#And if your wondering they met in the sandbox

[friendlyneighborhoodplebeian]

Harvey and Bruce deserve to be childhood best friends. Because we get scenes like them first meeting at a park and Harvey being the only one to come up to Bruce to play and saying “You’re weird, want to be best friends?” Or Bruce noticing the bruises left on Harvey by his dad. Or Bruce helping Harvey with with his mental illnesses before he was diagnosed, Or during Martha and Thomas’s funeral Harvey comforting Bruce as Bruce sobs in his arm because it finally became real. Or Bruce comforting Harvey when he is finally diagnosed and helping him adjust. Or their goodbye when Bruce leaves the city to train to become Batman. Or their reunion when Bruce comes back and Harvey it the first face he sees when he get off the plane. The betrayal and sadness of Harvey becoming Two Face would hit so hard and have so many more layers if they basically spent their whole live together.

[desi2go]

Chaotic duo

pairing: Seungmin x reader

warning: best friends to lovers trope! fluff

Author's note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGMIN <3

Seungmin and you had been best friends for as long as anyone could remember. From the moment you met in kindergarten, your bond had been instant—an unbreakable alliance fueled by a shared love of adventure, mischief, and an inability to sit still. Where one went, the other followed, and together, you became legends in your small town.

The first time you met was in the sandbox. Seungmin, with wild curls and a mischievous glint in his eyes, was building an elaborate castle. You, fiery and bold, with a pixie cut you insisted on because "long hair gets in the way of running," stomped right through it. Seungmin’s jaw dropped, and you had smiled, wide and unapologetic.

“You’re supposed to guard your castle, dummy,” you said with a big smirk.

Seungmin burst out laughing. “Wanna help me build a new one?”

From that moment, you two were inseparable—and utterly impossible to control.

As kids, you were the kind who put frogs in the teacher’s desk or replaced your school principal’s office chair with a whoopee cushion. Your greatest feat was sneaking into the local grocery store and rearranging all the items on the shelves so cereal was in the freezer and ice cream in the dry goods aisle. The townspeople shook their heads, half exasperated, half entertained, because no one couldn hate Seungmin and you. Together, you were the heart and soul of the town’s chaotic charm.

You weren’t malicious, just... menaces. You lit up every room you entered, your laughter infectious, and even when you were grounded for weeks, you still found ways to send secret notes to each other, plotting your next adventure.

Years passed, and the pranks only grew bolder. In middle school, you stole the mascot costume and replaced the halftime cheer with a ridiculous dance routine you made up on the spot. In high school, you snuck into prom, even though neither of you was on the planning committee, and switched the formal playlist with a collection of ridiculous 90s pop songs. The seniors were mortified.

Yet, even as you two caused chaos together, there was something else between you. Something neither of you wanted to admit.

Your friendship was so natural, so easy, that the idea of anything more felt terrifying. You were always the one who would punch Seungmin’s arm when he teased you, and Seungmin was the one who’d toss an arm around your shoulders whenever you were feeling down, pulling you into his side like you belonged there. You were perfect as you were—or at least that’s what you kept telling yourselfs.

But over time, things changed.

By the time you hit your early twenties, the teasing started to take on a different tone. Seungmin would get quiet, almost protective, whenever you went on dates with guys, though he’d never admit it. And you would grow jealous, prickly, every time Seungmin talked about a girl who caught his eye. You told yourselves it was nothing—just the awkwardness of growing up.

It started small.

You spent more time just talking. Late nights on your’s porch, staring at the stars, laughing about old memories, and dreaming about what came next. Seungmin would catch himself staring at you, wondering when your eyes had started to light up his world in a way no prank ever could. You found yourself lingering a little longer when he hugged you, the warmth of him becoming more than just comfort—it was something you craved.

Then came The Party.

The whole town had been buzzing for weeks about it—a summer bash at the lake, a chance for everyone to relax, drink, and dance. Seungmin and you, naturally, had come up with a scheme to make it memorable. You had spent the better part of a week planning how to replace the DJ’s playlist with an embarrassing collection of cheesy love songs and make all the floats in the lake mysteriously disappear.

But this time, something felt different. As you stood together by the bonfire, you leaning against his shoulder, your laughter bright against the crackling firelight, Seungmin felt the weight of all those unspoken words pressing against his chest.

Your’s hair were a mess, your cheeks flushed from the thrill of the night, and he thought you had never looked more beautiful.

Without thinking, he said, “You know, we’re gonna have to top that next year.”

You looked over at him, your grin wide. “Oh, I’ve already got ideas.”

But your voice was softer than usual. The banter didn’t have its usual bite. You turned to him fully, your eyes searching his.

You swallowed hard. The air between you was charged, full of unspoken feelings. You felt like you were standing on the edge of something enormous, terrifying, and exhilarating all at once. “Seungmin... I think—”

“I love you.”

The words came out before he could stop them. Seungmin's eyes widened as he realized what he’d just said. You froze, your breath catching.

“I... I mean, I—” He stammered nervously, trying to take it back, but it was too late. The truth was out there, hanging between you like a storm cloud ready to burst.

You blinked, then did what you always did when faced with something huge: you laughed. But it wasn’t your usual laugh. It was softer, more vulnerable. “Took you long enough.”

Seungmin’s heart stopped beating all at once. “What?”

You grinned, reaching out to poke his arm like you always did. “I’ve loved you since the day I stomped on your sandcastle, idiot.”

He blinked, then broke into a wide, disbelieving smile. “Well, this changes things.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, no kidding.”

Then, before either of you could second-guess it, Seungmin leaned in and kissed you. It wasn’t perfect. It was messy and a little too eager, but it was you.

Full of energy, passion, and chaos. The kind of kiss that said, this is what we’ve been waiting for all along.

From that day forward, you were still the same old Seungmin and you. Still a menace to the town, still plotting your next big prank. But now, you did it all with an extra spark between you—the kind of spark that turned chaos into love.

[impossiblesuitcase]

tu me cherchais?

““Hello, Michelle.” His voice was a wearier version of the one she had adored all those years ago, but it still filled her with memories and loneliness and warmth.” 

Tell him hello

When Logan first brought Selene to Michelle, he stayed in the house. No one visited her anyway and he couldn’t go into town—not with the risk of being discovered. While Selene was still in such critical condition, he would need to watch over her. Once she was stable, he would leave.   

Logan slept on the couch in the living room next to Selene’s chamber. In her current state, she was at risk of a heart attack or capture from enemies. Michelle had offered them the spare bedroom, but the suspension tank couldn’t be brought up the stairs. Once, when she passed by the staircase, she remembered the portraits on her wall. Four-year-old Scarlet playing in a sandbox. Herself and her son, a rare occasion where they were both smiling. Michelle made no effort to conceal them. Logan was far too distracted to pay attention, but she wondered—if for a moment he did—would he look at the photo of her and a three-month-old Luc and notice that she looked around the same age as when they had first met?  

She hoped he wouldn’t. A bizarre fear persisted, that he would be disappointed in her if he learnt of her failings as a mother to his son. 

During the daytime, while Logan was down in the bunker preparing it to house the body, Michelle was tasked with monitoring the child. The form was so grotesque, so mangled and inhuman that she couldn’t bear more than a cursory glance. In the evenings she would prepare them a meal. Again, Logan would eat by the child, and though Michelle initially joined him, sitting on the lounge chair by the lamp, it became too awkward. The silence. The utensils scraping on ceramic plates. The hum of the alien pod.  

The meals became simpler as she began to run out of ingredients. She had put off her usual grocery run since his arrival, worried that if she left the property and one of her neighbours flew by and noticed a man leaving her podship hanger, it would arouse suspicion. Then she realised that if the locals didn’t see her at her typical weekly outing, they might come to the house to check up on her. That would be worse.  

She never bought fresh produce from the grocer, usually just the essentials—flour and sugar and meat. On this occasion, as she attempted to escape a conversation with chatty Madame Manon Bouchard, she spied a stand of fresh dragon fruit right by the milk aisle.   

“You don’t even have zucchini?” she had once asked Logan, as they stood together in his kitchen, his hands around her waist.  

He had laughed into her hair. “Now you’re just making up words.”  

Her attempt to make a good ragout with the limited ingredients in Artemisia had left her stumped. Seeing the luxuriant meals in the cafés and restaurants, she had assumed the sparkly city was teeming with cultivation. Logan informed her that that was only the case for the rich; the less fortunate—even a well-paid doctor as himself—had fewer options.  

She peeled the carrots, chopped them and tossed them into the pot. Then came the wine. Or what was left of it; the rest in their bellies.  

She looked over her shoulder, flicking his nose. “Don’t worry. If you come to Earth, I will make you all kinds of things. With zucchini and lychee and rhubarb and dragon fruit.”  

“Sure,” he agreed with a fond shake of his head. “I’ll try your imaginary dragon fruit.”  

Michelle was struck by such an unexpected pang of emotion that she didn’t notice Manon’s offended scoff as she wandered over to the stand mid-conversation.  

That evening, she made dragon fruit tartlets for dessert. She thought, briefly, to pair it with a ragout. But she thought that might be making it a little too easy for him.  

After dinner, Logan brought the plates into the kitchen and washed them in the sink. She never asked him to do this. He always did.  

“Here,” she said, placing a plate by the dishrack. Atop it sat a perfect tartlet, drizzled with cream from her cow and strawberries from her field. “This is for you.”  

He glanced at it. “Thank you.”  

Once he was done at the sink, he sat at the kitchen table and ate. His brow was furrowed, his mind always a thousand light-years away.  

“It’s dragon fruit,” she ventured, tracing her eyes over that brow, waiting for recognition.   

Logan nodded, took his final bite and brought this plate over to the sink. “Thank you, Michelle.”  

A jolt of pain rippled through her. She turned away from him, heading to the living room. “I’ll, uh, check on the princess.”  

His grunt was all to indicate that he’d heard her. But the fruit, the memories, she knew he hadn’t remembered at all.  

———

“She couldn’t imagine how this child could sleep for her entire life and then be expected to become a queen upon her return to society. But that would be Logan’s job, whenever he returned. There were years still before anyone would know who this child was going to become.” 

———

Eight years later, Logan stayed in the bunker while they were waking Selene up, as did Linh Garan. Scarlet could never learn of their presence, yet Michelle was beginning to suspect that even if her granddaughter was removed from the equation, Logan wouldn’t risk leaving the princess’s side. He was cautious, yes, but most of all, he was manically paranoid.  

She hadn’t believed he was losing his mind, but after weeks of observing him, in surgery and in conversation and at meals, she began to believe him.  

The risk of Scarlet discovering them put her on edge, too. Thankfully school had started up again that week, so they had at least a few hours in the daytime where they didn’t need to be as surreptitious. Even then, Michelle would tense; Scarlet—the little hothead she was—tended to get into arguments at school and stomp home without any warning to her grandmother. Today was a Sunday, and Michelle had sent her off to the neighbour’s house. Old Madame Boudreaux had needed someone to help her set up a new netscreen, and fortunately for Michelle, she had a propensity for forcing all house guests to learn the history of every knick-knack and porcelain doll in her museum of a home. Scarlet wouldn’t be able to leave for several hours yet.  

This was the only time Logan was willing to be parted from Selene, no, Cinder, five days before she was to be taken away to the Eastern Commonwealth. She was caked in gel, an insect freshly emerged from its egg, slimy and tinged green. She needed to be bathed.  

Michelle had been more than hesitant to bring the child into her home, but there was no running water in the bunker. It was too difficult to carry the girl up the ladder with old bones, so the task had fallen to Garan. Although the man was set to be her adoptive father, he was rather unnatural in holding her. She hoped it was simply a product of unfamiliarity and not a sign of what kind of father he would be to the princess.  

They took her inside the house while she was still asleep. It wasn’t much different from her waking state, except for the groaning and squirming. Then Logan and Garan left Michelle with her in the bathroom. She woke as Michelle began running a warm soapy cloth over her arms, dissolving the crusted gel. A proper bath would be too aggressive for her fragile skin, the joints between flesh and prostheses still red and inflamed.  

Michelle wished the girl had stayed asleep. Odd as it may seem, Michelle wasn’t quite adept at interacting with children. Her rather disastrous upbringing of her son proved that. She only bonded with Scarlet so easily because the little hothead was just as stubborn as herself. But with this blank slate of a child, Michelle felt almost awkward.  

She grasped the shower head and gently cupped Cinder’s scalp under her palm. “All right, Cinder. Let’s wash your hair.”   

Though the water was a safe tepid she flinched, eyes tearing open and hands scrambling to grasp the corners of the bathtub. Michelle murmured soothing shhs and it’s okay’s. For the first time since waking, she looked at Michelle, awareness filling her gaze, but with it, harshness.  

Logan had assured her that the child would not wake with the mental faculties of a toddler, that the brain stimulations had successfully advanced her to the comprehension level befitting her age. Michelle was secretly unconvinced. The girl moved in a haze, more like a newborn than even a three-year-old, as though she had regressed during stasis.  

But then she would cast a look at Michelle, long and loaded, and she would feel that she had been complicit in some crime.  

Nevertheless, the hair had to be washed, so Michelle used her free hand to still the girl as she soaked the hair from roots to ends. Cinder eventually gave up in squirming, limbs still too weak to offer any form of escape.  

She made quick work of the shampoo and conditioner. With her body carefully untouched by the stream, Cinder began to shiver.   

“All done, Cinder,” Michelle assured. She sat her up and wrapped a towel around her. “Do you want to try your walking?”  

Cinder remained motionless but allowed Michelle to lift her. She groaned as she heaved the child out of the bath and set her on the ground. “Ready?”  

Cinder took the smallest step forward on the tile and immediately lurched forward. Hands at the ready, Michelle was quick to stop her from falling. Righting her, she guided gently, “That’s okay. Let’s try again.”  

Garan had been teaching her to walk and had partial success thus far. A look of concentration encased the girl’s face now as she lifted her stiff foot and forced it in front of her.   

Cinder wobbled but stayed upright. She gripped Michelle’s hand tighter.  

Through several arduous steps and a few stumbles, they reached the bedroom. Michelle considered but decided not to repeat Garan’s encouragements. “You’re doing well,” “almost there,” “good job.” They were perfunctory. No number of pleasantries could coax a ship to fly or teach a horse to run. Cinder alone would decide if she walked.  

Michelle lowered her to the bed, reaching for the outfit she had laid out. “These are your new clothes, Cinder. I have another set for you to take as well.” 

Well, they weren’t new. They came from a box of Scarlet’s old clothes from last year. Michelle had planned to donate them to the local boutique de charité and that’s where Scarlet believed they currently were. Michelle had since found an equally charitable cause for them. She would wash the ones Cinder had lived in for the past week before sending them off in a duffel bag with the girl in tow.  

