#Definitely not the worst part of the thing but...

[deadpoetskin]

DADDY, YOU DUMMY

SYNOPSIS: One moment, Wayne Manor is calm. The next, there’s a toddler standing in the dining room with a Red Robin plush, and a very familiar pair of blue eyes. None of Bruce’s sons have children. Only one of them is even in a relationship. And that is most definitely not Timothy Jackson Drake PAIRINGS: Tim Drake x Fem! Reader, Original Female Character TAGS: Time Travel, Slow burn, Strangers to Lovers

🜼 :: i am not very familiar with the canon material, please forgive me. i just got into this fandom recently cause of the edits with the bubble guppies songs—you know what i’m talking about—but i can't resist writing when i get an idea. i did read up the lore as much as i can so i hope that's enough of a crash course.

🜼 :: i really wanted to introduce the reader this chapter but it was getting loo long and i hate to end it short but i had to. next chapter, for sure

🜼 :: lemme know if you wanna be tagged for part two

Wayne Manor was not the kind of place where surprises went over well.

Bruce liked his routines. Alfred had his cleaning system optimized down to a science. And the Batkids—well, chaos followed them often, but even they liked their chaos scheduled. So when a child appeared out of nowhere, no one was quite sure what protocol applied.

It was just past nine in the evening when the silence in the Wayne Manor dining room was fractured.

The long dining table was actually being used—not for mission briefings or post-patrol first aid, but for something bordering on domestic. Plates were half-full, conversations across the table—mild teasing, half-finished stories, arguments over who had the worst form on a grappling hook. Damian sat near the end, posture too straight, silently judging every word coming out his brothers' mouths. Jason occasionally grinned, the scar near his mouth twitching with each bite of sarcasm. And Dick, ever the glue of the family, kept the mood light.

It was a rare moment having all—most—of the kids over for dinner. The kind of gathering that only happened a handful of times a year. 

But peace never lasted long with the Waynes.

The lights flickered—just once—then the air shifted. A stillness that felt charged. Like the hush before a thunderclap, or the space between heartbeats when something goes wrong.

And then—she was just there.

No door opened. No footsteps. No warning.

She appeared near the head of the table, close to the dining room door. Dressed in a red dress and a black cardigan, ponytailed, carrying a small black bag, and hugging a Red Robin plush. She blinked wide, curious eyes up at the room full of people staring back at her like she was a time bomb.

“Hi,” she said, voice soft and light. “Please don’t tell Mommy.”

A beat.

The little girl’s lip wobbled.

And then she burst into tears.

Damian tensed, already halfway into a defensive stance. Jason blinked like he’d forgotten how his eyes worked. Bruce looked vaguely horrified. 

It was Dick who stepped forward, calm through the rising confusion. He crouched low, arms open, and scooped her up like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, gently rocking her. “You’re alright. You’re safe.”

The sobs quieted, just a little. Enough to breathe. Enough for the shock to start setting in.

Twenty minutes later, the rest of the family was assembled in the drawing room. Bruce, Jason, Damian, and Dick were all watching the small girl now wrapped in a blanket on the couch, holding a juice box and kicking her feet. The Red Robin plush she carried now sat beside her like a silent bodyguard.

Bruce stood in front of the fireplace, arms folded, eyes fixed and unreadable. Damian leaned against the far wall near the door, keeping his distance. Dick sat on the armrest beside her, elbow on his knee, one hand propping up his chin. Jason had taken to standing behind the couch, watching the child with intrigue. 

“I didn’t just hallucinate that, right? She just appeared?” Jason finally asked, cutting through the silence. “Like—poof?”

“No alarms or sensors were triggered,” Bruce said, frowning slightly. “One moment the room was empty. Next, she was standing right here.”

Dick let out a low whistle. “She’s tiny. Like, what—three?”

“Four,” the girl corrected, holding up four fingers with mild exasperation. “And I’m not tiny. You’re just giant, Uncle Dickie.”

Dick blinked, taken slightly aback. “Uncle Dickie?”

Jason snorted from behind the couch, grinning. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

“She knows you, Grayson,” Damian muttered, his eyes narrowing.

Before anyone could respond, the little girl rolled her eyes with theatrical flair.

“Uncle Dami, you dummy,” she said, completely unfazed by his glare. “Of course I know Uncle Dickie.”

The room stilled for a breath.

Jason choked on a laugh. “Did she just—?”

Damian’s jaw twitched. “I am no one’s uncle.”

The child gave him a judging look, like she’d heard this line before. “Yes, you are. You’re my grumpy Uncle Dami”

Jason doubled over, wheezing. “This kid’s killing me.”

Damian glared, but it had less bite than usual—more confusion than fury.

Bruce, meanwhile, hadn’t moved from his place by the fireplace, but his gaze had sharpened. He was watching the girl closely now. Familiar. Intimate. Confident in the truth of every word she says.

“What's your name?” he asked, voice low.

The girl gave him a patient, very unimpressed look.

The girl huffed and crossed her arms. “Grampa, you’re also a dummy,” she said, frowning with all the authority a four-year-old could muster. “You already know me.”

A few seconds passed. Nobody moved. 

She paused, blinking at them like they were the ones being ridiculous.

Then she pointed to herself with both thumbs and declared with exasperated pride—

“I’m your granddaughter,” she said. “Duh.”

“I’m Georgina Drake” She beamed. “But you always just call me Gia.”

The room fell silent.

“Drake,” Jason echoed. “As in…?”

“As in Tim.” Bruce confirmed, voice steady and low.

Across the room, Damian looked as if someone had insulted him personally.

“No,” he said immediately, folding his arms. “Impossible. Drake doesn’t even have a girlfriend.”

“Could be a prank,” Dick offered, though his tone was more tentative now. “Or a clone. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve seen.”

“I’m not a clone!” she said primly, chin lifting in defiance. “I’m a princess, like Mommy.”

Jason raised a brow. “Okay, princess. Who’s your mom?”

Before she could answer, her head turned—eyes catching on movement by the door.

Tim had just stepped into the room, phone in hand, brows drawn in confusion at the unusually quiet gathering.

The girl’s face lit up.

“Daddy!” she squealed, voice echoing off the walls as she launched herself off the couch like a missile.

Tim was late. Naturally.

He'd been held up in a meeting at WE and was still reading the message from Dick—

come home now. emergency

—when he stepped into the room, still in his blazer, earbuds in, looking confused. 

“Hey. Got your text. What’s the emergency—?”

Then he saw the child.

And the child saw him.

With an ear-splitting squeal, Gia launched herself across the room with terrifying speed. 

“Daddy!”

Tim had precisely two seconds to process that before she crashed into his legs, arms wrapping around his knees like she’d known him her whole life.

He froze.

Every pair of eyes in the room turned to him.

Tim looked down. She clung to him like a koala, babbling in excitement with enough energy to make his brain short-circuit.

“I missed you!” she chirped. “You were gone forever! I thought maybe you got lost—Uncle Bart said you do that sometimes—but we told Mommy we’d be back before dinner so you can't get lost!”

Tim stood frozen, blinking. “What.”

“But then Uncle Bart had to go too” she went on, not missing a beat, “‘cause Mr. Jon called him on the commy thing and he told me, ‘Don’t touch anything, Arti, not even a little bit!’ and I didn’t, ‘cause I was being super good.”

She paused, looking up at him, pouting and looking guilty. “But then I got kinda bored… and I maybe touched the glowy thingy just a little bit. And it was really shiny! And then—poof!”

She flung her hands out like fireworks, eyes wide.

“And then I blinked and I was here with Uncle and Grandpa and they’re being weird and dummies and Uncle Damian is grumpy—again.” She rolled her eyes like that was the most annoying part of her day.

Then she looked back at Tim and grinned, soft and warm, like everything was finally right again.

