language, conflicting feelings angst, reader has past trauma/trust issues (implied), fingering (f receiving), multiple orgasms (implied), fluffy n’ intimate body touching (this is a thing I think lol), lil bit of nipple play, seo changbin being the soft soft dom of my SOUL

Word count: 4.6k

Chapters

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

ding-ding-diNG!

Your teeth chattered, battling the early morning frigid air. White wisps of your shaking breath vaporized in front of you. Your arms were tightly wrapped around your chest and your knees bounced with a little dance to keep your blood flowing.

[02:29] CB

me: where the hell are you? are you coming down?

Your dry and cold fingers typed out the words hurriedly on your phone screen. One more time, you smashed your finger on the buzzer button. You figured that if he had fallen asleep after inviting you over, you would kill him.

“Come on, come on,” you hissed into the open air.

Thick footsteps came clomping down the stairs from the other side of the frosted glass door, and your attention quickly whipped over.

As expected, he had adorned himself in nearly all black clothing. Nevertheless, he had thought to pull out his silver chain over the padded coat with white stripes down the arms.

“Took you long enough. Let me in, I feel like my toes are frozen.”

Changbin’s eyes cast down to your thin canvas sneakers you had put on in your haste, which were now covered in snow.

“You should have worn better shoes then. Lets get going.”

“--Get going??”

He swung the door behind him closed and it locked with a little click.

“We’re going somewhere?”

“I’m hungry.” Changbin simply announced, then took off walking down the block.

“I thought that--”

“--Keep up. It’s not that far.”

He led the two of you onward, and you snuck one more look up at him and the way that the snowflakes got tangled in his hair.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Here, be careful, it’s hot.”

After brushing off the ice crusted bench, Changbin presented to you a giant bowl of steaming noodles so large you guessed you could keep live fish in it. The smell of the broth was dreadfully nostalgic and was full of all of your favorite ingredients, almost as if he had known exactly what you would’ve ordered. You couldn’t help but feel giddy while the steam wafted up your nose.

You wondered with full eyes, “Oh my god, what is this?”

“-The best thing that you’ll ever have in your life. You might as well thank me now.”

You pulled the little heater closer towards the two of you with radiating orange coils. Changbin didn’t skip a beat sitting right down next to you, letting the fabric of both of your coats intermingle.

“This is my favorite place in the city. Their recipes really remind me of my mom and grandma’s.”

“Well I’m really excited to try.” You blew off a handful of noodles steaming into your nose while Changbin expectantly watched you hork it down.

“So?”

You covered your chomping mouth with your hand. “So, so good.”

“Hmm.” He scoffed, then there was that smug little smirk of his.

You thought to yourself that it was kind of cute.

The two of you sat quietly together, watching the silent sounds of the snowfall on the road in front of you, following the cars that passed. Over time, your body seemed to gravitate: bit by bit and piece by piece, closer to the boy next to you.

Changbin set down his metal chopsticks with a tiny clink on the table. “So, are you going to tell me about yourself now?”

“Me?”

“Didn’t I say last time I wanted to know?”

You remembered, but this time you couldn’t as easily kiss away the questions on his lips.

“How do you mean? There isn’t too much to know.”

“I don’t think that’s true. What is it that you study?”

“You want to know what I study?”

You nearly laughed in your surprise at the mundane question considering that the person sitting across from you had seen you turned inside out, a moaning and muttering mess upon first meeting, and he wanted to know what you studied?

“Why does that matter?”

“Matters ‘cause I want to know.” He simply returned, and gave you that look.

Normally his eyes were stormy grey, like the way that the sky would sizzle with energy before lighting would crack. They clouded with severity that seemed dangerous when he was angry, or when there was something that he wanted. But, looking at you like this, there was no danger that they held.

“Are you going to tell me or just keep glaring at me like that?” Changbin nodded to your nearly empty bowl. “Finish that. Don’t let it go cold.”

You did as you were told--at least it wasn’t answering the question.

“Fine. You don’t have to tell me. But tell me something else at least. Why were you at that show?”

“My friends took me? My friend Chan is really into underground rap and stuff like that so he usually drags me and Felix with him. I don’t mind.”

“See? Was answering that that hard?”

You had forgotten, then laughed a little to yourself. “Chan actually was there to see you. He had heard about you from whatever those circles are. He was really excited.”

“I’m actually glad you were there for that reason. For a second there I thought you might’ve said that you were there to see Han Jisung.”

You nearly spat out your bite of noodles, and choked a little on the broth.

“Guy’s a fuckin’ showboat and a cocky asshole. The girls at the shows are usually there for him.”

“What the fuck? You didn’t just say that.”

Anger bit like acid in your throat.

“What? He is!!”

It should have hurt more that he had assumed that you were one of the masses that would fall over their feet for Han Jisung, but it didn’t. Your chest twisted in knots knowing that the assumption was right--that hurt the most. You felt sick knowing now how he would look at you if he knew where you would stoop.

“I’m complimenting you!! I’m glad that you don’t waste your time on assholes like him.”

“Since when do you get to pass judgement on who I do and don’t spend my time with? -And aren’t you one of those same assholes? Up there on that stage, what makes you think that you’re any different from the rest of them?”

“I mean...I like to think that I’m not--”

Your eyes rolled back so far it might’ve hurt a little.

“You’re all the fucking same. I’m so fucking stupid.”

The words quietly fell off your lips like venom.

“We’re all?” What are you talking about?”

“And what the hell is this with trying to get up all in my business? We fucked once Changbin, what more do you want from me? You think I owe you something now? I’m not falling for that again.”

The crunch of your footsteps padded the snow when you turned out of your seat to speed away from him as fast as you could, and as far as you could.

He was the unbelievable one.

“Stop! I don’t get what you’re talking about. Falling for what again? You’re not making any sense! And no, I don’t think that you owe me something. I’m sorry if you thought that. I’m just--” He grabbed at your arm.

“--WHAT?” you tore his hand away.

“Is it a fucking crime to fuck someone and then give a damn about them? Ever heard about that happening?”

In your life?

Something terrible and suffocating rose in your chest that felt like a sob that you had held in for much too long.

“Listen.” Changbin approached you closer, carefully, that look softening. “It’s freezing out here, it’s late. We...don’t have to talk about it any more. I’ll take you back to my place, I’ll call you a cab, you can go home? Okay?”

Changbin poked out his arm looped in his pocket for you to link up to.