The goosebumps on her skin calmed as the fleecy cotton covered her arms. Cinder weakly tugged at the sleeves, trying to pull them down with little success until Michelle intervened.  

“You’ll have a new mother soon. She’ll help you get dressed if you’re still not ready yet.”  

Michelle shimmied the pants up her legs. Her fingernail accidentally grazed the link between flesh and metal on her thigh and Cinder whimpered. Michelle flinched.  

“Désolé, chérie.” She patted her leg soothingly, moving onto the socks. Then she stepped back to evaluate.  

She would be warm, at least. Not much could be done yet about the unnatural pallor of her skin. The hair, clean but still tangled, with split ends running up to the roots, now she could do something about that.  

Michelle found her salon scissors and brush, heaving onto her knees on the bed behind Cinder. Her muscles groaned as they rested on the unsteady surface and she swayed, but the scissors stayed firmly gripped in her fist. Cinder couldn’t be trusted around them yet.  

Her fingers picked up some chunks of hair and raked through them. The girl whined even at the slightest tug. “I know it doesn’t feel nice, Cinder” she said as she worked the brush through the ends. “But we have to push through the pain to make it better.”  

Her words had run ahead of her. As the bristles danced through the brown strands, she continued, “I’ve had to do that many times in my lifetime. As will you.”  

Cinder’s shoulders drooped. With the worst knots untangled, she was a statue. 

Satisfied, Michelle lay a towel on the quilt to catch the hair and began cutting. It was long—eight years’ worth of growth—and yet it was still uneven. Michelle had a vision of this girl as a 3-year-old with oozing pus in patches over her burnt scalp. They had since healed, but the hair was brittle in some parts more than others. A good ten centimetres off should even it out.  

Michelle feathered the ends, brushing the loose hair from her shirt. “All done. Would you like to see?”  

To Michelle’s astonishment, Cinder seemed to nod. It wasn’t exactly obvious—perhaps just a meaningless reflex—but perhaps it had been intentional.   

Michelle set the scissors on the towel. It took another test of patience to help Cinder stagger back into the bathroom and Michelle’s arms were aching with exertion from carrying her by the shoulders.  

Cinder took the last few steps on her own and gripped the bench, staring at herself in the mirror. Michelle watched her.  

No expression. No recognition. There was no mirror in the bunker. Did Cinder realise this was the first time she’d seen herself since she was a toddler? Did she even comprehend that it was her? Despite how much Logan swore that she had been educated, caught up to speed on normal childhood development, had it failed?  

Was this girl not a girl, but a dead soul’s consciousness forced into a machine, functioning only through robotics and wires and machinery?  

Michelle had to grip the towel rail to steady herself.  

How could this child become queen? How could she save them all?

“Selene,” she said suddenly, then immediately shook her head, “no, Cinder. You must listen to me.” She released the rail and took the girl’s shoulders into her hands. Cinder turned to face her.  

“Cinder. I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know if they will come for you. But whatever happens, you can’t let them take everything from you.” Michelle pressed her forehead against Cinder’s, awkwardness dispelled by the divine need to impart this instruction. She conjured every ounce of motherly wisdom that she had lacked with her son, and thought about what she would tell Scarlet, had Scarlet been the girl before her.  

“They have already taken so much from you. They will want to make you a leader. They will forget that you are just a girl.” She pulled away, her eyes imploring. “When they ask you to fight, you must learn to say yes. But when they ask everything of you, you must learn to say no.” Exhaling every breath she’d taken in over the past eight years, she asked, “Okay?”  

Cinder blinked slowly through full lashes. A minuscule light darted back and forth in her left eye. A bionic eye. Fake. Her heart. Brain. Lungs. All of it.  

Maybe synthetic eyes couldn’t light up with joy or with recognition. Maybe they couldn’t convey sadness or understanding. So maybe Cinder had been understanding Michelle this entire time. Michelle was the one who had been blind. 

Cinder’s mouth opened. She began to nod. Again, it could be a meaningless tick, but then, in the quietest voice Michelle had ever heard, she spoke.  

“...O–kay.”  

———

“Grand-mère, who is Logan Tanner?”  Her grandma brushed a light kiss against Scarlet’s forehead.  “He’s a good man, Scarlet. He would have loved you.”

———

 

Cinder began speaking sparsely, mostly nos and yeses and whys. She voiced her first full sentence on the day she left. 

“Where are we going?” she asked Garan as he buckled her into her seat in the hover. 

“We’re going home, Cinder,” he explained with a light tone. Once she was strapped in, he stepped away and the door slid shut. 

Garan turned to Michelle and Logan. “Well…” he trailed off. 

“Thank you again, Garan.” Logan said sincerely, taking his hand and shaking it. “This could not have been accomplished without your skills and discretion.” His tone became grave. “And for the danger you have inflicted upon yourself, I am truly sorry.” 

Garan shook his head. “Don’t be, Logan. I am honoured to play this role in shaping history.”  

Thus far, he had seemed to Michelle a curious savant, enticed more by the prospect of having a Lunar subject for his inventions than by the theophanic-like encounter with a resurrected myth. Yet he demonstrated now a trace of comprehension in his tight brow. He understood the risk of accepting this burden.  

He offered Michelle a nod and rounded to the other side of the hover. “Good-bye then.” Garan opened the door and slid inside. 

Michelle’s attention was entrapped by Cinder. She was staring right at her, blinking slowly, and Michelle suddenly felt cruel to not have parted with a hug, a kiss, a promise that everything would eventually work out. But Michelle could not feed such lies to this child. Cinder was somehow entirely different to the girl that had haunted the ground beneath Michelle’s feet for the past eight years. That had been Selene. Cinder was the one who had woken up. 

Mostly, Michelle was sad to send her off, sure in the deepest fissures of her heart that her new life in the Eastern Commonwealth would not be as ‘fine’ as Garan promised it to be. 

The hover lifted from the ground and picked up speed, yet Cinder’s searching brown eyes lingered down the full length of the driveway. 

Once the rattle of whirring motors faded and the disturbed dust had drifted back to the ground, only Michelle and Logan were left. 

They looked out to the road, three arm lengths apart. 

Michelle exhaled shakily. “Well, there she goes.” 

A grim nod. “She has to.” 

Michelle shifted slightly, halfway facing him. “You don’t trust him?” 

“I do…” he sighed. “I trust he won’t betray her to the authorities or treat her badly, I just don’t…” He pursed his lips. 

“Don’t what?” 

Logan clasped his hands together, not meeting her eyes. “Michelle, there is no one on Earth or Luna I trust more than you. If it hadn’t been so threatening to both her and your safety, I would want her under your protection for as long as possible. I don’t know that Garan will manage this burden in the way you have.” 

The honesty rocked her. So confessionally sweet, and yet so obvious in its failings. Because he shouldn’t trust her so, not when they had such a brief connection to begin with. Not when he probably had a life on Luna after her, maybe a wife and children; children that perhaps looked vaguely alike their own son. There was no room for such unbosoming, not for co-conspirators in treasonous affairs that would surely catch up to them both. 

But perhaps, wouldn’t have been nice if there was no Selene at all? If he had simply escaped Luna to find her, and if he could sleep in the house rather than the bunker? Sit across from her at the dining table and tell stories to Scarlet, whom he would surely adore?    “We are older than Garan,” she said soberly. “But he will learn—as we did.” 

He nodded distractedly, perhaps disappointed. Was he disheartened that she did not acknowledge his praise towards her?     If he was, he didn’t dwell on it. “I leave tomorrow. It would be too suspicious for me to follow the hover. Granted I’m still sane by the time I reach the Commonwealth, I’ll check on her, just for safety.” 

Right. He was losing his mind, or so he said. He seemed always to be present with her, but she did notice him losing his train of thought when conversing with Garan and becoming fidgety when Cinder would refuse their gentle prompts to practise walking. “...And if you’re not sane?” 

His eyes bored into hers, distant as though foreseeing the forthcoming years. “I’ve already done my work.” 

Her port chimed, an alarm reminding her that Scarlet would be due home soon. Michelle had essentially forced Scarlet to go spend the afternoon at a friend’s house, but she wouldn’t be deterred for too long. Logan needed to hide. “You’ll have to retire to the bunker for the night.” 

He stepped away. “Of course. Then this is goodbye.” 

She startled. “I won’t see you off tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow is Saturday. On Luna, school children have the weekend off. I’m assuming it’s the same on Earth.” 

She’d forgotten, so terrified of Scarlet uncovering the confidential mission happening right under her nose that the days had blurred into insignificance. Logan never spoke of Scarlet, but they had all been aware of the oblivious bystander preventing them from acting in the open. “Right. I hadn’t realised.” 

Logan appeared to contemplate what he said next. “I am truly grateful to have known you, Michelle.” 

She pressed her lips, feeling twenty-nine again in everything but body. “Take care of yourself, Logan.” 

And then he was walking away. No embrace, no handshake or nod as Garan had exchanged.  

The wind whipped through her hair and the sunset before him cast a silhouette—an old man tramping through the crops. 

She hadn’t said it. That she trusted him impossibly more than anyone else, too. That this trust had long blurred the lines of devotion. Their fling was remembered as having lasted an entire lifetime. She wondered if she would soon regret her silence. 

Michelle turned and strolled back to the house. Two—diametrically opposed in direction, no longer having Selene to tether them together. But, with a hand on her chest, Michelle resolved that if Cinder reclaimed her throne, freed Luna and opened the way for Lunars and Earthens to have peace, she knew who she would fly to. 

———

“On Luna, I knew the man who brought you to Earth and performed your surgery. I tracked him down in an attempt to find you, but by then he’d already started to lose his mind. All I could get out of him was that you were somewhere here, in the Commonwealth.”  

Tell him good-bye

“Where is she?” 

Logan was shoved backwards, head lolling as the whiplash caught him. He dumbly flailed his hands but was too blindsided to direct a blow.  

Sage Darnel was much shorter than Logan, but he towered over him as Logan’s knees gave out. He crumpled to the ground. 

“Is she alive?” Sage demanded again, lugging him up by the collar. His sky-blue eyes were stormy and fierce and Logan couldn’t hold them. 

His breaths were shallow and irregular, mind vague and unfocused. He couldn’t remember where he was, why he was here… 

“Logan!” Sage barked. 

“Alive,” he gasped, wincing as nails dug into his flesh. “Alive. Barely.”  

When Sage had ambushed him outside the android dealer, Logan had taken off with the tenacity of a sprinter. But his internal compass failed him and Sage chased him down, cornering him in this alleyway.  

Sage snarled, his canines gleaming in the moonlight. “What do you mean?” 

“Broken,” bubbled from his lips. “Too broken. Bone and skin and ashes.” 

“What are you saying, Logan?” he spat. 

Princess Selene’s burnt corpse flashed past his vision. Blood and pus oozing from welts. Bones and skin mangled. Her charred eyes in his hands. Pieces of her brain sitting on his operating table. “I had to fix her.” 

“Fix what? Her body? From the fire?” 

Chopping and stitching and sawing and praying. “Metal and grafts.” 

His anger wilted with realisation. “She’s a cyborg, isn't she?” 

Stupidly, Logan thought that this shift might give him an advantage. He wrestled against the iron grip, sneering, “Levana sent you to take her!”  

Sage shoved him further up the wall, invading his space so closely that Logan could feel his breath on his chin. “I want to rip Levana apart with my own two hands and return Selene to her throne.” 

“Why?” he choked. 

“Because she killed my daughter. What’s your reason?” 

He had none, no personal stake, except for the sake of his country. “To fight her,” he settled on, not really knowing what it meant. 

“Good. So where is she?” 

Stars, how did they ever take this man’s daughter away from him? Logan was certain he was only a millisecond away from smashing his skull against the brick wall. 

“Logan!” 

“Commonwealth! The Eastern Commonwealth!” he cried, awaiting the blow.  

“Where? Where in the Eastern Commonwealth?” 

He couldn’t feel the blow, but it must have come. Why else was his brain screaming? His body burning hotter than a playhouse in a toddler’s nursery? Incoherent spluttering vomited from his mouth, breaths coming out but none able to come in. He was asphyxiating. He was bleeding. He was brainless. 

Sage’s frantic blue eyes were not enough to keep Logan’s attention. It was fixed at the end of the alleyway—a figure drenched in moon light approached. 

“Where?!” 

“Yes Logan, where? Where did you put her?” mocked Dr Eliot, her silhouette growing clearer. 

“I saved her, I swear!” Logan protested. 

Dr Eliot shook her head, expression vacant. Blood began to trickle down her scalp in rivulets, dripping down her eyelids and lips. Then the trickle turned into a stream, swimming down her white doctor’s coat and staining it, the blood black in the moonlight. 

“I did, I-I promise,” he stammered, “I did, I did, I did.” 

Thud. He was dropped to the floor. He barely noticed.  

“You’ve lost your mind,” Sage snarled and stomped down the alleyway, walking straight through the bloodied ghost.  

It began to rain. 

Logan lay on the damp, cold cement, heart palpitating and eyes unseeing. 

Yes, lost my mind, his mind thought, as Dr Eliot’s blood drifted from the sky and blanketed him. 

Yes, yes, yes, yes yes yes yes. 

———

Before he had lost his mind, it had been kind to him. He needed enough mental clarity to perform Selene’s surgeries. With that accomplished, his sanity promptly handed him a letter of resignation. 

Three months. Logan had elected to wait three months after leaving Michelle before following Garan into New Beijing. Three months before he surreptitiously checked on the child. Time was needed to put distance between Logan and Garan, to stamp out any suspicions of a connection. 

As the reins of timekeeping flung out of his hands—another consequence of the Lunar sickness—three months turned into two and half years. It was then that Sage Darnel found Logan and pinned him to the wall of the alleyway. How long Sage had been on Earth, Logan didn’t know. He no longer remembered how long he himself had been on Earth. 

His encounter with Sage only worsened his fear. It became even more imperative that he avoid the princess. He could only hope that Sage either never found her or that he was true to his word; that he too wished to see her enthroned. 

But any others lurking around, searching for the princess, may not share those motives. 

Logan lived as a nomad, moving from place to place, province to province and never staying long enough to become a local. When he had escaped Luna for Earth, he had left the pilot helping him all his assets, his home and his investments. In exchange, the pilot converted all of Logan’s savings into Earthen currency registered under his new false identity. He had enough to sustain him over the years, knowing there was no possibility of him working again. Not as a doctor, with a mind so demented. Not with the chance of another Lunar finding him. 

He was pitied by some, ignored by most. More than once was he asked if he had wandered away from his nursing home. Once he was robbed, his portscreen stolen from him. It had all his connections to Linh Garan, but Logan had programmed it to delete all incriminating evidence if ever it was opened by someone other than himself. Now he really had to trust in Garan, because he wouldn’t soon be able to reach him. 

