#( gave me some time to reflect and all that )

[dazedangsl]

BLOWING MONEY FAST   skater!chris

When Chris’s board gets stolen, y/n surprises him with a new one, customized with inside jokes and doodles only they would understand.

Chris had never been so pissed in his life. He’d left his skateboard leaning against his car for a minute. Just a minute. But when he came back, it was gone. Stolen. It wasn’t the kind of board you could just replace—at least, not without feeling like an idiot. That board had been with him through everything. It had scratches from late-night sessions, stickers that had been on there since he was 15, and a little dent from that one time he wiped out trying a trick he couldn’t even land. It was his, and now, it was gone. The worst part? No one had even seen anything. No one knew who took it. It was just gone. “Shit,” he muttered, pacing around the parking lot. He was pissed off but also kind of empty. That board was more than just something he rode—it was an extension of himself. He sent a text to y/n, knowing she’d get it.

“Someone stole my board.”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough for y/n to know the kind of day he was having. She didn’t reply right away, but he figured she was busy. He ran a hand through his hair, sitting on the curb. What the hell am I gonna do now?

The next day, Chris wasn’t expecting much. Maybe a pity message from y/n, maybe a distraction, but nothing more. So when she texted him early in the afternoon with just two words: “Meet me”—he was thrown off. “Where?” he typed back, raising an eyebrow. “Park. You’ll see.”

When he showed up, y/n was standing next to their car, arms crossed, looking smug. She didn’t say anything at first, just waved him over.

Chris raised an eyebrow, a little confused. “You got something to show me or are we just standing here?”

“Patience,” y/n said, smiling just enough to make him curious.

She motioned to the back of the car, where a large sheet was draped over something. Chris couldn’t help but lean in, eyes scanning over it.

“Is this…?”

“Yeah, yeah,” y/n said, pulling the sheet away slowly. “I figured you might need a new one.”

Underneath was a fresh skateboard, brand new, not a scratch on it. It looked normal at first glance, but then Chris saw the details. The deck was covered in black and grey, but there were tiny doodles all over it—subtle things that only he and y/n would ever notice. A little sketch of a pizza slice in the corner (from that night they had the awful pizza), a drawing of a stick figure with a helmet on (an inside joke about Chris always wearing gear), and a couple of random notes scribbled across the edges. There were even a few phrases, like, “Get over yourself” and “Maybe next time, huh?”—quotes from some of their dumbest conversations.

Chris blinked, then smirked. He ran a hand over the board, examining the details. The board was a damn masterpiece, but more than that, it was a reflection of their relationship—laid-back, but full of random, weird moments they both cherished. It was perfect.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said, voice low. He tried to act cool, but there was a bit of softness behind it.

“I know,” y/n said, shrugging. “But you’re not exactly the type to ask for help when something matters to you. And I figured if I didn’t do something, you’d just mope around for the next week.”

Chris gave her a look. “I do not mope.”

y/n raised an eyebrow. “Sure you don’t.”

He chuckled, stepping forward to pick up the board. “This… this is actually kind of perfect,” he said, genuinely. “I mean, I don’t know how you did it, but yeah. This is way better than the old one.”

“I had to make sure it was up to your standards,” y/n said, her tone soft but playful.

Chris looked at the board again, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. It wasn’t just a replacement—it was something that actually meant something.

He ran a hand along the edge, grinning at one of the doodles. “You know, you could’ve just gotten me a new board, but this—this is next-level. This is us.”

“Exactly.” y/n gave a shrug, a slight grin tugging at her lips. “Now, what’s the deal? You going to ride it or just keep staring at it like a weirdo?”

Chris smirked, ready to get back to doing what he loved. “Guess I better break it in then.”

He jumped on the board and pushed off, rolling down the park path. y/n stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching with a quiet satisfaction.

It didn’t take long for Chris to start getting used to the new board. And as the day went on, it felt like the missing piece had been filled. Every little detail on the deck—the subtle artwork, the personal touches, the things only he and y/n would recognize—made it feel like his again.

But the thing that really stuck with him was that y/n had understood. She got it. She knew that it wasn’t just about the board itself, but about what it represented.

“Hey,” Chris called out as he coasted back toward y/n. “Thanks. Really.”

y/n nodded, not looking up. “Don’t mention it.”

Chris stopped right in front of her, hopping off the board. “No, seriously. This means a lot to me.”

“Good,” y/n replied, her tone soft. “Now, let’s see you do something cool with it.”

Chris grinned. “Alright, alright. Watch this.” He grabbed the board again and took off down the path.

y/n watched him go, a small smile on her face. Yeah, maybe it was just a board to everyone else, but to them—it was more.

And sometimes, the little things were all it took.

[sandglass-art]

Neji gave a test that he thought was easy, with multiple choice answers. For Gaara, this is the worst scenario, because when you start thinking, all the options have some kind of "but" at once. And the deeper you dig, the harder it is to give an answer.

By the way, it was also a time of reflection for Neji. An opportunity to study Gaara. The search for positive aspects (diligent, smart, helps classmates out) has shifted to appearance. That she's nice, too. Too much hair color, forehead tattoos. But in general... Generally speaking, it's not that it doesn't hurt him. In the wake of the k-pop hope, everything is harmonious. Neji bargains with himself that Gaara is not that annoying after all.

And when Gaara looks up (without mischief, honest, because it's really hard for him), Neji feels caught. And thoughts quickly disappear from the good channel into "look, the eyes are so cute, but really what? The bell will ring and he will be naughty again. You can't fool me."

[shygirl4991]

More than an ogre Chapter 1

Inspired by He's a prince, and I'm an ogre by @b-r-i-n-g-x Art done by Bringx and @anartisticalniche Designs created by me!

Tag: Slow burn, Shrek movie inspired, action, adventure, comedy, angst,

Summary: SV3 grew up with fairy tales wishing for the day he could be a hero and save a royal from an evil dragon, over time he gave up such wishes after all there is no fairy tale where the ogre is the hero. Till the day a donkey crashed into his swamp changing his world, now the pair must work together to save a prince and get him to a wedding with his true love.

Chapter 1 Just an ogre

Once upon a time a hero on a stead rode off to battle a fire breathing dragon, a princess of legend was trapped in the castle waiting for the day someone would rescue her. Everyone told the hero not to risk his life, his whole village told him that such a risk wouldn't be worth it. Yet his heart told him what he must do, now he had arrived at the big battle. The dragon roared, breathing fire, as the dragon growled at him the hero couldn't help but notice all the corpses of the past knights that had attempted the rescue. He let out a shaky breath as he focused on the end goal, finding his true love. He charged at the dragon with his sword held high ready to slay the beast, the battle went on for hours. The hero was feeling weak, unsure if he could truly beat the dragon until he heard crying.

Knowing his love needed him, the hero’s grip on the sword tightened as he glared at the dragon “FOR MY TRUE LOVE!” With one final charge the hero plunges the sword into the beast chest, with a loud roar the hero pulls the sword cutting the dragon apart. With a loud thud the dragon was dead, the hero smiles brightly as he runs up the stairs ready to be with his true love. Once he opens the door the princess gasps running into his arms, the knight pulls himself away taking the princess hand and giving it a kiss. He pledged himself to the princess ensuring he will never leave her side as long as he lived, the very next day the two were married.                  ----------------------- A fairytale book gets closed by an excited orge, he flips his purple bangs as he hugs the book “AHH! This is so romantic, oh SV3 jr you think someone like me could ever do something like this?” He turns looking at his childhood plush with a soft smile, he pats the book in his hand before putting it away on the shelf next to him. Getting out of the bed he looks at his reflection, frowning at his purple highlights. “Or maybe not…I’m just a normal ogre with a silly name, not like I can be some action hero. I’m just an artist and nothing more.” He sighs as he walks outside starting a fire to boil water for his shower, to kill time he goes hunting for bugs along with new soft rocks. He hums as he crushes the bugs and mixes them together, he then walks over to his kitchen and starts to fill out his containers with homemade makeup.

Once done he goes back to his shower to test the water, feeling it warm he takes a shower humming different love songs. Once he brushes his teeth he lets out a giggle running to his collection of paints, grabbing a brush, he dips it into his paints he starts to draw on a slab of wood putting together a sign saying ‘Welcome friendly ogre lives here’ with that done he places it on the path that leads to the swamp. He smiles brightly looking down the path “You’ve out done yourself SV3, now the humans have to know we are friendly!” He pulls out a small broken mirror checking his face, he frowns seeing he got paint on his cheek almost ruining his make up. He sprints inside to clean up, the last thing he wanted was to look like a mess for any visitors.

As SV3 cleans up excited to make new friends, a village nearby is getting ready for battle, one of the villagers grabbed torches and pitchforks making sure all the men in the village were covered.  He stood outside of the local pub handing them out as each of the men line up ready, the village leader stands on top of a crate looking at the men nervously as he holds up a wanted poster with a fierce looking ogre painted on it “We gather here to finally put an end to our ogre problem, one of the hunters found a sign that lead to his home. Finally we can take down the beast, our children will finally be free!” The group cheered as they waited for the sun to drop, lighting their torches at night as they marched toward the swamp.

SV3 sadly hums seeing the light outside fade, he lights a candle and places it on a stand on the center of the table. He looked around his small home and wondered if having more lights around the sign could help him, as he lit more candles he noticed light from the corner of his eyes. He turns looking out the window seeing lit up torches, he moves to the back of his home unlocking a hidden passage. He leaves the cabin and walks down the dark path towards the torches, as he gets closer he starts to hear the men talking. One of them stared at the cabin glaring at it “Come on lets get him!” only for him to be grabbed by a smaller man “Hold on, do you know what that thing can do to you?” The villager looked at the smaller man confused before he continued speaking “They say he will grind your bones for his bread, then use your children for dessert!”

