#<- whichever one of these is the ship name

[fyeahghosttrick]

FULL RULES

Hello and welcome to the twelfth edition of Ghost Swap overall, second edition in fest form! As always, we are here to create fanworks based on each other’s ideas, to eventually post them all on the game’s anniversary to celebrate it with a bang!

Schedule: Prompting begins: April 28th Prompts are posted: May 10th Works are posted: June 19th

It’s a simple schedule for a simple format. First we gather the prompts, our big pile of cool shiny things, then we pick whatever we like and fill it, with no intermediate steps.

At the form, you can submit up to eight separate prompts, anonymously (“Jowd orb”) or listing your name at the start of each one if you would like to be tagged in any potential fills (“laughingmango - Jowd orb”). You can also specify fic or art if you want. If nothing is specified, the prompt is meant for either medium.

In each prompt, please write in a loose description of the character(s) you would like to receive and of the situation(s) you would like to see them in. The prompts don’t have to feature completely different characters and situations - one could be a sad take on Yomiel and Sissel’s friendship, another could be post-game Yomiel and Jowd friendship fluff, a third one could be a fantasy AU where Sissel is Yomiel’s familiar. Or the old GSwap staple Rindge/Sith, of course, what is Gswap if not three rats in a trenchcoat and the uncollapsed possibility of Rindge/Sith. Crossover prompts are allowed. As always, you can look at past prompts for inspiration. If you want to avoid something that might come up in filling your prompt (maybe you are prompting a scenario that might lend itself to a shippy reading but you don’t like that ship), state it simply and politely in the prompt itself - there is no separate field for likes and dislikes (“laughingmango - Jowd orb, art, please no Missile swapping Jowd for a ball”).

On may 10th, the list will be published and everyone will be free to pick whichever they like best and create a fanwork based on that request. Late prompters are welcome but will get less visibility. It’s okay if more than one person is working on the same prompt, we don’t have to coordinate. It’s very welcome if one person decides to fill more than one prompt.

As usual, all works will then be published on Tumblr on June 19th, the anniversary of Ghost Trick’s original release.

These light rules mean that you are free to pick what you like and work with the prompt of your dreams. However, there is no guarantee that one of your own prompts will get picked. All the same, from past experience (and last year’s smashing success!) I sincerely hope that among the works posted on June 19th we will all find something that’ll make us happy, regardless of whether we prompted it ourselves or whether it came from someone else with similar (or surprising!) tastes.

These new rules also mean that there is no mod checking that all participants have a work ready to post on the 19th. Honor system: if you submit some prompts, please try, in good faith, to then pick someone else’s prompt and give it a spin. If RL then gets in the way, it happens and that’s okay.

Happy prompting!

IN SHORT: Between now and May 10th (plus stragglers), we will be creating a shared pool of cool ghost trick prompts. That list will be published on May 10th and everyone who has submitted some things will try to pick at least one prompt to fill - there’s no claiming, no assigning, just work on whatever you fancy. And on June 19th, all our works will be published on tumblr to celebrate the anniversary!

[nehezt]

taste

[betaboks]

The miserable story of her destruction

Vinspooky event day 2 - Werewolf/Lover

@germasholidaycalendar

Bonus illustration based directly on the pv art for the song . Wasn’t yuri enough though so it stays down here

[fawnnbinary]

warmups..... most functional throuple on the Grand Line

[mezzmerizd]

Ship names and duo names are so confusing to me in terms of differenciating tbh,, like boat boys & smalletho. I've seen both be used for both, and I think that's also what i've seen most ppl (on twt) are complaining about?

Like idk, whatever Etho and Joel got going on I'm watching it with popcorn in my hands 🤷‍♂️

[fllagellant]

Chamomile

Samara/Miranda, 1500 words, Gen rating

”Thank you for this. I don’t see why you would have wanted to do this, but-“

“That is why.”

[spirit-fingers22]

THIS

I love soulmates but also this-

[miriaocs]

GET TO KNOW YOUR TWST OCs (and their relationships)

(Or how I make up excuses to blabber about my OC lol. Most of the "who" questions are aimed at the twst cast, but feel free to include other twst OCs as well!)

Name: What does your twst OC's name mean? Why does Rook/Floyd call them [insert nickname]?

Inspiration: Is your twst OC inspired by any villains? Concepts? Anything Disney-related?

Age/Birthday: How old is your twst OC? When is their birthday? Whose birthday (among the cast) is closest to your twst OC's? Does the horoscope lie or do they get along well?

Dorm: Which dorm is your twst OC in? Why? Which qualities they have make them suitable for said dorm? Do they have a roommate and how is their relationship?

Class: Who is your twst OC's classmate(s)? How would you describe their relationship? Did they have different classmates in previous year and did they get along?

Height: How tall is your twst OC? Are they conscious about their height? Are they close to someone with similar leg length?

Hair/Eye color: What are your twst OC's hair and eye colors? Who got the closest/opposite palette to them?

Homeland: Where is your twst OC from? Do they know anyone from the same hometown prior to NRC?

Club: Which club does your twst OC join and why? Is there anything memorable about the club fair day/their first day at the club? Which clubmate is their favorite?

Subject: What is your twst OC's best subject? Worst? Do they study with another whom excels at the same subject? Do they ask anyone for help with the subject they are bad at?

Hobby: What are your twst OC's hobbies? Who among the cast will they possibly ask to join in their pastime?

Pet peeves: What are your twst OC's pet peeves and which one in the cast accidentally (or not) commit the "crimes"? How will your twst OC deal with that person?

Food: What is your twst OC's favorite and least favorite food? Why (optional)? Is there anyone they can share their favorite food? Is there anyone they can count on to take over the food they dislike?

Talent: What is your twst OC's talent(s) and who can properly appreciate that?

Unique Magic/Signature spell: What is your twst OC's UM (if applicable)? What can they do? What is the incantation? Is there any weaknesses/loopholes and who can exploit those?

Quote: Give me something your twst OC will say. Either something they always say or something iconic they said. Something that helps solve the problems or something that is a catalyst to even more issues.

(Ok I'm kinda running out of ideas here) Personality: Give me 3 adjectives to describe your twst OC. Or an essay. Whichever works. Whose personality among the cast is closest to your twst OC and do they get along?

Backstory: Tell me anything about your twst OC's backstory. Their childhood, their parents, their siblings etc. Does their backstory affect how they are as a character now and how they interact with the cast?