“But it’s okay now!” she said, with absolute certainty. “’Cause you’re here.”

Tim’s jaw slackened. No words came out.

He looked like his entire operating system had crashed. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open. Breath caught somewhere in his chest. His hands hung uselessly at his sides as he stared at the tiny girl still hugging his legs like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Tim looked to Bruce, looking for answers. “What the hell is going on?”

“Her name’s Gia,” Dick supplied, still perched on the arm of the couch, grinning like this was the best thing that had happened all month.

“Congrats, Replacement. She’s yours.” Jason said, far too casually, visibly trying not to burst into laughter at the sight of Tim—speechless, wide-eyed, completely out of his depth.

“She says she’s yours,” Damian corrected with a scowl, arms still folded. “We haven’t confirmed anything yet.”

“She’s—she’s mine?” Tim sputtered. “I don’t—wha—what?”

“She does have your eyes,” Bruce said mildly from his place near the fireplace.

Before Tim could respond—or fall over—Gia’s expression shifted.

Her eyes flicked past him to the doorway, searching. “But where’s Mommy?” she asked softly, her voice losing some of its earlier bounce. Her smile faltered just a little. “Is she outside?”

The room stilled. That single question cut through the noise like a blade. 

Tim’s heart stopped. “Mommy?”

She looked at him, confused. “Yeah,” she said. “My mommy. Where’s Mommy?”

Tim swallowed hard. “What’s your mommy’s name?”

Gia scrunched her nose. “You know her.”

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, lowering himself to her level, his blazer wrinkling at the knees. “I don’t think I do.”

Around them, the room held its breath.

Her eyes stayed locked on him, her little face scrunching even more like she didn’t understand why he was asking such a silly question. “Yes, you do,” she said with the kind of unshakable confidence only a child could carry. “She’s my mommy. And she’s your favorite person.”

Tim’s breath hitched. Behind her, Jason made a sound—half laugh, half breath—but didn’t speak.

“Sweetheart, can you tell me her name?” Tim tried again. “Can you tell me what she looks like?”

Gia tilted her head, like he was playing a very weird game she’s still not understanding. He could see her small brain working behind her eyes, wondering why her Daddy was being so weird tonight.

“Is she not here yet?” Her brows furrowed. “But Mommy said don’t be late for dinner.”

Tim swallowed hard, forcing himself to speak carefully. Softly. “Sweetheart… I don’t know who your mommy is.”

She only blinked at him, like he’d just said the sky was green. Her mouth opened, then closed again. 

“Yes, you do,” she insisted, but the certainty in her voice wavered. “She kisses you on the cheek every single time you go to work with Grampa. And she gets mad when you don’t sleep. And she calls you ‘Timothy’ when you’re in trouble.”

“And she does your ties for you,” She continued, rambling, “because you always get distracted when you’re talking and then you mess it up. And she always says, ‘Come here, dummy,’ and fixes it.”

The room had gone completely quiet. Even the shadows in the room felt still. The fireplace crackled softly. A phone pinged once in the background but no one looked away.

“You know Mommy, Daddy. She—she’s gonna be mad if you say you don’t.”

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Tim’s heart shattered. “Hey, hey, no,” he said quickly, reaching for her hands, small and shaking. “She’s not gonna be mad. No one’s mad.”

But she wasn’t listening—not really. Her eyes darted around the room—searching for her mother in every corner, every shadow. She saw the people she knew—Grandpa, Uncle Jay, Uncle Dickie, even grumpy Uncle Dami—but not Mommy.

“Mommy always says,” she mumbled through hiccuping breaths and tears that have begun to flow down her cheeks, “that you’re really smart, and you forget stuff that’s not important…”

Her tiny shoulders shook.

“…but you never forget me and Mommy.”

Tim’s chest tightened. The world was closing in—what was going on—too fast, too much. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to breathe.

“Daddy, you dummy,” she whispered, and it broke him. “You can’t forget Mommy.”

And that was it. She crumpled, falling into him fully, sobbing now with hiccuping breaths and clenched little fists. She pressed her face to his hand holding hers and cried like her whole world had gone sideways. 

Tim didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t know how to hold her. He didn’t know if he should.

But his arms moved anyway, instinct more than thought, wrapping around her small frame and pulling her in tight. Her weight, so light and yet overwhelming, settled against him like she belonged there.

His throat burned. He opened his mouth, and he whispered the only thing he could think of, even though it was a lie.

“I’m sorry, baby.” His voice trembled. “Daddy’s only joking. Of course I know Mommy”

She sniffled once. Lifted her head from his chest just enough to look him in the face. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes red and shining, but there was a flicker of hope in them now—small, but it made her eyes bright again.

“…You do?”

Tim hesitated. And in that half-second, he hated himself.

“Yeah,” he lied again, smiling through the crack in his heart. “Of course I do.”

She stared at him for a moment longer. Then let out a tiny, hiccupy breath and buried her face in his shirt again.

“Daddy, you dummy,” she whimpered, pouting into his chest. “I’m telling Mommy you’re a meanie.”

That nearly undid him.

A broken laugh caught in his throat, and it sounded more like a gasp. He hugged her closer, eyes squeezed shut.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You should. She might yell at me, though”

“She’ll ground you,” Gia  mumbled, and though she was still hiccuping, there was a smile in her voice now. “No phone time.”

Tim let out another shaky breath. “Brutal.”

Her little arms curled tighter around his neck.

“You better say sorry,” she said seriously, one last sniffle escaping.

Tim’s laugh broke through this time. “Daddy’s sorry, baby.”

Behind them, no one spoke.

Tim held Gia a little closer.

He didn’t know her mother. Didn’t remember having a daughter.

But the child in his arms believed in him.

So he kept holding her.

Gia had cried herself to sleep.

Alfred had taken her from Tim the moment they realized she was too tired to stay upright. He’d carried her gently past the quiet hallway and into the sanctuary of Tim’s bedroom. The others hadn’t followed.

Now she lay in Tim’s room, small and still, her arms wrapped tight around the Red Robin plush like it was armor. She was asleep within minutes, curled into the center of the bed like she belonged there. Her cheeks were blotchy, her breathing soft and uneven from exhaustion. 

Down by the drawing room, the heavy silence left behind still lingered. 

They didn’t know what to make of her. Neither did Tim. He didn’t know who she really was. He didn’t know who her mother was. Didn’t even know how she got here. 

And still didn’t know why she called him “Daddy”.

The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting shadows over wood and marble. Tim, seated, sleeves rolled to his elbows, fingers locked together. Focused. Trying to make sense of the impossible.

Dick was the one who broke the silence.

“You didn’t see her when she appeared,” he said gently. “One second the room was empty. Then, she was just there.”

“No alarms,” Jason added. “No signs of breach. Nada. It was like she’d teleported.”

Tim’s brows pulled together. “No signs of a Zeta Beam?”

“Possible.” Bruce said. “Highly likely considering she mentioned Bart earlier.”

“Gia said,” Dick began, “that he told her not to touch the ‘glowy thing’. Then she blinked and ended up here.”

Tim’s mouth felt dry. “And she knew all of you?”

“By name,” Damian grumbled.

Tim exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “She could be a clone. We can’t rule that out.”

Jason raised a brow. “She said before that she wasn’t.”

“We can’t assume she’s telling the truth. Not yet.” Bruce said, voice firm.

“She’s a child.” Jason shot back. “A weird one, sure, ‘cause she didn’t even flinch when the Demon Spawn glared at her, but still a child.”

“Children can lie,” Damian said coolly, arms still folded. “Especially when taught to.”

Jason scoffed. “She’s four,” he said, throwing a hand in the air. “You’re telling me a four-year-old can lie well enough to fool us? All of us? At the same time?”

Damian didn’t flinch. “Age doesn’t guarantee innocence.”

“She could be telling the truth,” Tim said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “We need… something. Something to believe her.”