SV3 frowns hearing the fear and hate in the men’s voice, his heart breaking knowing all the things being said about him. Having enough SV3 steps out of the shadow looking down at the men “Interesting, I heard giants were the ones who did that but who am i to know right?” Hearing the voice behind them, the men slowly turn around seeing their target glaring at them. Their faces filled with anger and hate changed into ones filled with pure fear, they huddled close shaking.

Seeing their fear made SV3 sigh “You should feel lucky, others would already be cooking you all. I mean, did you know many of my kind love to make jelly out of human eyes? Heard it's quiet yum on toast, maybe it's because fear makes eyes more sweet.”  He bends down smirking at the men, the smaller village takes a deep breath and starts to wave the torch at SV3 making the ogre stand up straight. “BACK MONSTER!” 3’s eye twitch hearing those words, is that all he ever will be just a monster not worth the time of others just cause he was born an ogre?

Licking his finger he turns off the torch and glares at the man, he drops the torch looking up at the ogre with a sheepish smile “Well..alright, I didn't think of a back up plan so uh…EVERYONE RUN!” SV3 stands there watching all the men run, tripping over themself as they drop their pitchforks and torches, 3 sighs  following them in order to clean up the mess they were leaving behind. “HEY! COME ON I LIVE HERE!” he then curses under his breath as he continues picking up the items. As he finishes picking up all the human items he tosses them into a pit, then turns to see one of the humans fall down and hit his head against a rock. SV3 gasped as the other humans kept running “WE WILL REMEMBER YOU!” was all they said as they vanished into the night.

SV3 runs over checking on the man “Oh my swamp are you okay?!” gently he moves the man checking him over. Seeing his head bleeding, SV3 gently laid him down somewhere cleaner as he ran inside, panicked, he tore his home apart looking for supplies to take care of the man. Once down he dashes back to the man and cleans up the wound “Geez, you humans can be clumsy…” 3 smiles softly seeing the wound has stopped bleeding before bandaging it up. The man starts to stir, causing SV3 to hurry and pack his stuff up, he looks around making sure nothing dangerous was around before turning around and leaving. “It's better for you not to wake up to a monster’s face…hope you get home safe,” he whispers as he goes into his home.

SV3 sighs as he goes to the bathroom and washes the make up off his face, freeing his hair from its constraints he throws himself onto his bed. His eyes water as he attempts to hold back his tears, he turns to his side, pulling his plush close to him. He hugs it tight as tears escape, all he asked was for a friend, someone that would see him for the person he is. SV3 sniffed, wiping his tears as he looked out the window in his room “Please…someone…anyone be my friend.”

------------------------------------- Knights charge into a room getting out rope and a muzzle, a sleeping donkey jumps up confused as the knights muzzle him and wrap the rope around his neck. He looks around confused “What's going on?!” The knights smack him “Shut it donkey, the prince has no need for a talking toy. So we are going to get a nice pouch of gold from you.” The donkey attempted to pull away only to end up coughing as the rope slightly chokes him, he looks around for his close friend “WARIO! HELP!” The knights chuckle as they pull him away “DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? I'M THE GREAT WALUIGI!” Ignoring him, the knights lift him and throw him into a cage in the back of a carriage, Waluigi looks at the castle shaking his head as he gets taken away from his home and family.

Hearing the night market getting closer Waluigi panics, he couldn't let them do this to him. He wasn't just some animal to be sold off, he was Prince Wario’s best friend, his brother. He takes a small step back before smacking the cage, seeing that the cage was slowly sliding off gave the donkey hope. With another smack the cage falls off breaking as it hits the floor. He groans, feeling pain all over his body from hitting the floor, the carriage stops as the knights hear the loud crash. They get out of the carriage and see Waluigi on the floor, he opens his eyes to see the knights getting out of the carriage and walk towards him. 

Seeing the knights get closer he forces himself to get up and runs, he looks around for a place to hide. He throws himself behind a pile of rocks as he smacks the muzzle, after smacking it he finally gets the buckle of the muzzle loose. As it slips out of place Waluigi is able to finally remove the muzzle from his face, he smirks at the muzzle before running off as he hears the knights getting close. He wasn't sure how long he was running, he could feel his legs getting weak from all the running. He looks up seeing the sun come up, had he been running all night?

SV3 couldn't bring himself to be excited for the new day, still upset over the events from yesterday the ogre finishes his morning routine only to hear yelling. He turns to see a donkey roll and land in mud, 3 stares wide eyed at what happened before loud footsteps caught his attention.  The knights freeze seeing SV3, they look him up and down nervously. 3 can already see the familiar expression humans have always given him, the fear on their face just puts SV3 in a worse mood. Waluigi sits up shaking the mud off his face and notices the knights frozen, confused he follows their gaze and gasps seeing the annoyed ogre. Without a second thought he runs behind SV3 hoping the ogre would assist him, 3 sighs seeing the knights take out a scroll “OGRE! You…are to be put under arrest and taken to the magic market!”

SV3 crosses his arms staring at the knight, seeing that 3 wasn't moving the knight gets closer with his group following slowly behind him. He cleared his throat as he took out a scroll showing a wanted poster with an angry looking ogre, SV3 felt his eye twitch at the art. To think no matter what he does the world sure loves to paint him in a ugly light, not to mention no one bothers to add on his make up in the art. “Ogre you are to come with us right now, along with the donkey hiding behind you by law from our lord Wario!” SV3 looks behind the knight seeing the men with him shaking slightly, he smirks as he gently takes the scroll from the knight making him jump. 3 hums looking over the scroll before ripping it “Oops…darn guess now you don't have your fancy paper, with that gone i recommend you leave me and the donkey alone before you find out how scary an ogre can be.”

The knight slowly reaches for his sword “Me and my men won't be scared off by the likes of you!” SV3 looks behind him and lets out a gasp “But mister knight, the only person i see here is you!” Hearing that the knight turned to see his men had run off at some point, his face goes pale and he turns back to SV3. Seeing the knight wasn't going to back off even after seeing his men leaving him, he turns to Waluigi “Um this can be loud go inside my house.” He nods as he runs off and charges into the small cabin, SV3 looks down at the knight and takes a deep breath. He let out a loud roar startling the man he took a step back activating a trap, a rope wrap around his ankle pulling him up. 

SV3 looks up and the hanging knight “Uh…sorry about that I had no idea that was there!”

SV3 looks at the floor with concern, he wasn't one for placing traps given he goes out to hunt. Last night came to mind making him sigh, assuming it had to be one of the humans from the other day SV3 takes out a small knife cutting the man free. SV3 catches the man only to get hit as the knight swings his arms, once on his feet the knight runs off. SV3 rolled his eyes before putting his knife away, he looked at the trap confused before looking around the border of his swamp. Waluigi walks out of the cabin in awe at the events, he looks around seeing SV3 standing by the entrance of the swamp lost in thought. He runs up and lightly hits 3’s back with his hooves “That was amazing my friend! Ha, you sure showed those knights who the boss is huh?” SV3 eyes go wide looking down at the donkey, seeing the expression made Waluigi nervous. 

“Did you say…your friend? Are you saying we are friends?” SV3 couldn't believe his ears, he needed to hear the magical creature say it again. Waluigi looked awkwardly to the side before letting out a cough “Of course! After all, being friends with an ogre has its benefits, for example scaring off knights that kidnap you from your home!” Waluigi let out a surprise squeak when he was lifted into the air by the ogre, SV3 spins giving him a hug “A FRIEND! I'M SO HAPPY!” Waluigi's surprised expression turned into confused annoyance, wasn't the man holding him right now a horrific ogre, not some giggling maiden.

SV3 puts him down with a huge smile, Waluigi looks up at 3 “Um…i thought ogres were some scary monster?” SV3 chuckles waving his arms “Ah well yes most are for sure, I just see things uh different.” He gives the donkey a nervous smile, Waluigi shakes his head letting out a soft chuckle. In all his years of hearing about the magical creatures of the world, no book could prepare him to see a friendly ogre. “Lucky me to find a friendly one then, thank you for the help but I need to get home. My brother and I are doing a huge scheme in a kingdom, can't let him handle everything alone!” As he starts to walk he feels pain in one of his legs, now that the adrenaline is gone the injury he got from the fall was bothering him.

SV3 frowns noticing the strange walk from his new friend “Stay the night,” he gets on his knees and gently takes Waluigi’s leg “I will take care of you then send you home.” Waluigi looked off to the side blushing, it was embarrassing for someone like him getting help from a stranger. Yet if he returned to his best friend in this state things would be worse, he could already hear Wario teasing him for how he got hurt. With a nod SV3 smiles softly “It’s more than likely some kind of sprain, you did take a tumble. My house is yours today, just please respect the house rules. I really don't want a destroyed home.” With a nod the pair walk toward the cabin, once Waluigi was settled SV3 heads off to get more food in order to make a big enough dinner.

---------------------------------- Wario hums as he rolls around in a pile of gold, finally the kingdom riches were all his. His plan of getting rid of the old royals and taking over was a success, along with getting rid of his old friend. He didn't need someone holding him down and taking his half of the gold, as he enjoys the smell of his money one of the knights lets out a soft cough bringing in the magic mirror. Wario turns around confused “What's the meaning of this?” A face appears looking at Wario nervously, Wario gets up glaring at the mirror “Luigi, you know I don't like my money bath to get interrupted.” 