Pick only one: Let your twst OC pick only one and explain the reasons: only one favorite from each dorm, only one favorite housewarden/vice housewarden, only one favorite first/second/third year etc.

(For my beloved yume shippers) Partner: Who do you ship your twst OC with? Are they in a relationship? If yes, how did it start/end? If no, why?

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍

# with trafalgar law.

the heir to a throne had taken a liking to you — and law takes it upon himself to mark you his.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, day eleven. smut (mdni!). hate!sex. choking. possessive!law. biting. marking. mentions of blood. shower!sex. dom!law. afab!reader. no y/n used.

WC: 2.3k.

one could mention beyond one dozen fear-stricken adjectives when it came to the surgeon of death. sadistic, ruthless, cruel. the one to rearrange your limbs, to tear your beating heart off your chest and sell to whoever paid more. strangers trembled at the mention; lower-ranks marines were advised to not engage. law was but a monstrous criminal to most, a force to be reckoned with. to his crewmates, he lost partial sharpness, for he was but cap — strict, strategical, cunning, with a preference for solitude more often than not ignored by said boisterous subordinates. to you, he was law. a passionate, yet cold, individual — as though white flame. wielder of neutral facade that hid a habit of collecting coins; an excitement over illustrated, super-hero stories. zelous glances; fleeting brushes of fingers. love explicit through palid eyes, the mirror to his soul with your name all but engraved on it.

a commonly chosen adjective, agreed regardless of those who spoke, was that trafalgar law was thoroughly unlucky. which had been shown a fair amount of times through his journey at sea, one of them right in that instance.

it was supposed to be a common, brief, re-stocking period. when considering the increasing bounty on his head, law being the one assigned to stay-at-ship, caring for it rather than venturing through the streets, was understandable — advisable, even. whenever the captain was in need of particulars, he’d write it down and entrust you with the task of buying it all for a fair price. bepo acted as both a companion and an escort, and said routine had been settled for such a prolonged period that neither of you had expected law to leave later on that day. as capable as he was, captains had first-mates for a reason, and as a result of his stubborn nature, law suffered a combined attack from the kingdom’s security force, which culminated in his capture altogether.

the promise of the marines’ arrival had the crew on edge, desperately seeking for a route to the palace’s dungeon, yet finding none. the solution, however, fell from the skies — or rather you had thrown yourself in its arms. a naive prince, wielder of a bleeding heart and with quite a haste to fall in love. it had taken neither effort nor time to sway him off his feet, a golden crown wrapped around your criminal-esque finger. the man had taken you for a sweet commoner, enlightened at the idea of meeting one who was not royal, and after proper wording you had him at your feet within the midday.

you were showered in jewelry; poems; promises. he demanded a song to be written in your honor and defended you to whoever dared meddle. by the end of the afternoon, you had managed to successfully convince him to escort you to the dungeons — oh, my brave knight! —, for you were ever-so-curious to see the terrible surgeon of death, chained and set to execution. the prince had no time to react — too busy bragging — when you knocked both him and the guard off, stealing the keys and freeing your lover within the second.

law was revolted at your recklessness, yet curious as to how you had managed to get an audience in the dungeon. regardless, the flame of rage dimmed down into an endless, dark pit of hatred when the pair of you managed to escape and run towards the polar tang ashore. as it seemed, you were far too successful in your seducing, for now the guards followed-in-suit, shouting at each other and informing that the surgeon of death kidnapped the prince’s bride. to make matters worse, a celebratory festival was arranged and thrown, exploding fireworks announcing the incoming marriage.

law grew quieter; deadlier. he sliced whichever guard dared to come in between the route of your escape, and once the tang, at last, submerged, he was in such a mood that no crewmate had enough courage to approach him, rather focusing on the urgent task of fleeing. you weren’t given the privilege of shying away from his wrath, for a room, followed-in-suit by a shambles, had you locked in his chambers the second thereafter.

he scanned your figure, face contorting in both disgust and non-contained possessiveness. you were adorned in gold from head-to-toe, courtesy of the prince. the silken dress you wore, expensive and brand new. law prided himself in the jumpsuits the others’ wore — chest embroidered with the symbol of his crew, a lingering reminder to the external that their loyalty laid with him. yet, with you — his lover —, said jumpsuit had him growing twice as territorial; twice as prideful. he used to smirk at the thought of lustful men and women alike, cowering at the sight of the symbol you proudly displayed, retreating in fear for they knew you were his. his to protect; to adore; to touch. not the bride of a prince so incompetent he could neither sway a sword nor differentiate west from east. not a queen, but a pirate — his pirate.

at last, however, law had grown envious. the submarine’s temperature was erratic, oftentimes freezing, yet prone to insufferable warmth, depending on the sea’s conditions. those jumpsuits, although unfashionable, unflattering, had a purpose — to guarantee the comfort and safety of his crew. you feigned indifference, but he never once missed your lingering glance at the outfits worn by the straw-hat’s crew during the alliance. you, too, wished for that, and the context of being a heart pirate did not allow it. there you stood, wearing a dress gifted by another man, shining with the jewelry of his family. it made law’s entire being flare with revolt, and as if that hadn’t been enough, the scent of that prince was smeared all over your skin, causing his own to itch. treacherous thoughts a haze of unwanted images, the sight of that man hugging your shoulders; hunched over you; breath fanning over your face.

perhaps that had been the price to pay for his request for discretion; for the desperate — and unnecessary — grip he had on his privacy. your skin was unmarked, untraced. he never dared bite, never thought useful to apply perfume. no wonder that royal blood believed you free for the taking. law would need to fix that.

if he were a decent man, he would have spared the time to appreciate your efforts; to thank you for going through such lengths to save his life. yet law had not an ounce of gratitude to spare, for he cared more for the claim of your life than for the maintenance of his own.