There was a beat of silence.

“What kind of proof could a four-year-old have?” Dick asked, frowning. “Crayon drawings? An imaginary friend who vouches for her?”

Damian didn’t miss a beat. “The kind that bleeds,” he said coldly. “DNA. Unquestionable data.”

Jason grimaced. “Jesus, demon spawn. She’s not a threat.”

Damian turned to him. “She could be. And if she is, we don’t have the luxury of sentiment. You think just because she calls you ‘Uncle,’ that makes her real? We don’t know what she is.”

“She’s a kid,” Jason snapped, pushing off from the wall. “She cried when Tim said he didn’t know her mom. You think that was a performance?”

Tim flinched.

“We’ll run the tests,” Bruce's voice cut in. “Alfred’s already prepared the labs. We’ll have answers by morning.”

Jason muttered something under his breath.

Dick leaned back in his seat, eyes flitting towards Tim. “If she is… that means you and someone else—”

“Don’t,” Tim said flatly. His voice was too raw for argument. “Not yet.”

Tim wasn’t able to sleep. 

He barely sleeps on a regular day—too much on his mind, too much to do, and not enough hours to do it. But tonight, there wasn’t even the illusion of rest.

Not with the child’s words echoing in his head.

Tim sat in the corner chair of his room, one leg folded under him, fingers wrapped around a now-cold mug of coffee. He’d changed out of his dress shirt hours ago. He hadn’t turned the lights on. He didn’t dare.

In the middle of the bed, Gia was still asleep—hands curled around the Red Robin plush like it was her most precious thing. She hasn’t stirred much. Her tiny form was buried in the blankets, hair messy, mouth slightly open in the softness of sleep. One of her feet had slipped out from under the comforter and now peeked over the edge, small toes wiggling with a dream.

The clock on his nightstand glowed past 3:00 AM. 

Still no word on the DNA.

Tim hadn’t expected results until breakfast but every minute that passed in silence stretched the knot in his chest tighter.

He kept stealing glances at the child in his bed.

She looked so safe. 

Like she belonged there.

The sun was rising by the time something happened.

There was light peeking through the windows—thin and gray, the kind of morning only Gotham could manage. It cast long shadows across the floor, faint gold lining the edges of the curtains, the dresser, the empty coffee mug cooling on the table beside him.

Tim hadn’t moved.

His back ached. His eyes burned. But he didn’t move.

The soft click of the door made Tim lift his head.

Alfred stepped in, silent as ever, a man who had crossed thresholds in this house with worse news in the past—but somehow, tonight felt heavier. He held a single envelope in one hand, the edges crisp.

Tim straightened in the chair, setting the untouched coffee aside. He didn’t ask. Didn’t breathe.

Alfred looked at him with something that wasn’t quite pity, but close enough to make his stomach turn.

He offered the envelope forward.

Tim took it, hands slower than they should’ve been.

It had already been opened. 

Of course it had. Bruce wouldn’t wait for him. Not with stakes like these.

He stared at it for a long moment.

He didn’t know what he expected. Maybe a warning. A delay. A chance to prepare himself for the answer.

He didn’t get one.

His eyes dropped to the top of the first page. A simple heading:

WAYNE BIOTECH Genetic Identity Verification Report Report ID: WE-FSD-PAT-22341 Requested By: Bruce Wayne Analysis Type: Paternity – DNA Comparison Subject Information Child: Georgina Drake Alleged Father: Timothy Jackson Drake

His eyes skimmed the paper to the only line that mattered.

Probability of Paternity: 99.997%

The paper crumpled slightly at his tight grip.

Alfred didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

The bed creaked softly behind him as Gia shifted in her sleep, clutching her Red Robin plush a little tighter.

The world didn’t shatter or explode.

It just shifted.

He still didn’t know how the hell she got here. He still didn’t know who the mother was. But now he knew one thing with absolute certainty:

She wasn’t lying.

She really is his daughter.

He swallowed hard. “What did Bruce say?” he asked, voice barely audible.

Alfred stood a few steps away, hands folded neatly in front of him. “He read the report. Twice.”

“And?”

A pause. Then:

“He did order secondary testing. Just to confirm. The result was the same.”

Tim let out a short, humorless breath. “That sounds about right.”

“Does the rest of the family know?” he asked after a beat.

“Master Richard saw the report with Master Bruce.”  Alfred replied gently. “Master Damian is pretending not to care. Master Jason had opted to not stay at the manor, he’ll likely find out later today”

Tim dragged a hand down his face, exhaling shakily. “This isn’t real. It can’t be. I mean—it is. The test says it is. But how?”

He looked over at Gia again—her face half-buried in the pillow, tiny fingers still curled tight in the plush’s arm. Her lashes fluttered with sleep, mouth slightly open.

She looked so at peace. Unlike the anxiety he was feeling 

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice low. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“I imagine no one does,” Alfred replied. “Not at the beginning. But you’re not alone, Master Timothy.”

ARCHIVE PART TWO

🜼 :: @jenjubili

divider: @enchanthings

[cheriedivine]

Sidelines ⭑𓂃 | prologue

୭ pairing: ex-con!reader x ellie williams

୭ synopsis: After losing your father and watching your mother disappear into addiction, you bounced between foster homes, each one colder than the last. But a misfortuned turn of events landed you in the wrong place at the worst time, it was their word against yours—and you were the one with the evidence in your hands, thrown into a system that never really cared if you made it out.

୭ word count: 3.2k

୭ Tags: afab!reader, enemies->friends->lovers, slightly college!AU, multiple part series, (this is mostly an introduction for the series)

୭ CW: TW for sensitive topics, dysfunctional family, implied child abuse, abusive household, substance abuse (alcohol, weed, among others), poor knowledge of the U.S law system.

୭ AN: Surprise! I’m introducing my new series “sidelines” based on this ask. I’ve been planning this one for a bit now and I wanted to give you a little taste before continuing with apple cider lol, anyway hope you guys like this one <3 it’s definitely very different from my previous stuff. (Also excuse my very poor knowledge of the U.S laws.)

How far can you run from your past? How deep can you push it down and shove it under your bones till it rips your flesh apart and bleeds out, staining your sheets, your hands and blurrying your whole world.

Stability was hard to find early in your life, growing up a precocious child you’ve learned that trust can be something so easy to give away and so hard to gain back. While the other children had everything handed out to them in the blink of an eye, you had to watch them quietly, hoping that maybe one day that would be your life. 

But as the years passed by, that life seemed more like a dream than a possible reality. After your father’s passing, pain was the only reminder of the void he had left, even if your mother tried to cover it up with cheap whiskey and evil men, the pain of your loss never went away.

At the age of thirteen, your only worry should be what to wear at the mall with your friends, the shade of lipgloss you would buy at Claire’s, and choosing a stupid code name for your crush. But that seemed so far away for you, no matter how much you tried to cling into that fantasy. Instead you were picking up empty bottles from your living room floor while your mother was passed out on the couch, probably (and definitely) from drinking all night, the reek of vodka and the Marlboro red butts smashed against the coffee table had become familiar to you. It was the scent you associated her with.

You didn’t blame her, not because of that—she worked multiple jobs to keep a roof over your heads and as much food she could afford from her free coupons. It was the people she brought alongside her, mostly men, all kinds of men, but her favorites were the bad ones. The ones who’d throw her against the wall and claim it was just a one time thing, the ones that left thin white lines on the table and disappeared the next day, but the ones you despised the most, were the ones that claimed to replace your father, and made it their role to punish you if dinner wasn’t served by the time they came home, or if a beer wasn’t cracked open the second they stepped in. And you’d learn that the hard way.

Green and purple marks were left as a warning—No. A reminder of what happened if you breathed too loud, or talked too much—and god forbid you spoke back, because it would only be worse for you.