You didn’t need his help when you knew the way.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Rosemary and cedarwood again. It was like it was everywhere. It was in the hoodie that he insisted that you put on and all entangled in the fabric of that blanket that he draped around your shoulders. Had you remembered what it was like under the covers of his bed, it was likely there too.

“Warming up?”

The bed bounced a little where he sat next to you with the tips of his ears pink. As cold as you were, you were certain that he must have been colder.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” You crossed up your cold feet under your legs.

“20 minutes? Then I’ll call them?”

You nodded, pulling up the blanket hem to your nose and covering half your face.

Changbin breathed out a little laugh. “You look like a marshmallow.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Not a bad thing.”

His smile fell, and he focused on the silver rings twisting around his fingers. He fiddled with them, and you watched, neither of you knowing really what to do with the silence. After some resolve, he crawled over next to you, to lay facing your bundled up face.

At last, he sighed, “I could tell you about me. If you care.”

Rather than respond, you merely kept on looking at the way the silver would glimmer in the dim yellow of the light.

“Everything that I do, I do to rap and to perform. My parents never supported me doing this kind of thing and said that if I wanted to do it, I would loose their support. After a while, I realized their support wasn’t that valuable anyway if it was going to be over something that didn’t matter to me. I moved out after high school, I’ve been doing this ever since.”

“You like it that much?”

He cracked his fingers, “Sometimes you just know what it is that you’re gonna spend your life doing. For me, it’s this.”

Your eyes fell to your own hands which still were speckled with little flecks of acrylic.

“I know what you mean.”

“You do?”

“I...paint. And stuff like that. It’s not my major, it could never be, but I feel like that when I’m mixing the colors together and it’s just right. Helps me get the thoughts outta my head.”

“Yeah...it’s exactly like that.”

In the warmth of the blankets, you felt a yawn escape your lips and your eyes grow heavy. Your vision had grown blurry, and your dry eyes begged for sleep, but you could still see the way that creeping little smile tugged at his lips.

You thought to yourself that it was kind of cute.

“Thank you for telling me something about you.”

His voice was some kind of dreamy watercoloring of pale pinks and blues. You thought you had likely imagined it. The weight of his hand on your arm felt weightless too, why was it lingering here? His fingers tickled your ear while he swept your hair behind the skin.

The way that he whispered, “You’re making me want to kiss you.” must have been some kind of dream too.

Laying like this, right by your side reminded you for before, and the way that your brain had gone cloudy--you could’ve kissed him like that for hours.

“You...didn’t stop yourself before.”

Your challenge was all that he needed to take both sides of your face into his hands connecting himself to you incessantly, but gently. He spilled into your mouth kisses of sky blue and lavender, every single one more dedicated than the last. He kissed like he was dizzy and that you would make it all right for him, and like you were the one that he could find over and over. His mouth was blazing hot with warmth and he missed no part of you, moving on to kiss you in places you didn’t know needed the attention: over your bottom and top lip, in the corners of your mouth and the tip of your nose, carefully on the peach fuzz on your cheeks and the bone of your jawline. Each one was purposeful and sweet and melted into your skin snowflakes.

His wandering hands were cold under the blankets, but you didn’t mind the sensation against your bare skin where he crept his way in, smoothing over the curves of your body.

Changbin cascaded is way down, pulling you in by the hips closer to his own body. Your core tightened feeling his hands trickle over your waistband.

“Can I?” He whispered into his kisses.

You nodded: your exhaustion mixed with some state of unconscious desperation that you had entwined together, and you were completely at his mercy once more.

“Yes. I’ve...wanted you to.”

He popped the button and unzipped your pants with little effort, slipping those same cold fingers into the heat of your folds. You shivered with the two temperatures mingling and the pressure of his fingers on your slicked bud in little circles.

All you could manage were a couple of attempts at forming some kind of words that would eventually get caught in your throat. With one hand, you clawed at the fabric of his tee, hoping just a little that he liked the way that your nails would dig into his skin. His digits mingled all in your arousal, and brought it back up to your clit to make it twitch. After a while he would let you throw your head back into the pillows to feel every little bit of it and focus only on the way that he would press his fingers in harder and faster, then tease you over with barely touching you at all. He would remove his fingers too, to admire the way that it would string between them, leaving you a writhing mess without him.

“Bin, please, just wanna--”

You didn’t need to finish your sentence before he granted your wish. He sped up for you, rubbing in perfect circles for your clit to throb under his touch, closer and closer...

“Can I--?”

He didn’t answer you, but instead, leaned down to fill your mouth with more kisses and maintained his pace with forearm muscles flexing slightly.

Your orgasm was faster and much harder than you had expected: it rocked your whole body, from top to bottom where your legs thrashed and your toes curled. The muscles of your stomach tensed, and you felt your whole core spring upward as you came. Luckily, you remembered to be quiet and kept your breath short and sharp, letting only the tiniest of moans meet the air.

Changbin helped you ride your orgasm out until you could take no more sensation, then stopped, snapping your underwear hem a little on the way up. He held you close as you caught your breath, snickering a little when your body would shake. Your euphoria calmed you down into an even more exhausted state, but the way that the endorphins coursed though you felt like a high. Greedily, the closeness and the way that your head spun made the word slip out of your mouth.

“More?”

Changbin said nothing while he indulged you and peppered your skin with kisses in all those places that you didn’t know needed the attention. He would smile into your lips each time that you would come undone; slipping deeper and deeper into him.

“M-more. I just want...one...more.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Just skipping one class isn’t the end of the world. You know that you look like a mess right?”

Minho, your assigned seat partner turned friend-in-suffering poked his pencil at the baggy black hoodie that you had forgotten to return. On the bus ride to campus, you had realized that you hadn’t taken it off.

“I know, alright? You don’t have to remind me.”

“You gonna tell me about it?” Minho poked at you once more with his teasing grin. You retaliated by raising your phone up as if to chuck it at his head.

Behind the two of you, a group of two ambitious girls hushed as they organized their plethora of colored pens and highlighters. Minho bowed a little sorry in apology.

His voice dropped to a whisper, “I’m assuming that this isn’t yours.”

“I-it’s new. I just haven’t worn it before.”

He scanned over the fabric and the little white brand on the left sleeve. “Huh. Must be a popular one I guess. I’m pretty sure that my one of my friends has the same one.”

“--Will you lend me something to write on...and with? I...didn’t bring my stuff with me.”

“Really.” Your classmate tore out a piece of his notebook paper--a little extra loudly as well--just for those eavesdropping girls behind you. “You should’ve just not come.”