“did you have fun?” he inquired, drawing pleasure from your wariness, shrinking as though a cornered prey. law grimaced at his approach, bitter as the prince’s perfume invaded his nostrils. “was it enjoyable being pampered while i rotted in a cell?”

your eyes widened, lips parted in shock. “of course not! i was worried sick—”

“don’t interrupt me,” law snapped, struggling to control his breathing.

it was unusual for him to behave in such an angered state, logic thrown aside for the sake of raw emotion. he was not an untamed beast of uncontrollable impulses; he was the patient feline who sent his prey to the edge of despair before offering them the sweet reprieve of death. law was not some half-assed hound who pounded without appreciating what had been given; he was not the damned eustass kid. yet, perhaps the bastard had a point — not that law would ever admit that out loud.

law kicked the small trash can straight into your feet, his eyes boring into yours. “throw it away.”

your fingers wrapped themselves around the clasp of the necklace you wore, and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, gripping the cleavage of your dress. “this one first.”

you complied, scanning him through worried eyes. law drowned in the sight of silk slipping from your shoulders to the ground, fluid fabric wavering in its descent as though a cascate of liquid, pale fire. law hated it. once he was done with you, he’d set that dress aflame with not a care for the stench whatsoever. you hunched over to grab the silk and throw it in the trash as has been instructed, yet law placed a firm hand on the crown of your head when you began to rise to your feet, forcing your knees to meet the ground.

you looked at him through your eyelashes, and his cock all but throbbed at the sight. “law—”

“why are you still with those jewels on? i told you to take it off,” he interrupted, tethering his glance to your cleavage. the lingerie set had not been altered — lacy, beige — one he had gifted to you. your hand went to the bracelet at your wrist, concentrated eyes glued to the piece. “who told you to stop looking at me?”

you shivered, careful when returning your gaze up to his face. the golden band fell onto the can, the round, diamond encrusted earrings following-in-suit. your fingers struggled with the clasp of the necklace, and law grunted with delight at the sight, aroused by your frustration. the star pendant fell into your cleavage, and had it been gifted by him, law would have commanded you to retrieve it with your teeth. but there mere thought of you doing it so in that instance had him seething.

“hurry up,” he barked, revolted with his own thoughts. you were swift — borderline desperate — in the act, throwing it out with a willingness that had him grunting in approval. “on your feet.”

despite having emerged to your full height, you shrunk under the pressure of his gaze, hugging your frame with uncertainty. law wanted to caress your cheek and spread your arms; scold you for depriving him of the sight of your breasts and abdomen, while comforting you on his desire altogether. yet, the scent lingered as though the remnant of a pest on one’s skin. law refused to give in to the urges to ravage you; to touch you as your gleaming eyes begged him to. but you would not leave without a lesson learned.

law teleported the pair of you to the bathroom, pointing towards the shower. “turn it on and stand underneath it.”

a cascade of water was bestowed upon you, soaking the fabric of your lingerie until it left nothing to the imagination. two minutes were required for it to heat up, yet law had no mercy whatsoever, forcing you to withstand the freezing liquid as he stood steps further, stripping himself without haste. vapor swirled around the room, covering inches of your flesh. your trembling stopped, and though law approached with his body bare, cock slapped against his stomach, you remained with the lingerie, for he hadn’t — and wouldn’t — order you to remove it. that had been his gift to you, and law would fuck you numb in it.

his tattooed hand closed around your neck, not quite squeezing it, yet. your head was angled as in a way to have your eyes glued to his own. “where were you touched?”

“waist,” you mumbled, ashamed. “sometimes he hugged my shoulders, too, but he’d rather have his hand on my waist.”

his pupils dilated, tempers rising. you gasped at the strength of his grip, wasting your reserve of air in a single act. law felt the wild pulse of your pressure point, crescent pace beating against the palm of his hand. underneath bone and flesh and muscle, caged amidst ribs, rested a heart whose surface that prince hadn’t touched, for that inch of you was his. every breath you took, every contraction of your heart, belonged to him. those wide, lust-coated eyes were his, as were the hardened nipples, trembling legs and awaiting lips.

law smashed his mouth against yours, more an act of violence than a kiss itself. his teeth dug into flesh, drawing blood from your lower lip, allowing it to drip down your chin. law hummed to himself at the sight, before he pushed you against the wall, ignoring the echo of your head meeting the ceramic. his canines were dragged on your shoulders, nose buried in. he hummed half-approvingly, for the water had expelled the most prominent aspects of the insufferable perfume — not nearly enough. law bit on every inch of your shoulder, steel grip unmoving on your throat, with not a care for your lack of air in your lungs. if you fell unconscious, the shower and his cock would eventually bring you back.

crystalline water merged with specks of dripping blood, soothing tongue licking your fresh wounds. law pressed himself against you, rolling his hips in order to be granted an ounce of friction. your eyes were rolled, maimed waist bearing the marks of his fingers. the grip on your neck loosened, for you could neither moan nor beg without proper breathing.

the white of his smile was tainted crimson when he smirked at you, digging his nails into your waist. “were you enjoying his attention? the festival had beautiful fireworks, wouldn’t you agree?”

his taunts fell on deaf ears. your eyes were filled with tears that dared not fall, your voice rough. the golden collar wrapped around your throat had been replaced by the mark of his fingers.

“i don’t know,” you croaked out, hissing ever-so-slightly at the wound left on your lower lip. “i was staring at you the whole time.”

his anger faltered ever-so-slightly, cock twitching at the confession. for an instance, the bathroom was filled with nothing but the steady sound of the shower and your shallow breathing. until law pressed his mouth against yours with enough strength to have your head hitting the wall behind yet again, clashing teeth; tongue forcing itself inside. he swallowed your mewl, grunting as his shaft pressed itself against you; rutting hips, dragging the tip around the slick flesh.

“law, please,” you begged, choking on your words. sadistic bastard of considerable strength. he stole the air off your lungs, yet demanded you to speak. words but a meek plea, strained and pathetic. “fuck me, please.”

“who do you belong to?” he demanded, teasing your entrance with his leaking tip.

“you,” he dug his teeth into your shoulders, squeezing your neck. his eyes spoke when words failed him; narrowed slits demanding for more. “i’m yours, yours!”

he grunted, shoving his cock inside. law increased the pressure on your neck, muffled moans sending vibrations through your skin as he slid in — base to the tip; balls slapping your ass. his tip assaulted your g-spot, hardened nipples sliding onto his chest. the angle itself was odd; challenging. your back slipped, and your legs wrapped themselves around his waist, offering him a better angle and chance to support your weight. you let out a strangled, desperate moan when his tip forced itself deeper, a ruthless pace that gave neither of you enough time to form a coherent thought.

law retreated from your shoulder in order to catch a glimpse of your face. water had united some of your eyelashes; your lips were swollen where he bit it; your eyes were facing a losing battle against consciousness. he had never seen a prettier sight.

your legs trembled, muted sounds pointing out to the approach of your bliss. law threw his head back to witness it in its full glory, snapping his hips with particular strength, holding a moan at the sensation of your walls — tightening; caging him. when you came, spurs of white smeared the pool of water underneath, law picked up his pace, torturing your abused cunt as he selfishly seeked out his own bliss.

law was a doctor. he did not fall into the spectrum of irresponsible individuals who thought themselves acquitted to the effects of unprotected sex. he had a fair stash of condoms well-hidden and set for usage, and if he ever were to run out of it, either your stomach, tits or face were chosen to be smeared with his cum. however, after the previous demonstration of desire from another, law grew territorial. his cock was yet sheltered within your walls when he reached his high, smearing your insides with his essence and grunting in the process of it all — knowing that you were his; that it was your tight, demanding cunt who milked him dry. his hand raised from your throat to caress your cheeks with an affection at odds with his past behavior.

you were soaked; exhausted. with his load lodged inside, traces of his teeth on your maimed shoulder. you would be sore in the morning, and the collar of his fingers would linger for at least a week. not the bride of a prince — rather the treasure of a pirate.