Luigi nods “Y-yes..but um we receive news that unless you get married, they won't bring the rest of the gold to you.” Wario growls as he smacks the wall next to the mirror making Luigi scream “WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DON'T GET MY MONEY!” The men in the room run out leaving Wario alone with the magic mirror, Luigi gulps as he speaks again “That's what the spell on the safe said! B-but if you marry another royal-” Wario smirks “I can take their money and get the rest of my gold in one deal!” Luigi sadly nods agreeing with the man's train of thought.

He snaps his fingers as he stares into Luigi’s eyes “Oh magic mirror give me the richest royals i can marry!” Luigi sighs looking through the different family’s “Well there is a princess name Fiona she-” Wario holds up a gold coin making the mirror frown as he begins looking, that's when he found a young man. He looked annoyed in the painting, seeing his parents and learning about the kingdom Luigi projected the image. Wario's eyes turn to dollar signs seeing the gold “Introducing Prince SV4, his parents are inventors making them one of the richest families with a bachelor. He is known for his love for arson and inventing, he tends to bite anyone that annoys him along with him bein-” Wario waved his hand telling the mirror to shut up, he walks to his desk and starts writing.

“My lord he is stuck in a castle and you have to kno-” Luigi gets shushed again making him sigh, Wario stops his writing as he looks up at the mirror. Seeing that he was being looked at he showed the picture of the prince, Wario stares at it “Do we know where the castle is?” The mirror does a quick search before an x appears on its glass, Wario smacks his desk “HOW COULD WE NOT KNOW?! KNIGHTS!” Luigi looks around, scared that he is going to be shattered, he closes his eyes when the knights arrive. Wario quickly draws on several pieces of paper, handing a poorly done drawing of the prince “Something is blocking my mirror, find me this prince now!”

The knights squint at the drawing before giving the man and nod and run off, with the knights gone Wario turns to the mirror “Now then, let's have a talk Luigi and find out why we can't find my money maker hm?”

[deobienthusiast]

Toxic Till The End | YJH

• pairing: toxic bf!yoon jeonghan x reader

• word count: 1.8k words

• genre: toxic bf au, no happy ending, angst, cheating, just straight drama

• rating: PG

• warnings: jeonghan is an asshole in this and this story in no way reflects how jeonghan truly is as a person. cheating, manipulation, toxic relationships

• notes: HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY SANAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA @sanaxo-o! she specifically asked for blonde, toxic jeonghan so ask and you shall receive. stay strong military wife, he’ll be home soon

You would like to say your judgment was good. People always commended you on your good judge of character, but clearly you were led all askew by your own self.

The day you met Yoon Jeonghan was one of complete annoyance. He was seated towards the back of your Ethics class. Never by himself, usually accompanied by another boy was incredibly soft spoken. You remember your professor asking a question that led to a heated debate between you and Jeonghan. No matter how many times you backed up your rebuttal, Jeonghan always had the last word. It bothered you to no end. Every final word ended with a smirk on Jeonghan’s park, his striking blonde hair becoming a color that you hated. This constant disagreement became an everyday occurrence during class. So much so, that your professor became fed up with it, forcing you both to stay after to clean the classroom.

Jeonghan was not helpful in any way, opting to sit in his favorite spot in the back and just watch, making snarky little comments about everything you did.

“You know, you could help considering you’re the reason we’re both here.” You spoke loudly.

Jeonghan chuckled. “No sweetheart. We’re in here because you couldn’t handle not winning the argument.”

His comment made you stop as you spun on your heels. He remained seated, blonde hair losing its styled whimsy from his hand constantly running through it. He gave you a smirk, eyeing you up and down.

“You are such an asshole.” You mumbled.

“And you’re gorgeous.”

Jeonghan’s comment made your eyes widen. You watched him stand up, slowly making his way down the stairs as he stopped in front of you. He wasn’t the tallest, but the height difference was there, forcing you to tilt your head up at him.

“What did you say?” You whispered.

“Come on, you’ve heard every comment I’ve made all day. Now all of a sudden you can’t hear? Typical.”

Jeonghan took another step forward, prompting you to take one back, the back to your thighs touching your professor’s desk.

“Let me take you out.” Jeonghan whispered.

You scoffed. “I’ve heard about you. I know how you are. Never in a million years would I let you take me out.”

“I’ll just keep asking,” Jeonghan told you, an alarm on your phone going off to alert you that you could leave. “I’m very persistent, and I always get what I want.”

Jeonghan smiled this time, a truly genuine smile that made your insides warm. He looked ethereal in the lighting. And that’s how it started. Suddenly his blonde hair wasn’t so ugly. His voice wasn’t so annoying. But you, however, were so screwed.

Whatever your relationship was with him was not pretty. A mixture of love on some days and hatred on another. You were beginning to forget the early days of your relationship where he would drop you off at your dorm and you would be a smiling mess. Now all you could do is send a text to your roommate so she was prepared for the heart mending she’d have to do.

Jeonghan was toxic. That much was for sure. His ability to have the sweetest personality on hand at the flip of a switch just to charm people. Meanwhile, he was hot and cold with you. You never knew what to expect with Jeonghan, but you knew you never wanted it to end. No matter how bad you felt or how much you cried, he was your everything.

Petty arguments over something as simple as who you were hanging out with or who you were texting. Fights occuring at all hours of the day.

“Who was he?” Jeonghan yelled, following you through your dorm.

Your roommate opting to spend the night at someone else’s house anytime he stayed over because as she liked to say 3 am was Jeonghan’s “witching hours”.

“Every time I pick you up from class he’s with you. What’s going on between the two of you?”

You felt a headache coming on. It was every day, nonstop. His jealousy mounting everytime he picked you up from class.

You felt tears welling in your eyes, threatening to spill over which caught Jeonghan’s attention.

“Oh my god, not you crying again. You always cry. I can’t do this.” He grumbled, pushing past you towards the door.

Panic set in.

“Wait, don’t leave. I’ll stop talking to him. Please, I’ll do whatever you want.” You begged.

Jeonghan stopped at the door, letting out a sinister chuckle. “Of course you will.”

Turning around slowly, he waltzed over to you. His large hands cupped your face, wiping away the tears. You brought your hands up to cover his, basking in the closeness and warmth that you’ve been refused for days. You were desperate for some sort of physical contact with the boy.

Your cries turned to sniffles as Jeonghan consoled you.

“I hate it when you cry, but god you just make me so angry. I’m trying to protect you, okay? He’s bad news.” Jeonghan said quietly.

You could only nod, knowing that what he was saying wasn’t going to turn out well for you, but you were so far gone at this point you didn’t care.

These were just typical days in your “relationship” with Jeonghan. The fighting and constant apologizing on your part, even if you weren’t at fault.

Friends stopped trying. They hated the way he treated you. Him constantly going out and enjoying his life while you were like a caged dog, constantly being watched and never being allowed to do anything. You chalked it up to him being protective and worried, but deep down you knew they were right.

“He’s not good for you.”

“You’re going to end up very hurt at the end.”

Eventually they stopped trying. What was the point if you would never listen. You became isolated, trading everyone in just to be with Jeonghan all the time (or as much as he would allow you to spend with him).

You were like a woman possessed. Hanging on his every word. Despite knowing how bad he was for you, you couldn’t help yourself. Jeonghan was a drug, and you were his addict.

Everything came to a head at the big party he and his friend Joshua threw. The whole school was there. Jeonghan invited you, of course, but you hadn’t seen him the whole night. You began to grow restless at the fact that you couldn’t find your boyfriend. Noticing your friends huddled off in a corner, you started towards them.

The conversation they were having silenced quickly as you squeezed into the group. Sharing glances with each other, one of them spoke up.

“Long time no see.” She started.

Her tone didn’t sit right, a pit forming in your stomach. You truly hadn’t seen them in a while. Spending all your free time on Jeonghan (like he wanted you too) left very little time with your friends. If you could even call them that anymore.

“How are you guys?” You asked softly.

You heard one of them scoff before you spoke again.

“Have you seen Jeonghan?”

“You have got to be kidding.” Your friend said.

Suddenly you felt unwelcome.

You went to open your mouth to speak before she interrupted. “He’s upstairs. When up there a while ago, hasn’t come back down.”

You felt a rush of relief fall over you now that you knew Jeonghan was at least at the party, and hadn’t already left you like he did last time. Sending a thank you over your shoulder, you went to walk away before feeling a pull on your arm.

“So that’s it? That’s all you wanted from us?” Your friend questioned.

You frowned, realizing how bad what you’re doing is, but you really needed to find Jeonghan.

Your friend took your silence as an answer, letting go of your arm. “You’re unbelievable.”

The grip on your arm gave you the opportunity to rush up the stairs, wanting to remove yourself from the awkward situation that your relationship with Jeonghan had caused. Making your way towards his room, you got a funny feeling. It almost felt like a pressure being put on your chest the closer you got to his door.

Your feet stopped right in front of the door as you took in a breath. Right as your hand reached the handle, the door flew open. The sudden opening startled you as you jumped back. A girl stood in front of you, and almost immediately you recognized her.

Jeonghan’s ex.

She gave you a smirk before pushing past you. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow her as her hips swayed with every step. Looking back at the room, Jeonghan was throwing a shirt over his head. You took a step forward as you spoke.

“Jeonghan,” Your soft voice caught his attention as he turned towards you. “What did you do?”

The boy ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry about it.”

He went to head towards the door before looking you up and down. “You look cute.”

As he walked past you gripped his arm. “You cheated on me.”

He let out an exasperated sigh, starting to get annoyed. “Why are you making such a big deal?”