To your left, your phone vibrated with the screen illuminated:

Low Battery: 20%

[10:39]

felix: I can’t believe you. You went over there again? Didn’t you say that he looked at you weird or something like that?? What happened??

Your heart dropped a little remembering how you had pardoned Felix’s worried nagging and turned on the Find My Friends feature in your phone.

“shit.”

Your phone screen lit up the underside of your table as you frantically tapped through your settings to turn off the slide bar. In the corner of your eye, you had seen Minho take his phone under the table as well.

[10:41]

CB: good job leaving your keys at my place

i can’t get them back to you until much later. i’ve got work.

“shit.”

me: i have work until later too

and sorry

CB: my roommate said that he could get them to you at 5. you’ll be at the library then?

me: your roommate??

CB: relax. he doesn’t give a shit.

╚ ——————————————— ╝

You read over the messages over and over, refreshing the little chat nearly every two seconds. Over the time waiting, your hand had grown embarrassingly damp, and your foot nervously tapped at the floor to the same tune that your chest thumped with your anxiety.

This was fucking humiliating.

Granted, you were no stranger to unsavory behavior, but somehow, this felt even worse. Furthermore, it all could have been avoided:

What the hell had happened last night?

It was becoming all too a common theme for you: you didn’t remember falling asleep, only waking up to the blaring of your alarm to those obnoxious Tardis sounds that were just a little too out of date...considering that you had long past all that Dr. Who stuff.

Changbin had actually left the bed all to you, waking up some time a little before you from sleeping on the couch and offering you some horribly cheap tasting coffee. You still drank it.

CB: just stand somewhere by the front door. i told him that’s where you’ll be.

The library overlooked the main quad of your university. In the wintertime, the trees that encircled the usually grassy circle were reduced to craggy and bare fingers powdered in the white snow.

“What the hell were you thinking?” You scolded yourself though clenched teeth.

“--Y/n?”

He had snuck up on you, coming from the right, rather than the front of the entrance.

You squeaked out, “Oh fuck.”

Minho twisted your jingling keys around his fingers.

“This is...” Minho laughed out incredulously, “...a coincidence.”

You clawed your keys from his hand with a hasty “Thanks.”

His eyes scanned you up and down as if he was meeting you for the first time, which he certainly wasn’t.

“The hoodie. Dammit. I should’ve known.”

“I-I really need to get back inside, they might need me in th--”

“--So you’ve been screwing him?”

Your heart thumped even more painfully.

“Wait, and you’ve been inside my apartment before and I didn’t even know?”

“Well I didn’t know that you were his roommate!! I didn’t even plan on meeting any of you if I could help it!!”

“So what is he, like, your type?”

“HEY. I don’t mean to stay over, it kind of just happens...I didn’t even want to see him after the first time--”

Minho scoffed then shoved his pink hands into the pockets of his navy and white striped bomber jacket.

“Will I be seeing you around there now?”

“--No.” You cut in. “You won’t.”

Your classmate huffed out a visible breath, “You say that now, but I know that you don’t mean it.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

Minho rolled his eyes, then gave the top of your head a chastising pat.

“If you’re gonna be over, you might as well bring snacks or something. No one in that damn apartment knows how to grocery shop for themselves besides me.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

Too many fucking coincidences.

You had sat yourself at the exact same table that you had sat at the night before, but this time, you watched as it was Changbin who was standing behind the counter of the noodle shop, taking orders, and smiling much too widely for it to have been normal. He was even wearing one of those cutesy little aprons that the rest of the employees had: there was a little chicken embroidered in the corner next to his nametag.

To anyone else, it made no logical sense why you had decided to show up there: but your frazzled brain still working off your embarrassment from earlier thought this was the best thing to do. You felt like yelling just to get something out of your body. It wasn’t even his fault that his roommate happened to be one of your friends. Your head however, made it his fault.

He had clocked you from where you had sat fuming, not even looking phased at all. In fact, he had dished out for you one of those smirks. One of those stupid, cute smirks.

“See you tomorrow.” He clapped his coworker on the back while he took off his apron.

The shop door creaked out when he opened it.

“Didn’t expect to see you here. You really wanted to see me that soon already?”

You shoved the bundle of his hoodie from your hands to his.

“Here.”

“You came all this way just to give me my hoodie back? That and I’m assuming Minho told you that I work here.”

“How come you didn’t tell me that before?”

“Didn’t seem that important--”

At last, you let yourself snap. “--You made a fucking fool of me today!! Do you know how awful it was??”

“Ahhh Minho did say something about knowing you.”

You had expected sympathy, but rather he teased you with that little cocky grin. Had you known any better, it was almost like he was admiring how flustered you had become.

One, two, then three fat raindrops fell from from the sky and onto his parka, then the rest followed all at once. The bits of slushy and freezing rain barreled in suddenly and fell sideways. It slapped against the sidewalks and pattered on the shutters and gutters of the buildings lining the road.

“Great! This is just great!!” You pulled your coat over your head.

Changbin grabbed at your hand without hesitation. “Come with me.”

╚ ——————————————— ╝

“Open the door!! Open the door!!”

Frozen bits of snow and rain matted your hair and dripped off into your collar; meeting your bare skin. Your entire body felt as if it had been plunged into a freezing cold ocean, and you shook with ferocity. By now, your jeans had completely soaked through with with water and the denim stuck to your legs.

Changbin fumbled with his wallet and wet fingers, finally unlocking the door with that same,

ding-ding-diNG!

The heater in the little vestibule blasted you with heat upon your entrance: a welcome feeling to your drenched body. He had reached out for your hand to guide you to the elevator even though you knew the way.

Water dropped off your bodies into the linoleum floor of the elevator and it got all muddled too by prints from your shoes. After, you followed him further into the apartment building, to the very place you had sworn up and down that you would never see again. You didn’t know how many more times you would have to say it out loud before you would actually obey your own words.

“Fuck--it’s so cold.”

Changbin clinked his keys into the brass keyhole in the long and dank hallway that had matted red velvet carpeting. There was an odd and old-looking stain in front of his door that you had noticed last time.

“It’ll be warmer inside.”

“Are you sure about that?”

He didn’t need to, but he reached out to you once more to pull you through the doorframe. A sense of determination seemed to sweep over him, and you could just barely see that stormy expression cloud over his eyes.

“Ah! Y/n! How nice to see you here officially at last!”

Minho perked up from his book where he was cuddled up on one of those pleather couches in the living room.