— 🐈‍⬛ : i should NOT be allowed to write this man. happy kinktober friday!

[lemotmo]

Okay 911 fandom...

I feel like I've been very nice about this before and I always figured it would all just disappear after a while, but this insane Ryan Guzman hatred is getting out of hand. And frankly? It is pissing me off!

So, let's get something very clear here:

This whole concept some people have in their head that Ryan is the reason why Buddie won't ever go canon? IT IS WRONG!

The man has screamed Buddie from the beginning. He came up with the name for Christ's sake. Just because some of you only joined the fandom after 7x04, doesn't mean you get to shit on this guy. You don't know the lore or the history. So shut up!

This idea that Ryan is a bad actor and he is botching up his scenes with Oliver, because Oliver clearly plays Buck as in love with Eddie?

Again... WROOOONG!

Buck is sooo much further on the Buddie path than Eddie is. All he has time for right now is his son! Ryan is NOT going to play Eddie smitten with Buck, because he isn't there yet in the narrative. He obviously cares deeply for Buck though and we see it in everything Ryan puts into his acting. He is obviously a talented actor and artist. So again... SHUT UP!

If I see any of you threaten the man over a fucking fictional ship on a TV-show? I will report you on whichever platform you are on and I'll make sure that everyone knows who you are so they can block you accordingly. Are you insane?! You cannot threaten people for doing their job.

And NO! Nobody is going to recast Eddie because you have it in your stupid little ignorant dumb minds that the man is a misogynist, a sexist, a racist, a terrible father (ARE YOU CRAZY! YOU CANNOT CALL A MAN YOU DO NOT KNOW A BAD FATHER! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN SMOKING!?) and a whole other slew of things that are simply made up in your own head!

He made one single mistake a loooong time ago. He admitted that he was in a very dark place around that time. He even talked about trying to take his own life at a certain point. How much more honesty do you need?

After that mistake he apologised and he has obviously worked really hard to become a better guy. We can hear that in every interview he does. Stop spreading the narrative that people can't be forgiven after they apologise. What age are you? Four??? Of course people can be forgiven. It's called growth. This insane cancel-culture that has been growing rampant for the last couple of years has gone to all of your heads. Wake up and SHUT UP!

Stop these ridiculous claims and please do everyone a favour! Move on to another fandom where miserable people like you are welcome.

For years now this fandom has been a great place to be in. I love it here! But I've had it with the insane hate-campaigns against a guy just doing his job.

I won't even go into the insane Eddie hate I have seen lately.

This has got to stop!

I am still not a Ryan stan, but I am a decent human being and admirer of his work. So whatever has been going on lately? It is NOT right and we should all shout that from the top of our lungs.

If anyone is reading this and recognises themselves in what I have written here? Please step outside, touch grass, look at the sky and if you are following me? Kindly unfollow me. Thank you.

If anyone is reading this and feels the same way? Feel free to follow. I promise that I don't often make posts like this. I try to spread the fandom positivity as much as I can. So expect lots of that here.

Can we now just go back to enjoying what is really important here? Buddie is about to go canon. Let's celebrate and have fun! We've been waiting years for this. This is our time.

[guessthatrec-poll]

Welcome to the Guess That Rec tournament!

Do you like enemies-to-lovers? Non-stereotypical queer rep? A cyberpunk setting with dragons in space about friendship, family, and the dangers of capitalism?

Well, this isn't any of those things! This is Guess That Rec, a tournament by the mod of @besttropeveershowdown where we'll be voting on media based entirely on bad, Booktok-style recommendations. Inspired by @guess-that-ship and this post, the rules of the tournament are simple: submit a recommendation for your favorite piece of media, and we'll vote on which ones we like best, BUT, here's the kicker: You may not mention anything about the actual plot of the story. Instead, we will be voting based on promo-post-style recommendations, which can include tropes, representation, setting, genre, very general theme, and anything else, as long as it doesn't describe anything that actually happens in the story!

Season 1 has come to a close, with rec 15 (Red vs. Blue) taking home the gold. Submissions for season 2 will be open on Saturday 5/3!

Example:

Do you want a high school story about a neurodivergent protagonist working through their trauma by going on adventures in the big city? Queer-coded side characters? Male characters breaking through their toxic masculinity and expressing their feelings? Wholesome sibling relationships?

Then you'll love Catcher in the Rye!

The tournament will work similarly to the way @guess-that-ship does. Each rec will be assigned a number for the poll with the rec itself going in the body of the post, and each round, there will be a poll pitting 2 recs against each other. Vote for whichever piece of media sounds most appealing based on the rec alone. At the end of each round, I will reveal the identity of the loser. Guessing what work each rec is for in the comments is encouraged!

THE RULES:

Any type of media is permitted. Both fiction and nonfiction are allowed, but everything must be presented as if it's fiction.

You may NOT mention anything to do with the actual plot or premise of the story. You may, however, mention:

Tropes (ex. enemies-to-lovers, fake dating, unreliable narrator)

Representation (ex. disabled protagonist, gay side character)

Character dynamics and relationships (ex. dysfunctional siblings, grumpy x sunshine lesbians)

Setting (ex. in space, in the Old West)

Genre and subgenre (ex. historical fiction, whodunnit, workplace comedy)

Comparisons to other media (ex. if you liked Avengers you'll love this, it's Twilight meets Hunger Games)

General themes (ex. love, grief, family)

General elements (ex. murders, adventures, road trips)

Anything else that has NOTHING TO DO with what the story is actually about!