You couldn’t believe him. “Jeonghan you cheated on me. I’m your girlfriend and you went behind my back and slept with another girl. Your ex, at that.”

Jeonghan began to chuckle. “Girlfriend? Since when?”

You froze. “We’ve been dating for almost six months.”

He shook his head, blonde hair falling in front of his eyes. “Oh sweetheart, you didn’t actually think you were the only girl I was seeing did you?”

The pressure on your chest now felt like it was mounting. The air felt thinner. Was it always hard to breathe up here? The tears began to fall. Hot, wet streaks running down your face as you turned to him.

“But I love you. Please don’t do this.”

Jeonghan sighed, turning back towards you. Bringing his hands up to your face, he wiped the tears. Jeonghan leans down to place a soft but firm kiss on your lips. When he pulled away, he let out a low sinister laugh.

“You love me?” He asked you, keeping a firm grip on your face with both of his hands.

You could only nod, head fuzzy from the kiss. The effect he had on you was embarrassingly strong.

He laid another kiss on your lips before speaking again. “Would you do anything for me?”

Through lidded eyes, you nodded as he ran his finger over your lower lip. Jeonghan nodded with a hum, feeling satisfied with your answers.

He gave you a quiet ‘good’ as he laid another kiss to your lips. This time a much deeper kiss. He knew what he was doing, and you knew that no matter what you were an absolute goner.

[luluthespectator]

Rough beginning

I finally finished the continuation of A New Era. It took time but I believe in “quality over quantity”. I’m tagging someone who wanted to see this @jay--o. Hopefully you’ll enjoy it.

After the celebration, when the aliens went back in their respective sectors, The Pillars stepped in the ship. The corridors were large enough to fit all three of them in the same line.

However, Scozar quickly slithered in front of the group, taking its lead while exploring. It didn’t bother the two others. Maena looked around the place, her eyes expertly scanning the ship, giving her all the information she needed.

The corridors were pristine, it had a white immaculate look. The look a ship has right after its construction. She would probably be one of the first pilots to fly it outside of the atmosphere.

The Primavix walked slowly behind them. They kept their hands together but didn’t seem to pay any attention to their surroundings. Perhaps, they were, but with only a sphere for a head, the others couldn’t tell their expression.

The Pillars were all quiet when they entered the pilot’s room. However, The Human started to smile and her expression brightened. She ran over to the pilot’s chair, ignoring the aggressive look Scozar gave her when she passed by him.

She let herself collapse on the chair, laughing to herself. She opened some holographic screens before feeling the ominous presence of a shadow above her. She didn’t need to look up from the holograms to know it was Scozar. She could feel vibrations in her whole body however the translation device on her ear told her exactly what was “said”:

-Who allowed you to do that?

Her brows furrowed. She opened her mouth but no sound came. She thought for a few seconds, looking through a few settings, before answering perplexed:

-Well, I’m going to be the pilot, so I kind of need to understand how the ship operates, to change some settings, just get used to it.

-Don’t you understand where you stand?

This question confused her even more. What did he mean by that? Did he want to know if she knew she was standing on a chair? Or did he want to ask where she stood in a hierarchy point of view?

-Where I stand?

Scozar half-closed his eyes, harbouring some kind of smug expression. He put his sun-themed spear in his other hand, closer to Maena. She could make out the details on it. 

Strange lines were carved in the orange metal holding a black blade. Some of those lines morphed into additional spikes near the already sharp blade. He seemed somewhat proud to brandish it. It reflected in his words.

-I was chosen to be your leader.

-I’ve never heard that. 

Upon hearing it, he glared at Maena. His eyes were almost closed but she could still feel his gaze. What was he feeling? He was either angry or looking down on her. Who was she kidding? Of course he was looking down on her. She continued, less confident than she wanted:

-I thought we were supposed to make decisions together.

-Don’t you know why they made me come here?

She stopped fiddling with the settings for a moment and thought about what she had learned about his species, tapping her nails on the desk.

-Well, from as far as I understand, they put you here to keep some kind of truce going.

-Indeed. Do you see the implication now?

She didn’t like where this was going. 

-The implication? By implication, you mean that if I bruise your ego, you’re going to bring your people to a war?

-Well, if it is easier for you to understand Human, it is indeed what could happen.

She stood up from her chair. Even then, she wasn’t taller than his shoulder. She turned her head towards The Primavix, perhaps they knew how to handle a situation like this.

She didn’t find anything comforting in the black sphere of their head. She saw only a distorted reflection of the room, her and Scozar being strange shapes in the background. She looked back at The Kerox, she needed to find a way to get out of this argument.

He was bluffing was he? Keroxes are known for strategy, it’s not very strategic to go to war for that. They would go down in history as a petty species. She put on her poker face and asked with too much disdain for something meant to be diplomatic.

-Isn’t that selfish?

-Do you want it to become true?

She crossed her arms and stared right in Scozar’s eyes. His pupils were that of a cat during the day. She gauged him. Was he bluffing? It was difficult to tell, the rest of his scaly body didn’t move. She sighed.

-No.

-Well.

For a moment, she was taken aback. She looked back at The Primavix. They just stood there, quiet, unmoving, a statue of a saint of some kind. They would give her no help from as far as she could tell. 

She looks up to the Kerox again. A feeling in her gut warned her that this was only the beginning of his intimidation attempts. She wanted to put a stop to it, but she didn’t know if he was kidding or not. This conversation left a bad taste in her mouth. It was safer to give him a win for the moment.

-So do I continue…or?

-No. We have the rest of the ship to look at.

-Right…

———

They walked across the corridors in a tense silence. They ended up in a large room. One side was filled with places to sit down, pillows, carpets, a few tables with chairs and large flat rocks. On the other side, metallic instruments were installed on a counter.

Scozar’s deep growls filled the room. He seemed rather suspicious of what was on the counter, passing his spear in his clawed hand closer to it.

-What are those instruments?

Maena answered without thinking:

-Cooking.

Scozar looked at her, eyes half-shut. This time, his indigo feathers on his spine rose up slightly. She wondered if she made a mistake. Just to be sure, she tried to make her expression as neutral as possible. The Kerox asked:

-What is that?

She didn’t understand what kind of problem she dumbly ran into. She turned her head to an unmoving Primavix. Why was she looking for support in them? She decided to repeat:

-Cooking. They’re used for cooking food. We put food in those and then we eat.

-You need all of that just to eat? Pathetic.

It wasn’t the first time she heard that question from an alien. She usually didn’t really mind. But Scozar’s condescending remark got under her skin. She let out under her breath:

-Bet you eat like an animal.

-What did you say?

-Nothing.

-That’s what I thought.

Her anger made her make yet another mistake. Deviating the conversation was the best strategy she could think of. She turned towards The Primavix and asked:

-Either way, what do you think? Does it look cosy to you?

-We have yet to settle on an answer, Human.

-Alri-

Scozar interrupted Maena with a more assertive roar:

-I claim the headlands.

Maena looked around looking for places above them. What was even a headland? She had trouble picturing a headland in her head. She imagined something more natural. Her gaze went to the only natural things in the room.

-You mean…the rocks?

-If it is easier for you to understand, yes.

-Sure.

Scozar’s back bent over, his straight posture was gone, like something in his spine had snapped. He was now arched, almost on four legs but not quite yet. He seemed to put all his weight on his sun-themed spear and two bottom legs. This time, a more satisfied and quiet grumble passed through the air.

-Humans do learn fast.

She was about to tell him that it wasn’t out of respect but because she wasn’t interested in sitting on rocks. For the wellbeing of the mission, she decided to keep her mouth shut.

Instead, she used this window of opportunity to ask:

-If it’s okay with everyone, we should check the reactor core. Just to see if it doesn’t have any defects.

At that demand, Scozar got back to his straight posture like nothing happened. His gaze pierced through Maena.

-Are you giving orders?

-There’s a reason I said “If it’s okay with everyone”.

-We will check it last.

She put her hands on her hip and looked Scozar right in the eyes. She sighed, between anger and defeat: 

-Thanks. I really appreciate it.

-You learn fast, but you should change your tone.

She was at two fingers to blurt out a sarcastic “Yes, your majesty.”. But again, she didn’t know how The Kerox would take it. She didn’t want to be stuck on having to say that for the rest of the mission.

She was also desperate to hear The Primavix talk more. She needed to have an idea of how much support she could get from them.

———

Scozar was adamant on exploring the darker corridors, Maena was definitely not and The Primavix just followed. She pestered at the idea of having places without any type of lights. 

Scozar’s eyes and teeth glowed, this made her even more paranoid. It was not what she wanted to see. At some point, she couldn’t see a thing and decided to retreat to the border between light and utter darkness. Scozar of course had to say something about it.

-I guess humans’ inability to see in the dark is getting in your way. What if I make you come with me either way?

-Then I’ll bump into things.

-I’d love to see it. Especially when you won’t be able to do the same.

That’s when The Primavix stepped between them, they took their time but now they moved. It was enough to get the two to pay attention to them.

-We believe it is unnecessary to bring The Human. Our goal and your goal is exploration. If The Human cannot explore, then it is useless.

Somehow, this made The Kerox think. He pondered, his eyes fixed on Maena. She hated the vision of just two floating eyes and teeth, pointed menacingly towards her. But she kept her expression neutral despite the goosebumps.

She tried to focus on how glad she was to have The Primavix by her side at that moment. She could probably count on them when it truly mattered. The Kerox finally hissed:

-Fine. She can stay there.

She didn’t want to be standing there doing nothing. Could she push her luck though? She could certainly try.

-Since we’re going on separate ways, I could check on the reactor co-

-No. When we’ll come back, you will be at the same spot. Unless, you truly want to come with us?