But your mother never stepped in, never took the swing for you, never tried to stop it. She just stood there paralyzed, too drunk or too high to barge in. Crying was useless, and screaming never helped, so you learned to take the hit and move on, act like nothing happened. Be cold.

The first time you were sent to a foster home was a few days after your fifteenth birthday, your mother had invited some of her “friends” over to celebrate you, but it was merely an excuse to drink and call her dealer. That night you had gone to bed earlier, dreaming already of the mess you would wake up to, but to your surprise you were woken up by a loud knock on your door, still groggy and with your hair a mess, you made your way toward the door, kicking a few bottles and beer cans out of your way. 

The knob turned in a swift motion, without thinking, you imagined that maybe your mom had forgotten her keys again but instead, a very polished-looking police officer offered you a polite smile and asked if your parents were home. You panicked instantly, turning your head over your shoulder, witnessing the mess that was your living room. Your breath caught in your throat, hand sweaty over the door knob, and you were sure your face had gone pale. 

Your mother was nowhere to be seen, not on the couch and not in her room. 

It wasn’t weird for your mother to disappear like that sometimes, but the police at your door rang an alarm that had never been blared. Was she in trouble? In jail? Did she get in an accident? Were the current questions that passed through your mind.

The officer noticed the purple bruise on your arm, one that you had gotten a couple days ago from your mother’s new boyfriend. You covered your arm instinctively, but your nervous behavior deceived you. He proceeded to ask a few questions, but you lied to him—Obviously, saying that your mom had gone to the store for an early errand and that she would be back later, but the shakiness in your voice betrayed you. 

That you were fucked was an understatement. 

The officer stepped over the threshold without asking, you didn’t stop him, you couldn’t. You just stood there barefoot, your fingers clenching the hem of your shirt, watching him scan the mess that was left behind. 

Empty liquor bottles lined the windowsill like trophies, beer cans crushed into the carpet, ashtrays overflowing from cigarette butts stuck to the rim. There were tiny baggies on the coffee table—some empty, some not. A half-used joint snuffed into a paperplate, and a dose of powder residue on the glass next to it.

Your stomach twisted.

He took it all in with a practiced look, jaw clenched tight, like this wasn’t the first time he’d walked into something like this. 

The weight of it crashed over you like a wave to the shore. You hadn’t cleaned. You hadn’t hidden anything. You were just standing there in your pajamas, thinking of how you were never supposed to be the one answering the door.

He spoke into his radio, voice low and even, but still you heard it all. "We’ve got a minor at the residence. Suspected neglect and possible exposure to controlled substances. Requesting backup and child protective services at this location."

Your ears rang. Your chest felt hollow. Your legs buzzed with adrenaline but you didn’t move. It was like all the oxygen was taken out of your lungs, and your limbs weren’t responding anymore.

Minutes blurred together until another patrol pulled up, then the unmarked car you’d never seen before. The woman who stepped out looked calm, like she’d done this a hundred times, because she had. Her heels clicked softly against the pavement. Clipboard, badge, soft smile.

“Hi there,” she said gently. “I’m from Child Protective Services. Is it just you here?”

You swallowed hard and didn’t answer, you were too scared to. She looked past you into the house, and decided she saw enough.

She crouched a little, like she was talking to someone much younger than you. “Can you come with me for a moment, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.

You hated her. You hated the word. You hated how it made you feel small. You hated how you wanted someone to mean it for real, and not from pity.

Your fingers trembled when she offered her hand. You didn’t take it, but you stepped outside anyway. The door clicked shut behind you and you knew it wasn’t your house anymore. It probably never had been.

They told you it would be temporary. "Just a week or two," they said, "until your mother gets sober." But deep down, you knew better.

She wasn’t coming back. And if she did, it would only be a matter of time till they took you away again. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Days of waiting turned into weeks, eventually into months and somehow a year had already gone by, blurred into tiny sharp fragments. You were passed around foster homes like an old rag doll, when you got lucky it would be tired smiles, rules taped to the fridge, and dinner at 6:30 sharp. One family had twin toddlers who screamed until midnight. Another had a son a year older than you who never looked you in the eye. You stayed with a woman who worked night shifts and left you alone for days at a time. Another home only had room for you on a fold-out couch in the basement.

Still, it was better than waking up to a broken home, where food was never warm, and peace could only come at night when everyone was too drunk to care.

At the other homes, no one hit you. No one screamed. But no one saw you either. You were always temporary. Always halfway gone. You never got attached, why would you? You didn’t bother unpacking anymore, the possibility of being moved was always there, so you just learned to float. Because who would want to keep a child that isn’t theirs? 

You cried sometimes, when everyone was asleep, you sobbed into your pillow, fists clenched in anger and hurt. Most times you thought it would be better if you were gone, if you never happened, you wouldn’t be a burden to these strangers that were kind enough to open their homes to you, to your mother—Fuck, maybe your father would be alive too. But it was just wishful thinking. There was nothing you could do, and time was just waiting for something or someone to save you, to hold you and tell you it would be okay. That this was just a bad dream you’d wake up from.

And then came them. Your last foster home. The one where things finally stopped feeling temporary—not because you were safe, but because you were trapped.

You were sixteen.

They seemed nice at first, normal. The house was always squeaky clean, polished wooden floors, tidy beds, and a chimney in the living room. Normal. The mother, Sheila, said she liked keeping a “tight house.” Her husband, Dennis, didn’t speak to you at all for the first couple days. They had two boys, Johnny and Mikey both younger than you, never really smiled much, just nodded along to whatever their parents said.

You didn’t mind the silence at first, you were thankful they didn’t ask a lot of questions, or cared too much about what you did. But as the weeks passed, you started to notice the cracks in them, the silence wasn’t peaceful. It was the warning before the storm.

The rules started simple. You had to earn your meals. You had to finish chores before using the shower. No visitors. No phone calls. You never questioned their rules, there wasn’t a lot you could do anyway, so you followed along, with your head hanging low and trying to never draw much attention.

Then things shifted, you started to drop and pick up some “deliveries.”

They started small. "Just walk this across the street, sweetie." A paper bag in your backpack. An envelope tucked into your coat.

Then it escalated.

Cross-town drop-offs. Late-night runs with strangers on dark alleyways and dead end streets. Handing off heavy envelopes to men you didn’t know, then walking home alone with your hands shoved into your jean pockets.

You were told not to open the bags. But you weren’t stupid.

And when you tried to say no, Sheila would just smile and tilt her head. “Don’t forget, you’ve got a warm bed upstairs, unless you like to sleep on the floor.” 

When you hesitated, you didn’t eat. When you protested, your blankets disappeared. And when you cried, Dennis would appear in the hallway, breathing heavily behind your door.

So you just bent to their rules, like a puppet. You made the deliveries, sometimes you packed them, just so you could have a hot meal and a warm bed. 

You tried it once, just a sniff, to see what it felt like, and then again, just enough to feel less like a body on autopilot, but when Dennis caught you doing it, he locked you in the basement for three days, no food and no water. You promised you would never do it again.

The lines blurred—what you wanted, what you chose, what you were forced into.

Survival. 

And for months, it worked.

Until it didn’t.

It was supposed to be a simple drop, just like the others. Dennis had tossed the pouch into your lap with that same cold, bored look he always gave you, “Mailbox on Rosewood. Usual spot,” he muttered, already turning back to the shed. 

The sun was glaring through a sheet of clouds that afternoon, painting the sidewalks in that flat, dull gray light that made everything look like a surveillance tape. You pulled your hood tighter around your face, walking fast, head low, hands in your jacket pocket, fingers curled tight around the pouch. You passed the corner store, the church with the crooked cross, the usual empty bus stop. Each step felt louder than the last.

You didn’t even notice the cop car at first.

You were too busy fumbling with the zip-up pouch. Numb fingers. Faint nausea. Your second errand of the day. You were supposed to leave it in a mailbox two blocks over and walk away.