3. You may NOT make anything up: everything must be technically true, or at least up for interpretation. So, in my Catcher in the Rye example, I can't say that there are "canonically gay characters" because there aren't, but I CAN say that there are queer-coded characters. Similarly, if there's a character in your piece of media who exhibits autistic traits but has never been confirmed autistic, you can't call them "autistic", but you can call them "autistic-coded" or mention their specific traits. The use of weasel words (ex. describing a mentally ill serial killer stereotype as "neurodivergent", or a gay villain as a "major queer character") is allowed and encouraged.

4. Do not include any identifying details (ex. title, character names, identifying place names) in your rec.

5. Funnier submissions will be given higher priority. Submissions are funnier if A) they're of media that most people have heard of, and B) they are technically true while not at all capturing the vibe of the media.

5a. Additionally, remember that this is meant to be BAD recs: don't just use this as an excuse to recommend your favorite media! If a Booktok-style rec actually provides a good picture of what your media is, consider either rewriting or not submitting it.

6. Should the same media be submitted by two different people with different recs, priority will generally be given to the first submission, unless a later submission was significantly funnier by the guidelines stipulated in rule #5.

7. There is no banned media: go nuts!

Tagging @tournament-announcer!

[freyito]

i read the umm boothil vidaharyda (i dunno if im spellung that right) peice you did and and HOTBJF FNF ABABABJGHYTUFHFHR?!!!!!!!!!!!! that was AMAZING!! if you did a part two it would be like, really cool!! i love the way you write sm 🫰

✭ pairing(s): boothill x male vidyadhara reader

✧ a/n: im glad you enjoyed my writing anon... i apologizing for being several months late... ahaha... ANYWAYS! i think this is a nice break from blue veins two... just some good ol fluff :P... it's also been so long since i've written for male reader it feels like @_@

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: male reader, vidyadhara reader, itty bit of lore building (made the vidyadhara look a little more like the yan siblings from arknights), hey you guys are married now!, lots more fluff. cause i said so., he's a little clingy, not proofread

✎ wc: 1.9k

[i , ii]

ꜱᴄᴀʟᴇꜱ & ᴍᴇᴛᴀʟ ; ii

Well, where did the time go? Suddenly, you find yourself lounging on Boothill’s ship, face down on a couch, as his fingers scratch at your scalp. Your tail wags shamelessly in the air as he hums, some tune he had picked up in his youth. Needless to say, you are content beyond relief right now. It had been a couple years since Boothill had first asked you out, and now what you are left with is bi-monthly ‘vacations’, and a pretty little ring on your finger.

Safe n’ sound in the vast expanse of space, stuck with a Galaxy Ranger that had vowed to keep you safe, love you with every single part of his being, bolts and all. It’s something he echoes near every day, even when he is several star systems apart from you. A normal day at the Skyfaring Commission for you could be a wild chase for Boothill, running from bounty hunters, taunting them anyway he can. While you worried over him to the point of running yourself ragged, he had always found his way back to you.

He spoiled you rotten, with every breath he took, every step he tracked, you were pampered. He was much like a penguin, bringing you rocks from whichever planet he had visited. Not just rocks, but all sorts of trinkets. He’d bring you food if he could, because he’s just so in love with the way your face lights up when you taste something new. The way your tail wags furiously, while you speak so fast you run out of breath.

He’s found that he quite enjoys living through you. He can eat, sure, but he can’t taste it. So to watch you enjoy new cuisine with such enthusiasm (or even the same food you’ve been eating since you first could), it brings him an odd sense of peace. That being said, dinner dates are always on the schedule. It’s more of him watching you with a lovestruck look on his face while you eat.

Little dates like that have been quite common ever since he first asked you out. And before, of course. The only difference is they are more frequent. No matter how far he had been, across the star system or on planets unknown, he has always found a way to show up after your shift, or sweep you away to his ship.

All of this, of course, leads back to the current moment. Tucked away in your own little slice of heaven, reading some fantastical mythologically inclined story, while Boothill pets you as if you were a lap dog. He does his best to steer clear of your horns, though you know he won’t for long. Regardless, in his eyes, you are simply so cute like this, all docile and happy. The way your tail waves with every pet, or wags faster when he nears your horns.

“Darlin’...” He whispers, the pet name falling from his lips languidly.

You don’t look up from your book, but acknowledge him with a soft ‘hm?’ nonetheless. You haven’t found a spot to pause, too deep into the page, and the next page didn’t start with the start of a sentence. You’d lose your place too easily!

Boothill, however, wasn’t happy with such simple acknowledgement.

“Heyyy, darlin’...” He drawls in a sing-song tone, twirling a strand of hair around his finger. “Look at me, pretty please?”

“One more moment,” You mutter, unphased.

He isn’t happy with that answer either. He slides his hand under your chip, cupping your face and tilting your head up. Your eyes track your book as much as they can, before inevitably meeting Boothill’s. He gives you a crooked smile when you make eye contact, batting his eyelashes like he didn’t do anything.

“There you are…” He purrs, low and sultry, his other hand continuing to pet at your hair. “Listen, I was thinkin’ we go do somethin’ real fancy.”

“For what occasion?” You cock your head to the side. You did your best to swallow whatever annoyance you had, as much as you were into the book, there was no need to point it out. Boothill would’ve gotten his way one way or another.

“I dunno. ‘Cause I wanna,” He shrugs, “I’m thinkin’ of takin’ you somewhere, maybe The Capital of Passion, maybe New Bethelhem. Somewhere nice n’ romantic. I’d take you out for one of the classics; dinner and a show. See if there’s somewhere showing one of those cheesy romance movies you like so much, eh?”

As he speaks, he leans down a little, pulling you closer. In the end, you shuffled up with a blush, huffing softly and turning your head away from him. You know what he’s doing, lingering a little too long, his eyes following your every little move. He either seeks to fluster you still, with simply asking you out on a date, or he’s scheming. The second thing makes you shiver slightly.

“I haven’t seen somethin’ like that in a long time, y’know, it’d be nice to enjoy somethin’ all quiet and peaceful like. Doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

“... What are you up to?”

“Nothin’ sugar! Ah, that’s hurtful, you know! Always thinkin’ im up to no good,” Boothill shakes his head with a mock-disappointed look. “Can’t a man share his ideas?”

You sigh, doing your best to calm down your own bashfulness, as he shuffles closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in close. With a soft sigh, he closes his eyes. His smile drops for a second, and that leaves an odd ache in your gut. When have you not seen him smile? But that worry is quickly washed away when he opens his eye, that familiar sparkle twinkling in his eye.