Changbin didn’t give you a chance to to respond, but rather tugged you away down the hallway to the bathroom at the very end nearest his room.

“Changbin, what are you--”

He slammed the door behind the two of you, then flicked on the lights at the exact same time as he crashed his whole body into you, flattening your back against the door and scooping up both sides of your face to run his cold lips over yours. His hands were just as cold, and the tips of his bangs dripped tiny droplets of water onto your forehead.

In your shock, your hands were suspended in the air, but he just as quickly took them to wrap them around his sides.

The wooden door rattled a little behind your back, but the sounds faded when he deepened his kiss: floating his tongue over your bottom lip and letting out a breathy little gasp along with it.

“Fuck. You’re really good at making me want you.”

His voice had turned grave with his want, and he never broke your gaze while he peeled off every single piece of your soaked clothing. His eyes ravished your bare skin riddled with goosebumps, and he immediately took to kissing into your shoulders and collarbones once he had access. You tried your best to help him take his clothes off too, but instead he pushed your hands away to do the task himself. Once he had finished, he connected his lips with yours.

“Touch me.” He commanded of you.

You found the request odd, but you still obliged him, starting by running your hands down this pecs then to his abs and around his waist where you scratched at the skin of his lower back. He did the same to you: tracing gentle fingers down your breasts, then going to kneed at them, tweaking the buds just slightly. It wasn’t for long until he encapsulated you completely into his arms, then drew a line into your spine with his ring finger.

Your body warmed by the second: skin now set ablaze by his teeth grazing the skin of your neck.

He drew you along with him, then turned on the water to the shower with a metallic sounding groan. Within a couple minutes the whole room filled with a dense steam. He lead you in to the small compartment, stopping too for a moment to watch the way that the water flowed down your body in little transparent veins.

“You’re perfect.” He whispered into the nape of your neck.

The showering of water was too loud for you to hear, and it wasn’t like you were paying attention anyway. Your phone vibrated where it at fallen in your mess of clothes on the tiled floor.

[23:27]

jisung: what the hell’s been up with you the past few days?

phone break or something??

you didn’t see the other texts I sent you?

are you doing anything right now?

...

are you

ok?

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #changbin smut #seo changbin smut #changbin x y/n #changbin x reader #changbin x female reader #stray kids drabble #stray kids imagine #stray kids oneshots #kpop drabbles #kpop imagines #kpop imagine #kpop smut #when she turns out longer than you expected ooP #hehe its ok its ok its for the plot development hehe

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pizzazz-party · 3 years

Text

Part 2: Ring’s Powers—And What They All Have In Common

Easily the most mystifying thing about this game is— how on earth the magical sentient Pilates ring can do what he does. Seriously. Except, there is some underlying logic here. Buckle up, guys, we’re doing pseudo-science.

(Spoilers for up to the end of the main storyline. Various outfit spoilers beyond that.)

So. I’m just going to say it? The foundation of Ring’s powers essentially boils down to “energy manipulation.” That was probably an easy conclusion to reach if you’ve read Part 1. We’ve already basically established that much. So today we’re diving into the three main categories of how Ring manipulates energy.

They are:

Amplification. Using energy to amplify the strength of a physical motion.

Construction. Using energy to build new structures.

Conversion. Altering the state of the energy itself. Either by converting it to another type of energy, or by converting it into matter (and vice versa).

All of Ring’s various powers and abilities fall under at least one of these categories. Most belong to more than one.

You’re going to want to peek at this little Venn Diagram I’ve made. And possibly make friends with it, because it’s going to keep coming back at the end of every segment. We’re going to go over Ring’s lesser abilities first, then his five special powers, and finally his sealing ability.

And before we start! Some quick reminders, in case you need them.

“Life energy” exists in all things everywhere.

“Exercise energy” is a type of life energy, and we see its presence most often in the form of Trainee’s signature flames.

The type of exercise energy Trainee produces is now pure and inhuman—because she’s synced with Ring.

Pure energy exists on a scale from “positive” to “negative.” Ring is partially made of pure positive energy. It’s the glowing stuff that flows through his tube.

There’s a fundamental difference between the “red,” “yellow,” “blue,” and “green” energies that get used in fit battles by other humans and humanoids, and the “pure positive” stuff that Ring and Trainee exhibit. (Seriously if you’ve never read Part 1 before, I strongly suggest you do so now.)

———

Alright! Ring’s wild list of “lesser” powers include:

Acting as a heart beat monitor

Crushing boulders into pebbles

Creating air blasts

Creating suction vortexes

Creating and wielding fit battle constructs

Creating ab guards

Creating non-battle constructs (Or whatever you would call “Quick! Turn into a tree!”)

Creating a sync bond

Creating solid constructs in Game Gyms

With exactly three exceptions, all of the abilities on this list involve some degree of amplification. So let’s walk through this.

HEART MONITOR. Amplification. The simplest to explain. When Ring is measuring your heart beat, he’s just amping the sound or vibration, sort of like a stethoscope.

BOULDER CRUSHING. Construction + Amplification. When you press Ring into your stomach to crush a boulder, he (1) loops a construct around said boulder and then he (2) amplifies the crushing motion of said construct, using raw exercise energy from the force of your press.

Air blasts and vortexes are a bit trickier to explain, but you have to remember that Ring is actively choosing what to amplify and what to ignore.

AIR BLASTS. Amplification. In the case of air blasts—when you squeeze the Ring Con, you’re also technically squeezing air molecules out of the center of the Pilates ring as you distort the shape. In-game, Ring is just picking a direction (away from your avatar’s face, very helpful) and amplifying the force of that squeeze into a harsh blast of air.

SUCTION VORTEX. Amplification. The vortex operates on a similar, but opposite premise. When you pull on your Ring Con, you’re actually still just pushing air molecules out, same as when you squeeze. But when you release it and the Pilates ring springs back into its original shape, the air molecules go rushing back, as though sucked in. In-game, Ring is once again just picking a direction to amplify the force of that suction.

FIT BATTLE CONSTRUCTS. Amplification + Construction + Conversion. Alright, this one is a bit more complicated. But have you ever noticed that no matter how how poorly you are at holding squats—as long as you hold that squat, Ring’s construct will buff up to completion. It’s, for the lack of a better word, the “quality” of the exercise energy going into it, that determines how hard the construct can swing—and how much damage it can really do. The better the “quality” that Ring has to work with, the more he can amplify the strength of his constructs.