-Alright. I’ll stay right here. Dang!

She regretted not having taken a flashlight with her. She would have “accidentally” put it in The Kerox’s face. For a lack of better things to do, she sat down, covered herself with her coat like a blanket, and wrote down a few things on her holographic notes.

———

After an agonisingly long time in the shadows, Scozar and The Primavix came back from the depths of darkness. She heard them before she saw Scozar’s terrifyingly ugly glowing features. There was, of course, the stomping of feet but it was accompanied by a faint ticking sound.

When she saw Scozar’s face rising up at the end of the corridor, she decided it was wiser to keep a flashlight at all times in the future. She got up and focused instead on the strange sound. That’s when Scozar decided to growl:

-You are a very obedient human.

-I got bored out of my mind.

-This doesn’t mean we’ll see the reactor core faster.

-That’s good to know I suppose.

Scozar passed by her, shooting her a smug stare. She crossed her arms and walked behind him. She listened to her surroundings. It seemed like the sound was either coming from the dark corridors or it was drowned by her feet on the metal.

They discovered almost everything in the ship. Scozar was particularly careful to not accidentally step in the reactor room. It was as if he could tell where it was. He also took his sweet sweet time exploring every single corner and spot.

Eventually, Scozar had to step into the last room. When they got in, Maena could already hear the buzzing sound emanating from the reactor core. She got closer, kneeling beside a large immaculate metallic box.

She listened closer to the variations of sounds. It was how she learnt to determine whether a reactor core was powerful or defective. This one made waves of sounds, like some kind of soothing crackling water. It was regular and intense.

She was amazed by the quality of the sound. It meant it had a lot of power and could potentially make them travel space faster and for a longer period of time too. It could perhaps bend space better, perhaps it could even be less painful if something bad happens during one of those “space folding”.

She passed her hand on the smooth metal. It was definitely not human-made. The exterior wasn’t what mattered though. She had no difficulties taking it away, revealing a complex network of blue phosphorescent cables keeping gems together.

She could see three layers of those intricate circuits. She hoped to never have to repair the last layer, she already predicted it would be a pain in whatever didn’t see the light often.

The interior rang with a crystalline sound, reminiscent of a heartbeat. She put the box back on top of it. She tapped it with her index, looking back at the other Pillars. 

-This is one of the best reactors I have ever seen in my life.

At that, The Primavix said nothing and didn’t move. However, Scozar raised his head high, like he was proud. However, he quickly took that opportunity to look at her from up high and growl:

-You better keep it that way.

-Well, it should stay that way on its own. If it breaks down without any provocation then it’s not a good reactor. But I don’t think it’s going to happen any time soon.

She rose on her feet and readjusted her coat on her shoulders. She walked towards the exit. This time, from the corner of her eyes, she noticed Scozar’s cold glare as she passed by him. She acted like she didn’t acknowledge him.

-Either way, I’m done here.

She could tell he was unsatisfied. People like him had a tendency to drive her crazy. The nerves to think he is entitled to everything made her blood boil. She knew it wasn’t diplomatic at all. She knew she was asking for it at that point but before exiting the room, she turned towards The Kerox and taunted:

-See? Did it take that much of your time?

-This is not how you are getting me to cooperate next time. Your strategy is flawed.

He was so right. But she wouldn’t admit it out loud. She didn’t really think about it, she just wanted to match his level of pettiness.

-Well, answer me. Did it take that much time for me to check the reactor core?

-You shouldn’t give me orders. Must I remind you of what I could do?

This would have stopped her but she had gone too far now. She decided it was bluff and kept going.

-Answering a question with another question? Is that all you’re going to do? Or can’t you admit that it didn’t take much of your time?

His indigo feathers on his spine rose to their full length. His stare pierced her, this time, it felt like daggers.

-You were about to get out of my sight, which would have been appreciated. 

He slithered towards her, slowly but surely, menacingly. His powerful muscles rolled under his scales. The bottom of his spears accompanied his motion, the tapping echoed like a clock of doom.

-But you decided to stay and mock me.

Why did she do that? What in the world was she thinking? She was paralysed with a hand on the door frame. She stared at him, not out of bravery, but out of utter terror. She just couldn’t look away as he approached dangerously close.

She was reminded that there were other apex predators amongst the other species of the galaxy, there were other death-worlders. She remembered that the death-worlder standing in front of her fought in a war and lived. In fact, at that moment, she was reminded of her own mortality.

If she wasn’t going to die from the claws of The Kerox she was certainly going to die from a heart attack. Her heart was pounding for its life. Each of its beats effectively beat the inside of her chest. Sweat was dripping from everywhere. 

That’s when The Primavix stepped in front of her, like a saviour. They made a physical barrier between her and Scozar. They actually stood up to The Kerox, they faced him. Their calming voice filled her translator:

-We believe there is no need for aggression. The night was long and our thoughts and yours are divergent and clouded by exhaustion. We and you mustn’t forget that we and you are the new era’s beacon. The failure of this mission would be a shame for everyone.

Maena finally figured out what The Primavix was: they were the voice of reason. She watched in awe as The Kerox stopped in his tracks and pondered like he did before. She let out a sigh of relief. She was suddenly light-headed. She declared on a more casual tone than she thought she could muster:

-Yeah, I agree. I’m going outside for…fresh air.

She promptly left the room and went outside as fast as she could. She was going to die from her own stupidity someday. This whole “New Era” thing was dumb. They were going to kill each other before anything meaningful would be made.

Back to masterlist

Back to A New Era

[kendracii]

Type b!

summary: Spencer Reid thrives on order, but your world is anything but. Amidst the chaos of coffee cups and lipstick-marked books, playful banter turns into quiet affection, reminding him that some messes are worth keeping. who: spencer reid x messy!reader w/c: 612! (short story)

Your bathroom was a mess of half-empty makeup bottles, open palettes, and a precariously balanced cup of coffee resting dangerously close to the edge of the sink. You were standing on your tiptoes, forearms braced against the counter, carefully applying mascara in the small smudged mirror you’d thrifted months ago.

From the other room, you could hear Spencer rummaging through the remnants of what had once been a clean apartment floor. His voice carried through the space, laced with amused exasperation.

“It’s like you seek chaos.”

You rolled your eyes at your reflection. “It’s really not that bad!”

“You say that as if I haven’t just discovered an entire archaeological dig site of dried-out markers and nearly empty paint bottles.”

You grinned, dragging the mascara wand through your lashes one last time before stepping back to admire your work. “I call it artistic organization.”

“I call it a safety hazard,” Spencer retorted from the living room.

You ignored him, turning to dab a bit of highlighter onto your cheekbones. Just as you reached for your coffee, you heard Spencer let out a horrified gasp.

“I don’t even want to know how long this coffee mug has been here.”

Before you could defend yourself, he tapped it with his knuckle and sent it clattering into the sink. He stood there for a moment, as if contemplating his life choices, before sighing deeply.

“Seriously,” he continued, turning back to survey the mess, “do you know how many bacteria are transmitted when you wipe your nose on your sleeve? I told you—”

You emerged from the bathroom, arms crossed. “An estimated 40,000,” you recited, cutting him off. “You’ve told me a million times.”

Spencer gave you a pointed look. “And yet you still do it. It’s a wonder you’re not sick more often.”

“Maybe I have a superior immune system,” you quipped, smirking.

Spencer huffed but didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, his gaze drifted downward, and he frowned. “Is this the book I bought you? Why is it on the floor? I thought you liked it.”

“I do—that’s why it’s over there,” you said, plopping onto the couch beside him. “And look.” You lifted the book, flipping to the pages you’d marked. “I annotated my favorite quotes.”

Spencer reached for it, and his brow furrowed as he examined the markings. “Is this… lipstick?”

You beamed. “Yes! It was the closest thing I had.”

He let out a long, suffering sigh, rubbing his temple. “We need another session on how we treat our literature, ma’am.”

Ignoring his exasperation, you leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek. When you pulled away, a faint pink lipstick mark lingered on his skin, mirroring the smudges on the book’s cover.

Spencer blinked, momentarily stunned into silence.

Shaking his head, he pulled you down beside him onto the now semi-decluttered couch. “You are a menace.”

You grinned. “This quote reminded me of us.”

You cleared your throat and read aloud:

"What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life—to strengthen each other in all labor, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be one with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?" — George Eliot, Adam Bede

Spencer let out a slow breath. His fingers lightly traced over the words on the page, and for a moment, he just stared at you—like you were something rare and important.

“Fine,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to the nape of your neck. “I can’t stay mad when you quote Adam Bede at me.”

[kalinara]

To be fair to Logan and his fans, I think this is where the popularity of the character works against him. Not because the fans, or even the writers necessarily, are resistant to change so much as his over-saturation makes change really hard to execute.

Don't get me wrong, I wish I got half the content Wolverine fans get for MY favorite. But I think there's a downside too.

He and Scott kind of are on opposite sides of the spectrum, I think. Scott gets to be an unusually reactive character, because he's generally only in one book at a time. There might be a guest appearance or crossover here or there. Maybe a big event. MAYBE, he'll get to appear in a second book in a very specific role (like how he appeared often in Krakoa-era Cable comics, specifically as "Nate's dad".), but generally, every thing major that happens to the guy is in one book at a time.

So the writers can take a certain amount of liberty. As long as the character's reaction makes sense given the context, and the trajectory is logical, they can go the route of X-Factor's near-breakdown, or Utopia's grey general, or the post AvX martyr revolutionary, and it works.

