#DROP MIA ROUTE

[k-0re]

are you aware that team-avia MIGHT be releasing a new Mia route after a project they are finishing..? :3

YUP AND IM SO EXCITED

[magnagaruzenmon]

Inbetween

Just a short little something after seeing these sexy pics

You were just putting the final card into your new Vanguard deck when your phone buzzed. A photo from Jiheon popped up — a blurry selfie of her sprawled on the couch, blanket tangled around her legs, hair in a loose bun. She looked pouty and bored. Underneath, a message:

“Come over. I’m lonely.”

You rolled your eyes, but already your keys were in your hand.

The drive to Jiheon’s place felt familiar — the kind of route your car could take blindfolded. You thought about how long you’d known her. Since your last year of college, and her second. You’d met by accident — you were sliding out of a seat in a lecture hall when she turned to you and said, “Why are you in this class? Isn’t this like, Intro 101?”

You’d raised an eyebrow and explained that her “intro” class was actually a right after for your higher-level course the course she just sat through. She blinked, then grinned.

“Oh. Okay, Mr. Smartypants.”

She’d called you that ever since.

From that moment on, she was a constant in your life. Bright-eyed, sarcastic, fiercely loyal. You’d seen her through all kinds of chaos — tear-stained breakups, half-baked get-rich schemes, failed job interviews and small personal triumphs that felt like gold medals. No matter what, Jiheon carried it all with a crooked smile and a razor-edged wit that never dulled.

You pulled into her complex and headed up without knocking. The apartment was quiet — suspiciously quiet. No Hayoung. No Nagyung. Not even Jiwon’s voice echoing off the kitchen walls. Just Jiheon.

You found her in the bathroom, sitting on the counter in a hoodie three sizes too big, idly brushing her hair. She looked up and beamed when she saw you.

“Ah! You came!”

You frowned at her, genuinely confused by her excitement.

“Yeah… you’re my friend? Why are you acting surprised?”

She gave you a look and tossed the brush down.

“Don’t get smart with me. You’ve been MIA. Work, your move — I haven’t seen you in, like, forever.”

You leaned against the doorframe with a sigh.

“That was two weeks ago. And all of last week you were busy with what’s-his-name. How’s that going, by the way?”

Jiheon’s expression faltered. She looked away for a second before muttering,

“I visited him at work. He was sleeping with his boss.”

The bathroom went quiet, save for the sound of the brush clattering on the counter. You winced.

“Damn. Well, fuck him. Honestly, he was forgettable anyway.”

She laughed, but it was small and tired.

“Thanks, Smartypants.”

You smile and say, “Anytime.”

The two of you sit in the quiet hum of her apartment, the kind of silence only close friends can share without it feeling awkward. Jiheon leans her head against your shoulder, absently pulling the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands as the TV flickers in front of you, muted.

Her presence is warm, familiar. You’d sat like this a hundred times before — post-breakup, post-party, post-bad-days — but something in the air felt different now. Maybe it was the way her hair smelled faintly like vanilla shampoo, or how her fingers brushed against yours without pulling away.

A minute passes. Maybe two. You shift your weight, then stand up.

“Let’s go on a date.”

She blinks, turning toward you from where she’s curled up on the couch.

“Huh?”

The word drops out of her like a reflex — confused, caught off guard. Her brows knit, her lips part just slightly.

You look down at her, hands in your pockets, speaking more from instinct than plan.

“I dunno. It just seemed like a good idea.”

You watch as she processes. Her eyes search your face for a punchline, but find none. She sits up straighter now, not alarmed, but suddenly very alert — like she’s trying to make sense of a new rule in a game she thought she’d already mastered.

“You mean like—” she gestures vaguely between you, “—us? A real date?”

You nod once, not backing away from her gaze.

“Yeah. You and me. Dinner. A movie. We can even pretend we don’t already know each other’s favorite orders and the name of your fourth grade math teacher.”

She lets out a soft laugh at that, eyes wide but not retreating. There’s a long beat, and then she says, quieter now:

“Why now?”

You consider it for a moment. The easy answer would be “why not?” But you owe her honesty.

“Because… when you said you were lonely, I realized I’ve been lonely too. But not in the way I thought. I missed you. Not just the hanging out, or the games, or the texts. I missed us. And maybe we’ve been pretending for a while now that there’s nothing more here… but I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

She swallows, her mouth parting again like she wants to say something, but can’t quite find the words yet.

You smile gently and add, “We can keep sitting here like always. We can forget I said anything. But if there’s even a small part of you that wants to see where this could go… come with me.”

The pause that follows isn’t filled with tension — it’s filled with a quiet possibility, like the moment before the first card is played in a match that means something.

Then, finally, Jiheon stands too. Slowly. Thoughtfully.

“Okay,” she says.

“But you’re paying.”

You grin. “Obviously.”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile betrays her.

You don’t even make it ten minutes down the road before things start to go wrong.

First, the restaurant you chose — a cute little ramen place she once mentioned in passing — turns out to be closed for renovations. Jiheon gives you a pitying look as you stare at the locked door like it might open if you believe hard enough.

“Strong start,” she deadpans.

“Bold of you to assume I don’t plan my failures ahead of time,” you reply.

Plan B? Tacos. But the GPS reroutes you three times, and Jiheon is clearly trying not to comment on how you nearly drive into a bike lane twice. By the time you find parking, it starts raining.

She looks at the sky, then at you.

“I knew I should’ve brought a jacket. This is how I die, isn’t it?”

“If I knew you were this dramatic I never would’ve asked you out.”

“You’ve known me for years. You absolutely knew I was this dramatic.”

The two of you make it into the taqueria drenched and laughing, clothes sticking awkwardly. Inside, you find one table left — directly under an air conditioner blasting arctic wind. Jiheon’s teeth chatter as she unwraps her taco.

“Romantic,” she says. “Free hypothermia with every meal.”

You raise your cup of horchata in mock-toast.

“To suffering.”

Despite it all — or maybe because of it all — the night starts to feel fun. Familiar. Real.

You fall into your usual rhythm: teasing, inside jokes, shared memories. She laughs until she nearly spits out her drink when you remind her of that time she tried to dye your hair “silver fox” and turned it lavender instead.

“You looked like a K-pop idol who got kicked out of the group for tax evasion.”

“You said I looked distinguished.”

“I lied. I was trying to protect your dignity.”

After dinner, the movie theater you’d picked is sold out, and the only other one nearby is showing the worst-looking romcom imaginable — Jiheon raises an eyebrow at you and says,

“You sure you’re not trying to make me break up with you mid-date?”

But you buy the tickets anyway, and to your shared horror… the movie ends up being hilariously awful. By the halfway point, Jiheon’s whisper-commentary is making you wheeze with laughter.

“Why is this man allergic to shirts? Is that a plot point?”

“I think it’s his trauma. Or maybe his fashion choices are the trauma.”

“God, they’re about to kiss again. You owe me popcorn refills.”

You both stumble out of the theater an hour later, wheezing and half-crying with laughter. You can’t remember the last time you had this much fun.

Back in the car, parked outside her apartment, there’s a quiet lull as the engine ticks softly. Jiheon looks at you. Not with her usual smirk or a sarcastic quip — but something softer, unreadable at first.

“That was terrible,” she says finally.

You grin. “Completely cursed.”

“And I still had the best night I’ve had in months.”

Your grin fades into something gentler.

“Yeah. Me too.”

She doesn’t look away, doesn’t laugh it off this time. Instead, she leans in — just slightly. Testing. Inviting.

“So… second date?”

“God, yes.”

She smiles, and this time it isn’t crooked or teasing — it’s full.

And then, finally, she kisses you.

Disaster or not, this is the best date either of you have ever had.

You smile as she breaks the kiss, her breath still brushing against your skin. She looks at you for a moment longer than necessary, eyes lingering like she’s memorizing your face. Then, almost shyly, she murmurs,

“Wanna come inside?”

You follow her in.

The apartment is dimly lit, warm and familiar. Her jacket lands in a heap on the couch, and she kicks off her sneakers with the casual chaos of someone who lives alone and likes it that way.

You glance around, noticing something’s off.

“Where’s the gang?” you ask, referring to her usual group of friends — loud, opinionated, always draped across her furniture like they pay rent.

Jiheon shrugs, already halfway through rummaging for snacks in the kitchen.

“I think they mentioned something about a carnival and the night market downtown.”

You blink.

“That sounds like fun. Why didn’t you go?”

She bounces slightly on her heels as she emerges from the kitchen, chips in hand, a little sheepish.

“Um… I don’t know. It felt weird? Like, everyone was hyped about it and I just… kept thinking about how cool it’d be to hang out with you, tbh.”

You give her a look — the kind that says “you are so bad at hiding how sincere you are.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

She grins unabashed.

“And I was right! We had a fantastic night.” Her voice is high with excitement, like she’s still riding the buzz of the evening.

You smile, softer this time.

“So… what now?”

Jiheon looks at you with a mischievous glint, hopping backwards toward the couch.

“I sit on your lap and play Overwatch, obviously.”

You snort.

“Okay, that’s a weirdly specific fantasy.”

She winks.

“Give me Eighteen minutes. Timer starts now.”

You assume she’s joking.

But sure enough, seventeen minutes and some change later, you’re seated on her couch, a controller in one hand, the other arm awkwardly draped as Jiheon settles herself squarely in your lap — headset on, fully immersed in a competitive match. She leans back slightly, totally at ease, like this is the most normal thing in the world.

It should be weird. It should be.

But it’s… weirdly comfortable.

The warm weight of her. The sound of her muttering callouts under her breath. The flicker of game colors dancing across her walls. The hum of the console. The faint scent of her shampoo.

Somewhere between her shouting “PUSH POINT, YOU COWARDS” and your third yawn, your eyelids start to droop. You barely notice it. Your body relaxes under hers, lulled by her voice and the gentle rhythm of explosions and victory music.

Jiheon glances down once, mid-match, and smiles when she realizes you’ve dozed off — one hand still loosely around her waist. She doesn’t say anything. Just shifts slightly to let you breathe easier, and keeps playing.

You wake up two hours later on the same couch but Jiheon is gone. You look around for her until you hear moaning from her bathroom. At first you ignore it until she says your name. You rush to her to find her playing with herself. At first your speechless until she says

“Since you’re here, fuck me!”

You barely have time to think before you undo your pants and your stroking your cock for her. Her look is so intense and inviting you just can’t help it. You don’t even think about getting a rubber or doing anything like that.

You slide inside with mind numbing ease as she takes all of you. You groan

“Fuck Heoni you feel so good,” Jiheon turns her face to yours and says,

“You’re so big inside me,” as she backs her ass up into you. You groan as she convulses around your cock.

“Shit Jiheon,” you say as you start thrusting inside her. She coos and moans as she feels you hit her cervix,

“Fuck keep going!” She moans as you keeping ramming your cock. Her breath is ragged as her see through top invites you to slip your hands under the shirt and grab her perfect mounds.

She moans as your hands run all over her body. Her walls are velvet as the happily let you venture deeper into her tight snatch. Jiheon moans before staring back at you,

“This is gonna need to be an every weekend thing now!” You growl. Jiheon smirks

“Does Mr Smarty pants love my pussy?” She teased as she clenches around you,

You groan and say “yes! It’s perfect,” Jiheon smiled then adds,

“Well then as long as we can go on cute dates and I can play overwatch while sitting in your lap I’ll happily let you fuck me,”

You smile and say, “I love you,” Jiheon blushes at that before running into her wall of release. She groans as her pussy tightens around you despairing to milk you for all your worth before she squirts all over your cock. You groan as she moans trying to outlast her but she gives you that sultry needy look and you lose it.

Three hard pumps more and you’re flooding her pussy with cum. You can’t help it. Seeing her in the bathroom mirror so lost to pleasure just sets you off.

As the both of you come down the bathroom door opens and the rest of Jiheon’s crew find you balls deep inside her. Chaeyoung laughs and says, “Took you two long enough!”

[plutoslastwords]

I see lando as a single dad too and I was wondering if you’d ever write daughter!reader when she’s a teenager and is going through, well her first menstrual cycle and he’s so completely lost lol

shark week

lando norris x daughter!reader

summary: lando has no idea how a woman's body works, baby norris doesn't listen in health class. the outcome? chaos.

warnings: your first period?

w/c: 1.5k

a/n: okay so i know that it may be unrealistic that a 12 year old would have never heard of a period but idc. it works in the story. sorry for being so mia!! school is terrible atm 😩😩 love you all!! promise i am working on the requests xx

~~~

Going to high school in Monaco was not fun at the best of times.

Everyone says that surely it must be great! It’s Monaco! But when you don’t speak the language fluently - though you have got quite good after living there for 12 years of your life - and have just transferred to a new secondary school where you know no one, life isn’t great. 

Everyone in Monaco has one or two parents who are rich and famous in some way, meaning you can’t even pull the famous dad card to get yourself some friends. You’re stuck sitting alone at lunch, and being picked last for every team.

Lando hates it. He hates it so so much. He doesn't think he can stand seeing his baby coming home sad every afternoon, and he hates how sometimes he can’t be there to comfort you when life is feeling especially tough. He’s debated many a time just sending you to a boarding school back in England, where at least you could speak the same language as the kids there, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to cope with being apart from you for that much of the year.

Therefore, both you and your dad just have to cope with the unfortunate situations, hoping and wishing that soon enough you’ll find your own feet and make some friends. 

Back to the fact that school in Monaco isn’t great on the best days, school in Monaco is absolute hell on the worst days.

On this particular day, you were sitting in Maths class, your least favourite, how were you meant to be able to understand maths in French when you didn’t even understand it in English. It was whilst the teacher was going on about something to do with algebra that you decided that you’d had enough, you put your hand up and quickly asked to go to the bathroom, you weren’t bothered about this anymore.

You took your normal long route around school to get to the bathrooms, having no intention of going back to your maths class anytime soon. You finally get to the bathrooms and it is there that you learn that you’re going to die.

You know that it is not normal to have blood in your pants. It can’t be normal. You must be dying. You sit there in shock for a moment, before starting to hyperventilate and presume the worst. 

When looking back, Lando knows that it is probably his fault that you got yourself into this situation. You never really listened in your Health classes, as they were all in French, and so it was probably his responsibility to educate you on what was going to happen at a certain point, but he’s still just a young guy, that was not top of his list of what he wanted to talk to his preteen daughter about!

You sit in the bathroom stall sobbing and shaking, surely this is the end, you were practically waiting for the Grim Reaper himself to come and pluck you away. In your disorientated mind the only thing that you can think to do is call Lando.

“Daddy I’m dying!” You bawl into the phone, the words barely coming out through your intense sobs.

Immediately Lando drops everything he was doing, freezing at your distressed tone, his mind going straight to the worst. “Baby?!? What’s going on, are you okay?!?” He practically shouts down the phone.

“No!!” You sob, “I’m dying!!!! Daddy please pick me up I-” You don’t finish your sentence because enough intense sob comes in the way and you fall back into hysterically crying.

Lando doesn’t even think twice before leaping up from his desk and rushing to grab his car keys. “I’m on my way, my angel, you’re gonna be okay, daddy’s gonna look after you.” He tries to soothe, but the worry in his voice is evident. 

When he arrives you’re still a sobbing mess, but you have to drag your tear stained body out of the cubicle and to the front office in order to be dismissed. When you see Lando you immediately jump into his arms, sobs wracking your body.

“Oh darling…”  He says, brokenly, he hates seeing you like this, “What’s happened, my love?” 

You don’t respond, too distressed, he seems to get the message and manoeuvres you to the car, where he drives home as quick as he can, to get you someplace familiar, hoping that that will soothe you slightly.

It works, partially. By the time that you’re home your sobbing has lessened, but you’re still nowhere near stable, still almost shaking with the fear that you’re feeling. Lando sits you down on the sofa with a glass of water, putting an arm around your shoulders.

“Baby, tell me what’s going on.”

“I-I’m dying!! I’m bleeding and I’m dying!” You sniffle.

Suddenly everything clicks for Lando and then his mind goes completely blank. Shit, shit shit shit shit shit. He was not ready for this day, not ready whatsoever. 

“I-uhm-oh.” He stutters, not knowing what to say. “Y-you’re not dying, sweetheart, okay?”

“Yes I am!!! I’m dying!!!”

He has no idea what to do. He was hoping he had a year or two left before today came, but apparently luck was not on his side. He sits there, staring blankly at you, as you continue to cry. 

“Baby, I promise you you’re not dying, why don’t you go change your clothes and I’ll come up to your room in a sec and we’ll chat, okay?”

You shuffle to your room, still sobbing but if you’re dad seems so confident that you’re okay, then surely that means something…?

Lando paces around in a panic downstairs, waiting for his sister to answer the damn phone. There is no way that he can be doing this with no help.

After a horrible phone call, with a lot of him being laughed at by his sister for having a 12 year old daughter and still knowing fuck all about the menstrual cycle, he feels more prepared to actually talk to you.

You’re sitting in your bed, covered in blankets and watching a movie when he knocks at your door.

“Darling, can I come in?” 

You hum in response, tired from all of the sobbing and therefore not bothered to actually speak. He enters, with a shopping bag in his hand.

“How're you feeling, my angel?”

You shrug, curling up smaller in your blanket ball.

“Oh, baby, you’re okay, I promise, it’s all natural, okay?”

“Doesn’t feel natural…”

“It’s your period, angel. It’s your body getting ready for pregnancy”

You pull a face of absolute horror at that, “I’m pregnant?!??!”

His eyes widen and he backtracks immediately “No, no, no, no, you’re not pregnant, absolutely not.” He shudders at the thought, “It’s just so that maybe, at some point in the future, if you do get pregnant, your body is gonna be prepared…”

“So I’m gonna bleed until I get pregnant?”

“No, no, just for a couple days every month…”

“For how long?”

“Uhm, I’m not sure about that… like until your 40? I don’t know…”

“40?!??!?! I don’t want to bleed every month until I’m 40!!!!”

“I know, baby, but it’s just something that all women have to go through, it’s just a natural part of life, you’ll learn to cope with it…”

You pause, taking in his words, before eventually nodding in understanding, but that doesn’t mean that you’re done talking, much to Lando’s dismay, who’d quite like to get this conversation over and done with.

“So why do I need to bleed to be ready for pregnancy?” You question.

Lando knows this one, he practised it on the phone with his sister, “It’s the wall of your uterus shedding-”

“Ew.”

“Because your body got itself ready to be pregnant, and then obviously the egg was never fertilised.”

“So if I did get pregnant then I wouldn’t get my period?”

“Yes, I think.”

“Hm.”

“It’s all very normal, sweetheart, this just means that you’re healthy, okay?”

“Mhm…”

“Good..” He smiles, “You all good?”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“What am I gonna do now..? With, you know, uhm- I don’t wanna ruin all my underwear…”

“Oh! Yes, that..” He reaches into his bag, “So, uh- these will stick on top of your underwear, and like uh- catch the blood, I guess.. And then you throw them away after wearing them for like 5 hours or so… That sound okay?”

You nod, slightly sceptical, but oh well.

Eventually, Lando leaves to go and do his own thing, and you stew in the knowledge of your new life. After getting yourself showered and cleaned up, as well as trying your new items, you shuffle downstairs, just needing a hug.

“Hey, baby…” Your dad smiles, as he sits on the tv, watching some nonsense reality show.

You don’t reply, just nestling yourself next to him, needing his comforting touch. He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

“My baby… getting so big… daddy loves you, more than anything…”