“I just wanna treat you good, yeah? I dunno… I don’t think I’ve gotten the chance to take you somewhere nice…” His voice wavers. Meanwhile, you’re trying to wrap your head around it. He’s taken such good care of you, so where did this come from? “When was the last time we had a date where you could get all dolled up and we’d have a night out on the town, hm…?”

“Well…” You do your best to recall, but you can’t necessarily remember. Mainly because he’s taken you on so many dates, it all tends to get lost in the mix.

“Exactly! That’s why I’m thinkin’ I ought to start acting like a gentleman.”

That statement makes you tilt your head in confusion. A gentleman? He was already one, really. He just hadn’t lost his roguish charm. He treated you so well and kind, showered you with gifts, compliments, and praises, and here he was saying he should act like a gentleman?

“Boothill… what do you mean by that?”

“I wanna settle down. For you, ‘n all.”

“SETTLE DOWN!?” You can’t help but raise your voice in shock. Your tail starts flicking ferociously, trying to make sense of what he had said. It was clear enough, but for the Boothill to say he wants to settle down? Ah. He must be insane. Something must’ve gotten into one of his neurochips and infected his system. That must be it.

“Woah there cowboy–”

Before he gets the chance to explain his reasoning, you pounce on him. You press the back of your hand to his forehead to check if he was running hot (like he could get a fever…), then stare into his eye for a moment, before lifting his upper lip with your thumb, before forcing the man to open his mouth. Well, how were you supposed to check a cyborg for any symptoms of a virus? You didn’t know. But his mouth seemed normal, his gums seemed normal, all seemed well. He chuckles as you shuffle down and press your ear to his chest, to see if his fans were kicking into overdrive. There was no sound out of the ordinary, the subtle humming of his fans and system working as intended.

Slowly, his hands fall to your shoulders as he pushes you up off of him. He lays beneath you with a soft smile, while you stare down at him, tail swishing like a predator ready to pounce. You still can’t get over it, there’s no way he’d say such a thing. He was spontaneous, if he stayed in one place for more than two weeks, he’d get antsy! Not to mention, he was wanted. He couldn’t really stay in one place regardless, even in some place as heavily guarded as the Loufu. Besides, you were happy as is! Married, with a stunning boyfriend to boot, who loved you like no other… even the thought of settling down with him seemed outlandish.

“Is it really such an insane idea? Think about it sweetpea,” He shrugs, maintaining eye contact. “Nice little corner of the universe to call our own. I’d make a good, honest livin’, tendin’ a little farm and what not.”

You give him another perturbed look, one that borders on disgusted.

Nicer light? What a joke, you think. You’ve seen him when he’s as dashing as ever, running from bounty hunters who had tracked him down on one of your little moonlit evenings. The way he looks just stunning no matter what, whether it be when he’s delivering some of your favorite food to you, or when he’s dragged you to his favorite shooting spot. The way the sunlight had always hit him just perfectly, the way his smile shines oh so bright, the way those eyes charm you to even do the simplest of things when he’s ‘too tired’.

Before you can retort, his chuckle turns into a deep laugh, hands falling to your sides.

“You believed me, huh?” He laughs, doing his best to shuffle out of your ireful gaze. “Was I that convincin’?”

Ah. He was playing around. Good. Still, that doesn't stop you from scolding him. You reach up and pinch his cheeks, earning a groan from him as he tries to wrench free from your grip.

“Where did that come from!?” You pitch, making sure he stays beneath you. “That’s scary you know! Suddenly jumping to a conclusion like that! Especially when you’re wanted!”

“Hey now!” Boothill protests. But you shut him up quick, leaving his cheeks and landing a couple of playful punches to his chestplate. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere– or, I guess I should– stop that!”

Before you have time to react, he’s reached up and grabbed one of your horns, causing you to yelp at the way it made you feel. The cold steel against your wonderful horns sending a white hot jolt of shock and something else, the feeling akin to when you’d bump your funny bone into something.

“Waha!” You whine, falling dramatically limp in his arms.

“Awh, now, I didn’t mean to do that baby,” He coos sarcastically, before turning to run his hand once more through your hair. “It was a joke, is all… can’t blame a man for having fun, can you? I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

When you look up at him, he’s pouting like you had truly scolded him for something so nonsensical, before it turns into a cheeky grin. One that said ‘I didn’t really do wrong…’. You’d fight back, speak your mind, but not when he’s so close to your weakness. With a huff, you stay in his arms, cheek pressed against his chest as he hums, idling running his fingers through your hair once more. What a scare he had given you, and now he gets to act all normal while you reap the consequences..

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[deep-space-halloween-zine]

Deep Space Halloween Zine Information

Hi there, welcome to the Deep Space Halloween Zine information zone, where I try to give all the pertinent information about the zine in one handy post.

Submission Rules

Fandom

This is a Deep Space Nine zine, so please make sure your submissions focus on Deep Space Nine and its characters. However, characters from other trek shows are welcome as "guest stars" in your works.

Theme

This zine will be (very loosely) Halloween themed! The works can be about halloween itself, or they can be spooky, or even just fall themed. This is a very, very loose theme.

Format and Cost

This zine will be released digitally and be completely free!

A version formatted for printing will be available if you so choose to print and assemble the zine yourself!

Acceptable Mediums

Fanfiction (up to 5000 words)

Fan art

Comics

Photo Manips/Collages

Poetry/Original Song Lyrics

(Photos of) sculptures, dioramas, cake art

Basically if it can be put on a piece of paper, it can be eligable!

Zine Cover

If you would like to submit a cover for this zine, please do!

If you submit a cover, it must include the name of the zine (Deep Space Halloween Zine) the issue number (Issue 1) and the year (2025). It should not include signatures or watermarks (credit will of course be listed inside the zine itself).

Covers can be your own art, or can be a photo manipulation.

In the case that multiple covers are submitted, all covers that don't make it to, well, the cover, will be featured as full pages at the end of the zine as "alternate covers," like collected editions of comics do!

Qualifications

You do not need to be an experienced artist/writer/cake decorator/whatever to contribute to this zine!

In fact, beginners are both welcome and encouraged to participate!

Rating

To keep this zine friendly for everyone, we will not be accepting explicit content.

Please keep your works to a rating of Teen+ or lower, or PG-13.

Since this is a halloween themed zine, blood and gore is allowed, as long as it fits a PG-13 rating (use your favourite search engine to find a list of PG-13 horror movies if you need a reference point).

Ships

You can feature ships in your work, or no ships at all if that's more your style.

Ships between minors and adults should be avoided.

AI Generated Work

AI generated work is strickly not allowed.