(I remember reading that Mark Waid actually had to push hard for permission to use Scott in Champions. I'm very glad he did because that gave us a brand new avenue of characterization for the character - we've really never seen ANY version of Scott in that role: not the leader, broader universe focus, dealing with issues that aren't mutant related at all. But it definitely sounded like anyone who wasn't Mark Waid would have been told 'no'.)

On the other hand, Logan is everywhere. And in some ways, that's a good thing. I celebrate Champions for giving us a brand new context for Scott and letting him interact with characters and sides of the Marvel Universe he never would ordinarily. And Logan gets that ALL THE TIME.

But, when you're dealing with at least one X-Team book (and often more than that, like the time he was running X-Force too), one solo book, often an Avengers book of some time, appearances in more global types of crossovers because of said appearances in Avengers, limited miniseries featuring less common team ups - or Deadpool again, and so on and so forth, that creates other challenges.

Even if one book decides to give Logan a truly character changing experience - there's no guarantee that it will be reflected in any other book. It might not even be feasible if we consider how delays and publication difficulties might affect when the books come out. And what if another book gives him a truly character changing experience in another direction?

How far apart can these character variations go and still be the same character, in the same general continuity. (Obviously things like Ultimate Wolverine or whichever AU is happening right now are different entirely.) He's basically stuck in the most recognizable, iconic version, so he can be slotted anywhere and casual fans of the Avengers won't be utterly boggled as to why Logan's suddenly embraced pacifism or whatever.

The poor guy is pretty much doomed to hypocrisy: he can hate sending kids into battle, until he's on a different team with teenagers, or until he's mentoring another kid who ends up in battle. And he's doomed to be a neglectful father/father figure, since anyone and their mother like to add new people to his backstory. And so on.

I suppose you're right about Logan and the kids. Hell, they might have HAD to kill him, if you think about it, since that would be the one situation that would genuinely and realistically spark a pronounced change in behavior that they wouldn't be able to execute going forward.

I'd still like to see Jean madder at him though. I have a list of things I wish Marvel had let Jean get mad about. :-D

Cyclops mourns Logan

Pretty sure he's dated more psychics than that

They really called it Cyclops in YOU. Hell yeah. Anyway, Logan is dead. Scott, unaware that he's in a comic book, is treating this event as if it's forever. Lucky for us, because their messed up relationship is like crack for me. He considers how Logan was his most complicated relationship, and that's a lot coming from him.

There's definitely resentment there, because Logan was and is a selfish jerk. It's refreshing honesty, and very Scott Summers. He's remembering all the different ways in which Logan made his life harder, acted like a creep, or spited him needlessly, yet Logan's death is keeping Scott up at night.

I love this flashback to after the Dark Phoenix Saga (I think) and it makes pretty clear that Logan transferred his idealisation from Jean to Scott. Scott is standing at his wife's grave and somehow Logan manages to make literally everything about him. At least he acknowledges his grief and says 'sorry for your loss.' Wait, no that doesn't happen actually. The bastard just tells him he's not allowed to quit because of his psychosexual obsession. I wonder what Scott is thinking as he walks off. An optic blast in the back would be somewhat justified (and funny) but Scott usually has better self control than that.

He considers the aftermath of Fatal Attractions, when Magneto performed field surgery on his bones. Logan definitely wasn't used to not being immortal and the apex murderer. His recovery was long and his whining intense.

Is Scott biting Magneto there?

Scott approaches Logan as he's punishing himself in the Danger Room and echoes his words back to him, offering him a hand up. He remembers the heartwarming threats and the good times shared together fighting for their lives. Brothers in grief and violence, rivals who are simultaneously paternal figures to each other.

Scott is very prone to blaming himself for things going wrong, and Logan was always there to remind him. I don't think he's being fair on himself but he never really is. Blaming Scott for things is an X-Men sport. He repeats Logan's insane words for a third time - 'we don't get to quit.' Scott cries in the snow on all fours outside the base where Logan was repeatedly tortured and dehumanised, but he doesn't quit.

Scott imagines what Logan's funeral would be like, and he's not far off. He thinks hard about an appropriate way to honour his memory. The answer is obvious - alcohol and violence. I have no doubt Scott knows exactly where every mutant hater watering hole is, but it's funnier to imagine him wandering around until he finds one.

Proving he knows him pretty damn well, Scott sends Logan off by beating the shit out of some bigots and drinking over their unconscious bodies. 'Here's to you, bub. See you in a year or so.' Cyclops is pretty famous at this point, so these dudes probably know exactly who he is. They'll be telling that story for a while, of the time they were drinking and hating on mutants then Scott Summers came out of nowhere to fuck them up. Logan wouldn't be proud exactly, but he'd probably grunt and call him bub. That's practically 'I love you' from Logan, and Scott loves his dumb ass too.

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow Day 8

Majora('s Mask)

*throws bouquet of roses* For the Time lovers.

Also my bias is probably coming through really strongly right now, but I'm not well rested enough to care plus I've been playing Majora's Mask a lot again this month, it's as important to me as Twilight Princess so this is kind of my love letter to it and Time and my excuse to explore the concept of Majora and the Fierce Deity and divinity in LoZ, though that's an essay for another day lol (/j)

As always can be read as romantic or platonic depending on your preferences, Reader is gender neutral and this is definitely self indulgent so it can be read in or outside of an LU context, most of the references to the LU names are for simplicity and to give a rough idea of why Reader has some stuff they do. Makes it easier to clarify lol, though as I've been hit by yet another storm the Linktober prompt will be for tomorrow, I'm basically picking a god and praying this actually posts X_X

TW(?):

Don't think there's any warnings besides MJM's typical body horror really, and very graphic descriptions and Majora in general.

Even after so, so long, so much so it feels like a lifetime ago, Termina still stuck with you and Time.

The thing about being in a timeloop that went on for who knows how long and whose failure to reset it would be total destruction to so many good different people, is that you quickly learn some habits to try and maximize as many successes as possible, how Time (Mask, then, after the living nightmare of Termina, during the War of Ages, still Link though) quickly learned the location of each enemy he could, how you learned to call out the best way to quickly assess and take down an enemy as quickly as possible, how you both learned to watch each other’s backs and to care for the people and Termina to the point Link went from just a warrior to a healer, granted the trust of holding the crystalization of the hopes and dreams of the people of Termina that, even if they couldn’t remember it, wanted the cycle to end, wanted to hunt the threat to reality itself and purge it from the world. To bite down onto it’s neck and feel the thrill and glee and cutting down such an opponent.

Most importantly, after bleeding, crying, sweating and toiling against the unrelenting flow of time and insanity all brought upon by a lonely child being left alone and manipulated to commit heinous acts as ‘pranks’. It taught you and Time the importance of contingency plans, and about always, always being prepared for any and all situations, unlikely as they could be. Of taking through note of even the smallest detail that caught your eyes at a glance.

‘To defeat an abomination, you need one of two things: A deity, or a monster.’, you think cynically to yourself, stepping over Time’s fallen form as Warriors bolted over with blizzard forged fury in his cold, calculated movements to defend him in your stead as you called Hyrule over, the young man quickly starting to heal your Hero as you glare down at the disgusting stain on reality engaging Twilight and Wild all at once, gleeful at having watched the person you adored the most fall, bringing out the ultimate contingency from your cloak, you hadn’t even told him about it, because you prayed you’d never need to resort to this, ‘… Forgive me, Link. The first option isn’t doable here.’

Time was your everything, you knew how his story ended, with so much grief until he finally met Twilight again. You tried, you really did, to not allow yourself to love him but it was impossible because he was Link, the man who longed for adventure ever since he was young, embodying the freedom of the forest of life and death that made up the whole of Faron Woods and the Lost Woods and as steady as it’s moors, voice quiet and calm like a stream in the woods and with and with a smile to rival the warm sun and so, so heartbreakingly kind. Who protected and saved and healed people while slowly healing his own soul and who attempted to soothe his descendant’s pain the second he could even from beyond the grave.

And you’d be darned if you allowed anything to take him from you or the boys before his time without a fight. You couldn’t care less if he would eventually die as he was destined to in every timeline, it didn’t matter if it was futile, because he mattered, you loved him, and you’d keep him safe and happy for as long as you could.

It didn’t matter if one day tragedy will catch up to him, it mattered that he was loved while alive.

Even if you had to step on fire to make sure of it.

“Twilight, Wild. Step away.”, the edges of the spikes of the purple and crimson mask that haunted your nightmares as much as it did Time’s, it leered at you with it’s arsenic and pus eyes, picking apart at your weaknesses as it’s spikes dug into your hand as you tightened your grip to keep if from shaking. Tone falsely confident as you called to the Hero of Twilight and Wild to retreat.

(‘To defeat an abomination, you need a deity or a monster.’

The definition is awfully interchangeable, if you look at it.

You had found it, abandoned and in a dungeon Wind’s Era, not quite awake, but not asleep either. The eldritch hunger almost chocking you with it’s voracity, the darkness assessing, stalking, prowling and starving, it prodded at you but didn’t dig yet. It knew how to play the long game in it’s quest to stop feeling empty.

Funny thing is, so did you. You were a lot harder to break than the Skull Kid, would not break.

Majora wanted to cease, like how it had ceased before the Terminan Tribe ripped it from it’s slumber, taught it hunger, taught it cruelty, taught it how to manipulate and take amusement in consuming the wishes of mortals and their very souls only to never be satisfied. Had fueled it with wrath from being ripped from a lovely, endless dream of beautiful songs and a kind soul. To be torn from it’s fantasy and then left to rot.