~~~

a/n: fank you for reading!!11 send in any requests xx

[im-not-a-ghost]

Your future spouse : Who? Where? When?

Group 1 - Van Gogh

Letters : E M D E R U O E P W T Y

Words/signs/names : deputy, Rudy, Emery, Roy, power, true, Morty, drum, poetry, proud, meet, WED, route, pure, Tower, remedy, dom, prom, word, rude, drop, rope, dye, eye, TUE, wet, pet, pouty, muted, dope, prude

Recommended songs : Fly me to the moon Frank Sinatra, Sweater weather The Neighborhood, Snooze AGUSTD, MIA Bad Bunny ft Drake

WHO? - White Numen / Ask body / Magnesite : get your mind right.

Oh this person is powerful and stubborn AF. The bull and the panther may be spirit animals of this person. If not, they like these animals or their personality matches those. In terms of astrological placements, we have Taurus and Aquarius, as well as Earth signs in general (Taurus Virgo Capricorn). They are a boss ass B. They are masculine. Like reaaaallyyyy masculine. They have BIG DADDY energy. Jupiter might be very well aspected in their chart or the sign in which Jupiter is in their chart matches well with the energy of Jupiter. That would be Sagittarius, Pisces and Cancer. This person is a creator and a good manifestor. They think a lot. They are cerebral. They may strugg with overthinking but their mind reminds their best asset. They are the epitome of brains are sexy. This person would know everything from ancient languages and art skills to the newest knowledge in technology and medicine. They can do anything and everything they set their mind to. In terms of their looks, they are definitely tall. They would tower over you and lift you up like you were a feather. They are strong in all aspects. Their torso is bigger than the lower part of their body. They have broad shoulders, big hands, big forehead and nose, prominent jawline, regardless of their gender. Maybe for the women identifying people the bum and chest would be bigger than other features of their body. And for the men identifying people, the pectorals would be juicy. With the ask body card, this tells me this person works out a lot. They are also very spiritual. They give off a lone wolf energy when really this person has a lot of love to give they just know what they want and they have strong boundaries. So they would never let themselves be walked over or let in people who would bring more BS than anything. This person would keep you on your toes for sure. I feel like they would have a bold fashion style. Something that stands out from current trends or that is unusual for people who are like them. For instance, let’s say this person is quite old, maybe you’d expect them to wear suits and fancy watches. But instead this person has a very casual look or dresses like the younger people. They could be your boss or at least someone who has a higher status than yours. It wouldn’t surprise me if they already had kids. They are well established.

WHEN? - Page of pentacles / Higher perspective / Bismuth : rewrite your code with rainbows.

In terms of timing, the page of pentacles represents several months. Now if we look at the meaning of the page of pentacles, it talks about education. The page is a learner, a student in matters of material aspects. Combined with the Higher perspective card, this definitely gives me the feeling of going back to college. Or getting a training in something very specific. Potentially something involving spirituality. Like taking reiki courses or tarot reading lessons. So I feel this person is a teacher or a mentor to you. With the Bismuth card, I feel like this person will be opening doors for you. And that could be litteral because the door of my room opened out of nowhere as I was trying to get more information from the card. Higher perspective is related to Ether. This means to me that you will meet at a point in your life when you wish to evolve, to embody a better version of yourself and seek to gain knowledge or power.

WHERE? - King of cups / The Explorer / Malachite : claim your success.

We already had kind of a hint with the previous section. And I feel like it’s further confirmed by these cards, especially the Malachite card. Now if we talk about geographical indicators, water seems to be relevant. Also on the Explorer card there’s a compass. So it tells me that where you meet them, there is either a plan or something related to navigation or orientation. Also when looking at this card I heard "you already know where to find them". So it gives me the strong feeling that many of you already know this person and already met them. It’s just that you didn’t consider them your FS. Also the malachite card mentions the workspace. So you could work together. Or you’re doing the same job and you go to them for advice. Also the king of cups card depicts a man sitting on a thrown spilling water in an ocean of sharks. So this also tells me there’s a lot of competition where you meet. And it’s like this person is trying to educate or heal the sharks somehow.

Group 2 - Monet

Disclaimer : I kept confusing you with group 1 and there were cards of group 1 that kept wanting to come into your reading so you might want to check group 1 as well. I think there are two people that have the potential of being your future spouse.

Letters : L I S G E S T M S I E K

Words / signs / names : Selim, time, lies, mess, Tess, seek, kisses, misses, meets, lists, sees, skies, ski, Mike, miles, gems, glee, mist, melt, GSM, kit, leek, miel (French for honey), TMI, MIT, Stiles, geek

Recommended songs : Easy Camilla Cabello, Life goes on AGUSTD , Hall of fame Stray Kids

WHO? - Ace of pentacles / The Seeker / Aragonite : find your center.

Earth signs are being shown here. On the ace of pentacles card there are 8 hands reaching for the pentacle. So your person is wanted by many. They feel younger than you. They are possibly a student or a young active. With the Seeker card I feel like this person hasn’t found their true calling yet. They feel lost and out of balance. Maybe they got a job that doesn’t make them happy or their studies aren’t as fulfilling as they thought. They are super shy and reserved. They may appear as cold when they are just a softy. They have trust issues. They feel really cute to be honest. But also they are lonely. It’s like they keep searching for the one, when they have so many prospects. I feel like they have a lot of high standards and they know that other people don’t match the vibe they’re going for. I feel like this person only has eyes for you but you don’t see them. Again, this group knows their FS already. In terms of physical traits, I feel like this person has good hands. But their body might look out of shape a little. They’re more on the chubby side. They look comforting. Like the type of person that would give the best hugs. Their gaze is really soft. Like a puppy. They feel pretty needy tbh. But not the suffocating type of needy. They just want to be loved and crave for connection. Someone that will share their interests and values. Who will match their crazy and feel safe in their presence. I feel like this person has faced a lot of rejection in the past and they kinda are stuck with this idea that no one wants them. They are an introvert. They like to isolate and be in their bubble. I feel like people have an idea of them that is completely false. Like maybe they think this person is a flirt and parties all night when in truth they’re a couch potato and a gym rat. They only go out of truly needed and they would rather be alone than surrounded by tons of people they barely know. This person wants a family of their own so bad. Like a big family with the white dog and pretty little house. They’re a hopeless romantic and an idealist.

WHEN? - 2 of pentacles / Reclaim / Scolecite : dive into your dreams.

On the 2nd of a month, two months from now. It feels like you may be going back and forth with this person before fully knowing them or being close to them. There’s a chase and run type of energy to this connection. You’ll meet them when you or they are reclaiming your/their power and changing something in your life. So moving houses, changing jobs or getting back to studying. When you start chasing your dreams. Also you could meet them in your dreams before meeting them in person. During any earth sign season.

WHERE? - Queen of pentacles / Power / Amethyst : get drunk on your highest self.

In a places of power or worship such as Cathedrals and Churches, Mosques, temples, town halls, or in a place of education. Also monuments came to mind. Like the Eiffel Tower, the leaning tower of Pisa. There were many stars on the Queen of pentacles’s dress so Europe came to mind. The US and the UK as well. Other places include : Siberia, the Far East, Brazil, Uruguay, Sri Lanka, South Africa, Mexico, Australia, South Korea, India, Austria, Germany, Italy, Canada.

Group 3 - Hokusai

Letters : C Q T E C S L I G A L I

Words/signs/names : Ali, Alice, Alicia, Cecilia, Scilla, Giles, Gael, Gaelic, sigil, sea, sail, Lisa, aigle (French for eagle), Elisa, Elias, Cali, cast, list, tails, IQ, Tesla, sage, Isac, Lila, lilac, cis, alt, ciel (French for sky), call, site, Lise, teal, lace, acts, sell

Recommended songs : Mon amour GEMINI , 3:00 AM Finding hope , Dark on me Starset

WHO? - 6 of pentacles / The Revolutionary / Honey calcite : break through your limits.

First of all, your person might have a white dog. Second of all, they have tanned skin. Thirdly, they could work in law enforcement or they are studying at Law school. They could be doing humanitarian work. They are balanced and grounded. Both in their attitude as well as their personality. They know when to give and when to take, when to talk and when to listen, when to act and when to observe. With the revolutionary card, this tells me that they are pretty determined and ambitious. This person likes to stand for greater causes. So you’d bet that they advocate for children and women rights, for the LGBTQIA+ community, for the respect of nature and animals as well as the end of wars. The signs of Taurus, Aries, Sagittarius and Leo are significant. This person is very sweet. Almost to the point where sometimes they put others needs before their own. Especially if it’s about being fair and giving retribution for wrongs caused by previous generations. This person feels like they have a debt they need to pay. Also they might have suffered abuse in the past so they want to have retribution for them but also for the people who were wronged like they were. In terms of physical traits, their body is harmonious. So for female presenting individuals, they would have kind of an hour glass body type. Same for male presenting individuals. This person feels gender fluid. They are a minimalist. They like to keep things simple when it comes to the way they look. Honestly if they could be naked on a daily basis they would be. They’re in touch with nature. Animals love them. They have a very comforting aura. This person really is as sweet as honey. They could be a creator, a designer, a public speaker. They like to use their voice and their status to raise awareness about things they care about and value. They could be a teacher as well or someone that works with kids.

WHEN ? Page of swords / Paradox / Hematite : align with your wholeness.

When stars align. When you finally let your guards down. When you align with your calling, your soul mission. During any air sign season. Within a few weeks from now. When you’re on your period. When you let go of your old beliefs on love or when you move on from a past love, an unrequited love or a crush that would never have evolved into anything more than friendship. When your spiritual beliefs change drastically (i.e. you decide to convert to a new faith, you no longer believe in God, you choose to follow a spiritual path).

WHERE? - Queen of swords / Get wild / Emerald : point your heart toward grace.

In terms of countries, we have : Colombia, Brazil, Zambia, Zimbabwe, USA, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Russia, Australia. Now, in terms of where you could meet, I'm not getting much from these cards. It's like your FS wants to play hide and seek. They're not really comfortable sharing where they are. The only thing I'm picking up on is somewhere where the law is involved. So it could be an administration, a police station, law school, a lawyer's office, a prison. With the get wild card, the only hint I can get is that it can get intense. I asked for a card to clarify the Queen of swords and I got the 9 of pentacles. So law and money are involved. So maybe a bank or an insurance company. Or somewhere businesses and entrepreneurs go to get advice on how to invest their money or know if something they intend to do is legal or not.

[perkqularkreashions]

Living with the Enemy, Joe Goldberg x Reader

Part 1: Last Nice Guy in New York??

Prompt: YN is close friends with Peach, Annika, Beck, and Lynn. She doesn't fit into their circle, nor does she try to. Joe soon sets his sights on YOU, leading to a domino effect within Y/N's life.

Requested: YES | Requested are OPEN|

Warnings: Mature Content, Manipulation, Stalking, Slightly Proofread.

It had been some time since you last spoke with Peach and her willing and obedient entourage. You blissfully ignored them, avoiding the usual hangouts and skipping daily walks with your son. You took different routes and dined at other eateries, and for a while, you enjoyed this simple and slow-paced lifestyle. 

It was a particularly warm day in New York; the increasing winds had died, allowing you to turn off the space heaters that litter your apartment. You relished the smell of cleaning products and baby formula rather than burning rubber. You watched as Rafi bounced around in his walker from his room back to the living room. His hand slapped against some trinket that sang a quick tune of “You are my sunshine.” It was probably his favorite plaything on that bouncer, but it annoyed the absolute hell out of you. The loud and high-pitched continuous loop of "you are my sunshine... my only sunshine", but he loved it, so you endure it. You cracked open the window, allowing the fresh air to filter into the apartment, the warm breeze washing over you briefly before returning to stillness. Contently, you sighed. Your eyes flickered to the door; a hesitant knock followed by two more confident knocks. You shuffled off the couch, unable to gaze through the peephole due to the grime built up over the years. You mentally noted that you need to tell the landlord about that. Unlocking your three deadbolts, you pressed your ear against the door, hearing the muffled female voices.

You opened the door and noticed Peach, Beck, Lynn, and Annika. Your eyes widened as you stumbled back, Peach charging into the apartment. Her eyes glanced around as she brightly smiled at Rafi before returning her cold gaze to you. She crosses her arms, waiting for you to fill the silence with an apology. The tension hung in the air like a heavy fog, palpable and suffocating everyone as they all watched you, their once easy rapport replaced by an uneasy silence. Every word left unsaid seemed to echo between them, filling the space with a sense of unease that was almost tangible. You chuckled before turning away, gathering some of Rafi’s items out of habit. “You don’t just go MIA for weeks like that!” Everyone slowly shifts into the apartment; you feel suffocated. “I called, you never answer.”

You plainly answered, “I know.” You shoved some clothes into the hamper before returning to the group. You tried to think of something to say and formulate something harsh and crude to say back to Peach and her brainless minions that followed her every call, jumping at the snap of her fingers and pleading for some sort of acceptance from her. You sighed, sitting on the sage-colored love seat, your elbows resting on your knees as you rubbed your temples gently. “Peach, you and your…whatever this is. Can happily get the fuck out of my apartment. You can’t just storm into my home and expect me to drop to my knees begging for you to what…forgive me?” 