Don't do it. I will know. And I will find you.

Exclusivity

All works submitted must not have already been posted elsewhere.

All works submitted should remain unposted until the zine is released on Halloween, after which you are allowed to share your work on Tumblr/AO3/Wherever.

Deadlines

Submissions are due on 1 August 2025!

The zine will be released on 31 October 2025!

Submitting Works

Please email your submissions to spacedogfromspace@gmail.com.

If you submit to the zine, please make sure you check your email often. If you don't think you will remember to check, please include your tumblr or discord (whichever is the easier way to get ahold of you) in your initial email and make sure your account is set so I can message you on those platforms.

[dol-dee]

Monroe the Moribund (They/Them)

Name: Monroe Age: 21 Species: Human (Fox TF) Pronouns: They/Them Height: 197cm (207cm with heels)

"You know what they say- you're never dressed without a shit eating grin" ^^

Fulltime Professional Penthouse Pet</3 A typically spoiled rich kid with a superiority complex, who had a fall from grace. (the superiority complex persists unfortunately)  Monroe’s the bastard child of an affair who got adopted into the family against the cheaters wishes, to serve as a constant reminder and emotional chess piece.They quickly became their step parents prized pet, something akin to a lover, child and a handy bargaining chip whenever some palms needed to be greased or a deal needed to be sweetened. Doltown is not a good place for anyone but the rich, privileged  and powerful; and Monroe got to find that out intimately- shipped back to the place of their conception and kicked down into the bowels of the town, the instant their step-parent died. Forced into an ever increasing debt. A parting gift by their remaining parent for a torturous slow demise.

They're annoyingly charismatic and charismatically annoying. A vain piece of work who has trouble connecting with people, despite being practically surrounded by them at all times. A known menace, mooch, flirt and a prolific liar who lies.

Extremely prideful with a very utilitarian view of people. They’re the type of person who views everyone but a few exceptions as unimportant background characters with no internal lives. And determines someone's worth by their relevance in the different social ecosystems they frequent.

Monroe is Dee’s overgrown pet fuckboy, situationship, quasi-family and alleged best friend all rolled into one- who also unwittingly mated to her the second the fox transformation got forced onto them. They spend most of their time away from doltown, practically vanishing into thin air for weeks or even months at a time. Purposefully keeping Dee in the dark in regards to their work as a live-in sugar baby, managing the pathological antics of whichever high net-worth individual is willing to pay the exorbitant rates required to fund their continued survival. 

Fun Facts!

Prideful cunt that will take the bit too far, always

Generally pretty unflappable because youre less than nothing in their eyes

Depersonalizes people by exclusively using pet names or nicknames for them. Dee is one of the only people who has the privilege of being called by her name.

probably bailey's top earner and thus afforded more protection (practically untouchable),..But only as long as they keep being useful

worked at a host club and as a model before becoming a fulltime sugar baby

touchy mf. Not to keen on being touched themself but anyone else is fair game

Shit at fighting, good at dodging- slippery like an eel

Developed chronic pain thanks to the mating bond

suppresses the fox tf as much as possible and purposefully ignores it. Yes they turned compartmentalization into their personal sport, thanks for asking

Has an Eating Disorder

Assumes they have a low life expectancy and is making the most of it

they love annoying and unsettling people. They need to be charming and courteous 24/7 usually so they enjoy being a menace to anyone they know is/deem as - unimportant. It Also serves as a sort of test to see who sticks around.

scar on their nose and neck, both from attempts on their life

has their own little spy network. They mainly use it to keep track of Dee- Her schedule and anyone who's getting close to her. They check the Orphan roster semi-regularly to keep track of most of the Orphans as well. Just in case.

Loves to watch Dee eat. Weirdo

Got their Room privileges revoked a while ago due to their frequent absence and thus stays with Dee whenever they're back in town (despite having an apartment they could return to)

Hands out money to other orphans like candy. it makes them look better

They dress provocatively as a form of protection. If someone left scars or bruises it would be easy to see

their debt is ever increasing thanks to their remaining parent, who pays hefty sums to Bailey to ensure Monroe will slowly be ground into dust

Lover of Fashion, trashy movies and smut books

[meenaxskz]

meena x skz dynamic overview

meena's dynamic with each of the members : pure chaos, love, and ✨therapy-worthy behavior✨

🐺 bang chan – team dad, trauma bond captain

ship name : BangNa (because it sounds like a weird fruit i love it)

✦ Chan is the leader, the rock, the one who tells her to rest... while not resting himself. ✦ She’d throw hands for him, but also slap him upside the head if he forgot to eat lunch. ✦ Tells her “you did great today” and now she’s crying under the blanket like a simp. ✦ If anyone ever breaks his heart? They’re disappearing. No body. No evidence. "Say you’re proud of me again and I’ll sob into your pecs, you responsible piece of hotness." (Meena)

🐱 lee know – her nemesis

ship name : NoNa

✦ She’d stab him in the leg and then ask if he’s hungry. ✦ They argue like divorced parents ✦ Minho roasts her like it’s his job, but if anyone else breathes wrong near her? He’s in murder mode. ✦ She would never admit it, but she lives for his backhanded affection and rare soft smiles. ✦ Also, he could say “move” and she’d move. Out the country. “I’d die for you. Or kill for you. Whichever comes first, just let me know.” (Meena)

🐖 changbin – emotional support teddy bear

ship name : MeenBin

✦ Looks like he bench presses buildings but turns into mush when she pouts. ✦ Meena teases him constantly about his protein shakes and gym selfies, but he will 100% carry her on his back without being asked. ✦ He’s protective in the “hold my earrings” way. They argue over snacks like siblings, then he buys her ten more the next day. ✦ Bonus: gives the best hugs but pretends he hates them. “You’re so cute I could bite you. Like literally. Let me gnaw your arm a little.” (Meena)

🎨 hyunjin – your Honor, they’re soulmates but dumb

ship name : HyunNa

✦ “Koala boyfriend energy but they’re not even dating (yet??)” ✦ Clingy. Dramatic. Jealous if she breathes near anyone else, but totally not in love or anything 🙄. ✦ He’s the walking green flag with red flag behavior, and she’s the only one who can calm him down when he spirals. ✦ Also if she calls him “pretty boy”, he follows her around for hours like a duckling. “You’re ridiculous. You’re clingy. You’re dramatic. I’d let you ruin my life.” (Meena)