You offered to grant it a proper rest. And so a deal was struck. Your one contingency if the situation was truly dire, in case you couldn’t get the Fierce Deity Mask instead -because you knew how Link was, he’d burn himself out until there was naught but ash. You refused to let it ever come to that, after his excruciating screams of pain had clawed an aching, hurtful place into your very soul-, and Majora was starving and desperate, a dangerous combination for any being but something you could use.

So be it, if to protect divinity you needed to become a monstrosity, a monster was what you’d be.

You’d keep him safe. And you knew that if the Fierce Deity put him down once, he could do it again in case you slipped. Between him and Sky you weren’t afraid at all of the risk.

Even if Time never forgave you for taking it.)

You smile bitterly, tearing up in spite of yourself as you see the second Time spots you and the cursed artifact in hand, eye wide, voice ripping from his throat in desperation, “I’m quite selfish, I’m sorry.”

His haunted expression cuts you deeper than any knife, as you knew it was an image that featured in many of your nightmares and his own. But you’re insatiable for his happiness, so you take the plunge.

“NO NO NO NO DON’T-“

You put on the mask, and you scream.

It’s like stepping on fire, a twisted, desperate tune, a note of discord, a belt of harmony and fury and most importantly, the mighty need to consume the one who had tried to take the one you loved away from you.

Defy death, defy entropy, defy chaos, defy flame and voracity.

You cling to your self control with a snarl, howling in defiance. Sinking your nails into the abyss’ throat and biting, tearing, holding, tasting rot and withered flowers and the writhing of shadows and the blood of distorted gluttonousdivinity on your tongue with savagery equal to the way the demon sinks it's spikes onto you. Chew on it’s tender, rotting flesh, quaff down the lukewarm pus of it’s heart and the rust of blood as it bites off your skin, stripping your mind into chunks as it nests into your ribs like the spikes of wild, dead roses when it finds your mind tougher to break and you BURN YOU ARE LIFE YOU ARE CHAOS AND YOU ARE DROWNING AND YOU ARE FLAME-

You move, and Majora’s laugh sounds like a scream and a song as reality howls.

Your bones, sinew, muscles, nerves, veins and teeth are reformed, the being pounces, dancing, swerving, whipping, cleaving, ripping and feeding into the monsters with putrid, revolting gusto. Whenever it’s attention even tries to waver towards the Heroes you sink your hold in harder, stubborn, you’re sure there’s blood dripping from your mouth beneath the mask, your eyes, your ears, as it reaches a crescendo of glee and pain. A human body isn’t meant to hold so much divinity at once, much less as wretched and horrific as Majora’s, but you don’t care, can’t care, when you’re holding onto yourself like a vice, refusing to give it even a single inch.

It doesn’t kill Dark Link, the bastard (the one who’d hurt Time, the one who would have finished him off if not for you and Warriors). But the screech the Shadow releases as it gets ripped to shreds and the ripple of it’s retreating form is enough to make you partially agree with Majora’s vicious, amused glee that it was satisfying. Even if the feeling of you allowing it to utilize your skin temporarily felt revolting and disgusting in a way it made you wish you were actually on fire, not just in so much pain in a metaphysical level that it sure rivaled being set on fire, frost burned and lightning struck all in one go.

All is still now, all is silent.

Now comes the difficult part.

'Are you quite sure?', whispers Majora, crooning like nails on chalkboards, and it’s spikes sink into you tighter when you grip the sides of it, teeth gritted as you start prying it out of your face, amused by your defiance, but no longer as hungry. You did allow it quite the meal, you bet nothing like fellow divinity tastes better to the being, like the taste of a forbidden fruit you were going to be unfortunately acquainted given you’re sure Dark Link’s blood is on your teeth.

'Yes.' comes your faint response, as your sanity frays in fragile threads, you think someone calls your name, but you are drowning, you are burning, and you know that if you don’t focus it will break you. And you’d be fully dead before you let that happen. If you’re going to die you’re going to die as a human.

'Tou are so, so cold… So cruel.' It drawls, the demon’s voice like the gnawing of rats, like maggots under you skin, you convulse, falling to your knees with a wounded keen and pull harder, you barely noticed someone falling by your side, frantically calling your name, but the mask’s eyes dim to an outsider’s perspective, resigned as it hums dreamily, 'I suppose that’s why The Divine Hunter cares for you so, why it’s vessel’s claim is so strong.'

Good, you were banking on it being sleepy, after gorging yourself on the enemy of your boys, Hylia’s gash and Din’s assets your mouth is going to taste putrid for months isn’t it?

Majora hisses, growls, howls and screeches, a brush against your essence as it retreats. Unwinding from every single cell of your body, distorting your atoms back to their proper shape. It still hurts, buy it’s more bearable, although you quickly notice you’re chocking on a different form of Divinity, more possessive, more wild but just as old and ferocious as it snaps at the retreating heels of the twisted, chaotic thorns. Making reality remember your own shape quicker at the cost of filling every crack consumed by the demon.

You swear that thing is smiling smugly at something else, teeth bared and very entertained, taking the suffering of the people of Termina and the cold revulsion in your veins with it as it retreats with it's cacaphony of voices to the shade, 'A shame. Feasting more would be delightful, but very well. We trust that though you hurt today, tomorrow you’ll make sure we head on our way.'

You don’t have the mind or heart to say anything else to it, for it grows silent as the spikes rip from the sides of your face, you bite of a tortured yell as the spikes rip off chunks of skin and flesh, clawing at the ground with, thankfully, soothing, perfectly regular fingers and nails, albeit cracked, you feel someone take their hand in yours, and you crack open an eye, carefully aware of the blood dripping down your face from the half removal of the heart shaped mask and the thrum of thunder replacing the cold in your veins with boiling, protective warmth.

Time.

“You shouldn’t be up already.”, you rasp, looking over his wounded form, healed by Hyrule, you shakily take your left hand to keep prying at the Majora’s Mask, only for him to take it gently in yours, you taste blood, the petrichor of the Lost Woods mist and pine on the back of your mouth, chasing the rot of Majora away.

“It’s nothing, we both know I’ve had worse.” He says, firmly shaking his head. His scarred eye is open, ivory like bone, the markings more vibrant and prominent with the ferocity of a god, he looks tired, and you attempt to speak, to apologize, to voice your worry because you knew channeling the deity without a conduit was a bad idea, before coughing, shaking from the aftermath of your reckless, reckless plan.

(You unfortunately can’t say you regret it much, though, when you silently bear the combined brunt of Time and Fierce Deity’s care once you reach camp and the protective way they act towards you. Even though Majora is long gone much to your resigned exasperation, and the rest of your boys amusement, but that is for much, much later.)

Time gently hums, it rings through you like thunder as he holds you close, tapping your neck in a rhythm you could recognize in your sleep for when he was about to pull arrows, blades or shrapnel from your skin, or was ready to have it done to himself, you immediately loosen yourself as much as possible, gripping his hand tightly as he rips the rest of the Majora’s Mask off, inert and lifeless as when you’ve both woke up from a new day, he holds you close as you try to breathe, reassuring himself you’re still here, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again. Please.” He pleads, begs, prays. He can't lose you too.

And you can’t help it, you smile as you cry crimson and russet tones from your eyes, holding him back as close as you dare to. He doesn’t hate you, you’re sure you’re going to soon participate in the argument of a lifetime. But Link doesn’t hate you, doesn’t see you as a monster any more than you could ever see him as anything but the kind companion you always knew.

So you let yourself nod, helpless to say no to him for anything really. And allow yourself to breathe, you’re both going to be alright.

[wiretism]

We need to start treating bad writing like bad art and im not kidding

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I was just listening to a song I used to love while we were friends. I listened to it so often, we talked so often, it became the background music to our relationship.

I'm listening to it while I knit. I often forget that I started knitting because of you. I remembered tonight. It's strange, I never knitted anything for you. I've knitted for other loved ones, rarely for myself, but never for you. I remembered you showing me the amazing things you made, and I wished I could get to that level of skill. But at that time, you had to explain to me how to purl because I couldn't get it.

Everything reminds me of you in a terrible way. Everything I do is an echo of you. I started painting so that I could paint for you. I started knitting to bond with you. I hear your voice in the music I listen to. You're haunting the things that I love. Will I ever make a brush stroke or stitch without you on my mind?

[automatonknight]

i hope u kno i think ur tf2posting is awesome because i am too scared to play it (pvp....) but really love tf2 anyway

AWW THANK YOU SO MUCH I'M SO GLAD TO HEAR GENUINELY!!!!!!<333 i love sharing honestly it feels so special...not to get sappy again but this is my first video game experience like that, since tf2 is the first like. multiplayer shooter i've ever played and it's just. so nice when someone teaches me how to do silly stuff like the "intel funny" or when i have the honor of participating in a server-wide dance party. it's just so!!! well. nice and really cool honestly :]

[crowlore]

for all my criticisms of the structure, pacing, and delivery of endwalker - its themes and messaging were rock solid and ill never understand the narratively illiterate losers that came away from it feeling hatred and disdain for hermes and meteion… but i suppose blatantly communicated messages about the necessity of sadness alongside hope in the name of survival of the human spirit being completely missed is par for the course with this the most vocal of xiv’s playerbase

[sparklymuses]

GET TO KNOW YOUR ADMIN !!

name — sparkle. pronouns — he / him. preferred comms — IMs, i rarely use discord for tumblr stuff. kinda protective over giving my discord out. name of muse — maki, peko, ryukyu and luvia. experience in RP — hoo boy, if we're going overall experienced - i started in early college for online sites like early dA roleplay, so 8+ years. best experiences — i can't really think of one single time, but just generally roleplaying with my buds over discord groups in danganronpa in college was some of the most i've had on the web. no worries of cringe or shit, just being free and loving our characters. i just wish the group hadn't broken apart over drama on the leader who became pretty shitty overtime. pet peeves / dealbreakers — forcing ships on other people because "ITS CANON" is an instant way for me to lose interest. part of the reason i dislike fuyupeko, although that's more personal to me. muse preference ( fluff, angst, smut ) — mostly fluff or action. angst i've done a lot in small times but not a lot recently. as for smut ... i've honestly never really done it often, like i can count on one hand how many times. mostly because my characters ... well, you can see the issue with me being hesitant to write them in smut in fear of crucifixion. plot or memes — memes. mostly because it's super disheartening to talk up a plot for so many messages and getting excited ... only for it to die within two posts. part of the reason i lost my motivation in the first place. long or short replies — usually i like to do long replies, but that's more me losing control of how much i write versus trying to pace myself. so i'd say medium at worst. best time to write — whenever i have the energy to nowadays. are you like your muse — lol, no. maki and peko could fold me like an omelette, luvia is too rich for me and ryukyu is ... well, it's complicated. i hope we would at least get along though !!

tagged by : @tealsteel tagging : @electricea , @nulltune , @more-than-a-princess , @mysticallities & @celestiialnotes !!