Between harrowing visions that reduced him to a trembling ball on the floor and sleeping and eating and shuffling about, he had memories. His younger brother tossing him a ball. His elderly patient sobbing as he delivered a terminal diagnosis. In the library, reading about the atmosphere of Earth. The pictures did no justice to the true colour of the sky, someone had once told him….who? 

One day as he wandered aimlessly around a grocery store, bumping into androids and accidentally knocking over shelf displays, a kindly-looking young woman stopped him and asked if he had a wife she could call to come collect him. 

I don’t think so, he had said, and she smiled pityingly. 

Logan had almost married twenty years ago. Bright and cheery Evelyn Eliot, with the mousy blonde hair and always concerned grey eyes. She was the aunt of one of Logan’s students and an engineer in Artemisia’s maglev system. Logan grew to care for her. He never revealed to her how truly malcontent he was against the regime—he didn’t think she shared such sympathies. But she was kind, and he would not be unhappy with her. 

One afternoon, two months before their wedding date, she burst into the medical centre, face flushed with sweat beading her forehead. In a low whisper, she hastily told him that two guards had visited her at her work and reassigned her to outer sectors to strengthen the security of the maglev system. The people were becoming defiant, the risk they might try to cross borders growing greater. Evelyn didn’t want to leave. She promised him that she wouldn’t go. 

Perhaps Logan should have confessed his hatred of the monarchy to her, because perhaps then she would have been resigned to the knowledge that refusal was not an option. 

That night, Evelyn disappeared. Bioelectrically manipulated onto a maglev shuttle and shipped over to her new assignment in the outer sectors. With the laws prohibiting travel between sectors, she was never to return. With the two of them unmarried, Logan could not follow her. 

He resolutely gave up on all inklings of companionship and love after that. 

A week later, he’d stumbled upon his former student, now Dr Eliot, tearing up her office in a fury. She threw vitals scanners to the floor, smashed vials under her feet.  

“They took her!” she screamed, wrestling with a lab cart. It crashed to the ground with a furious smash! “They stole her just because they can! We’ll never see her again! I hate them, I hate all of them!” 

She raised a stethoscope, ready to hurl it but startled when she realised she was aiming it at him. 

A hand whipped over her mouth. “I don’t, I didn’t…I don’t despise the monarchy—I swear—” 

Logan hushed her with a held finger. “Be careful who you say those things around, Doctor.” And then in an impossibly low murmur, “Not everyone around here shares the same sentiments as we do.” 

Her eyes widened. 

They never spoke again of their shared resistance. But their bond was always stronger after that, even stronger than that of a mentor and a student. More than that of once-to-be uncle and niece. 

That must have been the reason why, when the nursery went up in flames, she sent for him rather than one of the younger, fitter doctors who could have raced over much sooner. Why when she was taken in to be questioned by Levana and her obsequious snake Sybil Mira, she entrusted Selene into his care. 

All he could remember now about Dr Eliot was the blood stretching the lengths of that alleyway. 

———

“I’ll try to keep an eye on her for as long as I can, but I’m not sure I will still be lucid enough to tell her the truth once she’s ready. It’s possible that responsibility will fall to Garan.” 

———

Linh Garan. ID #0082700743. Deceased 121 T.E. Cause of Death: Letumosis. 

It took a week for the understanding to pass through his haze of incomprehension. 121 T.E. That was four years ago. The girl must be now…oh…fifteen? 

It had all been prompted by a ring of blue bruises covering a dead man’s arms. Logan’s roommate—a young man kicked out of home by his ex-wife, almost as vague and aimless as Logan—had stumbled into the share house one day panting and dead-eyed. Logan’s medical training resurged, winning over his incognizance. He triaged the man, asking his symptoms, observing his breathing. When Logan took his wrist to check his pulse, he saw the bruises. 

The blue fever. He commed for an emergency hover from the man’s port and hid when the med droids came to collect him. 

Surely he had contracted it himself. It could take days for the symptoms of the plague to manifest, and they slept on opposite sides of the same room in twin beds. But if the med droids found him and took him, they would discover that he was Lunar. 

No, if he was going to die, he would do it here, hidden away. 

After three days of mania, fasting and acceptance, no symptoms arose. 

He couldn’t fathom a reason why he hadn’t caught it. No Earthen had ever recovered from the disease. Immunity. It had to be connected to his Lunar genealogy. Logan began to posit that Lunar defectors like himself had brought it to Earth in the first place. 

The second realisation came as he was absentmindedly watching a newsfeed about the cyborg draft in the Eastern Commonwealth. If Selene was called in for the draft, exposed to the disease and found to be immune, she would become a subject of curiosity. Garan must be warned. 

He had never once contacted Garan since he took the princess, dreading that someone could hack his portscreen and connect the dots. But as he now searched his profile on the portscreen he claimed from his deceased roommate, he discovered the truth. 

Garan was dead. Gone only weeks after he’d taken the princess away. Now who could tell her of her own identity? Garan and himself were the only ones who knew. Sage still evidently had not found her. 

And… 

And Michelle. 

He hadn’t consciously thought of her in a while. He was occasionally reminded of her; a French voice in a newsfeed, a smell of earth and dirt reminiscent of her farm, some dish filling his belly with the warmth of one of her stews. 

Even now, just at thought of her, a taste of something fruity and tangy coated his tongue.  

He expelled the aching from his chest. Michelle was so much wiser than him. She could help the girl become queen. If he could find Selene and bring her back to Michelle…no, that would endanger Michelle. He couldn’t. 

Logan would find Linh Cinder and tell her the truth himself. 

———

It took three months to reach New Beijing from where he had been decaying in Uzbekistan. Travel was near impossible with no mental legs to stand on, and Logan kept going in circles, catching the wrong maglevs, seeing visions along the way that caused him to flee in the opposite direction. This he could try to push past, but gradually he became more and more certain that he was being followed. Something was chasing him, observing him, but every time he turned around, the pursuer disappeared. 

Finally, a backpacker took pity on him and took him under his wing, guiding him through maglevs and hostels until they reached a suburb just outside the grimy, charming capital of the Eastern Commonwealth. They parted ways amicably at the doorstep of the Linh residence, a squat home among rows of identically small abodes, all with worn awnings, chipped paint and litter strewn across the footpath.  

The house immediately to the left had a broken window, glass shards spilled on a patch of weeds. Logan was well accustomed to less than pleasant lodging, but even this street curdled his stomach. 

“I hope you can find your grandson, my brother,” said the kind traveller. He flashed a two fingered salute. “Peace and love, man.” 

“Thank you,” said Logan, sort of wishing he remembered the free spirit’s name. Once the rickety shuttle hover trundled away, Logan pressed the bell. 

Silence. He pressed the button again two more times. This was the address listed under Garan’s name; Logan had confirmed it at least fifty times a day. Finally after the fourth ring an anxious looking woman appeared, cracking the door open by a sliver and peeking out. 

“H-hello,” he stammered. “Are–are you...Linh Adri?” 

She shook her head quickly. 

Breathing heavily, he frowned. “You’re not?” 

“No.” 

Logan blinked rapidly. As the woman began to close the door, he shouted, “Wait!” 

Her hand halted. 

“Do you know where Linh Adri is? Or…Linh…Linh Cinder?” 

Her guarded eyes softened, the most infinitesimal change, but noticeable in her tone when she spoke, “The mechanic?” 

“...Pardon?” 

“That girl. Linh Cinder. I don’t know where she lives now. But the neighbours here remember her. She used to fix their water heaters and portscreens. They say she’s a mechanic now.” 

“Where? Do you know?” he blurted loudly, stepping closer. 

She backed away, hands braced defensively. “New Beijing Market. That’s all I know!” 

Then she slammed the door. 

Linh Cinder. He never dared to netsearch her name. He struggled even to say it aloud. Every corner he turned, some vision was there to taunt him, singing the name again and again in a dissonant melody, mocking him. They would find her. They would take her.  

A flash caught his eye. Something, someone appeared—just for a moment. He scanned the street, trying to identify the figure, but there was nothing. Goosebumps erupted on his arms, but he shook off the panic. Still, some premonition deep in his gut insisted the apparition was real. Was familiar. 

Logan stumbled away from the porch, took out his portscreen, and punched in New Beijing Market. 

———

“Scarlet couldn’t bring herself to tell her grandmother that Logan Tanner was dead. Had gone crazy. Had killed himself.” 

———

The hover spat him out at New Beijing Market. It was exactly the sort of place Logan hated to be now; crowded, loud, confusing and hot. His internal compass misfired amongst the cramped booths and overwhelming din. In places like this, he would only escape once the sun was setting and shopkeepers were pulling down the rollers. 

He stumbled forward, moved by a greater purpose. 

His eyes scanned every booth around him, searching for anything resembling a mechanic’s haven. He remembered Garan’s tools and contraptions, the gleam in his eye when Cinder’s metal toes twitched for the first time as he tweaked wires and screwed joints shut. Perhaps he had trained her as a mechanic... 

No. It had only been weeks after he collected the princess that the plague had claimed him. Had Garan blamed her for catching the disease? Did he blame Logan? 

He turned a corner, and there Garan stood. 

His stomach climbed up to his throat. It was him. He was the one who had been stalking him across the Commonwealth. Garan stared at him, eyes unblinking and bloodshot. His arms were ringed with bruises, fingers blue and shrivelled. Green foam spluttered from his lips. 

“Logan,” he growled, clear all the way across the lane. “Come here.” 

Logan turned and bolted. 

Startled pedestrians jumped out of his way as he charged past, clutching their bags to their chests. Mothers tore their children off the path. 

Soon, visions were everywhere. Sage Darnel slithering out of a booth and grabbing him by the throat. His roommate’s corpse writhing on the ground, crying out, cursing him. He was already expecting Dr Eliot’s bloody appearance. Though she taunted him, he was familiar with this vision.  

Visions. That’s all they were. Unreal. Psychotic. 

The ground swallowed him up. The traffic of the passersby threaded around him—all at once, he knew every single one of them. Thaumaturges. Doctors. Aristocrats. The entire city of Artemisia was here on Earth, at this market, trampling him. His eyes squeezed shut. A hand lifted his chin towards the sky. 

He squinted painfully up into the sunlight. 

Queen Levana crouched over him, blood trickling down the tines of her crown and dripping off her lashes. 

Pebbles dug into his palms as he scampered away, but she made haste to follow.  

“Sir!” came from her mouth, unnaturally earnest from those smirking lips and ravenous eyes. “Sir, are you okay?” 

“Go–go away!” he shrieked. 

“Sir, what’s wrong? Do you need a doctor?” Do you have someone I can comm to get you? Children? A wife?” 

Logan scrambled to his feet and barrelled away from the queen. 

A wife. Yes, he had once almost had a wife. Steady hands calloused from digging into dirt. Teasing brown eyes. 

No…the woman he had almost married—what was her name?—she’d had blonde hair and grey eyes. Who was he thinking of? Who was he looking for?  

He was looking for…looking for… 

“Logan.” 

She stood amidst the crowd, ten paces away. Every shouting vendor and sizzling frypan silenced in the void. 

“Michelle,” he uttered. 

She was as young as she’d been when they met. Melting brown eyes. Lips beckoning him. 

Her smile was warm. “Come on, Logan. Let’s go home.” 

People swarmed around him. A woman blocked his view momentarily and once she passed on, Michelle had disappeared. 

His head whipped around frantically, searching for her in every direction. Her voice was ringing in his ears. “Michelle!” he shouted, blindly crashing into a fruit stand and hobbling away, completely unaware of the surprised gasps and curses chasing him. 

The visions transformed. Michelle’s redheaded granddaughter peering at him from a booth table. A boy tossing a ball at him, he recognised as the boy in the pictures on Michelle’s wall. The boy who looked so much like his own brother. 

Twisting and turning through lanes, only spotting glimpses of her hair and smile before they’d disappear again, his calves finally seized up. He folded over his knees, intaking needy breaths as his eyes scanned around desperately. 

They landed on a girl. 

Despite her decent height, she was obviously young. She stood behind a table in a shaded booth, tools splayed out before her. Grease was spotted over her exposed arms and gloves. She was staring in concentration at the body of a woman who lay on her table, limp and dull-eyed. Logan cringed as she reached a hand into the woman’s open stomach.  

Had he wandered into some illicit part of the market where someone would dissect a person so openly?  

It wasn’t until the girl tilted the body slightly that Logan saw her innards of cogs and wires. The body was an android. One of those escort droids, perhaps. 

The girl huffed, blowing miscreant hair from her brow, and looked up. 

At first, she darted her gaze away upon noticing being observed, tugging her left glove higher up her wrist. But then a flash of curiosity caught her face, and she returned to him. 

Confusion. Something else. Recognition? 

Logan wondered if she would be able to help him with his search. She looked kind. Trustworthy. He needed help to find… 

“Logan.” 

Michelle smiled down at him. She appeared this time, not as her younger self, but as he’d last seen her. Greying hair, smile lines and jowling more beautiful than ever. The same spirit and open hands, a magnetism drawing him to her. 

“It’s time to come home, Logan,” she said, eyes twinkling. 

“Not yet,” he spluttered, “I have to find someone. I have to tell…” 

She shook her head in amusement, turning and gesturing to him to follow. “You already found me.” 

“I—” 

She was gone. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment she was there and the moment she wasn’t, but he knew she had been there. That was she out there somewhere, waiting for him. 

Sweet, Michelle-flavoured adrenaline pumped through his veins. He always wanted to find her. After nearly forty years, she was still the only one to have truly owned his heart. He needed to find her and tell her… 

He staggered to his feet. He wasn’t supposed to be here. There was nothing for him here. His gaze again caught on the young girl in the booth. Shoulders set in a hesitant confidence. Brown eyes—cautiously curious.  

His feet willed him away on their own towards the bright sunlight. 

“Logan,” the voice called again, sweet as a dragon fruit tartlet. One he could almost taste as his dry lips formed around her name.  

No, he wasn’t looking for that girl. He was looking for Michelle. 

———

“I hope you’ll meet him someday. Tell him hello for me. Tell him good-bye.” 

———

Notes

Tu me cherchais? = Were you looking for me?

I am aware that I am delusional and no one else is as invested in them as I am.

Fun bit of impossiblesuitcase trivia--the hair cutting scene is actually a deleted scene from my Cut, Comb, Detangle, Repeat series! I think probably only one person remembers that series 😂

Eagle-eyed readers may be able to notice which escort droid Cinder is working on 👀

@cindersassasin @hayleblackburn @spherical-empirical @salt-warrior @just2bubbly @gingerale2017 @slmkaider @luna-maximoff-22 @kaixiety @snozkat @mirrorballsss @skinwitch18 @bakergirl13 @cyborgcourt @linh-cindy @therealkaidertrash21

[chronicbeans]

Human Illustrator Wally x Reader (part 5)

Circle time! Yippee!