You felt the couch dip next to you, the smell of her engulfing you. It iterated the fuck out of you yet offered you a warm feeling. She was home; despite her manipulation, gas-lighting, and bitch behavior, she was home. You finally looked at her, your face growing warm as you pressed your lips together. Her smile growing as she knew, she squealed, wrapping her arms around you. “Say you forgive us… me?” You nodded against her before pulling back. “Great, let’s go out to eat! We’ve missed you and have lots to catch you up on!”

You nodded, pressing a feigned smile on her lips; Annika smiled, wrapping you in a brief, one-armed hug. She was followed by Lyn, who seemed more than pleased that you had returned. They moved away, gawking at Rafi as they spoke with him in an annoying, high-pitched tone. They were flashing toys in front of him before snatching them quickly as he giggled loudly. You stood beside Beck; an awkward silence washed over you both. Beck wanted to speak… she wanted to ask if what Peach had been filling in her head was true. Suppose you had been trying to pine after Joe; how would she feel? She admitted her feelings for Joe were growing; she liked having him around and the attention he provided her when Benji was off on a binge of whatever drug would provide him with whatever relief. “We missed you… I missed you,” Beck spoke, cutting through the silence. 

“I’m sorry,” You mumbled, bumping into her shoulder and offering her a half smile. She tucked a small piece of hair behind her ear.  

“I’ve been dying to tell you about everything, I mean everything,” Beck whispers through her laugh as she watches you for a moment. Beck confided you about everything; you weren’t judgmental and never gave advice—you were just a lending ear that she craved in the whirlpool that was Peach. You sighed, knowing that no matter where you were in your life and how far you thought you had escaped Peach, she was always lurking in the shadows, ready to devour you at any minute.

You hummed softly, your hand occasionally, moving the visor back to check to see if your son was still alive. Your hand fluttered in front of his face; quickly, he reached for your fingers. You had spent most of the morning shopping for groceries and wanting to find some fresh produce. You gathered green apples, strawberries, and some blueberries. It has been a slow-paced morning; class was canceled, you were finally caught up on your assignments, and only needed to grade some papers from some of your classes. You hadn’t seen Peach since your lunch date with the girls two weeks ago. It was spent, for the most part, talking about Beck’s choices in men and the plethora of men that have taken her to bed… all this steaming from Benji ghosting her. You didn’t know what she saw in him, but he was a poser and couldn’t hold down an idea, let alone his own business. She had fucked, Mr. Bedroom Eyes, someone that she had met in the library, all while leading on Joe and worrying about Benji.

Your eyes shifted slightly; noticing him underneath the navy-blue baseball cap, he examined the fruit before placing it down. You smiled brightly, peering left and right before approaching him. You stuttered for a moment; wait is it weird that you were approaching him? Did you even need to say hello? You stood behind him, mindlessly watching his gaze at the fruit. Weaving through the throngs of people as your eyes held steady on him, your hands tightening against the stroller. Panic surged through you, threatening to overwhelm my senses as your hands hesitantly reach out to his shoulder. Joe jumped as he spun around; a toothy grin fell on his lips as his eyes shifted to Rafi. “Sorry, this must be weird.” You quickly tried to explain, and yet there you stood. 

“No!” Joe smiled, “No weird at all.” He watched you, taking in your beauty from the curve of your lips to the furrow of your brows. Your eyes are a soft color, filled with so much emotion. He contained his excitement, continuing to handle the slightly ripe peach in his hand. A soft breath of relief escaped your lips; Joe watched you, taking in every moment, from the twitch of your eye when you smiled to the slight tightening of your hands against the stroller’s handle. Were you nervous? You didn’t need to be! I am all yours! Joe’s thoughts muddled aggressively through his head, his eyes concentrating more on your slight movements, the way you shifted your weight to your left hip as you stood there, watching him. Your index finger nervously taps before stopping.

“Good, I thought it’d be weird if I recognized you in this crowded space,” you laughed; it was soft. A small smile crept on his face as he moved closer to you, a single step to be closer to you. You slightly shifted, leaning against the stroller as you pushed it in front of you before bringing it back. “It’s nice to see you again.” Your heart fluttered as you watched his goofy take hold of his lips. His cheeks dusted pink as he nodded hesitantly; he stepped forward, watching you walk away in the crowd, occasionally wiggling your fingers in front of your son’s view. 

“Are you alone?” Joe mentally cringed as you paused, peering over your shoulder in confusion, “I meant, I could keep you company while you go shopping… If you don’t mind.” Do you mind? You wouldn’t mind, would you? Joe thought; he watched you ponder his offer, and you fully faced him as you smiled, nodding at him. Joe joined you, shoulders bumping into each other as you continued to walk through the farmer’s market. Looking at the different herbs and vegetation sprawled on the tables, you fingered at them, rubbing your fingers with a concentrated look on your face as Joe pushed Rafi. Joe watched you in awe, his hand gripping against the stroller in angst and yearning. He watched you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear; you quickly turned to him, putting a strong-smelling herb in his face. He winced as he swatted at his nose; you laughed softly before agreeing with the saleswoman that the left one was more pungent. 

“My mom made this weird-tasting soup for me when I was sick, but it always helped. It helps when Rafi has a little bug. He hates it; he scratches at my arms when I force-feed it to him.” You laughed, showing him the small craters in her skin that hadn’t healed properly. Joe took your arm, letting his thumb trace over the craters. “He’s so mean when he wants to be; I guess he gets that from his dad.” Joe watched you, taking in every word that was said. 

“His dad hit you?” You were stunned; you placed the herbs in your tote bag before looking at Rafi, making a slight face and tickling him. Joe observed you, your face tense as you seemingly tried to feign enjoyment in the brief time with your son. He watched how you weren’t standing so close to him; your shoulders still touched every again, but not the same as before. Joe cursed at himself for bringing it up; Joe hated that he made you feel so small and helpless again. You froze at the sound of your name; Joe noticed it, too. He peered over his shoulder seeing someone rush to you, his hand waving wildly as he began to jog to catch up to you. He called your name again. Joe’s eyes flickered at you, and you were frozen, eyes wide in fear. Joe leaned closer to you, but you were snapped out of thoughts when the man stood directly behind you. You slowly turned, now facing the stranger. Joe watched the man; something about was familiar, the curve of his lip and the bushiness of his brow. His hair was long and pulled into a rendition of a man-bun with some pieces falling in front of his face; he was clean-shaven and muscular. His skin was a deep cooper color that glistened but wasn’t sweat…more of an oil-based lotion. 

“It’s been so long!” he smiled with a bright smile, teeth perfect and in a row, no obscurities or imperfection. He tried reaching out for a hug, but you backed away, letting a small smile rest on your lips. You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to for Joe to notice how uncomfortable you were. “Who’s this?” His eyes never left yours. Joe could see the intimidation in his eyes, and his smile never reached his eyes when he spoke. 

Joe moved the stroller before him, stretching his hand in the process; a bright smile rested on his lips. “Joe.” The man didn’t acknowledge him or care for his name. Finally, he passed him a glance, his face churning into a distasteful look. His eyes moved to the stroller, and as a bright smile crossed his lips, he bent down for a moment. Wiggling at Rafi’s shoes, speaking in a babbled baby talk before looking up to you again. 

“You know he misses you and him; you shouldn’t run away. Especially with his child.” The man spoke, and he stood to his feet. “See around.” He spoke before brushing past you. Joe grabbed your arm, and you winced momentarily, flinching away from him. Your eyes finally connected with Joe’s; you sucked in a deep breath before grabbing unto the stroller. A sense of comfort washed over you. 

“Thanks for today… for this. I appreciate it,” you hummed. Joe nodded, watching you walk away; his eyes focused on the man who had ruined your perfect day together. It started innocently enough, stumbling into an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. Plunging into the maze of crowds, Joe found himself, trailing the stranger, drawn by the same curiosity that everyone in the market has. Joe shadowed his movements, picking up a weathered journal or a fruit that was slightly ripe. His eyes cut to the man every chance he had gotten. As Joe meanders through the maze of makeshift booths and colorful displays, the man he’s following remains blissfully unaware of his presence. They weave through the crowd, partaking in a dance that only Joe is aware of. 

“Dom! Dom! Dom Batista! As I live and breathe in the flesh it is you!” Joe groaned at the dramatic nature of New Yorkians, every word that stumbles out of their mouth an illicit affair with Shakespeare and a Soap Opera. “It has been so long since we’ve last seen each other!”

Joe followed behind you, face low as he watched you hurriedly move through the streets, passing men and women alike. 

Batista….Batista….Batista is the name of a Judge in New York City; their mother was an actress who starred in plenty of movies before her fall from grace and getting addicted to cocaine. They had three children, three boys: Jonathan, the oldest—who was a criminal defense attorney. He was married with two sons. He didn’t post on social media, but his wife, Mary Glassgo, came from an Affluent family in Virginia who had established wealth through “other means.” during the late 1700s, did, in fact, post and posted often. She was overly descriptive and pictured all the locations where they dined, shopped, and vacationed. She was on a trip with her two sons, enjoying the mountains in Vermont.  The caption was, “Can’t get away from life all the time, but when I do, it’s always with my two favorite boys.” Joe followed you across the street, scrolling through her Instagram until he came across a photo from Thanksgiving; he dragged his thumb across the screen, revealing a picture of her and another man who looked similar to Jonathan, tagged was St_Do_Batista. Dominick, the middle— Joe, recgonized him as the man he saw today; he frequently posted almost every day at the gym. He was a professional boxer; his face wasn’t riddled with too many lacerations and scars, which indicated that he was good at his craft. He had a girlfriend, one of many girlfriends. They all came and gone, as soon as a new one would be posted with a bright smile, not knowing her fate. Petite blondes, curvy brunettes, tall red-heads, even some bald girls with tattoos riddling every surface of their bodies.  

“Hello….” Joe thought; he scrutinized the photo, and you were smiling, your cheek pressed against him as you embraced him. He just won a fight; he hugged you tight. Joe scrolled to the following image… it was a video; he played it. You giggled as he spun, cheering as one hand held you tight against him. You spoke gently, words that the camera didn’t pick up, nor did anyone else. He continued to scroll as he noticed that most photos were of you cooking in his house, at the park with him, on his couch with the laptop tucked on your thighs as you carefully examined whatever was on the screen. You took up a majority of his life and then nothing. Joe saw a picture of him and another look similar to the Batista family; he clicked on the tagged name. RafiBat didn’t post much, but when he did, he generated a lot of attention from women. He was a boxer, too, and he and his brother were often referred to as the Basista Brothers. He didn’t post you often, once or twice; that was in photos with Dominick. But it was evident that you both were friends. He was attending a university known for its Marine Biology program. He had been traveling overseas, where he had been for the last few months, pictures of him with sharks, fish, turtles, and some other classmates. There was a picture of you, smiling brightly in his bed with her belly exposed; it was small, possibly in the early months of your pregnancy. His caption read “My Everything.”

Joe’s attention was averted to the left as he noticed someone briskly walking, eyes concentrated on you. His hand dug into his pocket as he pulled out his phone, dialing quickly. He spoke before hanging up. Did you not notice? Did you feel someone following you? Joe broke off in a sprint, laughing softly before calling out your name; you peered over your shoulder in confusion, hesitating as you squinted your eyes at him. 

Joe’s body collided against yours, taking your hand as he smiled gently. “Why’d you run off like that? I was looking for you everywhere!” he calls out exaggeratedly loud, his hand falling at his side; he watched your wide eyes swiftly snap to him while he continued to guide you forward, Joe’s hand pressed on your lower back. “Someone has been following you,” he whispered through a gritted smile. Her body stiffened as his words echoed through the stillness in the air; you were tempted to look, her head inching to the left slightly. “No, don’t look… Just keep walking baby.” You hummed in understanding. Joe peered over his shoulder, watching the man avoiding the dim street lights, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his body focused ahead of him, but he could see the whites of his eyes and the darkness of his orbs staring deep into your side. Then Joe remembered the small encounter you had at Peach’s party, the drunken party-goer grabbing you, retelling his woes of missing their friend group and a man who seemed to miss you just as much. Your body reacted negatively, your eyes watering, and your skin paled as you stumbled away from him.  Joe watched your hands dance against your face, trying to wipe the anxiety that was trailing through your body. Joe wanted to lead you home, protecting you from the evils lurking in the shadows you weren’t aware of. Joe allowed you to lead you both to your apartment complex. Joe swiftly grabbed Rafael, allowing you to close the stroller. You put in the code 76477; Joe held open the door as you shuffled in your hands, digging through your satchel in search of your keys. He noticed three locks; just as if you practiced this a hundred times, you easily unlocked the door. 

Joe smelled deeply, taking in the scent of baby powder and your aroma. Rafael rested against his neck, his chest breathing gently as he slept. His tiny breaths could be heard as they smacked against his pacifier. Joe scanned your apartment again; it was vastly bigger than Beck’s and his. His eyes fell on an opening; it wasn’t too big but just big enough to have a window, an oak-colored crib decorated with white and green. “You can just set him down in there…He won’t last too long in the crib,” He heard your voice as you locked the front door. You were latching on the deadbolts and other self-brought knick-knacks. Joe set Rafi down, brushing his hair out his face; he squirmed slightly in a panic. Joe quickly turned on the mobile, slightly out of reach for Rafi. He pressed a button; the mobile began to hum to live, and soon, water sounds came on. Splashing, sounds of whales and dolphins, and what seems like rain hitting the waters. It was soothing, and Rafi’s face soon mellowed. Joe allowed Rafi to hold unto his finger; his grip was tight as his body sprawled on the crib’s mattress.

“He usually isn’t so peaceful to put down. He must like you.” He heard you whisper; Joe peered over his shoulder, watching your head pressed against the door’s frame. Joe removed his finger, returning his attention to you. You walked out of the room as Joe followed you. The silence washed over you as you paced around the room, trying to find the right words. Joe stood there, waiting, allowing you to take as much time as needed. 

“Joe?” You finally whispered, your eyes finally landing on him. In that moment, Joe felt your souls tying together, latching and burning into each other. “Thank you.” you pushed out, tucking your bottom lip into your teeth. 

“I noticed him following you after the market…I didn’t know what to do but when I saw him trying to cross the street… Who is he?” 

“Dominick, my ex’s brother. Rafi’s father.” Joe nodded; you trusted him, you trusted him. You weren’t a liar like Beck, “Dom and I were close; I even thought we would be together, but then he got a girlfriend. He stopped coming around, that’s when I met Rafael, he was gentle at first…but I guess that was the point. I had a fling with him and then with his brother, shit just got messy fast, and I got pregnant. That’s when he got abusive… I tried pressing charges, but his dad always dropped the cases, saying that I was a daughter of a junky prostitute and a “john.” I asked for a different judge and each time I was denied. I was finally….finally allowed to get a restraining against him, but it expired, and I wasn’t allowed to renew due to no current impending dangers.” Joe watched you; he stepped close to you, grabbing your arms. You sighed, looking up at him. 

“If you need anything, anything… I am here for you.” Joe whispers; you nod, folding your arms underneath each other.

Please ask me to say; please beg me to stay. Joe thought; he nodded as he moved away from the couch. “Joe, wait!” You stood up, “You don’t mind staying for the night, do you? I would feel comfortable with a man around the house… just for the night.” Your voice is soft, and Joe could tell you needed him. He couldn’t deny you. He peered over his shoulder and smiled. 

The night progressed as you lay in the bed, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. Your eyes squeezing shut, trying to feign being asleep in hopes of tricking your mind into slumber.

“Joe, are you sleeping?” You called out into the darkness, “Joe?” You called out once more, panicked; you sat up quickly squinting through the darkness as you watched his chest slowly fall and rise. You sighed for a moment, shifting comfortably in the bed.

“Yes?” 

Joe rises from the couch, groaning as he shuffles to you. He crawls into bed, and you open the covers, allowing him to slide in. His eyes were low from being awoken from his sleep, his hands tight as he observed you move closer to him. You craved his warmth; a sense of comfort and protection seeped through to you. Your eyes focused on Joe’s, watching through the stillness of the night and the slight light that the moon gave you. His hand gently reached out, tucking your hair behind your ear, holding onto the strand until he reached the end. He moved closer, pressing a kiss on your forehead. He held it, trying to compose himself. He didn’t want to push himself onto you; he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He wasn’t going to be like your ex or your father. Joe pulled back, your eyes fluttering open hesitantly, and you moved closer to him. Your lips molded together, smacking in the silence as your slight hums vibrated into his mouth. He pulled away; you were vulnerable and seeking out comfort in him. He needed to wait to see if this feeling rang true. He wanted you more than you could know, more than he thought possible. He couldn’t take advantage of you like this, not right now… not ever. He cuffed your cheek, kissing your forehead before you, wishing you a good night.