Construction here is pretty self-explanatory . We’ve already poked at this in Part 1, but Ring is in charge of crafting and swinging your battle constructs, not Trainee. Once you select a fit skill—before you even have Trainee move to perform and hold said fit skill—the appropriate glowing limb constructs are already hovering above your enemies. That’s Ring’s doing. You have to remember that he does, actually, have his own supply of energy separate from Trainee. And this is just one of the ways in which he openly uses it.

Conversion technically only comes into play here after World 2, once Trainee and Ring retrieve the Color Coding power. I mentioned above (and yet again, more thoroughly in Part 1) that the exercise energy Trainee and Ring give off—purified positive exercise energy—fundamentally differs from the red/yellow/blue/green stuff found in human beings. Ring can manipulate light and color on a superficial basis without Color Coding (he once mimicked the purple flames of Dark Influence back in World 1), but it’s a surface level change. Ring’s constructs don’t yield any “extra damage” benefits in a fight until Color Coding is retrieved.

AB GUARDS. Construction + Amplification. Admittedly, this one’s pretty similar. (I mean, I’d argue that Trainee and Ring are both making the construct this time...) But with one key difference! There’s no conversion happening here. At all. Which makes sense, actually. A shield of “red energy” would be especially weak to red attacks. A shield of “green energy” would be especially weak to green attacks. And so on and so forth. Ring’s signature energy, however, doesn’t appear to come with any such caveats. (We never run into another being quite like Ring.)

QUICK TURN INTO A TREE. Construction + Conversion. The tree thing, functions like a fit battle construct, minus the amplification. Trainee holds the pose so that she and Ring can continue hiding in the construct, because slinkbugs are thieves that steal away valuable grocery monies. She’s the power source. Ring’s job is to shape the tree as convincingly as possible. There’s no amplification going on here.

SYNCHRONIZING. Conversion. As far as we know, synchronizing with Ring appears to have somehow overwritten Trainee’s original—human—energy signature, and made her somewhat biologically closer to being like Ring. There’s still a lot we don’t know about syncing, but you can read more about it here in Part 1.

GAME GYM CONSTRUCTS. Construction + Conversion. Up until this point, when it comes to “conversion,” all we’ve talked about is when Ring takes one glowing energy type, and converts it into another glowing energy type. Let’s talk matter.

Fit battle constructs, while still being made of energy, are actually pretty solid. You whack monsters with them all the time, this isn’t news. You don’t have to be a physics expert (and I’m really not) to understand that “energy,” as it exists in Ring Fit Adventure, operates under some pretty loose rules of reality. In this game, Pilates rings can be sentient! Dragons can be bodybuilders! And “energy” can be condensed into a shape hard enough to send your enemies flying—and still be considered “just energy,” not “matter”. Because we’ve seen what it looks like when energy gets turned into physical material, and vice verse. We’ve seen Ring do it loads of times.

Specifically, we see it happen in the mini game gyms.

So there are thirteen types of gyms spread across the world of Ring Fit. Most of them, like Dreadmill, don’t require a person to use any fancy tools to play. But others do. Exactly four require that Ring attach an extra accessory.

We only see Trainee play, but these gyms are canonically popular with the public. It’s implied that the gym supplies participants with the appropriate props instead of, like, making people bring their own parachutes or something. It’s also implied that Trainee refuses a bunch of these props, because she has Ring. And Ring can (temporarily) create his own props.

I say “temporary” because when you finish a game like Aerochute. Or Bank Balance. The two props are converted back into Ring’s signature golden energy, and then they dissipate into sparkles. We never explicitly see Ring making these tools, but we sure as hell see them get expelled.

We never see the other two props from Core Crushing and Smack Back dematerialize. (We also don’t see Trainee victory posing in either game.) But I don’t see why we should rule out that they can’t, if Ring was able to make the first two.

So. Like I said: CONSTRUCTION + CONVERSION = GAME GYM CONSTRUCTS. No amplification here, I doubt Ring would ever knowingly help you cheat.

This concludes Ring’s “lesser” powers.

———

Ring’s five—“special”—powers. You know them. You love them! They are:

Color coding

Smoothiecraft

River Rowing

Jump Boost

And the Wing Ability

Even before digging into what these entail, the special five are…interesting. Outside of Ring, they take the shape of giant, pulsing balls of energy. They’re coveted by nearly everyone who comes into contact with them. Seriously. From Dragaux himself to Honey to the Sportans, to random monsters to Daddalus to Solar Plexia the rain goddess—most of the persons listed here either can’t use Ring’s powers, or don’t even recognize them for what they are. “Treasure,” “shining jewel,” “glowy thing.” These are all things they have been dubbed as by outsiders.

Except, they’re not supposed to be removable. This is not a feature of Ring’s. We know thanks to Allegra (and Titanium White, bless her soul) that metaphysical traits can be ripped out of a person. This is more or less what Dragaux did to Ring. But unlike with what happened to Titanium White, it seems like Dragaux ripped out an extra glob of Ring’s energy reserves with each power. Those little “badges” in the menu screen aren’t just visual representations of your retrieval progress; they physically exist in the game. Ring shows one to Solar Plexia in World 8.

Once Ring’s reunited with one of his powers, it could be that he reabsorbs the excess energy, and all that’s left behind is the little “badge” that’s been sitting in its center—and that’s the thing that actually lets him wield whatever power he’s reacquired.

———

COLOR CODING. Conversion. Taking pure energy, and converting it for fit battles benefits. We covered this one.

SMOOTHIECRAFT. Conversion. Actually, the weirdest one on this list. I’ve gone over this video as slowly as my phone will allow. And to the best of what I’m seeing, Ring is taking these ingredients, converting them into a bubble of light, and then squeezing them back out as a physical paste. You can watch a video of it happening here.

The fact that it’s a chilled paste and not a fine liquid, speaks to some level of intent and control. Fire is what happens when atoms are moving very, very fast. Ice occurs when eligible molecules are moving very, very slowly. Cold is an absence of heat, and heat is just another form of energy.

RIVER ROWING. Conversion + Construction. For the longest time, I thought this “power” was Ring just storing a boat and some oars in his pocket dimension. But that’s not the whole picture.

The one time we “see” Ring summon something—as in we are 100% sure that he isn’t creating the object in question—is when he’s summoning ingredients for a smoothie. And the process looks very different. Please refer to the appropriate screenshots below the video. But to spell it out: there are two consistent traits that appear, when Ring is summoning something from his “pocket dimension.” There is:

Always some circle of light present. The item emerges from the “pocket” as energy, so Ring is converting it back into matter as he takes it out. If whatever’s getting converted normally exists as a physical object (and not just as a “temporary” one) then there’s some kind of circle present somewhere.