TW: Mentions of Hallucinations

🐻 You can't help but grin as you watch Mr. Darling sitting with all of the children, talking about the most random of things. From bears to apples, the conversation flings itself from topic to topic. When Mr. Darling starts to take out random items he has brought for the children to play with, it almost feels like watching Mary Poppins. His little bag of items seems to fit an endless amount of luggage.

🐻 He looks around, being sure to make sure everyone understands what he says. He is careful to assure every child's needs are met. It might've taken a lot of planning to get him here, but it was all worth it. The kids are happy and feel cared for. You are happy to have finally found someone else with a passion for making every child feel appreciated. Mr. Darling seems happy to make others feel happy.

🐻You watch as he talks to Amelia, one of the numerous children circled around him, before he lets her touch his hair. You chuckle at her shocked reaction, hearing her say something along the lines of "It's like a shell!", with Mr. Darling saying "It's from the stuff I use to style it. I need my hair to look the absolute most!"

🐻 You turn your attention away for a moment, noticing that one of the kids is sitting alone at the table, simply watching the others. It's James, the kid that you were talking to Howdy about the other day. As in, the one who had the head injury. You sit next to him, smiling "Is there something you need?"

🐻 James looks up to you, before whispering "I... I want to talk to Wally... but I feel like he'll think I'm weird. Umm... I am also worried for him. The scary monster is behind him." You smile, nodding. "The scary monster won't hurt Mr. Darling. How about I go ask him if you can talk to him outside, in the play area? That way, he will be away from the scary monster, and you get to talk with him. I am sure he won't think of you as weird." "Only if you go with." "Alright. I'll go ask him now."

🐻 You stand up, grinning as you approach the group of children. "Mr. Darling? Can you come over here for a moment?" "Sure thing! Just a moment!" He picks up Amelia, who giggles and waves her arms, then stands up. The kids watch as he leaves, only for him to turn around and say "Oh! Just in case I take long, you can go through my bag. I didn't bring anything important. It's just stuff I brought for you all to play with. Be sure to share, though!" Needless to say, the kids swarmed to his bag like birds to breadcrumbs.

🐻 He turns back around, walking over to you as he asks "What is it? Do you need something?" You nod, bringing him over to James. "Yep! Mr. Darling, this is James. He wants to talk to you, but feels a bit anxious to do so. We both were wondering if it would be alright if the three of us went to the play area out back to talk privately." He grins, clasping his hands together as he says "Of course! That will be no problem at all! Just lead the way, (Y/N)!"

🐻 The three of you all walk to the play area in the backyard of the daycare, James looking behind you all from time to time. The play area is small, with a little playhouse, a sandbox, and a swing set connected to a slide. Once outside, Mr. Darling crouches down to his height, shaking his hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you, James! Is there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?" James nods.

🐻"Yeah... umm... I was wondering, do you umm... Are you like me? I mean... I am a bit nervous to ask." James looks down, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. Mr. Darling smiles, tilting his head. "It is alright. Take your time. How about this? I'll ask you some questions to ease you into your own! Did anything particular make you curious if I have anything in common with you?" James nods "Yeah. I saw how you and Aubrey related in being autistic. As well as how you and a few of the others talked about loving art."

🐻 James looks around, which Mr. Darling seems to notice. He begins to look around, too. He then smiles, as if catching on. "Okay, I'll ask another question, since you don't seem to be ready, yet. Do you like to draw?" James, once again, nods. This time, it is much more enthusiastic. He reaches into the pocket of his shorts, pulling out a tiny notepad. "Yeah! Let me show you some! It isn't anything close to what you can do, but I hope to get that good someday!" James shows the notepad to him, revealing drawings of cute bears, rainbow swirls, and dark monsters. Mr. Darling nods, staring at the images as he says "This is amazing work! Believe it or not, but when I was your age, I had this exact amount of skill. I believe you and I have more in common than you think."

🐻 James' eyes gleam, before he then looks down to his feet. "Hey, Wally...? Umm... do you see the odd things others don't? Or hear things others don't?"

🐻 You watch them both closely. Mr. Darling seems to think over his answer, before finally coming up with one. "Yes, I do. I mostly hear odd things, but I do see them, sometimes. Is that what you wanted to ask about?" James looks up to him, nodding. "Yeah... can I... can I ask some more?" "Of course. Anything you want." "Do you see the shadow man? The mean guy that says mean things? I believe he is quite mean. Have you met him?"

🐻 To your shock, Mr. Darling's smile falters for a brief second. It returns as soon as it left, however, before he hands James his notepad. "I don't see the shadow man very often. I do, however, have a pesky neighbor of my own. Do you want to know who it is?" James hesitates, before responding "Yeah. I feel like it might help you to talk about that mean neighbor."

🐻 Mr. Darling leans in, speaking very quietly to James. You still hear what he says, though, you are not sure if you were meant to. "The walls of my very own home say mean things to me, sometimes."

[elusivecagedmockingbird]

Orbiting: pt.2,5°

[icehockey!jungkook x figureskater!reader] [drabble; idiot fwb to lovers; mutual pining]

A/N: Just something cute and fluffy to introduce how Jungkook and Y/N started out their friendship. I’m honestly surprised and thankful that a lot of people read Orbiting and loved it. I’m currently working on another part of the fic and I hope it gets just as much as love as the previous parts. That being said, I hope you also enjoy reading this drabble.

-

Jungkook kept to himself. He truly enjoyed hanging out by himself. While his peers played in the sandbox playground during recess, he headed to the gardens and watched the bugs that littered the bushes.

Yet somehow, his interest warranted the boys in his grade to tease him, and the girls avoided him.

He didn't mind it and was just glad they never got physical. Plus, he got what he wanted: to be left alone.

It was during one of your school programs that he met you.

Like clockwork, Jungkook headed to the gardens and was surprised to find someone beat him to his spot by the Azalea bushes. You were hunched over, and he could see your tiny finger softly shoving what seemed to be a tiny red shell. It's a dead bug, he thinks.

Before he could even turn back and return to his classroom and eat his snack in peace, you turned around and smiled. "This bug's playing dead, look," you say with another soft push to the bug.

Still shy but definitely curious, Jungkook walks a little bit closer to where you squat. You cheerily hummed as you struggled to pick up the tiny bug. But determined as ever, you pinched the insect until a faint crunch was heard.

A toothy grin still on your face, you brought your hand closer to Jungkook to show him the bug. "How long do you think until it wakes up?" Still on mute, Jungkook looks at the bug and then at you, "I think it's already dead," he murmurs. "No, it's not," you protest. "Ladybugs like to pretend they're dead so predators will leave them alone."

He didn't dare tell you otherwise when he saw you frown.

That evening, Jungkook asked his brother, who then told him to look it up in the encyclopedia, if ladybugs indeed played dead to ward off other bad bugs.

He spent an hour reading about ladybugs and memorized three facts to recite to you the next day.

But he never did see you.

He learned later that you belonged in another class and were good friends with everyone, which made it a bit daunting for him to approach you.

He still recited the ladybug facts to himself on his way to school and back home.

-

The next time he saw you was on a rainy day, his first day back in school as a fourth grader.

You had your hair in pigtails, and colorful butterfly clamps adorned them. You were designated to sit next to him, and you hummed while you sat. Jungkook faced you and spouted the three facts he had etched on his brain.

"Oh, I knew that," a soft laugh of amusement followed your words. "Did you know that not all spiders make webs?" At this, Jungkook just blinked. He wanted to say something but knew nothing about spiders. He knew better than to doubt you, though. So, he just nods, his choppy bangs covering even more of his doe eyes.

You smile. "I saw a spider on the bush near the sandbox earlier. If you have a raincoat, you can come with me later."

Dimples popped out from the quiet boy's cheek as he gulped, prompting you to poke his cheeks. "Hey, you have dimples. How cute."

Your hands were cold, a contrast to the warming face of Jungkook as he blushed. He didn't know why, but he felt his heart beat as quickly as the pitter-patter of the rain. He wonders if he's getting sick. And while he usually used every opportunity to be sent home, he didn't want to miss school or not be able to see the spiders with you.

-

Read the fic here.

[maybege]

Mug vs Choker

Summary: Paz and you get comfortable in your new arrangement.

Pairing: roommate!Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.0k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, Free Use Arrangement AU, Roommate AU, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, (un)requited pining, dom!Paz, sub!Reader, cream pie, size kink, lil bit of cockwarming, some dirty talk

Happy Tuesday everyone! I hope you are having an amazing start into the new week. I had a little inspo for Paz again and channelled it into a new part for the adventures with roommate!Paz, which I hope you will thoroughly enjoy. If you have any suggestions on what scenarios you would like to see with this pairing, please let me know – this AU really is like playing in a sandbox for me. Please let me know what you think in a reblog or a comment!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Sometimes you wondered where the hell you had gotten the audacity from. Like that time in primary school when you had asked the big kids if you could play ball with them. Or that time in college when you decided to switch majors at the last possible moment and finally ended up with something that really brought you joy. Or when you agreed to meet Din’s friend when you desperately needed a roommate and a place to live.

And not to forget that time when you asked said roommate for a free-use arrangement.

Paz Vizsla was … He was big. Now you knew it was true in every sense of the word but it still felt not enough to truly capture the physicality with which he was present. Broad shoulders, tall frame, muscled forearms that starred in your dreams more often than you wanted to admit. And paired with the cocky confidence he exuded, Paz Vizsla was like a dream come true. He was a burly man, almost too broad for the door frame and too tall anyway and he was intimidating with his forearms full of tattoos and his hands weary from work and the little scar on his eyebrow.

You never considered yourself brave and didn’t even consider yourself adventurous. When you thought about your unfulfilled desires it was always in the safety of your locked bedroom. But fantasizing about something and actually doing it were two completely different things and you knew that. And to be fair, you’d never met a man you felt like you could live those fantasies out with. It took a whole lot of trust that you just never found yourself placing in any of your dates and boyfriends.

Until Din introduced you to his colleague and friend and apartment-hunting potential roommate for you. Paz Vizsla.

You’d wanted to declare Din insane if he thought you’d move in with a man like that. He looked like he could snap an adult like a twig. But then he started speaking and his voice was a deep rumble and he was funny, making little quips and jokes and you noticed how his shoulder hunched, how he tried to appear smaller than he was in that little coffee shop on the corner where you had first met.

Since then, he had been a recurring figure in your wettest dreams.

Living with him for two years, you knew his presence alone made your brain feel like scrambled eggs. You got brave, around him, brave enough to tease him and flirt with him and ask him about relationships – all under the guise of friendship. It would be the closest you could ever get to him, you had argued, since he so clearly did not think of you in that way.

Which, as it turns out, was the wrong idea because not even a week ago had he fucked you into the couch so good, you got wet at just the thought of it. And now you were in a freaking free-use arrangement? With Paz fucking Vizsla?

“I could get used to that sight.”

You startled, turning around in the hallway, your hair still dripping wet from your shower, in nothing but your underwear. You had taken to wearing less and less clothing around the apartment. Both because it was kind of exciting to see Paz’s reactions and because it was even more exciting to have him touch you as a result of it.

Paz closed the door behind him and shrugged out of his jacket. He did not take his eyes off you and you felt goosebumps rise on your skin.

“Hi,” you breathed, your heart already racing in your chest, “How – How was your day?”

“Shit,” he replied, taking a few slow steps towards you. Your eyes ran over his form, his broad shoulders, his thick arms, his strong hands that you wanted to feel on you. “Doesn’t matter now, though,” he continued slowly, “Because I feel like it is about to get a whole lot better.”

“Yeah?” you smiled, taking a few steps back, towards your bedroom.

The grin that spread on his face brightened your entire day. “Yeah,” he rumbled, lengthening his steps until he was right in front of you, “Much better, actually.”

His body was warm as were his hands when they landed on your hips, guiding you back and back and through the open door until the back of your knees hit your mattress. You let yourself fall back and Paz followed, his lips landing on yours in the most electric kiss.

Kissing Paz was fun, it was passionate, and it made your entire body tingle. Dreks’ kisses had never been like that, and, for that matter, no one’s kisses had ever made you feel this way. Cherished. Wanted. Desired.

“Want you to ride me,” he whispered against your mouth, “See your tits bounce in that pretty lace.”

His hands ran over your sides, rough fingertips digging into the flesh of your thighs, angling your knees up around his hips. “You want that, love? You want to be filled by me?”

You nodded eagerly, turning with him so you could straddle him. The pressure against your core made your pussy throb and the lace sticky with your juices. You could feel him already hard underneath you, his jeans rubbing against you in the best way.

The urge to feel him inside you made your hands tremble and the excitement that you were so close to Paz Vizsla did not help you with your struggle to focus. But Paz did not mind, it seemed. Instead, he merely chuckled when you continued to struggle with his belt buckle and lifted his hips.

“Let me help,” he said, his big fingers deftly working and you swallowed heavily when he freed his cock, shimmying his jeans down his legs as far as they would go.

He did not lose any time before his hand landed on your hip, his thumb brushing the lace of your panties aside and seeking your clit. You shuddered on top of him, the stimulation making you even wetter.

“You got any lube?” he asked, his voice even lower than before, “You know how big I am, sweetheart, don’t want to hurt you.”

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded in confusion, pointedly looking at your nightstand, and watched as Paz reached with his other arm that wasn’t busy making your pussy throb to the nightstand and got that small bottle of lube that you kept in there.

Dreks had always scoffed at your desire to use lube and only after your ultimatum that no lube would result in no sex, had he agreed to use it. Though you did not mention it now, you just wanted to enjoy Paz. Paz who had thought of the lube himself and who seemed to have no trouble knowing how much would be needed to cover his cock and who was careful to look out for any discomfort on your face from the temperature difference.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispered, mouthing at your jaw as he worked a finger inside you, the lube made things much easier, though you were sure you had never been wetter either, “Love that colour on you.”

“I know,” you replied between heavy breaths, working your hips against him, “Blue is your favourite colour.”

“You wearing it only for me then?” he teased you, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before his thumb brushed over the lace covering your nipple, teasing until it hardened under his ministrations, “My pretty roommate is making herself all dolled up only so I can fuck her properly?”

“Paz,” you gasped, a little flustered at his choice of words but there was no denying the way you clenched around him at his words.

“I know, love,” he murmured, his lips forming that cocky grin that let you know that he knew exactly what you were thinking, “You are not used to getting properly fucked, not used to someone who knows how to work his cock inside you. But I am here now, okay?” you nodded, “I am here and I am going to take care of you, sweetheart, just sit down on my cock, yeah?”