But the moment you turned onto Rosewood, something felt wrong. Your gaze followed the two unmarked cars. Doors slightly ajar. A man standing near the alley, a badge clipped to his belt. He looked calm, like he’d been waiting for you. Your breath caught in your throat, pulse crashing in your ears, mouth dry with fear.

The man stepped forward casually, like he didn’t want to spook you. “Hey,” he called out, voice level. “Got a second? I just wanna talk.” He said again, a little closer now.

You froze on your tracks, but your mind kept sprinting. Run. Turn. Lie. Something. But your body didn’t move. You were petrified in place like a deer staring down a rifle. Your fingers tightened around the pouch until your knuckles ached.

Everything happened so fast, all you could recall was the way your body thudded against the cop car and the cold metal handcuffs sharp against your skin. You stared down at the pavement, but your vision kept blurring at the edges, like your brain was trying to protect you by shutting off. The only thing you could feel was the cold knot in your gut and the fire in your throat, and the horrible, irreversible knowing that this time, you weren’t going to make it out. 

From there, it was over before it ever really began. Your public defender—someone you met the day of your arraignment—told you flat out, “Look, the evidence is bad. It’s your word against theirs. They’ve got clean records. You’ve got history.” You didn’t ask what kind of history, but you already knew what people saw when they looked at you—A broken home and a troubled foster kid. Someone who’d already been passed around and thrown away. Someone easy to blame.

He said the best thing you could do was cooperate. “You’re young. If you behave, they might cut it down. Five years maybe, but with good behavior, two or three.” You nodded, numb. It didn’t really matter. You weren’t walking out. That was the only part that was clear.

The trial lasted less than a week. Sheila cried on the stand. “She brought drugs into our home,” Dennis kept his arm around her the entire time like they were grieving saints instead of criminals. The boys said nothing. You weren’t even allowed to face them. The drugs were tested and confirmed. The surveillance footage showed you walking the route. The pouch was in your hands.

Everything pointed to you.

“We tried to help her, God knows we did. We took her in. We gave her a bed, food—stability.” She blinked too quickly, like she’d practiced this a million times before. “But she’s… she’s troubled. There were signs from the beginning. The attitude. The way she looked at the boys. I didn’t want to believe it, but she’s just—she’s a lost cause.”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at the tabletop in front of you, jaw clenched so tight it ached. When it was Dennis’ turn to testify he nodded solemnly. “I should’ve trusted my gut,” he muttered. “She always acted like she had something to hide. Kept sneaking out, lying about where she was going. One time I even caught her using, but I tried to understand her, where she came from, but I should’ve done something before it got into this big mess.”

The judge across from you scribbled something down. You could hear the sound of pen against paper like it was carving the words into your skin. She brought the drugs into the home. She corrupted the boys. She was dangerous.

When the judge asked if you had anything to say, you lifted your eyes, slowly, and met his. You wanted to scream. You wanted to shatter the table and throw the chair through the wall and ask why no one had come to save you before. But all you said was, “They’re lying.” Your voice didn’t even shake.

No one looked convinced.

They called it intent to distribute and possession of controlled substances. They labeled you a liability, a bad influence on younger kids. When the sentence was read aloud—five years in juvenile detention—you didn’t flinch. You didn’t cry. You just stared at the judge and waited for it to end. You told yourself it couldn’t be worse than living with them. And in some small, brutal way, you were right.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You served three years. In that time, you learned to never speak unless spoken to, to hide your things, and how to pick the locks on the cabinets where they kept the good soaps. You earned back time with good behavior, like the attorney had told you. You passed your GED under flickering fluorescent lights, seated at plastic desks beside girls just like you—too quiet, too angry, too used to being dismissed.

You didn’t make lots of friends, just cellmates who let you borrow toothpaste or slip you a spare pillow. But you survived.

On your last year, you worked in the kitchens, washing dishes, serving lunches and filled out college prep worksheets during quiet hours. You kept your head down and learned how to be invisible without fading completely.

At nineteen, they put you under parole, five years shortened to three, thankfully. But since you were no longer a minor, they didn’t send you to a foster home. No caseworker. No guardian. Just a parole officer and a place to be.

You swiped your hands over the fabric of your uniform nervously as you packed your things into a trash bag. Some of the girls glared at you, their eyes burning holes into your skull.. A few gave you soft, knowing smiles, like maybe someday that could be them. You didn’t say goodbye. You knew this wasn’t something to celebrate. It wasn’t freedom—not really. It was a chance. A single shot to make things right.

When the gate buzzed open, they handed you your file and pointed you toward the exit. No good luck or motivational speeches, they just watched you leave, your whole life packed in a tiny trash bag. 

Your assigned parole officer was already there waiting. She didn’t smile, didn’t pretend this was some big second chance. Just held out your bus ticket and said, “Welcome to the real world kid.”

Jackson, was the name of your destination, a small town not far away from here, a clean slate she called it. Fresh start, a life away from everything that had kept you down for years.

You didn’t look back as the car drove away.

You just looked forward.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

⤷ series masterlist | chapter 1

perm taglist: @iadorefineshyt @andieprincessofpower @ssshhh-imreading @liddy333 @valeisaslut @purinukie

series taglist: lmk if you’d like to be added!

[revelboo]

REVEL!!! GIVE US MORE IDW MIRAGE, AND MY LIFE IS YOURS 🏎

How can I say no?

Care

Mirage x Reader

• “Open up for me,” he coaxes, lips twitching at your bemused smile. Half expects you to protest that you can feed yourself as his servos curl around your upper arm to pull you closer. Spark thrumming when you push up to sit on one of his thighs and your mouth opens. Selecting a chocolate from the box, he places it in your mouth and his fans kick on when your soft lips brush his servos as you take it. Watching you flush, a hand lifting to hide your mouth as you chew. So shy sometimes. So sweet.

• His big palm is warm on your hip as his other hand reaches to find another chocolate. Still trying to get used to him mass displaced and closer to your level even though he’s still bigger than you are. Especially when his servos absently stroke your side, though you’re pretty sure he’s just fascinated with the softness of the clothes he’s stuck you in today. Sometimes men’s, sometimes women’s, you haven’t been able to figure out any kind of rhyme or reason to the things be brings you aside from being soft or pretty. Expensive looking. He’s definitely got a thing for glitter and faux fur, though.

• “Open,” he rumbles, voice dipping to a growl before he can stop himself and he softly clears his vents, embarrassed. Didn’t mean for it to be a demand, but you don’t complain. Letting him feed you another bite and he wonders if you have any idea how much he loves you. Loves having someone to take care of, that needs him and doesn’t suspect ulterior motives behind all of his actions. Even if he does have them. Wonders what you’d think if you knew half the things he fantasizes about with you. That he wants more.

• “So messy,” he murmurs sounding more amused than censuring, a servo sliding against the corner of your mouth. But he never really complains about you making messes, just hums at you with good natured affection. Sometimes you’re sure you’re the alien equivalent of a kitten to him, getting into everything, but you’re at least cute so you’re forgiven. He thinks you’re cute anyway, even though you have no idea what he sees in you. “Something wrong, dear spark?” He asks, a servo tipping your chin up to make you realize you were frowning. Know he doesn’t like it when you’re unhappy and you force a smile.

• And your lips part but you don’t say a word. Is he overwhelming you? Maybe you need some space even though he’s reluctant to allow it, he will if it makes you happy. Makes you smile for him. Has no idea what you think of him, but when you’re smiling he can pretend that you actually like him. Because you’re more real than all his socialite friends had been, your smiles and questions genuine and not political maneuvering or the endless game of trying to climb the social ladder by probing for weaknesses. You’re real. “Tell me. Please?”