[asteroidtroglodyte]

5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

10 years ago, I was watching my Potential and Opportunities dissolve and evaporate in an ocean of cheap gin and expensive whiskey.

But 5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

One of the exercises they had us perform was to imagine ourselves happy, 5 years in the future.

Many of us in that room had forgotten how to imagine nice things happening to them. A few snorted (well, I snorted), finding the notion that we’d even still be around in 5 years grimly humorous.

For about half of us, it was the last stop on the way down.

But I indulged the therapist. I was there, after all, because I did not want to die. So, I imagined myself, 5 years hence.

Happy.

It came to me all at once; an artistic remix on Norman Rockwell’s Freedom From Want, reframed with myself placing food at the table.

Sunday Dinner At My Place, I answered, when it came my turn to share my fantasy. I was asked what food I imagined eating.

It’s not the meal itself, I said, it’s the implications framed around it. Sunday Dinner At My Place means that I have a Place. It means that I have Family that will actually speak to me and friends who actually want to see me. It means money enough not just to feed myself but others too. It means having the time to spare to take the time preparing the meal.

A lot of nodding heads all around me. A struck chord. Many people with no Place, in that place. Nowhere that would lament their leaving.

5 years hence, as I lay down to sleep in my Home, with my Wife and my Son, surrounded by my Art and my Flowers, I reflect.

It was a long road. It was hard. We lost people. So many people. There were long days and long nights and hospital stays. Angry arguments with ghosts. I changed, in ways I never hoped for, or expected. Good ways, finally, for once. Slowly, against the backdrop of a world in chaos, I found my mind.

Sometimes, My Wife wondered aloud, what she did to deserve me. After some stumbling with my feelings, I eventually settled on an answer.

I’m a Rescue.

She gave me a Home.

And, so, I gave her a Family.

It seemed fair

This Sunday, my folks, which whom I have not had a shouting match in years, will come over for dinner. We will cook and eat together. My Friend became My Wife, and she took a piece of me and with it she made Our Son. There will be many hugs, and no violence. Good Things Happened.

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you don’t know what the future holds.

don’t give up yet, ok?

It could get good, even.

[odoraful]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄.ᐟ

what happens when you don't use their pet name to call them?

⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; more dialogue heavy; silly and cute

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ZAYNE ⟡

“Can you help me put this on, Zayne?”

From the reflection in the mirror, you tried not to react at the twist in his brow and the momentary confusion in his eyes. Wordlessly, he moved behind you, fingers taking the necklace out of your hand. With his gaze focused on the task before him, you could see him open his mouth, hesitating to speak.

“Did I do something wrong?” he questioned.

Zayne’s deft hands carefully laid the chain around your neck, centering the pendent between your collarbones.

You plastered on your most innocent expression, despite the twinge of guilt you felt at his question.

“Hm? Why do you ask?”

Swiftly, he clasped the ends of the chain together. His eyes flicked towards yours in the mirror.

“You’re calling me by my first name. I thought pet names were an important step in a relationship for you.”

You nodded. “Yes, Zayne, I do think it’s an important step.”

His eyes narrowed at your continual uncharacteristic responses.

Folding his arms, he mused aloud. “It took you some time to drop the title ‘doctor’ for me and to just use my name. After we became official, you were quick to call me ‘love’.”

You fiddled with your necklace, trying to, impossibly, force away the heat from your face.

“So, either I did something to make you upset, or”—he leaned in close to you, the side of his face almost touching yours—“you’re playing a trick on me.”

You gave a mock frown. He cocked his head to the side, awaiting your response.

“Okay, okay, it was a prank.” Sighing, you surrendered to his deductions. “I wanted to see how you’d react, but you saw right through me,” you mumbled.

His lips quirked. “I’ve known you for long enough to figure these things out.”

Wanting to wipe off the amused look he had on his face, you quickly planted a kiss on his cheek. His face turned into surprise. He chuckled, shaking his head at your triumphant smile.

“Thank you for helping me, my love."

SYLUS ⟡

“Sylus, could you play that new record you bought?”

You called from the sofa. Standing by the record player, he turned to face you. The offence on his face was unmistakable as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Sylus?” he scoffed. “We both know that’s not what you call me.”

Your brows furrowed, feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Isn’t that your name?”

“Sweetie,” he levelled a look of scepticism at you, “that hasn’t been my name for the past month we’ve been together.”

“I still don’t know what you mean, Sylus.”

He paused. Gears turned in his head trying to unpack what was happening, much like he would do when reading the truthfulness of a dealer during a bargain.

“Y/N.”

You’ve never heard your own name being said in such a serious manner. Perhaps you got a taste of your own medicine.

“I’m not particularly fond of lose-lose situations.” The softness in his tone made you feel weak. “You can tell me if I’ve done something to annoy you. I won’t be angry.”

“Not at all!” you quickly blurted out. Unable to hide it any longer, you confessed. “You haven’t done anything to annoy me. I was just trying to pull a small prank.”

All the tension visibly released from his body. A relieved sigh escaped him. “You really do play some dangerous games, kitten.”

Playfulness returned to his voice. “Now then, how will you correct your mistake?”

“Honey,” you drawled out each syllable, making it sound as syrupy as the nickname itself, “could you play that new record you bought now?”

Sylus couldn’t help but laugh at your exaggeration. “Why of course.”

XAVIER ⟡

“Xavier, do you want to try this?”

Subtly glancing at his reaction from the kitchen, you saw his face immediately fall into a pout. The look was fatal, and it took all the willpower you had not to drop the ruse right then and there.

“That’s not my name,” he answered.

“What do you mean?” you chuckled, continuing to put icing on the sugar cookies you baked. “Of course it is!”

“No, it’s not,” he insisted.

Placing his book down, he walked to stand at your side by the counter. You avoided his eye contact, pretending that nothing was amiss.

Resting a hand under his chin, he began to think. “You usually call me bunny, sweetheart, sunshine, or darling.”

Your jaw dropped in amused shock. “You remember all the names I’ve called you?”

His mouth twitches. “There are some more, but… they might be a bit embarrassing to say aloud right now.”

That was enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.

“Xavier!” Your face turned pink as you slapped his shoulder. There was no force behind the hit, but enough to convey your embarrassment.

“You did it again. You used the wrong name.” He stuck his bottom lip out.

You gently poked at his cheek, trying to lift the corner of his lip upwards. “Come on, don’t be sad darling.”

Immediately, he brightened before you.

“It was just a joke I saw couples do online. I wanted to see how you’d react.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And was my reaction satisfactory?”

“I think it was,” you smiled at him, "but it’s a shame I didn’t film it, it would’ve made for a good Moments post.”

He shook his head. “But, the nicknames we use are only for us.”

The finished cookie in your hand had a bite suddenly taken from it as Xavier leaned down to have a taste.

“I don’t want anyone else to know.”

RAFAYEL ⟡

“Are you ready to go yet, Rafayel?”

He continued to hum to himself, completely ignoring you. You folded your arms as you watched him busy himself with something trivial. He flung open a random cupboard and inspected what appeared to be an assortment of spare art supplies.

“Rafayel,” you called again.

He then turned his attention to the fishbowl in the centre of the room, where a small orange fish darted around.

“Reddie, do you hear something?” he asked, gazing so earnestly into the bowl. This fish paused its movement and stared back at his owner.

“Rafayel~” you sang his name aloud this time, extending the last syllable.

He gasped, apparently receiving some confirmation from Reddie.

“You hear something too? Thank god. I was thinking there must be something wrong with my ears.”

Surveying the room around him, Rafayel intentionally looked past you standing barely a few metres from him, tapping your foot against the wooden floorboards of his studio.

“It sounds like”—he continued—“some kind of voice. Someone familiar to me, but I can’t make out who it is.”

“Rafayel!” you shouted his name between fits of laughter. Only he could respond to your jokes with his own dramatics.

He sucked in a breath in puzzlement. “I wonder who this person is calling out to.”

“Baby,” you finally conceded, “I’m talking to you!”

It seemed like he couldn’t keep up the act either, as he started laughing with you.

“Took you long enough,” he huffed, moving towards you and linking your arm with his. “Otherwise, Reddie and I would have been searching for this phantom voice for the rest of the day.”

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[fragmentedblade]

I hate that when I look up the "Kalpas" tag here there's me and then there's me again, but on another blog. Fake moustache me