You watched in fascination as he pumped his cock a few times, coating it in lube. “You know I am big,” he stated and you could not take your eyes off the sheer size of him. You knew he would fit. He had fit before and he could fit again.

That did not make the prospect any less daunting though.

He held his shaft up for you, his other hand still on your hip when you rose up on your knees. For a moment you considered you getting your panties off first, making it less of a hassle, but then you felt his tip brush through your folds and over your clit and you decided it wasn’t that urgent anyway.

Everything in you screamed to have him again and when the tip of him caught on your entrance, you could another rush of wetness in your core.

“Go on,” he instructed you, “Sit on my cock like a good girl.”

“Shit,” you cursed, your thighs trembling as you slowly took him in, “Paz, I – I think I –“

“What is it?” he asked you, his voice strained too, “You can’t be cockdumb yet, sweetheart, you barely have the tip.”

“You are so big,” you gasped, sinking down a little more and trying to remember to breathe. He stretched your walls so deliciously it made you want to sit down on him completely but you also knew your body enough to know you needed to be patient and to wait and to – your walls fluttered again when you took another inch, “Shit, I feel so – it’s so –“

“So what?” he asked again, his hands squeezing you tightly, “Fuck – talk to me, love. Tell me what you feel.”

“I feel so full,” you breathed, throwing your head back in an effort to make it feel like he wasn’t filling you up to your throat.

Paz chuckled, the knowing undertone making you even wetter, “Imagine how much fuller you will feel when I come inside this little pussy,” he mused, his thumb landing on your clit again and you could not hold back the half-moan half-gasp when he started to circle it again, his hips shifting the tiniest bit. Still, it was enough to make your body feel like he had moved mountains.

You sat down on him completely, the weight finally off your legs though they still trembled from the pleasure that you felt.

“Good girl,” he praised you, looking up at you with dark eyes, “Now let me see those tits bounce.”

He landed a slap on your ass made you yelp and sit up straighter, your walls betraying your arousal by pulsing around him. The dark-haired man smiled, folding his free arm underneath his head, looking like relaxation personified.

Putting your hands on his chest, you leaned a little forward, trying to get the leverage and support you needed. Being on top was not your favourite position, you always felt a little off, a little uncomfortable, a little too pressured, before.

But Paz, even with him fully in his dom persona and the pointed non-effort he put in, made you feel safe. Even with his eyes on you, with his thumb lazily rubbing over your clit, spreading the wetness, you did not feel like you had to perform for him. You felt like you really go at your own pace.

And you did.

Your hips moved slowly as you took care to give yourself enough time to get used to his girth. The first few thrusts started out shallow before you gained the confidence. Before you knew it, you had gotten faster and Paz had adjusted his movements accordingly, expertly working your clit like he knew what you needed. The way you tilted your hips had him hitting a spot that made you see stars, that made it difficult to control your movements but you wanted – needed – him to get to that spot again and again and again until –

“Fuck,” you breathed, tightening your grip on his shoulders, “Paz, please!”

“Come for me,” he encouraged you and started to bounce you on his cock like you weighed nothing, ensuring that you hit that spot, “Come for me, pretty girl, let me see how beautiful your pussy looks clenching around me. I wanna start off my weekend by feeling you come around me, by filling you up. You can be good for me, can you not, hm?”

You whined, the words getting stuck in your throat at how good it all felt.

“Can you be good for me?” he asked again, his tone carefully balanced between absolute sweetness and condescending and you loved it.

As soon as your orgasm hit you, you could not hold yourself up anymore and instead sank down on him completely, leaning against his chest while your body felt like it was floating above the roofs of the city.

Paz, though, kept fucking up into you. His arms wrapped around your back, one hand on your ass while he chased his own high. His deep grunts and moans in your ears only helped to prolong the feelings of pure ecstasy in your veins.

He let out a loud groan, his cock buried as deep as it could go and you shivered when you felt him come inside you. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunted, his cock still pulsing inside you, “Stars, you are a dream come true, sweetheart.”

You ignored the flutter in your chest at his compliment and instead kissed his jaw. “That was perfect,” you nodded in agreement, your face still buried in his neck as you tried to come down from your high. If you calmed down your breathing enough, you could hear his heartbeat in his chest and there was something about this proximity that made your brain all foggy.

Weird, how strictly platonic feelings could do that to a person.

“I promised Din we would come over for potluck tonight,” you finally found your voice, “That was what I was getting ready for.”

“Oh shit, I am sorry,” Paz sat up, carefully taking you with him. He shifted inside you and you winced at the sudden movement. You could feel your combined juices trickling somewhere between your thighs and you were sure there was a total mess on your sheets. “And then I barged in and ruined you getting ready.”

“Didn’t say that it bothered me, though,” you reminded him with a gentle smile. Sitting so close to Paz you could see how the sunlight from the window made the speckles in his brown eyes shine brighter. He was so beautiful, you could not stop the way your finger ran over his eyebrows down to his cheek and jaw.

The look in his eyes was incredibly soft – you would have used the word tender – and when he tilted his face to press a kiss to your fingertip, you knew you were done for.

“Still, maybe we should agree on a sign or something,” he suggested, “To show that you are ready for … To show that you are open to advances. Otherwise, I get hard just at the thought of coming home to you.”

You could not help yourself.

“That doesn’t sound like a problem to me,” you admitted, shuffling closer so you could kiss him again.

“It’s not?” he sounded surprised, pulling away from your face until he could see you shake your head.

“It really isn’t,” you murmured, “Though I agree, it might be a bit more practical than just ravishing me as soon as you get home.”

His chest rumbled with laughter against yours until he kissed you again. You knew you would have to be careful with his stubble or else the beard burn on your chin would betray you to your friends. But when he ran his tongue over your bottom lip or grabbed your chin ever so slightly to keep control of the kiss, it was harder and harder to pull away from him.

After an eternity that still was not enough for you, Paz pulled away from your lips, trailing kisses down your neck. “How about a mug?”

It took you a second to understand what he meant.

“Have you watched too much New Girl lately?” you snorted but your grin fell when you saw the confusion in his eyes, “Remind me to make you watch that show,” you said instead, “It’s a classic.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he smiled, his fingers drifting to the necklace that was hanging around your throat.

Which gave you the best ideas you ever had.

“What if it’s something I’m wearing?” your hand landed on his on the necklace, “Like if I have my necklace on, then I’m open to – to well, to you. And if I don’t then it’s just … like always.”

“But you can take off the necklace any time,” Paz insisted, “Or use your safe word – or –“

“It’s okay,” you assured him, your lips quirking up in a smile when you remembered the hour-long conversation you had with him about safe words and boundaries and things both of you wanted to try, “Paz, I trust you and I think you seriously underestimate how … how attracted I am to you.”

You shifted nervously, too shy to meet his eyes.

But his fingers under your chin made you look at him again and the sheer vulnerability you found there made your heart clench.

“You really are needy, huh?” he half-joked, his voice getting a little too rough but your eyes fluttered and you swore he could hear your breathing catch. He grinned, “Maybe this free-use thing isn’t as complicated as I thought,” his hand squeezed the soft flesh of your ass, “Maybe you really are just a needy little thing for me.”

You squirmed at his words. “Paz, don’t tease,” you pouted and he chuckled, pressing the lightest kiss on your lips, “I am not teasing,” he assured you, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin, “And I could go for a shower before we leave for Din’s, what about you?”

You ended up being an hour late for Din’s potluck.

[ve1vet-cake]

Family Line

MDNI‼️

Cw: abuse mention, child neglect mention, scarring, dealing with trauma

Character: Ren ( @14dayswithyou )

Summary: Ren walks down memory lane and his family line

Based on:

My father never talked a lot He just took a walk around the block 'Til all his anger took a hold of him And then he'd hit

The man breathed out, eyes focusing on the mist of condensation leaving his lips. The cold months always hit him in a way he couldn't describe. They made him remember the lingering feeling of loneliness and coldness within him. Without his sun, his angel, he couldn't comprehend the warmth others felt. His eyes shifted to the sandbox while he shook his head so his hair would hide his face a little from the cold.

He remembered those happy memories with them. The way they smiled at him, giving him the feeling of belonging somewhere.

A feeling of home.

A feeling he hadn't felt with his family.

My mother never cried a lot She took the punches, but she never fought

Oh how he pitied the circumstances he was brought up in. All that pain, all the pressure.

Being unwanted.

I say they're just the ones who gave me life But I truly am my parents' child

With a sigh he looked at his hands, the scarred skin looking back at him. The pad of his thumb traced along the lines on his hand. The numbness of his mind resonated well with that of his body he thought.

Scattered 'cross my family line I'm so good at telling lies That came from my mother's side Told a million to survive Scattered 'cross my family line God, I have my father's eyes But my sister's when I cry I can run, but I can't hide From my family line

His light blue eyes shifted to the swings. With a slight huff he got up, moving towards them, his fingers caressed the metal frame of the swings.

He wondered what would have happened if his Angel had had the chance to respond to him back then. Would they have had their happily ever after already?

With a sigh he closed his eyes.

Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he wasn't like.. this.

Broken. Abused. A scorch mark on Angel's perfect world. Would they love him? Love him even after knowing what he was?

He didn't even realise that his thoughts were a product of hurt. Of trauma.

All because of his father. If you could even call him that. Competitiveness, abuse, being unwanted.. all that were the core components of his upbringing.

Why was he born?

Why did he have to endure such pain?

His entire childhood had he questioned everything.

He closed his eyes, balling his hands into fists at the memories of what should have been his home.

Rage bubbled within him.

It's hard to put it into words How the holidays will always hurt I watch the fathers with their little girls And wonder what I did to deserve this How could you hurt a little kid? I can't forget, I can't forgive you 'Cause now I'm scared that everyone I love will leave me

"████████?"

Oh, all that I did to try to undo it All of my pain and all your excuses I was a kid but I wasn't clueless (Someone who loves you wouldn't do this) All of my past, I tried to erase it But now I see, would I even change it? Might share a face and share a last name, but (We are not the same)

He opened his eyes, slowly turning to meet the eyes of the one he had fallen for. The one person who made all that anger and numbness go away.

Because when he met them, life was worth living.

And he would make sure they wouldn't have to end up like him.

He would make everything right.

He would treat them right.

"You... Remember..?"

They won't be able to leave.

[imagineanime2022]

Looking For Dad *Part 2*

Chuya Nakahara X Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 991

Requested: Anon

Request: Could you a part 2 of Bungo Stray dogs Chuya Nakahara platonic x reader daughter , Looking for Dad?

*Part 1*

Dazai had been looking into what happened to your mother, with the very limited information that he was given from you he started by finding out where your mother actually was, it wasn’t that hard to figure it out after some looking around to find your mother at the hospital, it seemed that she was in a coma, the injuries that she had sustained were still somewhat fresh, the smaller ones on their way to healing but there were two that would have been fatal had you not been able to call someone, at least that’s what the doctors say.

Dazai had noticed that (Y/M/N) had been stabbed in the stomach and read on her medical notes that she was then shot in the shoulder, someone was looking to get rid of her and he assumed that it was the people that had asked her to get Atsushi. Whoever they were they didn’t want anyone finding them, unfortunately for them though they had targeted the wrong person. “Don’t you worry (Y/M/N) I’ll find out who did this and there’s no doubt Chuya will get rid of them.”

The investigation led him to a small overseas organisation, they were hoping to get Atsushi and ship him back to their home country to help them rise up. Dazai called Chuya when he had all of the answers that he needed. Chuya met him in the park where they had met before. “Uncle Dazai!” You cheered as you sprinted across the grass to where he was sitting on the bench. “Hey there, is your Dad treating you well?” He asked. “Yeah!” You yelled arms lifted into the air in celebration, your mother’s necklace jiggling around your neck. “Really? I thought he'd be bad at it.” Dazai teaching as Chuya made a noise of disapproval. “Hey little one, why don’t you go play for a little while, I think that’s one of your friends right?” Chuya asked as he pointed to one of the kids in the sandbox, you smiled nodded excitedly before dashing off to the child. “So you found out what happened?” Chuya asked. “Mmm.” Dazai hummed as he watched you playing. “It seemed that given their small numbers they were afraid of your mother and when she refused to work with them they worried that she would eliminate them especially because they had no way of confirming that she had really left the Mafia. They had to make sure that their secret stayed a secret.” “Is that so?” Chuya asked. “And (Y/M/N) how is she?” “The doctors say that they don’t know how long it’s going to take for her to wake up, they’re worried that she won’t wake up at all.” Dazai answered. “She’s been asking to see her.” Chuya said. “You should take her, she might not be able to see her awake but she can still talk to her, it might help.” Dazai shrugged, “but I’m not a parent.” “Neither am I.” Chuya answered. “Well you're going to have to learn quickly because she’ll be needing you.” Dazai answered, handing over the information that he had gotten on your mother including where she was currently. “Anyway I have to go, I’ve got work to do but maybe you should take her to see (Y/M/N).”

It was only a few minutes later that you came back noticing that Dazai had left “Where did Uncle Dazai go?” You asked. “He had to go back to work but I was talking to him about going to see your Mum.” Chuya said. “Really?” You asked. “Right now?” “You want to go now?” He asked. “Yeah!” You answered, nodding your head enthusiastically. “She’s still sleeping right.” “Yeah…” Chuya answered, you nodded to yourself “you still want to go.” “Yeah, I have to tell her something.” You answered.

It didn’t take long for you to get to the hospital, the staff recognised you since you had spent some time at the hospital when they had first taken your Mum in. “There you are, we all wondered where you had gotten to.” The nurse at the front desk said. “She worried us, we didn’t see anyone come to pick her up but she just disappeared.” “She came looking for me, I’m her Father.” Chuya answered. “She wants to see her Mum again, is that okay?” “Of course. You remember the way don’t you?” She asked, you nodded as you grabbed Chuya’s hand pulling him in the direction of the room that you remembered your Mum being in. “Here she is Dad!” You said as you walked over to the chair next to her bed and pulled yourself up on it. Chuya had spent so much time worrying about how you were going to react that he hadn’t thought about whether he was ready to see her. She was still as beautiful as he remembered, but her face was too peaceful, she was always planning something or keeping her face overly neutral. “Mum, I found him, I found Dad, so you don’t have to worry, you can rest for as long as you need to, I’ll wait for as long as it takes for you to wake up.” “You think she’s gonna wake up little one?” Chuya asked. “Of course.” You answered “Mum is strong, she promised me that she’d always find a way back to me no matter what happened to her.” “Come on, it’s getting late, you’ve got to take care of yourself if you want her to have someone to come back to right?” Chuya asked. “Right.” You nodded. “Come on then.” Chuya said softly before taking you hand and heading home for the day, he never thought that he was going to have a daughter but he’d be damned if he let anything happen to you. Keeping you safe started with getting rid of the people that hurt your mother, revenge for you and him.