Burning something evoked a wide range of emotions in Joe, a symbol of something new shifting in the atmosphere. The flicker of a match igniting, the scent of smoke swirling in the air, and the crackle of flames consuming the body— the overwhelming sensory experiences that engage him in the death of Benji. He stood over the growing flames, watching them dance against his body; Joe thought he would feel at ease. He couldn’t–his mind racing back to you and Rafi. Joe grew angry, feeling compelled to kill Benji; he was powerless against the woe of Beck, her smile and innocence being stripped away. It's as if his autonomy is being stripped away, leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed. The heightened feelings of frustration and resentment began to grow through this loss of control. 

He thought of you as he smelled the charred remains of Benji, your face dancing in the flames. He sighed, pushing his forearm against his brow. He quickly dialed you; he needed to hear your voice. 

“Joey?” Joe heard you whisper, soothing all anxieties that rushed through him. His hand gripping the steering wheel. “Joey? Everything alright?” He hummed, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. It has been one month since he had forced his way into your apartment, leaving articles of clothing behind and coming up with any excuse to stay the night, not that you minded. He had a key to your apartment now, coming in the mornings and getting Rafi together for daycare as you prep for classes and graded papers. Your glasses hung off the bridge of your nose while you gnawed on the cap of the pen—your eyes shifting from the monitor to the paper as you scribbled some markings on it before moving on to the next. The way his lips danced against yours, his hands gently caressed your skin as your lips tangled.

“Yes, everything is alright.” He heard you shuffling, the covers shifting off your body. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, Joey, no, you didn’t. What’s wrong?” You could always read him; you would always tell. You didn’t even have to look at him to see that something was picking at him. He knew that you were good for him; you were everything that he needed you to be. Joe remained silent; the only that was heard was Rafi’s babbling. “Just come over and well talk, okay.”

“Okay.” Joe hung up and made his way to you, his head spinning from his recent murder. His fingers trembled as he pulled down your street, finding a parking spot adjacent to your apartment building. He moved out of the car. His key jingled in the locks swiftly; you swung open the door, watching in bewilderment. Worry drawn on your eyebrows and lips. “Joey, what is going on? Was it—”

“No…no, just Beck.” You nodded for a moment, allowing him to enter the apartment; slamming the door, you proceeded to deadbolt the locks. You stared at the final lock, trying to compose yourself; he wasn’t yours. You were just friends. Why did it hurt at the mention of her name at the thought of him being at her apartment, embracing her? “She just makes me insane, always having to watch her and look out for her. All the lies and the—” You picked up the clothes that scattered the floor, tossing them in Rafi’s dirty clothes hamper. Mindlessly, you grabbed the toys, tossing them in a bin as they interrupted his sentence. 

“I see.” was all you could mumble out, your eyes flickering to him. He continued to ramble about how he didn’t trust her–how she was always so secretive around him. But that was Beck; the doe-like look in her eyes always masked the truth that crawled beneath the surface. She was manipulative; everything she did was calculated and meticulous. Her bold red lip contrasted against her pale skin, and her dress revealed just enough of her thigh to keep her professor yearning for more. The way she teased and poked at man’s most animalistic and primitive yearning, dangling it in front of their face before yanking it. You turned to face him, letting the hamper fall against the floor. 

“I frankly don’t want to hear about Beck. I understand she’s your girlfriend or whatever she is but, I can’t take hearing about her. When you’re sitting in my apartment, helping me take care of my son… playing house with me. I don’t want to hear about Beck. I get enough of her when I am with them. Every issue that plagues her, I hear about, all the damn time. Benji, you, the Captian. I can’t–I just can’t do it.” You turn away, heated you move into the bathroom face burning with embarrassment and angry. Angrily you slapped at the knob, turning on the hot water on. It screeched for a moment before the hot water spit out.

As you step into the shower, the hot water cascades over your skin, offering a momentary reprieve from the turmoil. Droplets dance across your body, carrying away the remnants of anger and frustration that cling to you like a heavy cloak. With each passing second, the tension melts away, replaced by a soothing sensation of renewal. You close your eyes, allowing the water to envelop you completely, washing away the Beck and Joe's monologue that echoed in your mind. Steam fills the air, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you stand beneath the gentle stream, letting it cleanse your body and soul. Slowly, the weight of the conversation begins to lift, replaced by a sense of clarity and calm. In this sanctuary of steam and solitude, you find solace. You sighed as the shower opened; you saw his feet planted in the shower and the sound of a soft sigh resting in the air. You feel his hands gliding against your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips pecked your shoulder, sucking in the aroma that cascaded around him. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”  His hand gently drummed your abdomen, his cock hardening against you as he pecked at you, his hands moving to your breast, kneading at them slowly, letting his fingers squeeze and tug at your nipples. 

“Please, forgive me” he whispered; you couldn’t say no to him. So, you nodded, turning around fully to face him. Pressing a gently kiss against his lip, stepping out of the shower, grabbing the towel as you instantly moved to Rafi’s crib. 

As the tears streamed down his Rafi’s flushed cheeks, Joe’s heart ached with empathy. With gentle hands, he lifted the sobbing child into his arms, cradling him against his chest, his hand rubbing circles against his back something that he noticed his mom and he liked. Leaning close, he murmured soothing words in a soft, reassuring tone, his voice a balm to the boy's distressed soul. With each gentle stroke of his hand and whispered promise, Joe felt the tension begin to melt away from his Rafi’s trembling form. He rocked him back and forth, a steady rhythm that mirrored the beating of his own heart, a silent vow to always be there to chase away the shadows and dry the tears. Joe moved back your bed, and you reached out your arms, allowing Rafi to settle into your chest and Joe to cuddle back into your side. Rafi was a crybaby and wanted you to hold him 25/8; you wanted to break him out of that habit. Joe and you had been working on getting him to sleep through the night in his crib, it would only last two nights out of the week before Joe caved and dragged himself to Rafi’s crib, engulfing him in his arms. You didn’t bother to correct him; you could tell that something was off with him. You two didn’t speak much after your moment the shower; you didn’t try to get him to speak either.

A heavy knock on the door had woken Joe; he hissed in frustration, moving the walker out of the way as he stumped his toe against it. He looked back, seeing Rafi whining for him, his arm stretched as he crawled closer to the edge of the bed. Joe scooped him up, snatching your phone and checking the time—7:37 AM. He grunted as he moved to unlock the deadbolts and finally the door. The door swung open, revealing Peach. Her eyes widened as she glanced at Joe; quickly, she shook her head, trying to find the right words to say but couldn’t. Peach observed him, eyes squinted in fury and confusion. “She’s sleeping Peach.”

She called out your name, moving into the living room, her eyes falling on you as you lay in bed. Her head snapped to Joe, realizing that he was in his boxers. “What the fuck! What did you do to her?” Peach asked as she tried to grab Rafi. Joe stiffed her and backed away as she continued to reach for your son. 

Joe held Rafi tightly in his arms as Peach had her outstretched arms and a determined frown on her face. Ignoring Joe’s protective grip, Peach reached for the child, her fingers brushing against Joe’s before clasping around the little one's hand. Joe’s heart skipped a beat, a surge of protectiveness welling up within him. He pulled back, his hand resting against Rafi’s back as he watched Peach’s face morph, her eyes narrowing before he turned her attention to you. 

“Peach? What–What are you doing?” You shifted from the covers, you were in a grey crewneck, a B printed in brown and outlined in red. Your hair messing tied away from your face as you squinted to fully focus on her. 

“No! No—what are you doing?” She hisses, stomping towards you, your finger jabbing into the air as she throws her hands dramatically. 

“Peach, he was just—I saw Dominick. Since then, he has been here for me. Nothing… Nothing else has been going on.” You shouted over her rambles. Something in her face changed; she slammed her mouth shut, looking at you, taking in your words. She grabbed the back of her arm, holding it tighter to her person. Joe noticed the slight change in her demeanor at the mention of Dominick; he scared her. 

“Did you–” You quickly shook her hand, stretching out your hands for Rafi; Joe quickly moved to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed as Rafi crawled into your lap. Joe’s hands rested on top of yours; he pressed his lips against Rafi’s head before cuffing your chin. He rose to his feet. He grabbed his things, placing them on his clothes. He jiggled his phone before leaving out of your apartment, a silent single for you to call him when she leaves. “When did that happen?”

“Nothing happened. He just was here for me at the time and… I trust him.” Peach laughs, sitting on the bed. 

“Trust him, absolutely not. You know he’s playing you just like he’s playing Beck!” You rolled your eyes, unsure of what to make of her accusations. I mean, they weren’t incorrect in their entirety. Joe had a fleeting romance with Beck and probably still does. “He’s using you. I lost Beck to him, and I am not going to lose you. In this stupid ideology where you think you need him! You don’t need him! I am here for you; call me if you are feeling scared; call me if you are feeling down!” 

“I know” you mumbled, caressing Rafi. “I shouldn’t trust him” you confessed. “I really shouldn’t” a bitter laugh left your throat as you chocked on a sob that rose in your throat. 

“He could be like Rafael! You are so blinded by love that you didn’t see it then, but I did, and now, I do.” Peach whispered, as she inched in Joe’s spot. Resting her head against your chest, her hands wrapping against your torso. 

 Joe stood outside the closed door, his fists clenched at his sides, he strained to hear the muffled voices from within. Anger simmered beneath his skin, fueled by the snippets of conversation that reached his ears. Each word felt like a dagger, piercing through the thin veneer of his composure. He could hear her strained voice, a mixture with a Peach’s voice—a voice that grated on his nerves like sandpaper. His jaw tightened, muscles coiling with tension as he fought the urge to burst through the door and confront the source of his jealousy head-on. The temptation to intervene, to demand answers, pulsed through him like a steady drumbeat, drowning out reason and restraint. With every passing moment, his anger mounted, a raging inferno threatening to consume him whole. Yet, for now, he remained on the other side of the door, a silent witness to his own unraveling emotions. Something needed to happen, Peach was always in the way, the intricate dance of relationships that she always blocked. Stepping on his toes and stealing you away from him. Tangling you in her grasp, the same spell that Beck was under.  She was a figure looming in the background, casting a shadow over any potential romance that Joe worked so hard to grow and nourish. Her presence was like a shield, deflecting any attempts at romantic advancement with a casual remark or a well-timed interruption. 

He needed to kill her; her undoing was all the fault of her own. 

Goodbye Peach Sallinger. 

[spideystevie]

bad for business

summary: steve’s good for your heart but he’s really bad for business word count: 4.5k a/n: me every time i post after being mia for months: who’s missed me! this was technically supposed to be inspired by bad for business by sabrina carpenter and then suddenly it wasn’t. not even sure there’s much of a plot but alas! also feel a little rusty at this right now, it’s been a while since i’ve really written anything but i’ve missed steve a crazy insane amount. love you, miss you, hope you all enjoy this <3

You’re late. You’re never late. 

The bell above the door to Dottie’s jingles as you hurry inside. Your fingers work on muscle memory to tie your apron around your waist as you slide through the mismatched seating arrangements inside the diner to get to the back office. 

You’re not sure if the way your stomach flips is from it being full of a single gulp of coffee or because it’s more than an hour past when you should’ve been here. The time punch on your card reads 9:07 am and your stomach lurches. Definitely not the coffee. 

It’s a Sunday, arguably your busiest day in the diner and arguably the worst day for you to show up like this. No doubt Dottie has noticed but you’re hoping against hope that she didn’t. God, what are you going to tell her?

Sorry Dottie! My super hot, super charming boyfriend wouldn’t let me out of bed this morning! Won’t happen again! 

Your face feels warm, like you’ve just spent an extensive amount of time in the sun in the middle of July. You knew you shouldn’t have stayed over last night, but you were so tired and Steve’s couch is way more comfier than yours. It really doesn’t help that his bed isn’t any different. 

“Lots of traffic this morning?” you jump, notepad falling out of your hand. Susan starts to snicker as you drop down to pick it up. There’s a smirk on her face when you rise to full height. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail and her name tag is crooked on her apron. You’re not sure you’d consider Susan one of your closest friends but you find yourselves pulled together considering she’s the only other young person working here. 

“Oh you know…,” your voice rises in pitch and you clear your throat, hitching one shoulder up to your ear in a shrug. “Sometimes you just hit every red.”

Susan’s eyes narrow. There’s only one working light on your usual route to work. Coming from Steve’s adds only two. Not to mention, you didn’t drive yourself today. Steve dropped you off, promising to pick you up at 4 on the dot when your shift ended. Susan pops her gum in her mouth, not convinced with your fib.

“Right.”

“Yeah. Now if you’ll excuse me, Cliff is waiting for me in his usual booth,” you hurry past before she can ask you anything incriminatory. You hear Dottie before you see her, on your way to grab the coffee pot. 

“You feeling okay, sweetie? You’re normally here right on the dot. An hour isn’t like you.”

Dottie’s older than most and she’s been running the diner outside Hawkins for a whopping 30 years now. She hangs out behind the counter and loves to chat with the regulars and get to know those just passing through. With rosy cheeks and gray streaked hair almost always pulled out of her face in a bun, she’s almost like another mom with how long you’ve been working here. 

You snag the excuse she basically throws you out of the air. 

“Had a bit of a rough night, but I’m feeling a lot better now, Dot. Didn’t realize I had overslept until I heard the birds chirping outside. It won’t happen again,” you say. 

You didn’t oversleep actually. Whatever natural circadian clock inside of you wakes you up at almost the same time every workday but Steve can be quite convincing when he wants to be. Your heart does a little sigh of his name. Steve. You swallow and try to blink away the image of him.

Dottie gives you a sympathetic smile with a concerned tilt of the head, taking your flustered mannerisms and the way you wipe your palms against the sides of your jeans as lingering symptoms of whatever she thinks ailed you last night. She squeezes your bicep, the press of her mixed metal rings cool against your skin.

“Take it easy today, okay? You let me know if you need anything.”

“Course, Dottie. Thank you,” you give her a smile and grab the coffee pot. 

Cliff sits at the same spot every morning. A little booth along the window wall, three down from the door to the diner. He looks a bit rough around the edges, his coat well loved and worn and his hands weathered from years of hard work. He’s worn the same baseball cap every time you’ve seen him and he’s always got a copy of the morning paper open and propped in front of his face. 

He spots you out of the corner of his eye and scoots his empty mug closer to the table’s edge. You smile and pour the coffee, leaving enough room for his two packets of Sweet ‘n’ Low to be stirred in. 

“Anything new this morning, Cliff?” 

You’ve only known Cliff on his own, but you know he used to come with his late wife Winnie for coffee every morning before she passed. He’d summarize the big news and events and she’d do the crosswords on the back. Now, you let him summarize to you and he leaves the paper on the table for you. You do the crosswords on your break. 

“Same old, same old. They’re thinking about rebuilding the mall that burned down in Hawkins a few summers ago. You hear anything about that?” He sets the paper down to the right of his coffee mug and grabs two pink packets of sweetener. You watch him tear the paper and pour them in. When he looks at you, you shake your head. 

“First time I’m hearing of it. My boyfriend used to work there before it…you know,” you mention, unable to stop the morsel of information from slipping out. A twinkle sparks in Cliff’s eye, a small smile on his face as he diverts his attention back to his mug. The spoon he’s stirring with clinks against the coffee stained ceramic walls. 

“Are you ever gonna bring this boyfriend of yours around here so I can actually see that he’s real?” He’s teasing, tapping the handle of the spoon against the rim of the mug and setting it in the gap between the coffee and the newspaper. You roll your eyes but a smile lifts your cheeks. 

“I don’t know if that’d be too good for business around here,” you joke. 

“And was he the reason you were late giving me my coffee this morning?” He's quick to cover his smirk with the coffee mug as he takes a sip. Your mouth falls agape and you fluster, shaking your head and laughing shakily. 

“Ha ha, very funny, Cliff. No, he was not. There was traffic!” Cliff makes a face at this and you don’t blame him. Has the traffic excuse ever worked for living in a small town, you wonder. “And I had a rough night and accidentally overslept, is all.”