• Why can’t you just ask what he wants from you? Maybe it’s nothing more than a pampered pet he can dress up. But when he touches you, you’re uncomfortably aware of his handsome face and strong hands sometimes. Aware of him. The warmth of him and the soft constant noises he makes that are so normal to you now that you miss them when he’s away. “Can I have another?” You ask breathlessly instead of those dangerous things you’re scared to ask. Too afraid of losing this, losing him if you ask the wrong thing. And he smiles indulgently, offering you another bite as you wilt inside. Because having a one-sided crush is the worst. But it’s better than making it awkward for him when the alien equivalent of his cat confesses feelings for him.

[haloisntdead]

THEM WITH PHYSICAL TOUCH (DMC5 x GN! Reader)

WOOOO havent written these in a while, and with this new hyperfixation i HAD to come crawling back, please enjoy these scenarios of out beloved DMC men/woman

Characters: Dante, vergil, lady, trish and nero (DMC5)

word count: 1036

warnings: none! just fluffff! maybe a but suggestive in trish's part??

notes: i really reaallly wanted to add Kyrie but i didnt have the energy so sorry Kyrie simps!

DANTE

sparda’s are touch starved by default

He’s a biggg fan of physical touch, specifically on lazy days. A slow weekend with you two lying in bed until 1PM? The idea is enough to melt a man. If you didn't force him off the bed, that slob would stay all day on top of you

Dante does likes hand holding, but he prefers you grab onto his arm, he feels a lot stronger and he’ll use any excuse to show off his gains

Oh godddd he loves picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. No, your weight and height do not matter, you're like a feather to him

his favorite cuddling positions are spooning (hes the big spoon) and laying on top of you, although that one is less frequent since you can barely breath with how heavy he is 

Hair touching? god yes, he love to see you playing with his hair, rubbing his scalp and even tying his hair into a low ponytail. However, that hair is canonically GREASY, so you started to wash his hair every few days, he was hesitant at first but now the having you gently rub shampoo through his hair is one of the most satisfying things for him, especially after coming home covered in demon gore 

VERGIL

ohh…this is uhm..tricky

ok so at first..he wouldn't be too open about physical touch, not that he’d flat out reject you, just that he'd flinch away when you did something as simple as touching his hand

That all changed over time though, i mean you're still the one who always initiates the touching, and he sometimes pulls away if enough time has passed, but he's trying his best here

like i said previously, all sparda’s are touch starved, and he, as the oldest, has the worst case of this

He's been alone for so so long, make sure to give him all the hugs he missed out on!

Let's talk cuddle positions; he likes it when you're turned towards him, burying your face in his chest as he scoops you up in his arms, he wants to feel protective, keep you safe (honestly i'm like 80% sure he sleeps with the yamato so that’ll be awkward ) 

Does NOT like pda, he doesn't even enjoy public spaces so he's most comfortable to show vulnerability when he's laying in bed with you or while having you on his lap as he reads

He likes forehead kisses (which is good cuz he got a big ahh forehead lmao), they make him a bit bashful, but he really does like them

Lay your head on his shoulder while hes cleaning the yamato and watch him freeze up, although after a few seconds he’ll exhale and pull you closer silently

(i'm trying my best to not overdo it with the shyness but i do feel like he would be really bashful about touch)

LADY

She definitely likes being close to you, but i also don't see her as incredibly cuddly either. However she wants you near her after a long ass day, wether its you hugging her or just being in the room with her

I can see her as someone who always has her arm around her partners shoulder, just so everyone knows you're taken and you're hers (looking at you, dante) 

she also likes hand holding, especially at night time while you two are sleeping, her grip gets a bit tight sometimes tho

 In terms of cuddling, i feel like shes quite a switch between holding you and being held, she can enjoy being the little but loves being the bigger spoon too~

she likes picking you up and putting you over her shoulder like her Kalina Ann, don't underestimate her, the girl is strong

give her a butterfly kiss and watch her turn as red as demon blood~

(i take it back, all these character are touch starved even if they're not a sparda, PLEASE give them love they are traumatized)

TRISH

tbh this one was hard to write

Ok number one, hand kisses. Need i say more? receiving them or giving them, it doesn't matter, she loves them and they never fail to make her smile

loves styling your hair (nails if you don't have hair), also loves testing her makeup on you to check if it looks good (in reality she just wants to touch your pretty face). she also enjoys it when you style her hair too

ok so with cuddles i feel like she does most of the holding. She just enjoys having you feel warm in her embrace 

(between you and me i think she cuddles naked)

Loves playing with your ears, she strokes your earlobe softly and giggles as it reddens in color, how adorable she finds you~

Likes putting on lipstick and COVERING you in kiss marks, you can also do the same, i feel like she would love sharing her lipstick with you

NERO

Ahem, sparda equals…touch starved

but in all seriousness he LOVES physical affection

He enjoys its when you grab onto his arm (the good one please) and i feel like he also loves to show you off in public by side hugging you as you walk

despite his sometimes hot headed nature, he's very very soft spoken with you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear while you two cuddle

speaking of cuddles, he insists on being the big spoon most nights, but you know he secretly doesn't mind having you hold him every once in a while

lives having his head rubbed, which isn't a problem cause i imaging his hair (dmc 5) to be very soft yet rough to the touch

if you two are in the middle of cuddling, theres nothing thats gonna get in the way of that, no letting you go until he falls asleep or until you two have a mission, dont leave his arms just yet, stay with him (unless you have to go to the bathroom or need a glass of water, then by all means, go and come back as soon as possible, but he’ll be waiting for you with his arms crossed)

Thats all folks! hopefull i can make more things like this in the future

[miinxiee]

xoxo °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: things get… unexpectedly interesting after everybody goes to bed.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: kissing, heavy flirting, this is definitely not what i usually post but i woke up one morning with a pathetic yearning for this fuckass rabbit and i HAD to write.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

it was supposed to be quiet.

you had gotten back from an adventure a little while ago, a particularly exhausting one at that. you found a random book that wasn’t too bad and the others had wandered off to their respective rooms hours ago, besides kinger, who was doing who knows what in his pillow fort. he usually didn't come out for a while.

now it was just you and jax.

unfortunately, he seemed to think it was his couch.

he told you how there were other seats three separate times, each one more irritating than the last as you sat there trying to stay in your own bubble of space. you were there first, and he made no moves to get away you or get you away from him, so why should you move? apparently you just couldn’t have a personal bubble today though.

not when he sat like that. sprawled. lazy. legs wide. arm thrown behind you along the backrest. close enough to feel the way the seat shifted every time he let out one of those too-casual sighs.

the worst part was that he wasn’t saying anything.

he knew what he was doing.

you shifted your weight slightly. a little lean to the side, trying to create some space between your leg and his.

that’s when he spoke, quiet and low.

“if you keep squirming like that, i’m gonna start thinking you want me to do something about it.”

you froze.

your breath caught, like it had been snagged on something in your throat.

you didn’t look at him right away. that would’ve been a win.

instead, you slowly turned your head, trying to keep your face unreadable.

he was already looking at you.

eyes half-lidded. that grin of his spreading just slightly.

“excuse me?” you said, flatly.

he raised a brow. “what, did i stutter?”

“you’ve got a death wish,” you turned back down to face your book, feigning ignorance. your body seemed to betray you, because you were beginning to redden.

he tilted his head lazily, eyes trailing down to where your thigh was still too close to his.

“nah. we’ve just got time to kill,” he smiled dangerously. “and i like the way you look when you pretend you’re not flustered.”

you moved again, slower this time. intentional. you didn’t move away though.

“you always this mouthy, or is it just me?” you asked.

“oh, it’s just you,” he said instantly. typical jax.

he turned a little more toward you, knees brushing again. this time, he didn’t apologize. he tilted his head forward just a hair, yet it was still a noticeable recession in the gap between you two.

“i don’t waste lines on people who get scared when i look too close.”

you locked eyes with him, and neither of you blinked.