*Part 3*

Request Here!!

[olderthannetfic]

Re: https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/738859016693874688/why-do-some-popular-things-have-such-small & the person who replied to it in Another ask about Slay The Princess --

This answer was a facinating read as someone currently in the James Cameron's Avatar fan space -- i was only 8/9 when the first movie came out, and wasnt very into fandom Yet, but around the early 2010's when i Did get into it and went looking, there was almost Nothing to be found (and the few that Did exist were either short character studies written by some of the smartest people on the planet or troll fics), less than a 1,000 Total in the media tag on ao3 iirc?? And i remember feeling Fine with that, for the exact readon you both mentioned -- the first Avatar is a very well rounded film, no matter what everyone cares to say about it. It was Written to be a stand alone film, and bc JC is good at what he does, that Worked, and there truly wasnt much to write fic about besides Extreme au shenanigans or a few theoretic between-scenes, you know the type.

Then the second movie came out Last year and then the Game came out THIS and the fandom has just. Exploded. It's almost funny because so many of the younger fans, who were in it for x readering with the Sully kids, keep complaining about how "the fandom is dying 😭😭" in the tags the past few months and i just have to stare at it like pal just because we're not still shooting metaphorical fireworks about how much we loved the sequel and game doesnt mean we've all Moved On 😩 Im still Diligently mpregging the resurrected villain in my new longform crack fic thats probably going to be finished around the time the 5th movie comes out. Wee child you must Power through with us. Increase Your Fandom Stamina 💪😎🏃‍♂️!!!

But yeah it's just been Extremely interesting seeing how drastically things have changed, going from that completed, hard-to-write Wholeness from how compact the first film was vs the Flood of worldbuilding and lore and new characters we've been given (and have yet to Get, there may be some evil f/f fics beyond the horizon...) and how much the Sequel has contributed in the process of making Avatar easier to enjoy Casually, rather than as a "stereotypical", "extreme" strawman'd Avatar fan of yor (our elders who i respect most vehemently, for their help in understanding and writing the Na'vi conlang in all our fics 💪❤).

Even though the canon movies have a lot of problems, ive been luckiy enough to see the Fandom do what its always done best -- ive met wonderful people and Incredible artists while the life experience + background knowledge who can flesh out the areas of the concept that JamCam has yet to delve into, for whatever reasons he claims to have, and ive And others have felt moved enough by it all to start writing our Own incredibly self indulgent and sincere stories, within the same framework! Bc good lord it really is a sandbox. The moment you start diving into all the Implications of Avatar's universe, how the RDA is run, how Eywa works, etc etc etc.... jesus. ive lost so many hours of sleep reading real academic papers on Actual xenobiology (yes its a real thing, it both is And isnt what you think it is) for these movies, its nuts.

So some days like Now i just have to sit here like. Wow. We built this house And made it a home. and its Awesome. these asks made me want to gush about it 🥰 thats all! tysm!! Love this blog SO much, keep up the great work n have an awesome day everyone!!!

--

[japhgura]

The Zanpakutō Arc is my favourite arc of the anime. 

Really weird pick, I know. But when I saw it for the first time when I was much younger I loved all the cool spirits, I’ve always been super in love with the concept of Zanpakutō and getting a look into what the spirits are for everyone was so cool.  

When I rewatched the Arc, I realized that I still very much love the arc, but for different reasons. Namely, the Antagonist, Muramasa. I love his motives, how he goes about stuff and his character. He might be my favourite character in all of Bleach and this is a filler arc. 

But as much as I realized my love for the antagonist, I noticed that the stories of the Zanpakutō Spirits, as well as the designs and what they’re like seemed... Very lacklustre. I get that it’s filler and character development or anything isn’t allowed but.. oof. 

This turned out rather long so the rest is under the cut, including Kazeshini mini-makeover!

So one day, I wanna rewrite that Arc and give it as much love as it deserves. Kind of a passion project that would take a shit ton of work, but the end product would be something I could not only enjoy and share, but look back on fondly for a very long time. 

When/if I do that there’s a few things I wanna do for it. 

We’re gonna play by AEIWAM (by @gallusrostromegallus, go look at the tag) rules.  

Bleach without mods is very hard to play after having experienced Aeiwam and I can’t go back anymore.

This would very much be just me joining the bandwagon of creators playing in Gallus’ sandbox of wonder, but Aeiwam is what got me back into Bleach and the world building is too gooddddd. So, Zanpakutō Arc would once again be more of a filler (though Gallus if you find anything in it that you like please feel free to pick and choose if I ever manage to write this) 

The Spirits need some serious make overs. 

 While some designs are cool, others are kind of uninspired and really do feel like filler. Some of the personalities are stereotypes pretending to be characters. The whole Haineko, Tobiume, Hyōrinmaru love triangle was kinda weird imho. Stuff like, just put a bit more autistic special interest spice in it, make it more funky. Spend actual quality time on the Zanpakutō spirits, their appearance, their characters and their relationships. Have more funky things like Itegumo the Avalanche (Courtesy of @gallusrostromegalus). Spirits like Hōzukimaru and Ruriirokujaku would are prime candidates f.E.

3. Muramasa deserves better.

For real. Did not deserve to turn into glitter after breaking himself over and over for his Shinigami. Absolute Love and Loyalty met with nothing but hatred. The guy stabbed him and broke the sword and Muramasa was still nothing but loyal.

Fun Fact: Maegawa's first appearance was in a story we later called Zanpakutō Stories: Stockholm Syndrome. Very good time.

Her powers were made specifically to be able to save him from death by getting the hollows out of him without hurting him.

Her name is a bit of a wordplay. Asahi, the morning sun of a new day. And especially Maegawa. Muramasa expresses multiple times to his Shinigami to leave behind the past and look forward. To move forward. Together.

Maegawa, roughly translated: forward river. Pretty on the nose, but I couldn't resist

Actual cool stories between Zanpakutō and Shinigami.  

The conclusion of almost all sub stories between Shinigami and Sword Spirits was kind of a let down. The arc started strong in that regard, but then everyone broke swords left and right and they fixed it at the end with Mayuri Special Clown Magic. The premise of losing your powers forever if you kill your Zanpakutō Spirit was very cool but eventually ignored and even subverted by the Shinigami starting to purposefully destroying the swords halfway through.  

It would be a lot cooler if instead of just defeating them in battle everyone has to properly engage their Zanpakutō spirit and work out whatever gripes Muramasa has drawn out and strengthened. 

In that same vein, here’s an example I was pondering for this arc. A prime suspect of both ?? Design and very very unsatisfying story conclusion: 

Kazeshini 

The design was always really out of left field for me. A rude, battle-hungry being of slaughter with random cloth for decency and a vaguely scythe like haircut. 

...And that’s... Shūhei’s Zanpakutō spirit? Shūhei from the 9th? Who doesn’t particularly enjoy bloodshed, is always ready to help others out and though trying to be edgy is actually very much a goof? That Shūhei?  

That never really clicked with me. 

I mean maybe it’s implied violent tendencies or some random blood thirst deep down but I never felt like we really had any proof for that with Shūhei himself. Though it might’ve very well have gone r/whoosh. I struggle retaining all the information sometimes.

But then I had a fun little thought. 

At his very core, I feel like Hisagi is someone whose just intrinsically helpful. He wants to help, to do whatever he can and to prove himself to others. 

He puts on a tough front and some people fall for it, but he’s actually extremely kind-hearted and a very hard worker. 

Why would his Zanpakutō spirit not share that trait? The trait that’s at his very core.  

Slaughter Demon Kazeshini is a front. A tough looking exterior from a Zanpakutō spirit that really just wants to help its Shinigami with all its heart. 

The moment I saw Shūhei’s Shikai for the first time I actually had to think of Naruto for a moment. And when I pondered what those scythes might actually look like my thoughts returned to that thought: Kamaitachi.  

("Kamaitachi" (鎌鼬) from the Kyōka Hyaku Monogatari by Masasumi Ryūkansaijin)

Kamaitachi are yōkai that resemble weasels with scythe-like front claws riding on dust storms. Now the version I’ve sketched is a ferret because I can’t keep my wiggly guys apart apparently, but also has the scythes more ferret-forearm-area. But Kamaitachi were the inspiration. 

So this little guy is giddy as all hells when the Shikai first happens. Finally he can help his shinigami!! He’ll do his best and they’ll be so cool together and- 

Shūhei looks at his blades in a mix of shock and repulsion. “They look like they reap life itself” 

He hates his shikai. 

Kazeshini is distraught. Why..? Why the hatred for their blades? Fear? He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know _how to help_. But he wants to help! He needs to help! 

And then he gets an idea.

He needs Shūhei to hate _him_. Not the blades. He needs Shūhei to be stubborn, to use these blades and become stronger.  

So Kazeshini comes up with a plan. Shūhei doesn’t know his true form yet. He hasn’t seen the little ferret trying so hard to be a sword spirit he can rely on. And then Kazeshini does what he learned from Shūhei.  

He puts on a front.  

And that front is the rude Slaughter Demon Kazeshini, who never fails to infuriate Shūhei, to infuriate him to want to become stronger. To get Shūhei to show him that his blades can be used for more than death. 

Their Zanpakutō Arc story would be this little communication disaster falling in on itself and Shūhei finally seeing Kazeshini for what he really is and coming to terms with the blades (and himself in a way)

(The initial idea was that Kazeshini sees Hisagi's hatred for a part of himself (Hisagi hating Hisagi I mean) made manifest in the blades and decides to redirect Hisagi's hatred against his own soul toward itself to protect him, but since Zanpakutō spirits in Aeiwam work a little different I thought I'll need that overhaul that a little hehe)

But yeah, there we have it. This has been steeping in my brain soup for a very long time. But I really need to finish Maegawa Backstory before I start anything else haha

[bbu-on-the-side]

[Image description: Text on a background of white tiles; the title is “BBU Community Days”, subtitle “Whump event, May 17 - May 31, hosted by bbu-on-the-side”] 

Because this community is a niche within a niche, but with so much common ground and such a beautifully open worldbuilding set up, I felt like offering a little platform to get to know each other! 

And voila - the BBU Community Days!

Unlike classic prompt events, this is primarily focused on community building! It will 15 daily prompts in five categories: writing prompts, creation prompts, community prompts, worldbuilding prompts and showcasing prompts.

Discuss tropes and concepts, share ideas, gush about your favorite creators and play around in the sandbox! The event will be a success, if you’ve had fun and if you’ve met at least one or two cool new creators to follow!

This is open for BBU writers, roleplayers, or plain enjoyers of that world. If you wonder if you're "allowed" to take part, the answer most certainly is ��yes, you are”. Includes BBU AUs and "BBU-adjacent" universes. 

Prompts will drop in the course of the weekend on this blog, and the event itself begins on May 17th!

Looking forward - and please share this announcement to boost!

[blingblong55]

I’ve sent a couple of asks (shredded wall anon, through the floor and the bubble wrap thingy) and I was wondering if you let anons claim emojis?

Anyway I have another idea of just imagine R/n with those “dig your own fossil” kits. Like the kids ones you can buy at museums and things? Where to have some plastic tools and you dig rocks and fossils out of sand?? Tbh at this point I just see R/n as a gremlin with a 5y/o brain when it comes to things like digging and shredding things because ‘omg repetitive actions for me to just fixate in for hours at a time’

Point being for R/n’s birthday the favourite child is given things like bubble wrap, dig your own fossil, they’re probably into crochet they’re making squares that will eventually be put together to make a huge blanket because again ‘repetitive actions I can fixate on’

Yes! Any anon that would like to claim any emoji do it, would be very pleased with watching some of y’all fight for some (evil laughter)

I love this idea, so here is readers reaction to their birthday gifts and what they do after receiving them

On a very cool Thursday evening the task force was brought together to celebrate the much favourited r/n. Price made sure everyone had a gift that screamed r/n, and the room was poorly decorated, but its the intention that counts.

After some weird conversations it was finally time to open your presents. Mother Laswell and sugar daddy (fatherly way) Price were the first to go. You looked up while you tore the poor bag apart.

It was a 'dig your own fossils kit', you squealed when your eyes met the childish box.

R/n: OH MYYY GAWDDD, THIS IS NOT WHAT I THINK IT IS!!?

Laswell with a pleased smile nods: Its exactly that honey

Price and her are secretly competing to see who can get the best gift for their child. Next was Price's gift.

R/n: *big fucking gasp* NO WAY! A LIFETIME SUBSCRIPTION TO BUBBLE WRAP?!

Price: got a shipment coming in next week, *eyes threw daggers a laswell*

Cue a hug box filled with bubble wrap, shit was heavy, took 9 soldiers to carry that thing in.

Then Ghost was next, he gifted you a mango, literally just a mango. But a huge one, the sweetest one he could find, (just want to thank Mexico for the delicious mango I ate there once). You gasped and ran up to hug him.

R/n: thank you, thank you, thank you,*you kissed his cheek* You have no idea how much this means to me. *You started to tear up*

He called in a few favors and got one from Mexico, the land of the best fucking fruits, he remembered how you gushed over one you ate and he bought that as a so not late gift.

Soap was next, poor man was sweeting too much for his own good.

R/n: this is not what I think it is, gosh soap I fucking love you!

You took out a bunch of crotchet equipment good for a month (less than a week for you ofc)

Soap: heard that gaz, they loved it

Gaz had no clue the fight to become the favorite was this hard, thats why he somehow rolled in a giant sandbox, it contained weird 'ancient' artifacts, to be dug up in a month.

You took these things outside, and for hours you played and enjoyed them all. As per Ghost gift? you made it some clothes and promised to not eat it until you and him came back from the next mission.

Who won? thats up to you to decide.

[mystical-flute]

Checkered: Chapter 3

Also on AO3 || Buy me a Ko-Fi

Two weeks was all it took.

Just two weeks after Gozaburo’s funeral, Seto sat in the lobby of Industrial Illusions, briefcase in hand, waiting for the man himself to greet him. His Solid Vision technology had been perfected by him and him alone (despite Noah’s nagging), but this was his company now, and his technology needed to be at the forefront. Noah would have his place, of course, but as the face of KaibaCorp, he needed to show he knew what he was doing.

“Mister Kaiba? Mister Pegasus is ready for you,” Pegasus’ secretary said with a polite smile, gesturing for him to follow her.

Sero did so, unclasping his locket to look at the photo of Mokuba inside. Finally, after all of the blood, sweat and (though he would deny it until the day he died) tears, he was finally at Industrial Illusions about to show off his work. He had finally made a name for himself, and that name was only going to grow with Pegasus’ help. Finally, he and Mokuba would be able to start building KaibaLand. A little more time was needed, perhaps, so he could make sure the company was fully turned around, but it would happen sooner rather than later. It was a real, tangible thing they could actually accomplish instead of just a childish dream created in a sandbox to ease his brother’s sorrows at being in the orphanage.