🐿️ han – chaos gremlin x flirty bestie energy

ship name : MeenJi

✦ They either kiss or fight for snacks and there’s no in-between. ✦ Their friendship is 90% jokes, 10% dangerously flirtatious moments they pretend never happened. ✦ They could be naked in a closet and still go, “Haha no it’s not like that!” ✦ Also: they once “fake dated” for a prank and never clarified it was fake. To this day, no one's sure what the hell is going on ?? ✦ If he cries? She's committing arson. Like full-blown news headlines. "You’re my favorite idiot." (Meena)

🐥 felix – her sunshine

ship name : MeeLix

✦ he bakes her cookies then threatens anyone who makes her cry. ✦ Meena is Felix’s emotional support noona. ✦ He’s clingy in a quiet, loving way. Back hugs, shared drinks, forehead kisses without context. ✦ She sees him smile and immediately wants to cry, adopt him, AND throw hands for him. ✦ If Felix so much as sniffles, she’s ready to flip the Earth upside down. ✦ Would protect him with her entire life. Like if God said “choose one,” she’s choosing Lix with zero hesitation. "If anyone hurts you, I will end them and then cry because you’re crying." (Meena)

🐶 seungmin – menace little brother who secretly adores her

ship name : MeenMin

✦ Insults her 24/7 but will fight God if she’s sad. ✦ Calls her “annoying” more than her name. ✦ Their love language is mutual disrespect and vague threats. ✦ Once, he had a fever and she cancelled her entire day to baby him. ✦ She would literally rip the moon from the sky if he ever felt unloved. ✦ Pretends to be emotionally unavailable but once stayed up with her till 5am when she had a breakdown. ✦ He’d rather eat nails than say “I love you,” but will silently fix her blanket when she’s asleep and think he’s slick. "Only I get to bully you" (Meena)

🦊 I.N – baby of her life

ship name : JeonMeen

✦ She babies him. He exploits it. Balance. ✦ She’s convinced he’s the cutest thing alive. Would die for him. Or kill. Honestly both. ✦ Meena spoils him. He lets her. ✦ Then turns around and makes some wild comment that makes the whole room go “EXCUSE ME??” ✦ Lowkey chaos. Highkey knows he can manipulate her with one pout. ✦ Calls her “Noona” just to make her soft, then roasts her the next second. “You're too cute. I’d die for you. I’d stab someone with a glitter pen if you asked nicely.” (Meena)

DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations. Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.

m.list • meena king’s profile

[psuedosugu]

Hope ★

Daisuke x reader

synopsis: Daisuke gives you hope in a hopeless situation.

notes: this is lowkey corny buttt idgaf also happy new years

The faint buzz of the Tulpar filled your ears as you sat against the metal wall, your eyes squeezed shut. Everyone else was on the other side of the freighter, and you had gone off for some peace and quiet so that you could think over your current situation.

The ship now crashed, you, and the rest of the crew, were now stranded in space. Food and oxygen was limited, and the chance of rescue was slim. You found yourself wondering how it had come to this. You had always wanted to be a pilot, had worked your ass off to get into college and to find this internship, but it all meant nothing now.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the noise of the door opening and shutting, nor did you notice your fellow intern, Daisuke, stepping in. “Uhh, [name]?”

you flinched at the sound of his voice as your eyes flew open.

“Oh. Hi.” you blinked up at him. “Hey,” he responded, “I was looking for you.”

“Why?” you asked. he shrugged at your question, sitting next to you. Your heart fluttered as his shoulder brushed yours. Daisuke, perhaps the sole good thing up here. You still remember the day you met him, all gap-toothed smiles and sunshine, so positively good, unlike you, you thought. The two of you had hit it off, probably due to the 2 of you both being the youngest. He was kind but still honest, funny, a dream to be around.

The two of you sat in understanding silence for a bit before he interrupted. “So..” he began, “You good?”

“Just thinking,” you responded.

“About?” he asked.

“Life on Earth. All of the things I’m gonna miss out on.”

He frowned. “Don’t think like that. I bet they’ve sent a team out to find us. We just gotta wait.”

In any other situation his optimism would’ve been endearing, but now it only served as a reminder of how hopeless their situation was. You pulled your knees closer to your chest as you blinked back tears.

“Hey, hey..” he comforted you, noticing your watery eyes, “I’m being serious. We’ll be okay, okay? I promise.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself too.

“We’re off the grid, untraceable, and even if they could find us, are their cheap asses really gonna waste all of that money trying to get us? We’re stuck here, stuck until we run out of oxygen, or food, whichever comes first.” you countered.

“But-“ he started.

“No. You can believe what you want, but I’m not getting my hopes up.”

“-We need hope,” he continued. “Without hope we don’t have anything at all.” You stayed silent at his words.

“Please? Just…you shouldn’t just give up now.” he pleaded. “What if we do get off?”

“What if we?” you responded.

“You don’t..have anyone you want to see? anything you’re looking forward to?” You had put all of your time and effort into your education, but after this? You weren’t sure if you ever wanted to step foot into another ship ever again. The company was closing down anyways, and you had no one, no parents or friends who cared enough to lean back on. You had nothing waiting for you on earth.

“…No.” you muttered. “I don’t have anyone down there.” Daisuke frowned. “How come?” His voice had an undertone of sadness. “Guess I’m not like-able enough for anyone.” you half-joked, trying to come off as unbothered, but the frown still lingered on his face.

“I don’t think you’re unlikeable. I really, really like you, [name].” His words made your face heat up. “You- I.. I like you too.” you stammered.

“You could stay with me. My mom would like you, I bet.” He suggested, his hand creeping towards yours. “You don’t have to do all that just because you pity me.” you shot back, a bit harsher than you intended.

“I don’t…pity you. I really did mean it when I said I like you. I want to be with you. I don’t want you to be alone. Please?” He squeezed your hand as you thought it over. You didn’t want to let him go, didn’t want to let go of that hope for a better life, one where you weren’t so alone.

“Okay.” You sighed, cracking a slight smile. He smiled back, that dumb smile that had you melting over and over again. You wanted to kiss it off of his face, so you did. It was an impulse decision, a stupid one at that, but you softly put your lips on his, wrapping your arms around him. He was tense at first but then melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist.

The both of you parted for air and fear started to creep into your vision. What if you had read the room wrong? What if he didn’t like it? But then he went in for another kiss, then another, then another, peppering kisses onto your face as you giggled.

“Now c’mon, you shouldn’t just keep yourself cooped up here. It’s not healthy.” He said, pulling you up from the ground, and you left that room feeling a little lighter, a bit more hopeful.