“then look closer,” you said. your voice held a challenging tone.

a beat passed, and boy did he.

slow. from your eyes to your lips, especially your lips, down to the point where your shirt dipped slightly when you leaned in. not a quick glance, not a mocking stare, but like his eyes were trying to drink up every last bit of you.

he didn’t touch you.

but his hand, stretched along the back of the couch, curled just slightly. like he was thinking about it.

your chest rose with a shallow breath.

the air was too thick, the couch too warm, and neither of you had moved in thirty seconds.

you were both waiting, still neither of you moved.

jax’s knee still pressed lightly against yours, his arm behind your shoulders, fingers curling ever so slightly against the back of the couch. you could feel how close his breath was, brushing your cheek with every exhale.

he still hadn’t deliberately touched you, aside from those small points of contact that just didn’t feel enough.

not really.

but that didn’t matter. the space between you was so tight it may as well not exist at all. you could feel the want in the air. could he?

“still not telling me to back off.” his voice was low, not smug anymore.

“i don’t want you to.” your eyes widened, you hadn’t meant to say it out loud. well you wanted to, but you didn’t expect to just impulsively blurt it out like that.

it shut him up though.

his eyes narrowed just slightly, head tilting as he studied you. you could tell—he hadn’t expected you to say that either. not without some kind of caveat, not without a joke or a challenge. but you hadn’t flinched.

and now?

he didn’t know what to do with it.

you leaned in slowly, deliberately, until your shoulder brushed his chest and your hand reached up. not to touch him, not quite— but to rest on the couch beside his head, mirroring his position.

“y’know you talk like you’re always in control,” you murmured. “but you haven’t moved since i said all that.”

he blinked once, then he smiled.

it was a different smile, one you had never seen and one you weren’t sure you’d see again.

“maybe i’m enjoying the view.”

“you’re stalling.”

a pause.

his hand dropped from the back of the couch and landed beside your thigh. the warmth of it was there. so close.

not close enough.

“you know if we do this,” he murmured, “it doesn’t go back to the way it was.”

you were fully aware.

“if you don’t do something soon,” you whispered, “i’m going to stop giving you the choice.”

that did something to him.

he laughed, soft and low in his chest. “that’s hot.”

“don’t ruin the moment,” you felt like you were going to melt into a puddle.

then he shifted yet again.

his hand—still not quite touching—slid slowly up, fingers dragging over the fabric of the couch until they hovered near your hip. he stopped there.

jax leaned forward just far enough that his lips hovered by your ear, brushing the shell of it when he spoke.

“i’m not a nice person y’know,” you did know. that was the least of your worries in that moment though.

he didn’t move first.

you did.

all you had meant to do was cross your legs, but within seconds the space between your mouths closed by less than an inch.

suddenly, everything changed.

the air snapped tight like a rope pulled too far. jax’s fingers curled into the cushion beside you. his breath hitched before you leaned forward that last little bit and met him halfway.

the kiss was slow but not soft, or careful.

it was the kind of kiss that was like something had been restrained for far too long and had finally cracked under its own weight.

his lips moved against yours with purpose. confident. pressing in harder the longer you didn’t stop him. he kissed like someone who had teased and waited and whispered all those filthy little lines knowing they’d lead here— and now that it was real, he wasn’t going to waste a second of it.

your hands slipped up to his chest, gripping the straps of his overalls, pulling him in harder than you meant to. he made a sound low in his throat, not a moan or a laugh, something between the two. as if your reaction was exactly what he’d hoped for.

jax moved one hand to your hip, fingers digging in through your clothes like he was trying not to go further but wanted to. like this was him still holding back. the other cradled the side of your face gently, a touch from him so unlikely you were sure that if your face wasn’t tingling from the sensation, you would’ve just been imagining his hand there.

you kissed him back with just as much energy, just as much restraint threatening to come undone. he didn’t exactly have hair to pull on, so in the moment you decided on the next best thing and gently grabbed the base of his ear, tugging up lightly.

he groaned softly against your lips, not out of pain or surprise.

just a pure reaction. the kind you don’t plan for or fake.

when you finally pulled back, it was only by an inch.

your breaths were heavy. his mouth was parted. you had never seen him so flushed.

“you waited too long,” you whispered, voice unsteady.

he smiled smugly.

“i was making sure i’d earned it.”

you slowly leaned further into him, expecting him to pull back or push you away, but he didn’t. he hesitantly draped an arm around you, looking around to make sure nobody seen.

“so, did i earn it?”

“what did i say about not ruining the moment?”

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

Just got up from a fever of three days, severe back and leg pain, and coughing my throat inside out

So... it got me thinking......

How would No Doubt!Jake take care of yn while she's going through all that or something similar?

Would he be all over the place? Chaotic? On the verge of tears? Or would he be all "let daddy take care of you" typa shyte

I'm dying to know

-😫 whiny

ahhhh i hope you're feeling better whiny anon!!! being sick is literally the worst feeling ever :( wishing you all the best! and idk how i didn't think of this one earlier, this is so cute :') i think it'd be a huge mix of all of the above—super chaotic, all over the place, but still wants to take care of yn more than ever heheh

──── MEDICINE? MOVIES? MAKING OUT? 💌🤒🤍 ↳ requested // part of the no doubt series !

All it took was one text.

Literally:

Y/N 🍑 🤍 : i think im getting sick

And suddenly—

Jake bursts through the apartment door, halfway tripping out of his shoes, arms completely full.

Grocery bags, a mini humidifier, a container holding an entire rotisserie chicken (???), and—

His stupidly perfect self, all smiles and messy hair under a backwards cap, still in his sweats—which tells you he definitely left practice early to come to your rescue.

You're bundled up in every blanket you own, eyes barely open, nose red and sniffly, pretty much ready for the dead on your very couch—and you're staring at him like he's the insane one.

And well.

He is.

"Did you rob an entire convenience store or what," you manage to croak through your sore voice.

Jake stares at you back.

"You literally told me you had a fever of 101.8," he says, his voice trembling like he's about to cry while he sets down the pile of bags on the coffee table in front of you. "You sound like an old man. You can barely breathe. Or move. What was I supposed to do—not rob the store?"

You blink at him in silence.

He blinks back.

Then he bursts into movement again—zipping off his hoodie and throwing it off to the side and searching through the bags as if on a mission.

"Okay, okay. First—fluids. Second—food, I bought an entire chicken because they didn't have anything smaller. Third—temperature. Fourth—"

You let out a small giggle, the sound raspy but genuine, "Jake, I have a cold, not a gunshot wound."

"Same thing," he calls out, already shuffling into the kitchen and banging around in the cabinets. "You're dramatic when you're sick."

You gasp dramatically from your spot in the living room, "Hey, it's not my fault I'm sick. I blame the weather."

"I literally told you to bring an umbrella yesterday," he grumbles, coming back to sit beside you on the couch, a warm plate of food in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "But noooo. You said you were fine. You always say you're fine. And now look at you."

You roll your eyes, "Okay, Mom."

Jake scoffs playfully, scooping food onto the spoon in his hand and blowing gently before holding it out for you to take a bite.

"I'm serious. You're lucky you have a super loving boyfriend who loves to take care of his girlfriend."

You're grinning now—despite the heat in your cheeks and the pounding in your head.

"You like me sick or something?" you tease, your voice hoarse and muffled.

He feeds you another spoonful.

Then shrugs.

"Obviously not. But you do get extra clingy when you're sick. It's cute."

You hum, letting your head rest against his shoulder. "I'm always clingy."

Jake smiles.

"Yeah," he says softly. "You are. Lucky me."

After a few more bites, he sets down the plate and wraps an arm around you, bringing you close to his chest, "Alright, so what's next on the list? Medicine? Movies? Making out? Your wish is my command, baby."