He grabs his morning paper again and opens it up. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

The rest of the morning starts to fly by in a blur. You recite your favorites off the menu to a couple passing through from Chicago. Refill Cliff’s coffee twice, each time dodging whatever he tries to insinuate about your tardiness this morning. Sneak an extra pancake onto little Sofie’s plate with a wink. The early morning breakfast rush blows through and things start to quiet down. 

You’re wiping down the table adjacent to Cliff’s booth. His mug is empty and he’s left the paper for you like usual. The bell rings as he opens the door to leave. 

“See you tomorrow, Cliff!” you call after him and he raises a hand in a wave as he walks through the door, thanking the young man that holds it for him. 

You have to do a double take as you swipe the paper off the table. It’s not just any young man in passing holding the door, no it’s Steve coming inside Dottie’s. It’s Steve standing at the entrance in his usual Levi’s and a white tee with sleeves that seem to strain around his biceps with windswept hair and a bright smile when he sees you. 

There goes your heart again with the sigh of his name. Steve. Though maybe this time you think it was your voice instead, airy and soft. You can’t believe he’s here. It’s nowhere near 4’o’clock. You’re aware of Dottie’s eyes on you behind the counter and Susan’s from across the diner and nearly every regular scattered about as well. 

Your knees wobble at the sight of him, the disbelief fading away and giddy smile falling into place as he meets you next to Cliff’s booth. Cliff, who’s standing outside the diner and staring and you worry he might come back inside to hound you and insist you introduce him, but he doesn’t. 

Steve wraps an arm around your waist, fingers hot against the side of your stomach through the layers of your apron and shirt, and dips to press a kiss to your cheek in greeting. There’s a rush of a swoon that goes down to your toes, the bulk of it getting stuck in your abdomen and swirling like crazy.

You’re in the middle of a greasy old diner but Steve’s somehow tucked you away from prying eyes and into your own little safety bubble. He’ll be the death of you one day. Your heart’ll just keep expanding until it can’t fit inside your ribcage anymore and has no choice but to explode from adoration and kill you. 

“What are you doing here?” you wonder aloud, eyes scanning all around his face, taking in every freckle and crinkle and mole. You pause for a minute on his lips and then you blink and find his eyes. He’s smiling at you, in a way that tells you he caught that and you feel struck by that feeling of being caught in the July sun again. He looks around the diner and everyone’s attention goes back to what they were doing before.

“Thought I’d surprise you! Also, it’s supposed to rain later and you didn’t take a jacket so I brought you one.”

Only then do you notice the gray fabric in his other hand and your heart twists and flips and oh god, you think this might be the moment it explodes. He presses it into your hands, the newspaper crinkling against it. 

“What’s that?” he asks as you go to thank him. Your brow cinches for a minute before it smooths in comprehension.

“Oh! Cliff,” you point towards the door he’d just walked through, “one of the regulars, leaves the paper behind for me every morning so I can do the crosswords. A little tradition we’ve got going on.”

“A tradition? Should I be concerned?” He jokes and you laugh. 

“Oh, definitely. Cliff’s your biggest competition,” you throw back and now it’s his turn to laugh. A glittering light fills your chest. You glance over to where Dottie is engaged in conversation with a middle aged woman just passing through. She can’t hear you from this far but you drop your voice nonetheless. “No but, he did give me a bit of a hard time about his coffee being almost an hour late this morning.”

At your pointed look and sly smile, Steve winces, fingers pressing a quick squeeze against your side. An embarrassed blush blooms on his cheeks, bridging across his nose. “Right. Sorry.”

“Forgiven,” you lean up to press the quickest flash of a kiss to his cheek. You wrap your arms around the newspaper and jacket, holding them to your chest. “Do you wanna sit for a minute? I can get you some coffee? Although be warned, Dottie might come up and talk to you.”

His arm drops from around your waist and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, coffee sounds great.”

You smile and motion him into Cliff’s booth. When he sits, he insists on holding onto the jacket and newspaper for you and you let him. He watches you take Cliff’s mug away and walk to Dottie behind the counter to get him a fresh one.

Dottie bumps her hip with yours as you pass and you give her a look. The pot’s nearly empty and you wait the few minutes it takes for it to fill, eyes catching on Steve while you wait. He’s stopped staring and has instead taken interest in the comics in the paper. 

“He’s handsome,” Dottie’s voice snaps you back into your senses. You glance at her and she’s got a special look in her eyes to match the smile on her face. You check the coffee pot that’s filling up quicker than normal. But your focus drifts back over to Steve, who senses your gaze and looks over to you and flashes a big grin. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, “he is.”

Dottie looks between the two of you and then takes a look around the diner. It’s not the usual Sunday hustle and bustle, post early breakfast rush and the impending rain could be the indicator for that. She's got Susan and Judy’ll be coming in any minute now and Pam right after at 12. When she looks back at you, you’re watching the last few drops of coffee fall into the pot. 

“Take the rest of the day,” Dottie says. Your eyes snap up to meet hers over the coffee pot between you.

“What?”

“Go sit and have coffee with that boy of yours and then go home,” it doesn’t sound like a suggestion, more like an order but you look around the diner and hesitate. 

“Dottie, it's Sunday. I can’t just leave this early on our busiest day of the week.”

“There’ll be other Sundays busier than this one. And you need your rest after the night you had. We’ll be okay, now go,” she pushes. You bite back a smile as you relent, kissing Dottie on the cheek as you pass with the full coffee pot and two mugs gripped tightly in your other hand. She shakes her head watching you cross back to the third booth from the door. 

Steve lights up when you enter his line of sight but his brow furrows at the two mugs held in your left hand. You set them on the table and fill them both with the fresh coffee before setting the pot down on the table. He watches you slide into the empty spot in front of him. The same place you assume Winnie occupied when she’d come here with Cliff. 

“Dottie’s letting me off early,” you say, grabbing an almost obscene amount of Sweet ‘n’ Low packets and dumping them into your mug. “Can you hand me a creamer?”

Steve finds himself staring at you, doctoring your diner coffee to how you like it, hearts for eyes and a wistful smile taking permanent residency on his face. When he doesn’t hand you the creamer right away, you look up, only a little confused but mostly amused at the blatant and overwhelming display of admiration across his features. 

“Steve?”

He blinks in quick succession and clumsily reaches for a creamer while you giggle and god, it’s killing him that he hasn’t kissed you right yet since he’s been here. You hold out your hand and he sets the mini pod on your palm, your fingers brushing his as they enclose around it with a thank you. 

He watches you finish stirring in the creamer, the coffee in your cup now a light shade of brown. You take a sip, both palms wrapped around the mug and your eyes on his when you set it down on the table. 

“You look nice,” you say, eyes dropping down to the simple white tee he’s wearing. When you look back up at his face, his smile is cheeky and his cheeks are flushed. It takes an incredible amount of self restraint not to kiss him across the table.

“Yeah? The plain white tee is really doing it for you?” he leans closer over the table, voice dropped just the slightest bit. You mirror his movement almost like there’s a magnet pulling the two of you together. Steve pulls one of your hands into his, weaving your fingers together across the table. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” there’s a flirtatious thrum in your voice that makes Steve grin. His mouth opens to respond, another silly flirty quip back when Dottie appears at the side of the table. 

“You kids want anything to eat?” 

The sound of her voice sends Steve jumping back against his seat, like he’s 15 and getting caught doing something he shouldn’t be. You lean back slowly, amusement clear on your face and a question in your eyes. Do you?

Steve looks from you and up to Dottie who watches with a knowing gleam in her eye. He starts to shake his head but then his eyes fall back to you and he’s repeating the question to you with his eyes. You consider it for a second and then shake your head slightly which Steve repeats to Dottie.

“No, we’re alright, thanks,” he says and Dottie nods. She grabs the coffee pot but doesn’t move. 

“Heard a lot about you…” she trails off and Steve’s eyes widen just a tad. 

“Oh! Steve. Harrington. Steve Harrington,” he fills in the blank for her, even reaching out his hand for her to shake. 

“Dottie. She talks a lot about you, Steve. Sometimes I don’t even think she realizes she’s doing it.”

You try to cover your face with your one free hand and groan, “Dottie.”

Steve lets out a small laugh and squeezes your hand, always finding it endearing to see you flustered. You slowly move your hand away, to which Steve gives you a quick wink which only makes you want to hide away again like you’re 16 with a crush. 

Dottie pulls him into an easy conversation. How is Hawkins? Where’d you both meet? And: Do you have a job? I expect only the best for my girl here, you know. And: you’ll have to come back and have something more than just coffee next time. 

By the time she’s finished and gone off to engage with the newest patron in the diner, your coffee’s finished and Steve’s has gone cold. You watch Dottie walk off and when you look back, Steve’s staring at you, soft and kind. His gaze makes you squirm. 

“I like her,” he says. 

“Uh oh, do I have to worry about having competition now?” you joke and Steve shakes his head with a laugh. 

“You don’t have to worry about anyone else, you’re the only one for me,” he confesses, rubbing his thumb against your hand. There’s that feeling like your heart might explode again with a sigh of his name, Steve. Though this time, you’re positive you’ve said it outloud.

“Steve,” you tilt your head, voice soft. He lifts your hand to kiss your knuckles and if you don’t kiss him in the next minute, you’re going to have a problem. As if he can sense it, Steve sticks a five on the table and grabs the jacket he’d brought for you as well as Cliff’s leftover newspaper.

He holds his hand out to you to help you out of your side of the booth and you take it, his palm soft against yours. You make it to the door and then pause. 

“Oh! Gotta grab my bag from the back,” you lean up to press a kiss against his cheek. “Meet you at the car?”

Steve nods, squeezing your hip briefly. He watches until you’ve disappeared into the back office before he walks out to his car. You come out not even a minute later, apron off and over your arm and bag hanging off your shoulder. There’s a slight skip in your step. 

The air smells like rain, an earthy petrichor that makes things somehow feel lighter. Steve’s leaning against the passenger side, the door already open and waiting for you. When you’re close enough, he hooks a finger through your bag strap to pull it off your shoulder. It gets caught on the crook of your elbow when you reach up to cup his cheeks with your hands. 

He’s confused for the briefest of seconds and then your lips are on his and he forgets about the bag on your shoulder. His hands fall to your hips, one of his arms wrapping tight around your waist. Something inside both of you is cheering, finally. 

You don’t think you’ll ever tire of kissing Steve. Both of you fit perfectly into the empty spots of each other, as if you were carved from the same stone upon creation. It’s a kiss almost far too explicit for outside Dottie’s diner midmorning on a Sunday but you can’t bring yourself to care. That is, until you need to come up for air. 

You pull back, Steve chasing your lips and winning. You’re almost smiling too much now for it to work, your hands sliding from his cheeks to the sides of his neck. This time, he pulls away and your chests rise and fall in sync. 

“Been needing to do that since you first walked inside,” you breathe out and Steve lets out a laugh that you can feel reverberate through you. He kisses you again, quick and soft and his hand moves to take your bag off your shoulder again. 

“And why didn’t you?” he jests, stepping back enough for you to get into his car. One of your hands rests on the top of it, the other hanging loose at your side. Steve wishes he had a camera on him just to capture you in that moment with the sun hitting you in just the right way, playful adoration in your eyes. 

“Because,” you shrug, stooping to get inside the car, holding a hand out for your bag when you’re situated. Steve passes it over and closes your door, jogging around the front of the car to get in the driver’s seat. 

“Because…?” he pries, sticking the key in the ignition but not yet turning it. You’re pulling your seatbelt across your chest, turning your head to smile at him as you click the buckle into place. 

“Because Dottie might’ve gotten suspicious as to why I was so late this morning,” another pointed look his way and Steve shakes his head, turning the engine over and quickly buckling in his seatbelt. He shifts into reverse, checking his rearview mirror and then slinging his arm across the back of your seat. 

It’s like a feast for your eyes. The stretch of his arm, a long expanse of muscle right by your head that carries a strong whiff of his cologne. The swift, smooth, one handed feel on the wheel. You’re staring unabashed, only getting knocked out of your reverie when he responds. 

“I’m never living this down.”

He glances at you, his arm dropping from your seat to shift into drive. You lean your head against the headrest and shake it with a smile. 

“So what was your excuse then? For being late?” 

He pulls onto the street to take you back towards Hawkins, his right hand leaving the wheel and dropping to find your hand. You take the liberty of slotting your fingers into the spaces between his. 

“Oh you know. Rough night being sick. Oversleeping. Like something out of Steve Harrington’s playbook for getting out of work,” you tease. He scoffs, sparing you a quick amused glance. You lift your hands to your lips in response, your smile hiding behind the kiss you press to his knuckles. 

“And did it work? Did she buy it?” 

“Oh, of course. Why do you think she let me off so early?” 

Steve looks over at you again and sees the slight smirk on your face. He shakes his head with a slight laugh. 

“Wow, you’ve been hanging around me too long. I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Like that’s such a bad thing,” you roll your eyes, turning your head so your cheek rests against the leather of the headrest. A gooey softness melts into your gaze. “You’re one of the best people I know.”

Steve smiles, his cheeks blooming with a slight twinge of pink. He doesn’t say anything, just takes his turn lifting your joined hands to his lips to litter kisses along your knuckles. Your heart goes mushy, such has been the case since you started dating Steve. The mush liquefies, seeping through your body with a shiver when you notice the picture he’s got propped on his dash. 

He’s had to have just added it recently. A grainy film capture of the two of you, you think Max must’ve taken it if you remember correctly but you haven’t seen it before. You’re both leaning against the hood of his car, Steve’s arm around your shoulders and your hand lifted to hold his hand that hangs there. A big toothy grin is spread across your face, your head tilted slightly against Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s not looking at the camera though, he’s looking at you with a lopsided smile, adoration spilling out of him clear as day. 

“When did you add that?” you ask, pointing at the picture with your free hand. Steve glances down at it and immediately breaks into a smile.

“Just the other day. Surprised it’s taken you so long to notice it,” he replies, looking over at you and then back at the road. You’re about to ask if you can somehow get a copy of your own when he says, “I have a copy for you at home, don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get it before you go back to your place.”

You smile at him, one that’s soft around the edges, a perfect mirror of how you feel. It feels so wonderful to be known and seen by somebody the way Steve knows and sees you. Making sure to get two prints of that picture of you. Bringing a jacket to work for you for the rain that doesn’t arrive until that afternoon as you’re about to leave his house to go back to yours. 

He uses it as an excuse to keep you with him for another night, something you weakly protest against because the roads aren’t completely slick yet and you can get home just fine. But he insists, his eyes round and pleading and really you can’t deny that you’d rather stay with him anyway. 

Even if it means you’re tired again in the morning and rushing to work. You think being with Steve is a worthy price to pay, you never thought you’d be so glad to be so tired. 

And, at least you’re not late this time.

[marafey345]

How Great Ace Attorney uses Outside Information to Strenghen Twists (Big spoilers for both Great Ace Attorney games)

One of the reasons why Great Ace Attorney is my favourite title out of all the Ace Attorney series titles is because it manages to feel so unique while also still having that typical AA charm. Not just with the different period and setting, but also with its game mechanics and most definitely its story. I felt like the story took a massive leap away from how Ace Attorney stories usually play out and it resulted in an amazing story that I fell in love with. But that also got me thinking about how some twists impacted me more because I assumed things would play out a certain way because that's how those things played out before outside of GAA, but it didn't. It never was going to play out that way, we just thought it would. In this post, I'll be talking about 3 events in particular, in the order they occur in and how outside knowledge strenghen the impact of these twists: Case 1-3, Kazuma Asogi and Herlock Sholme's partner.

Case 1-3: Anyone familiar with the trials of Ace Attorney knows that each case will end with some kind of a happy ending. The truth is revealed, the murderer is punished somehow and there's hope of a brighter future for those affected. This case... doesn't do that. They set up this case's importance with the risk of being deported if Ryu's defendant got a guilty verdict and the first half of the trial goes the normal route of a typical Ace Attonery case trying to teach you the mechanics of the British trial system. But then things get murky after Gina fills the courtroom with smoke.