Always some level of detail to whatever is getting taken out of the “pocket,” even before the item appears to “solidify” into normal.

You can see River Rowing in action at its activation and deactivation. Unfortunately the position of the camera prevents us from seeing a clear image of the boat as it appears. But its massive light show does include a conversion circle—or a “portal,” if you will, as Trainee walks under the arch. (The camera also prevents us from seeing the boat get sent away.)

We do see the oars, though. As sturdy as they look, they each start out as a shape made of pure energy, with no extra detailing before they “solidify.” So again, conversion and construction are at work here.

JUMP BOOST. Amplification. Works the same way as an air blast. I…don’t actually see a reason as to why Ring can’t already do this? So long as the both of them are fast and strong enough, they should be able double-jump. I don’t like it, but I’m willing to chalk this one up to gameplay mechanics. Jump Boost only exists so you can skip over enemies anyway.

WING ABILITY. Conversion + Amplification. If the boat in River Rowing is an object being converted into and out of Ring’s pocket dimension—then so are the wings. I’m certain of it. There’s a circle of light as Trainee runs under the arch, same as with River Rowing. And if you watch closely here, you can see that each wings appears with distinct, detailed trimming straight from the get-go. Maybe more importantly, you can see each wing actually emerging from a portal of light. These portals come back again as Ring banishes the wings back into his pocket. The wings visibly sink into the portals, and then disappear.

This ability also falls under amplification. It looks like Trainee’s energy also gets fed into the trimmings, and that could increase the force of the flaps. It might be that the two of them wouldn’t be able to cut into the air as well without that boost.

This concludes Ring’s “special” powers.

———

And last but not least: sealing.

Ah, sealing. One of the first powers we ever see on screen. We witness it in action only once, way back in the beginning of the game. So our knowledge of how it works is limited. Something we also know very little about? Ring’s sneaky little “pocket dimension” trick. Unlike sealing, Ring doesn’t even acknowledge this as a power worth talking about. But as it turns out, if you’re working under the assumption that these two are related, it starts filling in some blanks.

Sealing, as we’re shown in the initial cutscene, has done something weird to Ring’s colors. His metal is the same as ever, but the energy that flows through his veins? It cycles through a faint rainbow as it flashes from light yellow to light purple. Dark Influence purple.

“Pocket dimension” implies Ring is somehow connected to a space physically separate from him and further separate from our reality. But if the objects Ring pulls from his “pocket” emerge as energy, that need to be converted back into matter. What if it’s closer than we thought. What if—everything that Ring stores away for you, from every boat or shirt or—heaven forbid—bodybuilding dragon…

What if it all.

Goes into.

His tube.

Life energy exists in everything, everywhere. And Ring is apparently a master at manipulating it into his donut stream. If a tomato, a living thing, can be converted twice and still come out of his “pocket” in one piece—then why not Dragaux? Maybe even especially Dragaux. He appears to convert himself back into the flesh once he’s out.

As for the physical seal that Trainee breaks…As best as I can figure, that thing is a lock being held into place by Ring’s sheer might and concentration. The way Ring talks about it, sealing sounds less like a one-time thing and more like this one, long, continuous effort in suppressing Dragaux. Because despite all restrictions, Dragaux never stopped training, never stopped straining, against his new prison. That seal was on its least legs, even before Trainee ruined Ring’s concentration.

———

STORAGE. Conversion. Physical matter gets temporarily converted into energy, and then tucked away into the tube containing Ring’s personal reservoir of life energy. Safely reversible. Objects can be converted/stored/released remotely, far away from Ring’s center.

SEALING. Conversion + Construction. Storage with a locked gate. The lock needs constant focus and effort to maintain. The physical seal bears a spiral symbol—the very same we see flashing white across the screen before every fit battle—and possibly doubles as a warning sign for danger, please don’t touch.

———

And that’s it. That’s all of them.

This thing is so dense, you genuinely deserve a pat on the back for making it to the end. Unless, you skipped around looking for the last Venn diagram? Which. In that case, here it is! As promised, the complete picture.

TL;DR:

Maybe some of these alignments leave room for argument, but I think the categories themselves stand up pretty well.

I hope reading this only gave you half the headache that writing it gave me! It was fun…when I wasn’t muttering curses against Ring under my breath. The formatting was a pain, but I think I handled it okay.

DISCLAIMER: I take this video game way too seriously. This is all for fun! I feel pretty strongly about my conclusions, but I’ll go back and edit this if/when/where applicable. Thanks for reading.

———

Ring Analysis

Part 1: Synchronizing—How It Works and What It Tells Us About Ring

Part 2: Ring’s Powers—And What They All Have In Common

Part 3: Ring’s Biology and Possible Origins

#ring fit adventure #ring #pizzazz meta #pizzazz post #ring fit trainee #ring fit trainer #ring fit adventure spoilers

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jubilantwriter · 3 years

Text

Of Blood and Static

?̩̲ͯ̚ͅC̉̏̿̒̓͐ͮ͝͏̢̫̭̫͚̜h̦̩̼̝̳͎̹̎̊̿́͐ͮͬ͑̚4̩̞̮̝̊̂͊̈͗ͨ̚͡p̲̻̯̏̃̀t̰̦̙̥̟̺̥̤̓̔͆͛͢͜-̦̠̹͎͎͖̾̂͊?̙̼̱̩̬̏̅ͫ̐̂P̜͉̦͉̲ͨ̃̇ͥ͠r̫̲̰͚̙̫̔̂̒̅͋̐̎̄͟͟0̮̱̅̑͟l̡̘̭̤̹̝̪̱̹̑̈-͉̙̣̘̬̮̗̱̌̆͛ͪ̾ͯ̇̀̕͠?̸̜̩ͭͪͮͭͧ͟͝E̙̤͈̲͋̋́p̨̭͕ͬͪ̕1̺̰̳̣̌̀͝͠!͕͔̘̯͎͍̈́g̼̳̙̯̱̟͉̀̄ͫ̈̋͌̏͝-̜̖͉̰ͫ͡?̩͚̍̀͝: All my love, your Dearest Friend.

(AO3) (First) (Previous)

...Summary?: (He rolls the sheet of paper back up and smiles, stowing the message away in his pocket. Perhaps it was meant for him. Perhaps not. But there's only one way of knowing for sure.