“Mister Pegasus? Seto Kaiba for you, sir,” the secretary said, knocking twice upon the solid oak door. How strange that despite the sleek, modern exterior and lower floors, that the executive offices would be so warm and opulent.

“Thank you Adrianna, send him in,” came the clear, though slightly muffled voice of Maximillion Pegasus.

Seto stepped inside when Adrianna opened the door. Looking around, he was struck by how… vintage the office was. While it matched the rest of this floor, the heavy dark woods in the office furniture and elaborately framed paintings that decorated the walls.

Pegasus rose to his feet when he saw him. There was a look of amusement on his face, and Seto wondered if he’d missed a joke. “Ah, welcome Kaiba-boy. Please, have a seat.”

“Mister Pegasus, thank you for meeting with me,” Seto replied, reaching to shake Pegasus’ hand before he did as requested and sat down. He had to be more careful with Pegasus than he’d been with the business owners he’d met with just a couple short weeks ago. Pegasus was not fragile, not weak like them, and it was crucial that he stay on Pegasus’ good side, otherwise his plans of truly changing KaibaCorp into a gaming technology business was going to be slower than he wanted.

“I must say I was quite surprised to get your email,” Pegasus began, folding his hands on the fine wood of the desk and regarding him curiously. “I’m not quite sure how Industrial Illusions can help a company like KaibaCorp. Gozaburo and I barely ran in the same circles.”

There was something unsaid in Pegasus’ face, but Seto didn’t dare question it.

“My intentions are to shift KaibaCorp away from the darkness and war that my father chose to build,” he began. “In fact, I have designed a system of holograms that will take your Duel Monsters game to a new level.”

Pegasus raised an eyebrow and leaned forward with interest. “Is that so? And how do you propose these holograms work?”

“Do you have an empty desk or table that we can use? I have a scale model version of what I am planning in my briefcase, but I would not want it to crowd your workspace,” he replied smoothly, gesturing to the briefcase at his side.

“Yes, of course, there’s a table just there,” Pegasus said, gesturing to Seto’s left to a small coffee table. Excellent, that would fit his scale model perfectly.

Seto carefully began to unpack the scale model, first the floor of the arena, then watching as it began to unfold by itself, then carefully placed two of Mokuba’s Dyna Dude action figures at either end as stand ins for what would be human duelists. The Duel Arena, that was the name he and Mokuba had come up with when they’d been testing it and going over simulations on the computer. He could have just brought those, he knew, but he’d done a lot of research on Pegasus, and Seto knew he’d appreciate being able to get his hands on something tangible, to see that it was possible . 

Like him, in a way.

“Color me impressed already, Kaiba-boy. The quality of this scale model is impressive on its own,” Pegasus said, his eyes wide like a child spotting something shiny.

But Seto knew this was a businessman. For Pegasus, this would be something to exploit - and Seto wasn’t going to let him.

“I’m just getting started, Mister Pegasus,” Seto replied, pulling out the miniature Duel Monsters cards Noah had designed. “This is the Duel Arena. Imagine on all sides there is an audience cheering on their favorite duelists. My vision is to implant your Duel Monsters cards with microchips that coordinate to each card. For example, I summon Saggi the Dark Clown in attack mode…” With a pair of tweezers, Seto put the mini card on the mini console, and watched as the Saggi the Dark Clown hologram appeared on the arena floor. “And then the opponent will summon, say, Battle Ox, also in attack mode.” And there was the Battle Ox, formed perfectly and looking rather eager to attack. “Now, Battle Ox, attack Saggi the Dark Clown.”

Seto watched Pegasus as the Saggi the Dark Clown disappeared in a hail of holographic splinters.

“My goodness Kaiba-boy! You have far exceeded my expectations! This holographic technology is incredible, and the cries you’ve chosen for the monsters coordinate well to what they look like!” Pegasus said with a beaming smile and what appeared to be a genuine laugh. “Now, the big question is, where exactly do you see these arenas being built?”

“Any city around the world that wants them. I believe everyone should have a chance to play the game if they so wish.”

“A sentiment I echo, Kaiba-boy. I would be more than happy to partner with you to make both of our dreams a reality,” Pegasus stood and held out his hand for a shake, which Seto did.

He’d done it. He’d secured a deal with the biggest gaming company in the world, and his designs would finally be used for good instead of evil.

If he hadn’t had his emotions beat out of him (almost literally), he would have been elated, perhaps crying. Instead, all he felt was a weight lifted off his chest as he returned to Pegasus’ desk to start legal negotiations. A proper contract would be sent to Johnson later, but there were some things Seto wanted to make sure Pegasus heard from him directly.

“I shall have my lawyers send Mr. Johnson the final draft of the contract Kaiba-boy, but I feel like what we have planned is more than generous for both of our companies,” Pegasus said with a wide smile. “I am so looking forward to seeing what we can do together.”

“As am I, Mister Pegasus.”

Pegasus leaned back in his chair. “You know, the American Duel Monsters Championship is tonight. I would like for you to be one of my VIP guests. You can check out your American competition for the Worlds tournament. It might inspire you to refine your own technique.” Seto wasn’t quite sure how to describe the look on Pegasus’ face, but it was a bit unsettling.

But he nodded. Obviously he wanted to watch the finals. It would be great to not only see the American duelists, but he would also be able to put the Kaiba name out there as a gaming company and really show how serious he was about wiping the slate clean of Gozaburo’s filth.

“I think we should announce our partnership there as well. It’ll be a great way for the public to see how serious you are about turning KaibaCorp around.”

What the - how had Pegasus known what he was thinking?

“You are far from the first person to inherit their parent’s company and want to change things around,” Pegasus said, rapping his knuckles against the dark wood of his desk. “But be careful who you trust, especially if they were attached to your father. Loyalty can be such a fragile thing in the business world.”

He tensed. Was Pegasus insinuating he didn’t have the loyalty of his employees? Even after he’d gifted them with generous bonuses for staying on and agreeing with the turnover? And giving those who left incredible severance packages? “How dare - ”

“Come now Kaiba-boy, don’t get so worked up. Go enjoy yourself for the rest of the afternoon. I’ll have Adrianna send your guards the information about the finals.”

Seto stared at Pegasus for a long moment before nodding and putting the scale model Duel Arena back in his briefcase.

What a strange feeling he felt moving down the back of his neck.

Shaking his head as he clicked the locks closed, Seto left the office, and didn’t notice the golden light flashing beneath the curtain of Pegasus’ white hair.

---

“So the Big Five really didn’t plan a meet up with you guys?” Yugi asked as he set a bowl of popcorn down on the table in front of them. “I mean, you said KaibaCorp was going to games, right? And this is the end of the American tournament…”

Reika could only shrug. “I don’t know what goes on in their heads. Maybe they’re still so stuck on focusing on products that improve KaibaCorp instead of products that will be good for everyone that it didn’t occur to them. Besides, I’d rather be here watching the finals with you and gramps instead.”

That, and Mokuba had let it slip to her that Seto would be showing off the new Duel Arenas tonight and she would much rather see the reactions of her Duel Monsters obsessed family members over the stuffed suits she’d spent hours with already that day.

Yugi shrugged and handed her a soda. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. It feels like we haven’t been able to hang out in a while.”

“I know, sorry. I’m supposed to be seriously looking at universities and working on my piano. Mom and Dad think I’ve got a really good chance at getting accepted because of my talent, but… I’m still not sure what I want to do after I graduate,” she sighed a little. “But this weekend, it’s just us and Duel Monsters.” Her parents, thankfully, were out of town and she had elected to crash at the game shop. “Next time we duel I’m going to kick your butt though.”

“We’ll see about that!”

“Yeah we will! Hey gramps, hurry up! It’s starting!” Reika called, sliding her phone into her hand and opening her camera. She had promised Mokuba a video of their reactions to the holograms and duel arena and she didn’t want to miss a second of it.

Grandpa slid into “his” chair just as the camera panned away from the dueling announcers and focused on the stadium floor.

The crowd was buzzing with excitement, spotlights crossed the American duelists that were lined up on the floor, and then - 

The lights went dark, and something roared, causing everyone to jump. A Blue-Eyes White Dragon suddenly erupted from one side of the stadium, standing tall and proud.

“Huh? A Blue-Eyes? But… but how?” Yugi asked, his eyes wide.

Reika grinned. “You’re looking at the future of KaibaCorp.”

Seto and Pegasus appeared through a trapdoor, onto the stadium floor. Pegasus was posturing to the screaming crowds, while Seto looked stoic as always as he scanned for the cameras. Still, there was something in his eyes that told her he was, in fact, feeling something. Joy? Relief? It was hard to say.

“Good afternoon one and all! I am Maximillion Pegasus, and I am absolutely delighted to introduce you to Seto Kaiba, an up and coming Duel Monsters champion from Japan. He is also the president of the Kaiba Corporation. The hologram you saw just now was designed by him. Industrial Illusions will be entering into a partnership with KaibaCorp to bring dueling to the next level.”

The crowd roared with cheers and applause before Seto spoke.

“Going forward, Duel Monsters cards will be microchipped to create holograms like the one you just saw. They will appear for every card type. We also plan to build Duel Arena around the globe - specialized areas where Duelists can gather and challenge each other. This will help make the game more fun and accessible to people of all ages,” Seto explained. “When I took KaibaCorp over from my father, I vowed that I would make it a company for good instead of evil, and I am intent on keeping that promise.”

Once again, the roar of the crowd deafened the Mutou living room, and Reika smiled softly in relief.

Her grandfather was grinning. “What an incredible idea! I can’t wait to get my hands on some of those holographic cards. I wonder if I can get one of those microchips put into my Blue-Eyes card.”

Reika frowned. “Gramps, you don’t even like dueling with that card. You said so yourself.”

“Yes, but I think it would be nice to see the monster Arthur gave me. Maybe I will start dueling with it…”

Reika shrugged. “I can find out for you, if you can get the chard chipped. I’ll text Seto now.”

Seto, as it appeared, had gone to the VIP seating on the stadium floor while Pegasus explained the rules of the game and the brackets of the first round.

She set her phone down on the table after messaging both Seto and Mokuba, then grabbed a handful of popcorn. Relaxing like this felt odd, but it was nice at the same time. She felt like she could actually breathe instead of worrying about reputations or her future in life. Sitting here, watching dueling with family was something she missed. Before Gozaburo’s death, she felt like she had little time to keep up with her schoolwork, let alone being able to just hang out and relax. She hoped this feeling would become more frequent now that he was gone and Seto was in charge.

Her phone pinged a few minutes later, as the duels finally began.

{S. Kaiba} Your grandfather is welcome to bring whatever cards he wants to get chipped to KaibaCorp. Your cousin too, especially if he’s serious about becoming a duelist. We’ll do an early chipping event for employees and their family members.

{Reika Mutou} Cool! Thanks a ton!

{S. Kaiba} Pegasus is also insisting on KaibaCorp hosting a gala to celebrate our new partnership. Still working out the details but will likely be in a few weeks.

{Reika Mutou} Fine. Just let us know when.

Reika rolled her eyes and set the phone back down on the table with a small sigh. “You guys can bring your cards in to be microchipped soon,” she said, looking at grandpa and Yugi. “And I need to go dress hunting again. There’s going to be a gala for the partnership. Pegasus is going to be there.”

“What?! You’re going to be able to meet Pegasus in person? Can you get me his autograph?” Yugi begged. “Please? I’ll even let you win our next duel!”

“I was going to win that anyway but fine, yeah, I’ll see if I can get you an autograph.”

Settling back, Reika relaxed and forced her mind to do the same for the rest of the night.

---

The Kaiba ballroom was flooded with the Japanese elites, eagerly chatting with each other, the air buzzing with anticipation of Pegasus’ arrival. Alcohol flowed for the adults and sparkling cider for the younger crowd. There were musicians on the small raised stage, playing jaunty dance music for anyone inclined to start dancing before the guest of honor appeared.

“This is really exciting isn’t it?” her father whispered with a grin. “Meeting the man who created your favorite game?”

“Dad, I’m already nervous enough!” she laughed, tucking a stray piece of wavy hair behind her ear. “I just hope I can make good on my promise to Yugi and get him that autograph.”

Her father shrugged. “I’ve heard Pegasus is supposed to be a generous man. I’m sure you will. Now, go on, it looks like Noah needs you guys over there.”

Reika glanced over at Noah, who was indeed waving for the Young Five, and moved in his direction, her high heels clicking against the marble floor. “Everything alright?”

“Having a gala without my father feels a bit odd,” he admitted when the five of them reached him. “Good, but odd. It makes me smile thinking how angry he would be to see this. I managed to sell one of my scopes to a medical company. They’re planning to use it to find abnormalities in people’s blood… and I’m going to be working on a smaller version to use on animals.”

“That’s great news! It really shows that you and Seto have turned away from the sort of person Gozaburo was,” Mei said.

“We will be announcing it tonight, but of course the majority of the evening is about Seto’s deal with Pegasus. Those Duel Arenas were a project between all three of us… Seto said we’re all going to get credit for it, but…”

“There’s a part of you that still doesn’t trust him,” Hideo said.

Noah frowned. “How did you guess?”

Katsuo laughed. “We’ve known you since we were babies. You get used to what your faces mean. Especially when your dad was around and we had to pretend we weren’t rolling our eyes at him on a near daily basis.”

Sora nodded in agreement. “We all have that sort of face. Or we did. Hopefully now that Gozaburo is gone, we won’t have to make those faces anymore.”

“Pegasus has just pulled up, Noah,” Seto suddenly said, coming up behind them and glancing from Noah to the Young Five. “Can we trust you to be right behind us?”

“Of course, as we always are,” Reika said with a shrug. “And the Big Five - ”

“Them as well, naturally, but tonight we are focused on the future, and that is the Young Five.”

Right, the future. Reika just hoped Seto and Noah would keep their word to the Big Five. There were a lot of secrets that their now-former competitors would love to get their hands on and they all knew it. Seto and Noah would have to be very careful if this turnover was going to be a lasting thing.

And she could see the same look of hidden concern on the Young Five. They had their own faces that had always been kept from the adults.

The Big Five approached, and the masks of the Young Five were placed firmly over their faces, kind, placid smiles as they gazed at their mentors and moved to the door, behind the Kaiba brothers.

“Mister Pegasus, welcome to Kaiba Manor,” Seto said. “These are my brothers, Noah, and Mokuba.”

Pegasus was grinning even as the Big and Young Fives dipped into bows. “My goodness Kaiba-boy, I wasn’t expecting you to roll out the red carpet for little old me.”