The trial goes on normally until you return to the carraige and notice things are different. There's now blood on the floor, the area under the seats is now empty and the skylight on top can now open. You swear this stuff wasn't there before, but maybe you didn't look down enough to see the blood at first? Maybe you had to click the skylight twice to try and open it? The game tries to gaslight you into thinking that these changes were always there because why would these changes even happen in the first place? These new points were proving the client's innocence! If he's innocent, nothing needed to be altered, right...? Wrong. Because as you play, a realisation slowly dawns on you. You're defending a guilty man.

This is a massive gut punch when you first experience it because nothing like this ever happens. The closest thing was the Engarde case but that was a final case, a story ender. This is case 3! What makes it even worse is the fact that McGilded, the murderer, is found Not Guilty by the end of the trial. For the first time, the murderer gets away with it. We also don't figure out the full truth until case 1-5 and Gina is still in a bad place until that case happens. This case sets the mood for what both Britian and GAA is going to be like. It's early enough that you believe the same formula will be followed and don't expect it to break the 3 major rules that's been established. Breaking this trend helps to strenghen the impact of this case and shape how GAA will go forward.

Kazuma Asogi: Let me try describing someone for you. At the start of the game, this person serves as a mentor, helping us to navigate the courtroom. They stand by our side and guide us through our first trial as a reliable figure while also stepping back when we get our footing. At the end of the trial, they're impressed by how well we do and can't wait to see us get even better. Move to the next case and they're dead. If you're thinking I'm describing Kazuma, you're wrong. I'm describing Mia Fey, and that's the point.

Kazuma shares so much energy with Mia at the start of the game that if you've played the first Ace Attorney game, you already know he won't live past the start of case 2 and are just waiting for the ball to drop, which it does. You also know that Ryu will carry on Kazuma's legacy and become a defence attorney and for Kazuma to become a sort of goal-post, a level of skill Ryu wants to reach, and these two events do occur. What I'm sure you didn't know was that Kazuma comes back.

Unlike the main trilogy, GAA doesn't have spirit mediums so there was no chance of a Mia-like possession happening to bring Kazuma back. But he does come back and he plays a much different role than what we thought he'd play. He changes from a legacy to a rival, making Ryu want to improve so he can face off against him as a fair foe. This change of course in Kazuma's character is made much more impactful because it deviates so much from the role we put him in when he was never supposed to be Ryu's Mia. He became Ryu's Edgeworth.

Herlock Sholme's Partner: Finally, the twist I'm sure no one even anticipated was even a possibility. A twist that doesn't even play with your knowledge of Ace Attorney at all. It relies purely on your knowledge of the Sherlock Holmes franchise. More specifically, it relies on the simple fact that you know his partner's name, John Watson, and who doesn't? They're an iconic duo! Partners who are together through and through. Not here though, as in the universe of GAA, I don't even think Herlock Sholmes and John Wilson have ever met.

When playing the game, you can obviously see by their names that they're based off Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, the Japanese version even uses their actual names. And if that wasn't enough, Herlock is raising a girl named Iris Wilson so you already know it as fact that Herlock's mysterious partner is John, even if it's never said. However, when you think about it, there's barely any in-game evidence to support this claim.

Iris only believes that John is Herlock's partner because the handwriting of the stories that Herlock's partner wrote matched the autopsy report signed as John and Herlock never really looked sad when he should know that his "partner" was dead, along with more subtle things I can't remember off the top of my head. Because we take it at face-value that, naturally, Watson would be Holme's partner, the twist of Yujin Mikotoba being Holme's partner hits so much harder. All because we believed such an obvious rule would be followed.

Great Ace Attorney is such a wonderful game to play with diverse characters, complex mysteries and a wonderful story that kept me engaged until the very end. The twists that I mentioned, even without the added context, work so well and there's many more in the story that are executed wonderfully. If you read this but haven't played GAA, there's still so much story left that I didn't even mention and I haven't even touched the over-arching plot here so I heavily recommend you play the game yourself if you haven't. Trust me, it's worth your time.

[castiwls]

two people .ᐟ part two

Paring; patrick x reader

Requested; anon

Synopsis; being stuck in the friend zone sucked, it sucked even more when your best friend was Patrick zweig. (part one)

Warnings; jealous patrick? (if that counts)

Notes; This was gonna be two parts but I didn't wanna rush it so I'm aiming for 3 - 4 parts

reqs and inbox are open !

Tags; @vyctorya

Masterlist | part one

“Here.” A cup was placed down besides your note book, the smell of coffee immediately filling your sense. Looking up a small smile pulled at your lips as you placed your pen down. “How did you know i was here?” Your hand wrapped around the cup, the heat warming up your hands as you took a sip.

“You said you preferred to study in the library, i went to your room and when you weren’t there i figured you’d be here.” Luke shrugged and you could swear his cheeks were dusted red as he pulled out the seat opposite you. 

Patrick had been MIA for the last two weeks and while normally you’d be pulling at your hair staring at your phone just waiting on a text or a call, you’d found yourself happily distracted. For the first time in possibly your whole life Patrick Zweig no longer held a unyielding grip on your life and part of you relished in your new found freedom.

Luke was a relatively new person in your world. He’d always been in your class but you’d never actually spoken until a few months ago when you’d been desperate for the notes that you’d missed and he’d been kind enough to lend you his. 

Slowly he’d integrated himself into your life, almost as if he was filling a hole you’d never noticed existed. In a way he was everything Patrick wasn’t - the thought left you feeling almost nauseous - he paid attention to small things (your order from the cafe and even your preferred route to class) and you never had to compete for his attention. 

If you called he’d been there, something which Patrick seemed to be unable to do. 

For once in your life you weren’t playing second best to whatever girl of the week it was. And it felt good. So good that the last two weeks you’d barely thought of your best friend.

You were happy in your own little bubble.

“Thanks.” You smiled placing the cup back down before glancing down to your note book. “You ready for the exam?” Luke piped in leaning forward on his elbows as he flipped a page in your book. “I think if I look at another paragraph my brain might melt.” He mused as his eyes flicked back to yours.” 

Humming you pursed your lips. “I’m surprised you have enough brain left for it to melt.” You teased, a small smirk pulling at your lips as his face dropped for a moment. “Hey,” His foot nudged yours. “Have you know, I am a very smart person.” He puffed out his chest in a mock show of arrogance.

Stifling a laugh at his display you rolled your eyes. “Oh im sure you are. Like im sure it was a mistake the other day when you managed to burn a ready made pizza.” 

Luke narrowed his eyes, leaning slightly closer. “Hey! Those ovens have a mind of their own miss I can’t use a toaster.” Your own eyes widened in response. “That was one time.” You defended, pouting slightly as he chuckled quietly. “Sure it was.”

You lapsed into a comfortable silence as you glanced back at your notes while he looked around, watching the few people dotted around the space. His eyes landed back on you after a moment, his tongue darting out to run across his lip as he watched you. 

Your own eyes flicked up. “What?”

“Nothing. Nothing just…people watching.” He shrugged leaning back into the chair. “You know you tend to do that with people you don’t know right?” Tapping your pen on the paper you looked back down. His gaze stayed on you, a quiet noise leaving him. 

Your quiet was broken by the noise of someone clearing their throat. You frowned slightly turning to look behind you, your pen pausing its movements as you noticed the figure behind you. 

Luke’s own brow furrowed slightly as he caught the way the newcomer's expression seemed to pinch slightly when he noticed him.

“I didn’t know you were back?” You said as you placed your pen down. Patrick’s eyes moved from Luke to you, his expression softening as a small smile replaced the frown that he’d been supporting.

“I called, you didn’t answer.” He pulled out the chair beside you, settling down with a small hum. He stretched his legs out, his knee brushing yours as he invaded your personal space. His gaze hardened again as he looked at the man opposite him up and down. Who was this guy?

An uneasy feeling settled in his chest as he noticed the way he seemed to be leaning towards you. His eyes darted between the two of you for a moment as his mind spun slightly. You couldn’t be together? Could you?

Sure enough, you’d tell him! You told him everything. 

When was the last time you’d even spent time with a guy that wasn’t him? Hell when was the last time you’d expressed an interest in a guy? He racked his mind for a moment but came up empty.

You didn’t hang around with other guys.

“Who’s your friend?” Patrick asked, wrapping an arm around the back of your chair. A tight smile pulled at his lips as you closed your notebook. “Oh, this is Luke. He’s in my class.” You nodded watching Patrick for a moment.

The hand around the back of your chair shifted to rub over your shoulder for a moment and for a brief moment, you thought you must be dreaming. Sure Patrick could be touchy but never in public, never like this. 

His leg continued to press into yours as he hummed thoughtfully.

Part of you hated the effect he had on you. Hated the fact that he’d been sat down for all of two minutes and you could already feel the butterflies returning as his hand continued to rub your shoulder. 

He stook out his hand after a moment. “Patrick.” He kept the same tight smile on his face as Luke reached over, shaking his hand before they both pulled back. “You know…she’s never mentioned you before.” Patrick tilted his head, his tone dripping in innocence.

Your own eyes widened as you jabbed him in the side. “What’s your issue?” You snapped lowly, hoping the other man wouldn’t hear. 

You could practically cut the tension between the two with a knife as Patrick fell quiet for a moment. “What? I’m just saying, you've never mentioned a Luke to me before.” He looked back to you, his hand squeezing your shoulder. 

Sucking in a breath you shook your head. “I would have but you didn’t answer your phone. I thought you wanted time with Karleigh anyways?” Wrong name, you knew it when you said it. His eyes narrowed but he didn’t correct you.

If he wanted to be petty you could be petty right back.

Luke frowned slightly clearing his throat. “I need to go help my roommate moving something but i’ll see you tommorw?” He raised an eyebrow as he stood. 

“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smiled. “Thanks again for the coffee.”

Luke shrugged, smiling slightly as he grabbed his own cup. “No problem.” He shot Patrick one last look before giving you a small wave.

The moment he was gone Patrick was on you. The hand on your shoulder squeezed you closer as he turned his body to face you. “He bought you coffee? Seriously?” He scoffed. “That’s like high school flirting.” He shot the cup a look as if it offended him. “You can’t seriously like that guy?!”

“So what if i do?” You shrugged, ignofing the way his closeness seemed to make your legs feel weak. “He’s a nice guy.” 

Patrick scoffed again, leaning slightly closer as he pointed towards the door. “He’s a boy scout.” He pointed back to you, his finger brushing your chest. “You shooting way below your level.”

You swallowed. “Oh, am I? Who do you think I should go for then? Someone more…douchy?”

Patrick pulled a face looking over your shoulder for a moment. “I don’t like him.” He said after a moment. “Of course, you don’t”

Patrick's eyes glanced over to your hand, still resting on the table. What have you been doing with him the last two weeks? Had he touched you? How many places have you gone together? His blood almost boiled at the thought of you having someone else take up your time and attention.

Someone to take you away from him.

His hand behind your back clenched for a moment as he looked you over. “C’mon. We’re getting food.” He grabbed your stuff, unceremoniously shoving it into your bag before standing.

“Careful.” You huffed as he kept the bag in his grasp. He was acting strange. You’d only ever seen him this riled up about tennis matches, and even then you’d never seen him this agitated.

You could tell from the way his mouth seemed set in a firm line as he waited for you to stand that he was annoyed. Part of you relished in it. Let him feel the way you always did whenever he’d come to you for advice or randomly bring his dates to your meetups.

Standing, a small gasp left you as you felt his arm wrap around you, almost possessively. You barely managed to grab the half-drunk coffee before he pulled you towards the door.

Patrick glanced down, his eyes narrowing as he noticed you’d grabbed the cup. Picking it from your grasp he threw it into the bin as you passed. 

Your mouth opened in protest but he cut you off. “I’ll buy you another.”

[odinsblog]

Dear President Biden,

We come together as artists and advocates, but most importantly as human beings witnessing the devastating loss of lives and unfolding horrors in Israel and Palestine.

We ask that, as President of the United States, you call for an immediate de-escalation and ceasefire in Gaza and Israel before another life is lost. More than 5,000 people have been killed in the last week and a half – a number any person of conscience knows is catastrophic. We believe all life is sacred, no matter faith or ethnicity and we condemn the killing of Palestinian and Israeli civilians.

We urge your administration, and all world leaders, to honor all of the lives in the Holy Land and call for and facilitate a ceasefire without delay – an end to the bombing of Gaza, and the safe release of hostages. Half of Gaza’s two million residents are children, and more than two thirds are refugees and their descendants being forced to flee their homes. Humanitarian aid must be allowed to reach them.

We believe that the United States can play a vital diplomatic role in ending the suffering and we are adding our voices to those from the US Congress, UNICEF, Doctors without Borders, The International Committee of The Red Cross, and so many others. Saving lives is a moral imperative. To echo UNICEF, “Compassion — and international law — must prevail.”

As of this writing more than 6,000 bombs have been dropped on Gaza in the last 12 days — resulting in one child being killed every 15 minutes.

“Children and families in Gaza have practically run out of food, water, electricity, medicine and safe access to hospitals, following days of air strikes and cuts to all supply routes. Gaza’s sole power plant ran out of fuel Wednesday afternoon, shutting down electricity, water and wastewater treatment. Most residents can no longer get drinking water from service providers or household water through pipelines…. The humanitarian situation has reached lethal lows, and yet all reports point to further attacks. Compassion — and international law — must prevail.” – UNICEF spokesperson, James Elder

Beyond our pain and mourning for all of the people there and their loved ones around the world we are motivated by an unbending will to stand for our common humanity. We stand for freedom, justice, dignity and peace for all people – and a deep desire to stop more bloodshed.

We refuse to tell future generations the story of our silence, that we stood by and did nothing. As Emergency Relief Chief Martin Griffiths told UN News, “History is watching.”

Alia Shawkat

Alyssa Milano

Amanda Seales

Amber Tamblyn

America Ferrera

Andrew Garfield

Anoushka Shankar

Aria Mia Loberti

Ayo Edebiri

Bassam Tariq

Bassem Youssef

Cate Blanchett

Channing Tatum

Cherien Dabis

Darius Marder

David Cross

Dominique Fishback

Dominique Thorne

Elvira Lind

Farah Bsaiso

Fatima Farheen Mirza

Hasan Minhaj

Hend Sabry

Ilana Glazer

Indya Moore

James Schamus

Jeremy Strong

Jessica Chastain

Joaquin Phoenix

Jon Stewart

Kristen Stewart

Macklemore

Mahershala Ali

Margaret Cho

Mark Ruffalo

May Calamawy

Michael Malarkey

Michael Stipe

Michelle Wolf

Mo Amer

Oscar Isaac

Quinta Brunson

Ramy Youssef

Riz Ahmed

Rooney Mara

Rosario Dawson

Ryan Coogler

Sandra Oh

Sebastian Silva

Shailene Woodley

Shaka King

Susan Sarandon

Vic Mensa

Wallace Shawn

Wanda Sykes

👉🏿 https://variety.com/2023/biz/news/hollywood-demands-gaza-israel-ceasefire-joaquin-phoenix-cate-blanchett-1235763646/

[anthurak]

Something I’ve come to appreciate in video games recently is when a game about some special place needing to be saved by a newcomer who just showed up doesn’t actually have everything go to hell before the protagonist shows up or within a few minutes of them arriving.

To use the example that really made me appreciate this trope, I actually really like how in Psychonauts, Raz/the-player gets to experience Camp Whispering Rock as more or less normal for a while before Oleander’s big ‘steal a bunch of kid brains and stick them in an army of psychic-death-tanks to take over the world’ plan gets revealed, Lilli gets kidnapped by the giant, hulking traumatized lungfish and everything really goes bad.

Like I feel that most games would have all that stuff happen within the first five or ten minutes or so, but with Psychonauts, somewhere between a third and a full half of a playthrough can potentially take place before night falls and everything really goes bad.

Just to give an example, look at how much the game restricts your movement around Whispering Rock in the early game, or rather doesn’t actually restrict it. I think it’s easy to imagine a version of the game which blocks off the different areas of the camp until that area’s relevant mission became available. But no, the only real roadblock to exploration the player faces in the early game is the first mind level. Once Raz completes Basic Braining, the entire rest of the camp becomes open to explore at your leisure.

Heck, the game even encourages exploration by being deliberately vague on where exactly Sasha Nein’s secret lab is. And with the combination of the game both explaining how PSI-Challenge Markers work right in the tutorial and teasing you with a ‘New Psychic Power When You Reach Level 10’ whenever you level up, and a lot of those Markers and Cards being accessible even before you unlock Levitation, the game is already nudging you to go out and explore the camp. And that’s not even mentioning the Scavenger Hunt items.