The screen reveals to him the distant figure of a rowing man approaching the beach much sooner than usual. So the march of time continues. A new beginning? Or the end of the line?

Perhaps, he thinks as the screen shuts off, perhaps those questions are best left unanswered.)

Word Count: 2712

////

The Lady is used to the loops. The pieces fall together in her hand, the puzzle complete as she sets it aside to focus on another one. The mirror in front of her, pieced together by all the broken shards from all her past lives, reflects back a her that looks nothing like the monster she often sees reflected back in her quarters. Instead, the her she sees is of a young girl in yellow, defiant, desperate, but hopeful. The Shadow stares at her in the mirror and nods. She nods back, and the mirror is put aside, whole and complete.

They are so close. So close to completion. The Caretaker joins her side as they both gaze over the crowd of Guests. Her hand hovers over the crowd of gluttonous monsters as he takes her other hand and squeezes. The Ferryman had whisked away all the children from the Maw, taking them to a new haven where no one can harm them. The nomes had already gotten a head start in building the start of a settlement.

She never got to see a blur of a blue boy in this loop.

A smile hides behind her mask as the monsters below her scream and screech in terror as she culls them for all their worth. The Maw groans as it creaks, but she pays it no mind.

As they fall over one by one, she looks up towards the entrance of the Maw.

Soon, she thinks. Soon. They'll see him again.

(-)

The Thin Man is tired of the loops. So tired, in fact, that when he finally breaks from his spell the Tower had over him (for so long, so long he had been hurt, pulled apart, ripped apart, smothered, made a monster, a horrible, real monster), the first thing he does is reach out to his beloved friends. The Lady had sobbed - it truly had been that long, hadn't it? - showing a weakness he hadn't seen since the very first loops when they were still completely new to this. Then the Caretaker followed, his appearance a welcomed one as he recalled the mumbled conversations between them when the Caretaker called for him without the presence of the Lady.

There was no real expectation that the Caretaker would remember him, given the lack of contact they've had. But alas, the man in blue cried as well, placing his hand on the glass and whispering out so very tenderly:

"It's about time I got to meet you again. How lucky I must be to be the one who lives to see you once more?"

The reunion had been sweet, words spoken through tears even if his were silent. A charm lays in his suit pocket next to a sailor's cap and a short message. The energy it exudes steals from the Tower and feeds him just enough that he can keep his mind all his own. It had been a struggle. A fight. An endless scream that resonated in the Tower that only he could hear.

He recalls all the memories he had of receiving that charm from the man behind the door after he delivered that package on a whim.

"I'll give this to Six once I save her. If I can't always protect her, at least this thing might do it when I fail her again." Over and over again, he'd repeat that to himself as he wore it on his back like a shield. Funny how it protected him instead of his intentioned Six. But that's what friends are for, huh?

...Friends. There was a time when, as an adult, he thought that the concept of them was nothing more than a lie. How wrong he was back then. How happy he is that he was proven wrong. Loops and loops of fighting, of enacting useless revenge upon useless revenge, of never-ending self-inflicted suffering and anger and regret-

They were always both at fault. It wasn’t always her fault, as much as he so arrogantly used to believe. It’d taken him so long to realize how wrong he was. How the pointless arguing and accusations did nothing to free them. It was, after all, his fault that the loops began in the first place, wasn’t it?

All he wanted was to save her. The Tower twisted his desire and created a never-ending cycle of blame and anger and victimization. Took his desire and twisted it into a desperate vision of wanting to be her hero, her savior - so he became the villain to his hero counterpart. A fantasy created by his own hands in order to forget the origin of why the loops were created in the first place.

(How he failed her over and over and over again and he’ll never forget how she died in his arms because he was too stupid, too idiotic as a child, dragged in by the Signal’s tune and taking the place of the original Thin Man, and it was his fault his fault his fault-)

But now he’s the one being rescued. His fantasy is broken like an axe against a music box, and the one who wields is not one, but two people. Perhaps the real key to their freedom had always been to save him from himself. From his delusions of being the hero, of being the protector of everyone. Because in the end, even a protector must have someone else to protect him.

The door in front of him opens. He knows his part by heart, but this time.

This time it will change.

He smiles as he breaks out of his prison and into the open air. Two children cower just beneath where he stands.

One final chase before the finale.

He slows time and begins his slow walk towards the doorway.

His final chase, and he gets to pick where the finish line is.

(-------)

The Caretaker is aware of the loops. Not quite at the level of the Lady or the Thin Man, but aware enough that he can feel the weight of them on his shoulders. He knows that he was never meant to live. That much he can be sure, the phantom pains of something tearing his neck apart spiking up every once in a while, the nightmares of a child in yellow tearing him apart still plaguing him through his years. He used to question why he's suddenly a part of the loops in this way, but he figures that the knowledge is long since gone, or at the very least, very buried in the recesses of the Lady's mind. A part of him wants to know, to understand why he's suddenly here when he wasn't before. But the other part of him wants to leave it be, knowing that unburying that truth may lead to unsavory discoveries.

At least, for now.

Whatever curiosity he holds has to be put aside for another time, for when they're all away from this horrible hull of a boat. His dream of fully running away from this accursed place is finally coming to fruition as they walk past the deceased Guests and down to the drop-off area. The Ferryman has one last delivery to the Maw. One last visitor before they can finally leave this wretched place.

Dying in the Maw is the last thing he wants, after all.

The Lady fidgets besides him, all elegance tossed to the wind as she waits for a boat to dock. He nudges her gently and smirks when she sends a glare back at him. The mask on her face always felt disingenuous to him, but he never remarked on it despite all the times she wore it. Perhaps it was to make her feel safe, or to hide whatever ugliness she saw in herself. But after all they've been through, it's only a matter of time before she takes it off.

Quietly, he takes her hand and gives it a squeeze.

Just like when they were children. Like when she would look up at him from under her hood, eyes barely shadowed as they shimmered with something unspoken. She was undoubtedly annoying when they were younger, always causing some sort of trouble that he had to drag her out of, but there was something about how she held herself as a child that always had him wanting to protect her from things she couldn't fight back against. Maybe it was how she clung to him after waking up from a nightmare, silent as she stared at a wall wide-eyed, seeing something that he could never. Or maybe it was how she screamed the first time she saw him jump into the water when he first showed her the depths of the Maw. Terrible things happen to children all the time, but having her sob and pound at his chest after he swam out of the water made him wonder just what happened to her that she became this way?