“Why wouldn’t we, Mister Pegasus?” Noah asked. “There is much to celebrate, is there not? And behind us we have the Big Five and the Young Five, our closest confidants and directors leading us into the future.”

Pegasus chuckled under his breath. “It is wonderful to meet you all. And don’t worry, if anyone wants an autograph I will be more than happy to hand them out.”

Reika smiled softly in relief as she shook his hand, glad he’d said something so she didn’t have to ask him awkwardly. “Thank you, Mister Pegasus. My cousin is a huge fan of yours and he’s thrilled that you’re here.”

“Ah yes, so I’ve heard! Yugi, right? An up and coming duelist in his own right?” Pegasus asked as the group dispersed and conversation and music filled the ballroom again.

She blinked in surprise. “I - yes, that’s right. How did you know?” Yugi hadn’t had any public duels yet, just ones against her or schoolyard games when he had a break between lessons.

“I’ve been reading up on the Japanese duel circuit since Kaiba-boy and I made our deal. Yugi hasn’t had any public duels, has he? Yet the name is already out there.”

This was… strange, but Pegasus was a multi-billionaire with access to whatever he wanted, and there was the fact that the Mutou name wasn’t exactly an unknown one in certain circles of the world.

“You might recognize the name Mutou because of our grandfather, sir. He’s a former archeologist who specialized in Egyptology,” she explained.

“Solomon, yes, that’s right. The man who discovered the Nameless Pharaoh’s tomb. I read all about his adventure. Or, what little adventure he’d speak about.”

Reika smiled weakly. “Yes, he’s kept his secrets to himself. I’m sure he just wants to make sure his family doesn’t follow in his footsteps of being reckless.”

Pegasus’ grin seemed to grow wider. “I’m sure reckless isn’t in your vocabulary given you are a member of the Young FIve though, is it Reika-girl? I can’t imagine that would be good for business… or future university prospects.”

A nervous chuckle escaped her. “That’s very true, Mister Pegasus. But I really don’t plan on being reckless, and I doubt Yugi does either.”

“That’s smart of you. Come now, let’s get you that autograph so you can enjoy the rest of the gala, hmm?”

Reika nodded and led him to the private room set aside for the KaibaCorp elites to put their belongings and take a moment to breathe if needed. There, she handed him the wall scroll Yugi had given her to be signed.

“There you are, Miss Mutou,” Pegasus said, his name signed with a flourish and pen given back to her before she really had time to process what was happening. “One autograph. And I must say, I can’t wait to see what your cousin gets up to when he starts his duel career officially.”

“Thank you again, Mister Pegasus. I’ll tell Yugi what you said. I know he’ll be thrilled.”

With a flourish of his hand, Pegasus left the room, and Reika realized only when she was alone that her hands had been shaking.

She let out a heavy breath, then took a slow one to try and calm her racing heart and shaking hands just as Hideo entered the room.

“Reika, come on! Noah’s about to make his speech. Hey - you alright?”

Another deep exhale escaped her. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a weird vibe from Pegasus, that’s all.”

“You felt it too then, huh? The rest of us were thinking the same. I think we’re going to have to keep an eye on Pegasus, make sure he’s on the up and up.”

Reika nodded. “We should keep our suspicions close. Just between us.”

“For the good of KaibaCorp.”

She nodded. “For the good of KaibaCorp.”

She followed Hideo out of the room, letting the door click shut behind her.

[starfolk7]

1 for Lies of P and your other fandoms (how yould you forget Pino and friends? xD)

Omg you're right I blanked and forgot to list that in the tags MY BAD JFHDHD

1. List 3 positive things about your current fandom(s)

I guess I'm gonna organize these by fandom lol

Pokemon:

- Diversity! Since it's been around for so long, there's tons of fics to read. If you can think of it, someone has probably written it. There's a Mewtwo fic I found in college that's basically a retelling of the events of the first movie, but holy shit it's written so beautifully it made me cry in front of my friends rjrhdgde. It's a dense read, but still one of my absolute favorite fics to this day. That's just an example of things you can find!

- Sub-fan bases. Basically, if you're a big fan of a certain Pokémon, a type of Pokémon, one of the games, etc., you're going to find your people very easily. Kind of falls under the first one a bit but ya know lol.

- Some of the cutest and also the most badass fanart comes out of this fandom. I have both art of a Sylveon with a lollipop and art of Mewtwo breaking out of their armor from the first movie. The duality of man djrhdgs

SoulsBorne

-Maybe I've gotten lucky and just found really nice people, but so far my experiences in the community have been largely positive! I've met some of the loveliest people by posting my Dark Souls and Bloodborne fics, and it really got me back into writing OCs again (you know that's my lifeblood lol)

-Character and lore analyses. Not that I agree with all of them, of course I don't, but if you want an analyses of anything in these games, there's some mad lad out there that's done it, whether it's a post or through an entire fic. Gives you tons to think about!

-ART!! Holy shit there's so many amazing artists in this community. We don't talk about how much SoulsBorne art I've snagged at conventions (I got more of it and Elden Ring stuff at Magfest don't look at me fjfhdhd)

Lies of P

-I haven't been in this fandom for long, but so far everyone I've met has been very sweet! They're also super OC-friendly. I can't tell you how many Stalker and Puppet OCs I've seen, among others, it's really amazing!

-Probably gonna say this for all of my fandoms but the ART OMG. There's so much gorgeous fanart floating around for this game it's insane. Still on the hunt for more Romeo pieces tho rjrhehe

-Headcanon diversity. Do you want a totally mute P? One that talks sometimes? One that's Had Enough? What I'm getting at is there's a P out there for everyone! People have been exploring all the different character angles on him and it's wonderful to see.

Ultrakill

-THE HYPE. Since this is an early access game still in development, the hype that cranks up every time an update is announced is INSANE. I don't think I've ever seen this level of it for an indie game. I got in just in time to witness this for the Violence update and the rush it gives you seeing everyone so excited is amazing!! It helps that every single update has just been an absolute banger. We have reason to be super excited, the devs do stellar work!!

-LORE. Do you wanna feel like Charlie at the corkboard in It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia? Because that's where I'm definitely at right now. Since we're in the last act of the game, there's so much speculation and so many theories about how the game will end. On top of that, people have been playing in the lore sandbox ever since this game started. I know I've def been up at night wondering how the hierarchy of Heaven works and what certain layers of Hell were like before Certain Events TM (I'm being vague because I know at least one person wants to play this bear with me lol). Basically there's tons to explore and the community collectively goes insane about different bits, we have fun here lmao

-I'm bundling art and memes into this one because oh my GOD. The tonal whiplash is a rollercoaster ride. You can go from the most heart-wrenching art of Gabriel you've ever seen to a piece that goes "V1 is a shrimp now" and sometimes you just need that snap back to some levity. The memes are absolutely top-tier. It helps that the voice actor for Gabriel already does memes and shitposts on his YouTube channel, so he just carries that over for Ultrakill stuff sometimes and y'know what? This game is dark, I'm gonna need these memes for when the ending makes me bawl like a baby. The Violence layer already has me feeling the creeping sense of dread (if you know you KNOW).

[araedi]

⭐️ — sun, moon, & rising signs, if known

🍦 — favorite ice cream flavor(s)?

😁 — what’s your favorite part about being part of the rpc?

🎁 — what have you accomplished in the rpc that you’re proud of?

[Munday Asks!]

⭐️ — Taurus sun, Pisces moon, Saggitarius rising I think?? I always get confused trying to work it out lmaoooo

🍦 — A high quality vanilla can still be so good but also partial to rum raisin, mint, or a lemon/coconut type ice cream!

😁 — The people I've met, hands down. Creativity is great on its own, but sharing a sandbox with people you love and care about just multiplies that. The rpc has founded so many wonderful connections and friendships and I love that so much

🎁 — Uh idk what to classify as an "accomplishment" really; probably the fact I've been doing it for the better part of 15 years and I'm still chugging along??? otherwise same as above it's the people. Making stories which others get invested in, and making connections with some truly incredible people will always be the best part.

[kanonavi]

hewwo tis hua on main :33 lettuce see 9, 17, 23, 31, 45, n 46 for the fic questions~

Hi Hua we are now hanging out on my blog! :3

(Hi it's me from the future crying because this is so long I can no longer justify not putting a Read More what have you done to me :sob:)

9. What are the best things about your current fandom?

How can you ask me that when we’re in the Genshin fandom rn lol Jokes aside, I think that the size of the Genshin fandom is its blessing just as much as it’s its curse. Obviously it’s going to have all of the main problems that big fandoms tend to have, but the sheer number of people also means that there’s basically a guarantee that there will be other people that are creating the exact flavor of fanworks that I want to see and to create myself.

I’ve gone through highs and lows of how much fic I read for a fandom over time and I think Genshin is one of my all-time highs, but I’m pretty sure I’ve also found the most fics in Genshin that have just felt transcendent in some way to me. For a piece of media that I enjoy as much as I enjoy Genshin, I’d gladly take a large fandom that’s a bit of a clusterfuck over a tiny fandom where my thoughts and ideas don’t resonate with anything everyone else is doing. Even if it means I’m mostly off in my corner trying my best to remain blind to greater fandom trends, I’m happy in my tiny sandbox with the few friends that I share this experience with.

17. Who was your first OTP and are they still your favorite?

My first OTP for Genshin was xingyun! I ended up pulling both of them very early on, and even before I read their voicelines and realized that they’re basically a textbook example of friends to lovers, I was impressed by how well they worked together in a team and based purely on that I wondered as a joke if people shipped them. So naturally I checked AO3 and Learned.

They’ve been deposed as my favorites at this point by xiaoven, but they’re still very high on my otp list, placed lovingly in my S+ tier alongside xiaoven and kazuscara. I think that I would have ended up shipping them regardless of if I pulled them both early, but I like to think they started my taste off on the right foot.

23. Name a fic you’ve written that you’re especially fond of & explain why you like it.

The thing about all of my fics is that they're either for a fandom/ship that I'm kinda divorced from at this point or they were written when I was 14 in the AO3 editing box and there is little to no in between. Which then leaves my Genshin fics... of which there are only 3, since most of my writing is done for me and my friends rather than the public.

Still, if I had to pick one, it would be When Suikou Met a Little Bird, a fic that was written in a pure, brainrotted haze but still kind of escalated to more than I ever expected it to be. It was honestly kind of an experiment for me, since I wrote it in a perspective I wasn't used to (that being Xiao rather than Venti) and the story just kind of came easily in a way that writing usually doesn't for me. For that, I was really proud of how it came out and just really happy with it overall.

That, and I also based it on one of the most Mentally Ill screenshots I've ever taken in-game, which I will include for your viewing pleasure:

31. What's the nicest thing anyone has ever said about your writing?

I got a comment a few months ago on A Brief Respite from Lantern's Light, which was the fic I wrote in a brainrot haze after the Endless Suffering trailer ended my entire existence, which said that my portrayal of Xiao and Venti was the closest to canon they had ever read and that the way I "captured the essence of their love is nothing short of perfection". Needless to say, I kinda ascended thanks to that.

The way that I write characters is something that I guess I could say I'm insecure about, since characters are often the vessels for humanity to be brought forth in a work of fiction, even if the characters aren't human themselves. I hold characters in very high esteem in works of fiction, but because I spend so much time thinking about my favorite characters, I'm constantly worried that they're kinda turning to mush in my brain and becoming what I see them as rather than what they really are. Headcanons are fun and I indulge in them plenty myself, but when I never want to lose sight of who those characters are in the story they were written for when I'm creating my own stories for them.

That's kind of why the xiaoven scene in the Endless Suffering trailer was Everything to me. Their first canon interaction, and it consisted of an exchange that was comfortable, especially when compared to Xiao's interactions with other characters in the past and even in the rest of that same trailer. Then, that says nothing of the tender gazes that Venti was giving Xiao the entire time. The entire scene just proved to me that whether or not they're in love, Xiao and Venti are comfortable with each other and that much is real.

So after I took that scene and built off of it into my own thought of how the scene could continue if Xiao and Venti were lovers, and to have someone say that it matched their interaction in the trailer and that I was able to capture that essence? It means everything to me, to this day.

i feel like a narcissist to have answered that question at such length but oh well lol

45. What is your all time favorite fanfic?

There are plenty of Genshin fics which have had an impact on me (oh haha impact that wasn't even on purpose), but I feel like I have to give this to what's probably the first truly transcendent fic I ever read. It was a Persona 5 fic called Black Star, I'm pretty sure it's still one of the most read P5 fics today, which it totally deserves.

It was a kind of epilogue to the original P5 before Royal or Strikers or whatever the fuck X is supposed to be were ever conceived, and in my honest opinion Black Star did it better than any of them ever have and ever will. It's a fic that says what it means to, nothing more and nothing less, and as I look back over the past 5 years of Atlus milking the life out of this story that used to have meaning, it's so goddamn refreshing to have this author who rolled up, wrote a perfect epilogue for P5 and then nothing else for the fandom. Wherever they are, I hope they're living their best possible life.

Black Star fixed the main thing that the original P5 fucked up, which was Goro Akechi. Akechi barely had a character arc in the original, even by the standards of P5 writing, but in this fic he was able to gain redemption as well as a resolution on his complicated feelings towards Joker in a way that I don't even think Royal did as well. Full disclosure, I used to be a hardcore shuake shipper and Black Star is a gen fic, but there are plenty of fics which give Akechi resolution in a way that incorporates romantic feelings towards Joker which I also love. However, I just think Black Star is able to surpass them in certain regards because of how it actualizes Akechi in his own personhood independent of anyone else. At this point in my life cycle as a goroboy, I really just think that when Akechi is at his lowest like he is in this fic, he just needed anything, even the faintest glimmer of trust in him from someone in his life that he's able to do good even after all the wrong he's done in order for him to at least want to try. That can be given to him regardless of any kind of romance, and Black Star has always done it best.

I also just love the way it builds off of P5's world with Paranoia Syndrome and the Dead Sea in which Mementos rots. Again, it's like I said before, no official continuation of Persona 5 has ever and will ever do it better than Black Star. ...i should read it again at some point.

46. If someone was to read one of your fanfics, which fic would you recommend to them and why?

I am once again being made to choose between one of my three entire Genshin fics lol. But for this question I honestly feel like I have to go with A Brief Respite from Lantern's Light. It's short, but also out of my three fics I think it best demonstrates my mental state and how xiaoven exists in my brain, being rotated like a rotisserie chicken. In a way it could be kinda like my mission statement? Or like. My conceit? OH ITS LIKE MY XV COVER LETTER. i hate that metaphor, god lol

But yeah, we end with a simple answer: if you come to me for xiaoven, the xiaoven in that fic is what you're signing up for <3