Or how while the game does direct you to Ford Cruller after the first Brain Tumbler experiment, it’s entirely possible, even likely, that you’ve ALREADY met Ford thanks to simply dropping into one of the fast-travel stumps while exploring.

I mean, consider this; it’s entirely feasible and without too much trouble for Raz to have Pyrokinesis before he even learns PSI-Blast from Sasha. And to have Pyrokinesis, Telekinesis and Invisibility by the time he fights the Blueprint Tank at the end of the Brain Tumbler Experiment. Heck, if you’re really going the grindy-route, basically ALL the collectables in camp, save for one scavenger hunt item, can be acquired before nightfall.

And personally, I really like that you can do this.

Because it feels like Raz/the player gets the chance to experience Camp Whispering Rock as a camp in a more relaxed, easy-going state before night falls, Oleander’s plot is fully revealed and everything becomes a lot more urgent and dangerous. Instead of being thrust into the meat of the action right off the bat, Raz gets the chance to explore and learn and basically do the stuff he actually WANTED to when he came to Whispering Rock.

Thematically, it fits really well with just how driven Raz is to become a Psychonaut, as well as the limited time he seems to have before his dad comes to pick him up. Why wouldn’t he throw himself into exploring, learning and generally doing everything he can at Whispering Rock with what little time he had?

And it also fits nicely with the rest of the game as well. It makes the first third/half of the game feel like Raz is actually learning to become a Psychonaut, and the battle against Linda, breaking into the asylum and rescuing Lili, Sasha and Mia feel Raz is putting everything learned in the first third/half of the game into practice.

Or how Ford’s faith and confidence in Raz’s abilities start making a lot more sense if Raz has both picked up and become reasonably proficient in FIVE psychic powers in what was basically an afternoon.

Honestly I wish we could see this sort of thing in more games with this sort of ‘hero arrives at a super special place and has to save it from destruction’ premise. Just let the protag/player explore and experience the place in a more casual, relaxed manner before everything goes to shit. Like give them a reason to get invested and CARE about this place so it feels all the better to actually save it.

[slanky-here]

Reached Ch9 of AG, posting these tags in advance before I reach Rancid Gautier Man death

Playing Azure Gleam… very much adore the Lions and their dynamics with one another..

[bunnynoirr]

Twilight x black reader part 2

𝐍𖣠𝐓𝐄 ☦︎📓 ݈݇⎼: Me personally I always think of kristopher Hyatt as Embry call. You don’t have to think of him ig but remember that’s who I have in mind🤭. This late sorry bout that, I got caught up with school.

Part 1 💜 -> part 3💜

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔⚠︎: dissociation 

Forks High smelled like wet paper and tired dreams.

Y/N moved through the hallways quietly, eyes down, hands buried in her hoodie pocket. It wasn’t fear, exactly. More like instinct. Something told her not to make too much noise. Not to leave too big of a footprint.

She found her locker after a few wrong turns. The metal was cold and stuck slightly when she twisted the handle. She grunted as it opened, just in time for a familiar voice to slip in behind her like smoke.

“You’ve been walking around this hell hole like someone’s following you.”

Sophia.

Leaning against the locker next to hers, arms crossed, dark brown hair tucked behind one ear, blue eyes watching like they knew things Y/N didn’t. Probably did.

“I’ve been walking like someone who doesn’t want to be here,” Y/N muttered.

Sophia raised a brow. “Ha, so… adjusting.”

They walked down the hallway together. Sophia moved like she owned the building. Y/N trailed beside her like a quiet shadow. Around them, the sounds of high school life buzzed. Mia’s laughter could be heard somewhere behind them, Andrew loudly over-explaining a TV show, Matt still waging war with his locker.

Y/N glanced around as they moved. Faces blurred past. That creeping sensation that someone was watching her was there again. Even when no one was looking.

Sophia’s voice cut through the fog, too soft, too sharp.

“You ever get the feeling like… you’re not gonna make it past eighteen?”

Y/N slowed.

Sophia didn’t look at her. “Never mind.”

“No,” Y/N said. “You don’t get to drop a line like that and act like it was nothing.”

Sophia let out a dry laugh. “Don’t get soft on me. I’m just saying if I drop dead next week, at least I’ll be remembered for my charm.”

“You’re not going to die,” Y/N said, her voice firmer than she expected.

Sophia finally looked at her. Studying her. Like she couldn’t decide whether to believe her or not.

“You sound pretty sure.”

Y/N didn’t reply.

But the feeling that something was watching—lurking just behind the moment definitely got stronger.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

Lunch came fast.

The cafeteria buzzed with noise and artificial lighting. Angel waved Y/N over. Mia was mid-rant about math homework being “an act of war.”

Andrew gave her a lazy smile. Matt told a joke no one laughed at. Sophia stared down her salad like it had said something offensive.

But Y/N wasn’t really there.

Half-tuned out. Half-searching for something she couldn’t name.

The air felt wrong. Thick. Like trying to breathe through velvet.

Her fingers curled against the table. She didn’t know what she was expecting, just that something was off. Her new friends didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe they just didn’t care. People like them would feel it, shrug, and move on to texting about dinner plans.

So she kept quiet.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

After School.

The rain returned, draping the town in mist and gray. Y/N walked home slowly. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was Angel texting about movie night, Mia about snacks.

She sent a heart. Promised she’d go. Pretended the knot in her chest wasn’t pulling tighter.

Her route curved past the woods.

And then, like always, past the lake.

She stopped.

She always stopped.

The water stretched out like a mirror someone forgot to shatter. The sky reflected in cracked gray shards. Still. Too still for it to be raining.

She stepped closer. Her boots sank into the wet ground. Her breath fogged the air in front of her and it curled like a warning.

Then—

She felt it.

A presence.

Real this time.

She turned.

At the edge of the tree line, barely visible through the mist, stood a boy.

Tall. Dark-haired. Still.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. But he watched her like he knew her. Like he’d been searching for her without knowing it.

Her heart stuttered.

She opened her mouth. “Were you—?”

But when she blinked, he was gone. No footsteps. No goodbye.

Just trees. Just silence.

Just the certainty that something had found her.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

The forest didn’t usually make him feel like this. It was supposed to calm him.

Usually, it did. The rhythm of his paws on wet ground. The bite of the wind. The quiet pulse of the trees. But today? The air buzzed. Wrong. Off-key.

Then—

The scent.

It hit him like a memory he never lived.

Not unpleasant. Earthy. Warm. Old in a way that hurt. Like firelight and forgotten books. Like damp soil and something half-buried.

It tugged at something beneath his skin.

He stilled. And the forest stopped with him.

He could hear the pack in the distance. Jacob’s steady hum of thought. Leah was irritated, always. Seth, daydreaming as usual.

They hadn’t caught it. But he did.

He shifted back behind the trees without thinking. Body still humming. Every hair on his arms stood up.

And then he saw her.

Standing at the lake’s edge like a ghost someone had long forgotten about.

Dark hoodie. Eyes too deep. Stillness wrapped around her like silk, and time stopped. His chest collapsed.

No breath. No thought. No control.

Just her.

The world tilted. The forest held its breath. Every bit of noise around him dissipated.

And he knew.

He knew her soul.

Every piece. Every possibility. Every life he could’ve lived without her gone.

His heart seized. Restarted.

Imprint.

Not warmth. Not peace. A soul-level detonation.

Like his spirit had waited lifetimes for hers, and now that it had found her, it was clawing its way forward to be seen.

She turned.

Eyes met his, and his is knees nearly gave.

She didn’t know him. Didn’t know what he was. But he knew her.

And it scared him so badly that he ran.

Through the woods, his paws hit the dirt like thunder. His heart beat too loud, too fast. The pack was shouting through the link, but it was static in his ears.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

He’d imprinted. And the girl he’d imprinted on?

She smelled like something ancient. Like danger.

Like fate rewriting itself just to let her in.

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

Y/N took the strange boy in the woods as her sign to go home, and to go fast. Her feet moved before her thoughts caught up, carrying her down the winding road toward the house like something was chasing her, even if it wasn’t.

But her mind stayed behind.

That boy.

His stillness. The way he’d stared. Like he knew her. Like he’d seen her before she even arrived in this town.

No matter how fast she walked, she couldn’t shake it.

Then there was the vulture.

It perched high in the trees along the road, too still, too focused. Its black eyes didn’t move, but somehow followed her with perfect precision.

Y/N didn’t believe in signs. Not really. But something about that bird felt like a message. And she didn’t want to read it.

Still, by the time she reached her house, she was half-convinced she’d imagined all of it.

The moment she opened the front door, the smell of dinner wrapped around her like a soft blanket with onions, garlic, something rich bubbling on the stove.

Her mom’s voice called from the kitchen, light and warm

“Hey, baby!”

“Hey,” Y/N called back, quieter.

Thomas sat at the table, hunched over a coloring book full of cartoon cars with goofy faces, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration. Evelyn was at the stove, stirring something, humming a tune that tugged at the edge of Y/N’s memory. Something she hadn’t heard since she was little.

Her dad wasn’t home yet, probably still at work.

Y/N stepped farther into the kitchen. Evelyn didn’t look up as she asked,

“How was your day, baby?”

Y/N gave the automatic answer. “It was fine.”

Evelyn hummed in approval. Y/N hesitated. “My friend’s having a movie night. I promised I’d go, so I won’t be here for dinner.” That got Evelyn to turn around, eyebrows raised. “Wow. Already got friends inviting you to sleepovers? This is new for you, Miss Thang.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

Evelyn grinned and shook her head. “I’m just glad my baby’s finally getting out of that shell. Go have fun. I’ll put some dinner away for you, and just don’t do anything you know I’d tear your ass for!” Y/N was already heading upstairs, giggling. “Yes, ma’am!”

She was too old for whoopings at this point, but her body still responded like she wasn’t.

Upstairs, she changed into something more comfortable, soft leggings, fitted tee, her favorite jacket, and stared at herself in the mirror for a moment. The girl looking back at her felt closer to herself than the one who woke up from the dream this morning. But not quite there.

Not yet.

Headlights flashed across her window, and a short honk followed.

Sophia.

Y/N grabbed her bag, shouted a goodnight to her mom and Thomas, and slipped outside.

Sophia leaned over the steering wheel, arm dangling out the window. Y/n smiled “Hello, girl who welcomes death.” She laughed and slid into the passenger seat. Sophia gave her a side-eye and started the car. “You’re laughing at your impending doom?”

“No, not laughing. Just trying to understand it better.” Y/n stated.

Sophia sighed as they pulled away from the curb. “Well, good luck with that. I’ve been trying to understand it for years.”

𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵𓃵

The drive to Angel’s didn’t take long. Forks wasn’t exactly a maze. The silence between them wasn’t awkward, just heavy. Familiar. Comfortable in that weird way only people who’ve seen too much too young can understand.

Angel’s house came into view tall and charming, with a townhouse vibe and a porch light that flickered like it had secrets.

Before they could even make it to the door, Angel flung it open, her curly hair pulled into a bun and her arms waving wildly.

“Come on! Mia’s about to eat all the snacks before the movie even starts!”

A voice shouted from inside:

“I am not! Shut up!”

Y/N and Sophia exchanged a look, half smile, half sigh and stepped inside.

The air was warm. Loud. Safe.

For now.

[sunflower567]

Callsign: Umbra Chapter 2: The Video

Masterlist

word count: 2,698

Edited: ✅

Published: April 11th, 2025

Last update/change: June 8th, 2025

Previous Chapter

TRIGGER WARNING: Torture

Marine Military Camp: Solunaire   

The marine base buzzed with activity, the sharp clang of tools and hum of distant machinery blending into a chaotic symphony. Dust swirled in the golden light of the setting sun as soldiers moved with purpose, their boots crunching on gravel. But that purpose was shaken due to the events that happened almost a day ago. 

After a 12-hour flight, Task Force 141 landed at a marine base in Solunaire. As their plane landed, Kate was waiting for them below on the tarmac. Price has known the woman for years at this point, and he was able to tell right away that she wasn’t just angry but livid. 

“Laswell,” Price called out as he and others walked down the ramp. 

“John,” Kate greeted him and the rest of the squad, “Thanks for coming everyone.”

“Anything for you Laswell,” Gaz smiled.

“I appreciate that, Kyle,” Kate replied with a small smile as well, “If you gentlemen will follow me, I’ll get you up to speed.” 

“So what’s our mission this time,” Soap asked, “Do you want us to Gather intel? Wrap someone up for you?”

“Neither,” Kate answered, “It’s a rescue op.”

“Who,” Ghost spoke up for the first time. 

“Someone I wanted to introduce you all to,” Price answered, causing Laswell to look at him with a raised eyebrow, wondering if he ok’d for Imani to join them.

"There’s gonna be someone else joining us sir," Gaz asked.

Price shurgged, "Maybe. Kate recommended her, so I have high hopes."

“Who are they,” Soap asked. 

“You’ll find out soon,” Kate said, “After I have another few choice words with these incompetent bastards.”

“Alright then,” Price mumbled as he turned to Gaz, Soap, and Ghost, “You three look around the base and familiarize yourself with it. We’ll meet in the command tent in 30 for a debrief.” 

“Alright, Cap,” Gaz and Soap said as Ghost left them behind and began to walk towards the gun range. 

“Hey, wait up, Lt,” Soap said as he and Gaz jogged to catch up with him.

Once they were out of earshot, Price began asking the critical questions. 

“What happened?”

“Her and the squad she was assigned to were sent on a patrol,” Kate began, “A route deemed too risky because they’ve been dealing with ambushes and other attacks in the area.”

“But the buggers still sent them,” Price asked, Kate answering him with a nod, “It was like that bloke wanted to try his luck.”

“And he got flushed,” Kate said, “Now we have nine injured marines and one MIA, along with her K9.”

“Damn. How badly injured,” Price asked. 

“Few broken bones due to the explosion and scraps and bruises. But what had everyone concerned was the gas.”

“Gas?”

“Knockout Gas. We were worried when we saw those canisters and thought could be remains of Barkov's Sarin gas. Luckily, it was a poor replica of knock out gas that could have some serious side effects. Luckily, most of them are out of the woods with little to no side effects.”

“Miracle,” Price agreed, “How long has Umbra and Alpha been missing?”

"Does it really matter,” Laswell questioned. 

“Not really,” Price shrugged. 

“Every hour she's out there, the odds of finding her alive drop," Laswell said, her voice tight with frustration. "Twenty hours is already pushing it."

“Fuck. And you guys haven't heard anything?”

“No. But I did some digging and found out who took her.”

“Who?” 

“A new organization called the Al-Shars. An organization aiming to bring Solunaire back to its former ‘glory’.”

“Why do you think they took her?”

“Most likely looking for an exchange. Since their group is relatively new and all leadership and assets are far out of their reach, they lack what other organizations have.”

“Money, power, and equipment,” Price said as they arrived at the command tent in the middle of the base, “And because they lack that, they’re willing to take drastic measures to get it.”

“Exactly.”

“Bloody bastards,” Price mumbled as he followed Laswell into the commander's tent. Inside were a bunch of personnel running around and handling other things while four officers stood over a table looking down at the map of the area. Noticing the two walking to them, one officer raised his head in confusion. 

“Whose this,” one of the officers asked, causing everyone to look up at the two. 

“Someone here to clean up your shit,” Laswell said. 

“Hey,” another officer said, his voice strained, “Don’t talk to him like-”

“You have no room to speak, Captain Davis,” Laswell said, interrupting him, “Because of what you did, I have to get someone I trust to fix it.”

Captain Davis shifted uncomfortably under Kate's glare, his fingers drumming nervously on the table. "Look. I didn’t think—"

"That’s right," Kate snapped. "You didn’t think."

“Ma’am, we understand that-” another officer.

“Gentlemen,” Kate interrupted, “I don’t know if you are aware of the shit you've got yourself in, but let me enlighten you. You deployed a squad to an area that was already declared to be unsafe and under enemy control. You all but basically handed those marines on a silver platter. And now, you have nine injured marines and one missing along with her K9. A K9 that’s worth millions of dollars at least.”

“I get you are upset, ma’am, but we believed that-” another officer began to say. 

“You all knew the facts! Scouts deemed that area too dangerous, and you still disregarded the words of your troops and sent them out anyway! I could have your asses-”

“Ok, we get it! Alright! We- I fucked up,” the company commander in question, Captain Davis, said, “And we need help fixing this. So please, help us before it is too late to save her.”