Maybe that's why he stuck around so long. He could have left long ago, but...

She squeezes back, tight and desperate with a smidgen of fear.

If he'd left, she would have been left with no one once again. Thin Man or no, she'd be the same little girl who was hunched over the body of the previous Lady, so full of hurt and desperation and hunger, so ready to make all the wrong choices that he couldn't help but reach out and take her hand.

Everyone needs a little guidance every once in a while.

The sounds of chains hefting a boat up grabs their attention.

Steadily. Without pause. The Ferryman with his sagging face appears, and a man in a sharp suit and fedora is seated just behind him. Long limbs carefully remove themselves from the boat, and he bows slightly to keep his head from brushing the ceiling. The Ferryman nods and makes his descent silently as RK looks up at the man with stolen breath.

Oh.

So this is how he looks from beyond the screen. All the entries in his notebook failed to prepare him for actually meeting the Thin Man in person. He’s impossibly tall and thin and absolutely towers over the two of them, but he holds himself in the most docile way possible. The way he holds himself is completely different from Six - all soft around the edges and nervous to be judged. RK nearly reaches out to take his hand and comfort him. Absolutely amazing how a tower of a man manages to give off the least threatening aura between the three of them.

Almost shyly, the man removes his hat to reveal a full head of hair and an awkward expression. He looks to Six and then to RK with a small smile.

(Ridiculous! To think he’d been locked away in the Tower for so long, twisted and broken into something that didn’t resemble him for loops - it makes RK’s blood boil. But also- he gets it now. Oh, does he get the numerous entries about the Thin Man now. Oh, how he gets it now.)

Never has RK been so happy to be alive to see this day. It was all worth it. A small smile graces his features as his vision blurs happily.

Finally.

(------)

Six doesn't care for the loops as she removes her mask, finally, tears streaming freely as she returns the little smile that Mono had given her.

He looks younger than she expects - true, there are a few wrinkles here and there, but with how he spoke and how he presented himself in the past, she imagined a weary, beleaguered old man to appear before her. He must be as old as them, but he looks just as young as Six parades herself and RK to be. An inkling for the cause is at the back of her mind, but she truly does not care for it. Instead, she reaches out a hand and takes his.

So warm and familiar. A comfort she once took for granted, but will no longer. Fingers longer than her hand squeeze hers in a grip she'd nearly forgotten.

"...Hey," he whispers, voice crackled by the static as a sob breaks her voice. It's deeper than she expected, but the smoothness of it comforts her like a soothing lullaby. She smiles through her tears as she looks back up at him.

"Hi," she whispers back, and the corners of his eyes crinkle up with how bright his smile is. "You must be hungry. Why don't we get a meal ready for you?"

Mono nods back, his other hand already taken up by the warmth of RK's as they lead him through the Maw.

It will be the final meal this Lady of the Maw will ever serve, but it will be warm, and filling, and everything unlike the previous meals she's served before. And they will laugh, and converse, and enjoy each other’s company. Maybe she will take some meat off of RK’s plate, and he’ll act like he’s upset, but he’ll be secretly glad as he focuses on the fish instead. Mono will undoubtedly be confused but entertained by the bickering as RK will try to convince her to eat vegetables, to which she will aggressively decline. And then RK and her will press him to eat more, enjoy more, as they scoop more onto his plate than he can possibly eat, and he’ll try to decline, and maybe he’ll cry a little bit, but he’s happy, he’s happy and not alone and surrounded by warmth as they care for him.

Perhaps the Chefs will be happy to cook a real feast for once, even if it may be the last they will ever cook. Perhaps Roger will be able to bask in the sounds of happiness on the Maw, never to have to clean up after sobbing children or disgusting Guests ever again. Perhaps perhaps perhaps.

And when they finally finish their meal, they'll be able to step out into the warm sunlight together as nothing more than friends with names rather than titles. And it will be the last of the loops they'll have to face.

Their ends mark the beginning of a new start. With hands warm and never empty, they look to the sky together and bask in the sunlight of their newly gained freedom. For however long their existence may last, at least they’ll be able to share their final moments together with a smile and a laugh.

(000000)

Six wakes up on a beach, a body curled up beside her. Nothing of consequence plagues her mind as Mono gets up and stretches beside her, paper bag stowed away in his pocket. A different hat sits atop his head, its tattered ribbon flowing down between them.

"Oi ," says a voice, one that was introduced to them last night when they first arrived, "you guys okay?"

"Yeah," Mono says with a smile, still bashfully hiding his face away from RK. The boy in blue hugs a nome to his chest and nods in response.

"Okay, well, there's food if you guys want any." He jabs a thumb in the direction of the other children. Six nods in response, and watches as he trots off to meet with the others, stopping only once to look back at them curiously.

"So, Six," Mono begins, already standing up and dusting himself off, "what do you wanna do today?"

She grins, because there's nothing to worry about for now. Her mind is free of those haunting feelings, those weird senses of deja vu, of familiarity when familiarity is not warranted. The boy in blue is the last of the familiar feelings, but it is a warm one, one she doesn’t want to let go of. Hopefully, they’ll cross paths soon enough for her to explore this feeling.

Her stomach growls, but nothing of consequence follows.

"Eat."

"Sounds good to me!"

Mono offers her his hand and she takes it. Not once does she have to fear letting him go. She squeezes his hand, a familiar reassurance as he squeezes back.

Nothing of consequence plagues her mind.

She smiles, blissfully unaware of what the future has in store.

And for once, she feels as though she's allowed to be happy.

#little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #ln lady #ln thin man #ln runaway kid #ln six #ln mono #AAAAAAAAAA IT'S FINALLY DONE #ALL THESE WEEKS AND THE TITLES FINALLY CULMINATE INTO THIS #WHO IS THE SENDER??? WHO IS THE RECEIVER??#THE HINT MAY BE BURIED IN THE CHAPTER TITLES THEMSELVES!!#PERHAPS EVEN IN THE... FINAL CHAPTER CHAPTER??#oh and lmao the story is done too #SERIOUSLY THO #thanks all who stuck with this long tale!!#can you beLIEVE this was originally supposed to be a compilation of silly moments only between the lady and thinny?#can you BELIEVE i almost posted this as one whole oneshot???#i would have been skinned alive LOL #but seriously thanks everyone for sticking by me!#i have a couple other fics up my sleeves for this au #duno when they'll be finished but #i hope i do finish them! the adventures of the adults and kids are not over yet!#not completely at least #thanks for everything once again everyone!

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