But before Kate could respond, a soldier, followed by Ghost, Soap, and Gaz, walked inside the tent.

“Ma’am,” the soldier said as he approached Laswell and handed her a disk, “I just received this from one of the village kids.”

“A kid,” Price asked. 

“Kids are used as shields and messengers because no one wants to hurt a kid. That’s how they get info from one another,” one of the officers said as Kate inserted the DVD into one of the DVD players nearby. 

"Using kids as messengers," Gaz muttered, shaking his head. "Bloody cowards."

"It’s war," Ghost replied flatly. "No one plays fair."

The grainy footage flickered, revealing a dimly lit room. The African American woman’s labored breathing filled the silence, punctuated by the jeers of her captors. The camera zoomed in on her bloodied face, her defiant glare cutting through the screen. Zooming out, a man wearing a face scarf came into view.

“American soldiers,” The man said with a thick Arabic accent, “You and your government are responsible for the fracture of our home and our people. Everything that has and will happen is on you and those dogs you call leaders heads. But like the dogs you are, we believe you can learn from this.”

“Bloody hell, he hates you guys,” Gaz mumbled as he looked toward Laswell and the other American officers.  

“Because of your terror, we’ve taken one of your own. This American soldier’s life will be ours to take unless you fulfill our two demands. One, you will give us 10 million in U.S. money. Two, you and your soldiers will leave this area and never return. If all demands are met, we’ll return this American to the wild where she belongs.”

As he said in the last part, one of the soldiers that was standing beging her grabbed Imani by the hair so the camera could zoom in on her face. 

“Don’t try anything, Americans. Because if you do, then this one will die. You have 24 hours.”

As those words left his mouth, Imani threw her head back and gave a nasty headbutt that brought the man who held her hair to the ground. 

“FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT,” Imani screamed at the man as the others rushed over to restrain her. Even the cameraman dropped the camera to help restrain her as she got loose and began to fight the men off. 

Since the camera fell on the ground, everyone could only see everyone’s feet at first and the man speaking with a bloody nose crying out in pain as the other men tried and failed to contain her.

Then, two men came into the frame from the door behind them, carrying what looked to be stun batons.

Wasting no time in using them, they ran upfrom behind and began to shock Imani, causing her to scream out in pain and ball herself up in a ball on the ground in the camera’s view. That allowed the others to gather around her and beat her in anger and frustration. That was when the footage stooped. The last frame being Imani screaming in pain.  

As the dvd was automatically ejected from the drive, Laswell looked at the marine officers with a look that Price had only seen when someone that genuinely pissed her off. 

Kate’s hands clenched into fists as the video ended, her nails digging into her palms. Her voice was cold and steady, but her eyes portrayed a storm of fury. "If she dies, it’s on you."

Davis and the other officers looked back to her with fear in their eyes. 

“Ma’am, we’ll-”

“Shut your mouth. If she dies, you better hope General Barnes will go easy on you. Because I won’t.”

As Laswell began to leave the room, Gaz, Ghost, and Soap walked in. Noting the look on her face, the three quickly moved out of her way as she stormed out of the command tent. 

“Sir,” Soap called out.

“I’ll talk to her,” Price said, looking at the four commanders in the room, “You guys figure out where she’s being held.”

With that, Price walked out and eventually found Laswell leaning against a railing on the top floor, looking below at the many men and women working while smoking. 

“You ok, Kate,” Price asked. 

“I can’t even lie to you, John,” Laswell said as she took another puff of her cigarette. “I’m not.”

“Listen, Kate, you don’t have to worry-”

“It’s not that, John,” Kate interrupted, “I understood that this could happen when she and her brothers signed up for the military. Her parents and I accepted that one day, they could be gone. But this. This was something that could have easily been prevented. This was gross negligence, and that’s what pisses me off.”

“I understand that Kate,” Price said as he lit his cigar, “But if she’s going to join us, you have to accept the risks Kate."

"I know that," Kate mumbled, her voice breaking. "But I know you too John. And I know you take your men’s lives seriously,” Kate aswered,“Let’s just focus on getting her back in one piece.”

“Right then, what’s the play?” Price said, his gaze sweeping over Kate.

Later- 9:00 PM

After analyzing the video for clues and questioning the boy who brought the tape, Kate and the base's commanders could finally track down the headquarters. That led to this debrief with 141 and Laswell. 

“Alright, boys here's the deal,” Laswell said as she and Price stood before Soap, Gaz, and Ghost, "As you guys know now, this is a rescue operation. The rescue target is Sergeant Imani Barnes and her K9, Alpha. We tracked their location to this abandoned compound 241 klicks out.”

“Pretty far out,” Gaz commented. 

“Well, when you’re a small group that manages to ambush the U.S. military, you move your arse or die,” Ghost commented.

“Our drones spotted two buildings. The main building and what looks to be a barn,” Laswell said as she pulled up satellite video and images on the screen behind her, “Based on the activities happening in both structures, we believe that both Alpha and Imani are being kept separate. Alpha in the barn northeast of the compound while Imani is here in the main building.”

“Why keep the K9 alive,” Gaz asked, his eyebrows raised in confusion, “Wouldn’t it be best just to kill him?”

“Well, Alpha isn’t like most K9s. He’s too valuable to kill. They could sell him for a hefty price,” Laswell answered. 

“How much,” Ghost asks.

“About 10 million, give or take,” Laswell answered nonchalantly. 

“Steamy bloody Jesus,” Soap said in shock, “What the hell can it do to cost that much?”

“You’ll see,” Price answered before Laswell could. 

“Who’re we going up against,” Gaz asked this time. 

“The group is called Al-Shars. Since the group is relatively new so forces are limited. With that being said, we believe 150 members are currently in the compound, which is most likey their entire group. A man named Marwan Mustafa is the man in charge,” Laswell said as she put up the same man who was speaking in the video, “We also believe that he’s still in the compound.”

“What do we know about him,” Ghost asked. 

“Honestly, he’s new on the CIA radar,” Kate answered honestly. “We don’t have much information on him. Other than being 25 years old, he’s a mystery. This is the first time we saw a video, much less a picture. But I’m hoping to get more info soon.”

“Our orders for him,” Ghost asked. 

“Capture or kill,” Kate said, “But you have to execute authority for everyone else.” 

“Understood,” Soap, Ghost, and Gaz all said in unison. 

“We’ll be taking a Helli a half a mile out from the compound. There, we’ll meet up with an operative who will take us the rest of the way. Once the area is secure, the helli will pick us up and bring us back to base.” Price finished. “Do you have any other questions?”

“No sir,” Gaz said, “Let’s go get her.”

“Good luck, team,” Kate said. 

With that, 141 finished gearing up and double-checking all their gear before they headed out. But before they could take off, they heard someone calling for Price. 

“CAPTAIN PRICE,” a female soldier called out as she ran towards them with one of her arms in a sling. 

“Yes,” Price said as the girl stopped before him and the rest of 141. 

“Corproal Leah Watson,” the blond-haired woman said, “I was with Umbra when she was taken.”

“Glad to see you in one piece,” Price began, “How’re you feeling?”

“Honestly, it could be better,” Leah answered as she looked down at her broken arm in a sling, “Gotta wear this for a couple of weeks and I’ve been dealing with a nasty cough due to the gas. But I’ll live.”

“What do you need,” Ghost asked. 

“Nothing, really,” Leah said, reaching into her back pocket, “It’s more of what you need.”

In her hands was a rolled-up Batman t-shirt. 

“This is one of her favorite shirts,” Leah answered, seeing the confused looks on their faces. “She wears it all the time off duty”

“Why give it to us,” Soap asked as Price grabbed it. 

“Hoping that Alpha is still alive, he won’t just follow you. He doesn’t follow anyone he doesn’t know,” Leah explained, “You have to convince him that it’s ok to trust you. And Mani’s scent is the fastest way.”

“Isn’t it counterproductive for a K9 to act that way,” Gaz asked as Price handed Ghost the shirt. 

“Well, Alpha isn’t a normal K9, you know. You do know that, right," Leah asked, tilting her head in confusion as she looked between the four men. But then, everything clicked: “Wait a minute. You don’t know?”

“Know what,” Ghost asked. 

Before Leah answered, she looked at Price’s face and saw a look in his eyes that was a bit mischievous. 

“You didn't tell them,” Leah smirks. 

“Thought it would be better as a surprise,” Price said as he began to walk towards the driver's side door. 

“Well then,” Leah said as she walked backward, “I won’t spoil the surprise. Good hunting!”

But as the small team entered their helli, one thought was racing through Soap, Ghost, and Gaz’s minds. 

‘What the hell is this damn Alpha?’

Next: Chapter 3

[the-insomniac-emporium]

tale of woe

ARTICULO MORTIS- the moment of death

(Reblogs/comment are appreciated, I read every tag! :3 See under the read-more for an alternate version without the lighting effect, notes on details, as well as a copy of the final sketch)

The constellation is one of the two mentioned during Cassandra's stargazing scene, Ursa Major. The other, Orion the Hunter, was already featured in my previous piece, Stargazer.

Having a 'halo' of red around her head was one of my earliest concept points for this piece, in reference to her cult ending.

In Romeo & Juliet, Juliet's decision to end her life isn't just about her grief over Romeo, it's the knowledge that her only real options are either to die or to be sent off to live as a nun. When so much of her story is already about trying to choose her own fate, to avoid the life that has been planned out for her, it's easier to understand her final decision. Anywho, the real point of this paragraph is that this is why the left side of the piece features a church building.

The circular window in the church has 8 slices, each with a color representing one of the 7 routes, plus a bonus one for Mia. The colors are all eye-dropped from the character sprites, minus Miranda's, which I selected from the piece I did for her.

The three graves on the left are for the Stans. One of them literally says STAN, one is blank, and the last one has the initials R.S. (Rebecca Stan). On the right side we have a grave for the MC, partially since they die in the cult ending, partially because the right side is more symbolic of the play's canon ending, so the MC's grave is really Romeo's grave.

The main color for the curtains was taken from Cassandra's default sprite, specifically her shirt, because why not? Similarly, the color for the boards/stage at the bottom is taken from her pants. Because why not?

technically the flowers in her hand are supposed to be roses, but I realized about halfway through this piece that over the years my simplified way of drawing roses has gradually turned into just drawing tulips. oops. seriously tho, oops. also realized that this one pan I use for cooking, which I always thought was an 8x8 pan, is actually a 9x9 pan. which explains several recurring difficulties with some of my favorite baking recipes. guess I'm just a silly goose

this had so many layers holy fuck. I used the same file for the original pose sketches, as well as a bunch of reference photos, but even with that in mind it's crazy that this had over 70 layers. by the end there's still, like, 20 active ones. each section had a separate layer for the outline + the color, another couple layers for the banner on bottom, one for lighting, and then the constellation was it's own layer.

Final outline sketch:

Version without the lighting effect (which is intended to mimic the way stained glass looks when hit by sunshine):

[mashup-writing]

Food for thought for a Mia Route:

I know that we all love pitching in possible unhinged comedic scenarios because Mia is a Girl-Loser when put in a 1v1 against our other LIs.

But has anyone ever considered the possibility that MC has never ever ever ever picked Mia across any of the past resets? And what if MC has never actually had any romantic feelings for Mia in their first life, but Mia is/has always been the "Pine after my bestie in torturous silence" kinda gay?

What if a possible Mia playthrough will be the very first time across all the resets + OG timeline that MC ever ends up with Mia? Can y'all imagine the possibility for gutwrenching ANGST?!

It took forgetting "Us" for you to choose Mia?

The possible existential crisis Mia may have over wanting her OG bestie back vs. Wanting a future with the current reincarnation.

The possible existential crisis Mia may have over MC having the face of the person she had wanted all those years ago, yet not being the same person anymore. The person she had loved for so long is dead and never coming back...

Mia dropping an inside joke that OG!MC and her used to laugh about all the time, but Current MC doesn't get it at all and Mia has to settle for a "Meh, nevermind numbskull" while feeling her heart shatter into a million itty bitty pieces.

[sunnyikemen]

For Her

Pairing: Ikevamp Leonardo x MC

Summary: Leonardo takes on the heaviest burden for love. And he defies those who condemn this love.

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying.

Word count: ~850

Notes: Replaying Leonardo's route and am in a Mood. Might do more with this later, but for now kindly accept this small offering of tragic man.

***

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Leonardo's fingers continue tracing the contours of her face, but his eyes shift to hers, “Intriguing. Don’t think I can decline that offer. What’s on your mind?”

She lets her eyelids drop as fingertips trail down the bridge of her nose, and she breaths. Deep and slow. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around…mortality. Specifically, mortality mixed with immortality,” another deep breath, “I think I’ve found a benefit.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Unfortunately, it’s only a benefit for myself, and it’s very selfish.”

“That’s not like you. It must be a very beneficial benefit.”

“Oh, it is,” she says.

Leonardo gives her a moment to elaborate, but it never comes. He cradles her face with his hand and brushes his thumb back and forth across her cheek. She doesn’t open her eyes, but her brows are tense.

“Ah, cara mia. You can’t leave me hanging like that.”

Her eyes open, and he sees doubt flash across them. Unlike her, he thinks.

“It’s’ not very kind to say, I’ve realised,” she says softly, “I never want to be unkind to you.”

Leonardo adjusts his head on the pillow so her wandering gaze finally focusses on his, and he brushes the rosiness of her skin with his knuckles. Sometimes he wonders if her goodness rubs off on him whenever he caresses her. He hopes so.

“I could never take what you say as unkindness,” he coos, but her worry doesn’t seem to ease, “What’s got you wound up, bella? Let me in. I wanna know what goes on in that pretty head of yours to give you an expression like that.”

“I just had the thought that…” she plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I won't have to grieve you.”

His fingertips finally stop their journey at the tip of her chin, his brows furrowed, “Cara mia, why are you thinking things like that?”

“And you never do?”

He doesn’t answer, “I don’t like when you think like that. It upsets you.”

“I know, but I selfishly can’t help it,” she takes a long breath through her nose, like she’s about to do a run up, “I’m aware it’s horrible, but in a way I’m glad that I’ll be the first to leave. I couldn’t bear any other outcome,” she opens her eyes, “I don’t want to miss you.”

Leonardo suspects she had imagined a different reaction from him. He feels her nails scratching nervously against his scalp, bottom lip between her teeth, anticipating his reply. But he smiles at her, and continues drawing patterns across her skin. Because she was right, he had thought about it too. And he had come to the same conclusion.

“I’m glad too,” he says steadily, “Can’t bear to see you upset, you know that. If that benefit is comforting to you,” he kisses between her brows, “then I’ll take this burden for you. I’ll miss you instead.”

Oh, how his love ran so deep for her that he’d do absolutely anything she asked. He never imagined, in all his amazing and ridiculous dreams, that he’d ever have a love like this. He is grateful to have it at all.

Leonardo can imagine others scoffing at a love so doomed. Sticking their noses up, laughing in his face. He can even imagine some pitying looks, with a hand on his back, and a why on the tips of their tongues. Why put yourself through that?

And his reply?

So am I not allowed to love at all, then?

He’d become defiant of that ‘why’ hundreds of years ago. He’d had much time to think it over, and he’d reached his conclusion.

If he was not allowed this joy, for the simple fact that it is fleeting, then he’d sit in the dark alleyways of life and he’d love. He’d brush his hand against the hand of a passerby. He’d catch eyes with someone from across the room and smile. He’d embrace another. He’d call them ‘lover’. He’d kiss them. If the world decided he shall not love then he shall do so illicitly, with the kindness and rebellion of a man who cared not if that same world abandoned him, for he knew he had his heart and that his heart was full.

And at his trial, he’d stand tall. At the condemnation of his heart, he’d look into the eyes of those who saw his feelings as a crime and him as a prisoner. He’d rattle his chains at them, knowing that he’d feel more love in his lover’s lifetime than they’ll ever feel in their own.

But even that last statement wasn't entirely true, for he’d love her even when she had no air in her lungs. He’d love her even if her heart turned to stone. He’d love her even when she is frail. And centuries after her eyes had closed for the last time, he’d love her. For her, even then.

“When I die, I hope it’s like this,” she croaks, “I hope we’ll be holding each other. I hope I’ll still feel your fingertips on my skin.”

Even then.

***

masterlist