"Jake, I'm literally sick—I can't kiss you," you tilt your head up to give him a look.

Jake's eyes widen, as if the concept of that is absolutely unacceptable.

"That's literally a myth. I refuse to believe it," he says, his other hand coming up to tilt your chin up to his face already. And before you could protest—

His lips are already on yours.

And before you know it—

One week later, you're buying him medicine and an entire rotisserie chicken.

tag list pt 1!:

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @heekolazz @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[sunderwight]

This, but I also suspect Sanctuary Moon is what helps anchor SecUnit's memories emotionally. Its organic memory holds senses and fragments, might remember things like a sense of danger if it revisited the site of the DeltFall camp on the planet, but it wouldn't be able to specify a threat. The data from its memories would be able to specify a threat, to let it go oh yeah this where I got attacked by "rogue" SecUnits, but it wouldn't understand why SecUnit itself decided Dr. Mensah was an intrepid space explorer when she rescued it. It might recollect that this had something to do with Sanctuary Moon, but I suspect that if Gurathin had left SecUnit's copies of most of the episodes behind and just gone yeah we'll download those again later there are copies of that show everywhere, then he'd risk losing a bunch of invisible bits of data and connection attached to SecUnit's memories of the show.

SecUnit's memory is in a large part digital. When it stores something there, it's not putting something into an external device, its keeping it inside itself. I would honestly be surprised if this didn't impact the files themselves in the same way that a kid's favorite blanket would never be indistinguishable from a brand new copy of the same pattern.

As it is, Gurathin definitely took as much data as he could and started shaving off episodes when he realized he wouldn't have enough room. He almost certainly began with other shows and was getting nervous when he had to start cutting into Sanctuary Moon, but thankfully he only needed to lose a little more than a hundred episodes with the lowest replay count before he found the balance between "absolutely everything comes with me" and "no wait I still need to be conscious enough to walk out of this room".

The real question is, do we think episodes 420 - 568 are probably the worst episodes of Sanctuary Moon?

I think poor Gurathin ran out of data storage and had to sacrifice some Sanctuary Moon intentionally in favour of Murderbot's memories.

Which may also mean he intentionally downloaded as much of it as he could, because I think it would have been pretty easy for him to filter out and download everything that is NOT Sanctuary Moon and save a lot of storage, but he accepts that as stupid as it is it's important to Murderbot.

[catssluvr]

mr brightside, natalie scatorccio

natalie scatorccio x popular!reader (1k words)

in which nat is in love with you. and it appears she’s not the only one.

warnings: nat crying :(, jealousy, happy ending!

⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ

Nat arrives arrives at the party quite late, taking note to never believe Lottie again when she says she won’t be late to pick her up.

Not to mention she lost sight of her as soon as she was out of the car.

She spots a few familiar faces, Van giggling hysterically at something Tai said, Jackie sharing a drink with Jeff. Shauna stands a few feet away from them, leaning against the wall with an expression Nat can’t decipher as she notices her presence.

Throwing her a quick wave, the blonde girl decides it’s better not to approach her when she looks to be in such a fool mood.

She takes quick steps to where the booze is, filling up her cup with a generous amount of beer.

The sound of your laugh makes her head turn, chest warm from hearing what she might believe is her favorite sound.

But the source of it soon makes her freeze on the spot.

Since when are you friends with Randy? Randy Walsh. Seriously?

You’re standing next to him, eyelashes slightly batting at him as he tells you about something Nat is sure can’t be that interesting.

She takes a look at your outfit, skirt that she knows you only wear on special occasions hugging your waist.

The first thing she feels in anger. Why wouldn’t you tell her? About whatever this is. Nat thought there were no secrets between you. And above all she thought she still had a chance.

She turns to Shauna again, stalking over to her with the most nonchalant expression that she can muster.

“Hey.” She greets, receiving a quick but unbothered questioning look. “Since when are her and Randy a thing?”

“Hm?” Shauna seems to snap out of whatever daze she was stuck in, taking a moment to process what she had said. “Oh- no idea.”

Natalie huffs, unsatisfied with the short answer. Why is everyone being weird today?

The worst part is that you haven’t even noticed her yet. Haven’t looked for her or showed some kind of worry for the lack of her presence.

Having a drink suddenly doesn’t feel like the best idea, her stomach doing flips - bad ones.

She feels the frustrated tears start to build up, leaving without a word or else she’d probably cry on the spot.

Seeking until she finds a nice spot outside, sitting by the pool and fishing out a cigarette from her jacket pocket.

She hopes it will cheer her. It doesn’t.

Randy. Probably the biggest manchild she knows. And definitely not the type of guy she would expect you to be with. Not someone she’d expect you to hide from her.

Next things she knows, hot tears run down her cheeks. A silent sob bubbling up her throat.

Nat brings her hands to her face, harshly brushing off the tears with her fingers.

“Hey, loser.” You call, nickname that’s usually affectionate feeling like a knife to her ears. “Been looking for you.”

She doubts it.

You take a sit next to her, grin fading once she doesn’t even look in your direction.

“Hey.” She replies after a second, clearing her throat when her voice comes out broken.

“Wait- are you crying?” You worry, laying a hand on her back until she fully turns to you.

“Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend?” It sounds more like an affirmation than a question.

You look confused for a moment, “Randy?”

You snort when she doesn’t answer. “You’re joking.”

Natalie reaches to light another cigarette, afraid she’ll be awkwardly fidgeting with her fingers if she doesn’t.

“Those are bad for you. And i’m pretty sure you just had one.” You take it from between her lips.

Her hand grabs yours, as if to take it back, but the look you give her is enough for her to know you’re not giving up on it.

She ignores the way your hand feels rather warm against her cold one.

“I’m not dating Randy.” You state as you press the butt of the cigarette to the stone floor.

“Well then why didn’t you tell me you’re suddenly close friends with him?” Natalie huffs, pushing at the hair that stick to her forehead.

“I’m not.”

“Right.” Her frown deepens.

“Look, it’s kinda stupid.” You sigh, face running hot.

“He kept begging me to help him make Shauna jealous. And look- i said no but then he said he’d give me 20 dollars and i thought it couldn’t be that bad.” You can’t help but let out a chuckle as you speak, covering your face from embarrassment.

Nat stays frozen for a moment, but all it takes is one embarrassed look from you for her to burst out laughing.

“You reckon it worked? She looked pretty pissed today.” She lets out another tearful giggle.

“Nuh uh, she was way more interested in eyeing Jackie’s pretty dress.” You wriggle your eyebrows.

“Wow, that’s some accusation.”

“Mark my words.” You shrug, knocking your shoulder into hers.

She smiles at you, resting her cheeks on her knees that are pulled up to her chest. You can’t help but feel guilty for the pink tear marks on her face.

“I’m sorry for not telling you.” You whisper genuinely.

“S’okay. Was being a bit dramatic anyway.” She sniffles.

“Not dramatic.” You reassure.

“Please don’t date Randy.” Please don’t date anyone, she wants to say.

“I won’t, promise.” You interlock your fingers with you, a silent understanding between the both of you.

Natalie’s smile brightens, a slight blush covering up her soft cheeks. She hides it on her jean covered legs.

“Cute.” You mumble, shuffling closer until you can press your head to hers.

She leans into you, cheek smushing against your shirt in a way that makes her look to adorable for her own good.

Feeling brave enough to, you nudge her hair with your nose until she lifts it slightly, giving you enough space for you to press a small peck to the corner of her mouth.

“Wanna get burgers?” You question. “Got 20 dollars spare.”

“What a gentleman you are.” Natalie chuckles, taking your hand as you help her stand up.

You beam, lips stretching.

She can’t wait to feel brave enough to kiss them.

[sthilarions]

(Some very briefly described gore and body horror below, plus psychological realism/survival logic.)

One of the strange things about torture and misery is that, no matter how bad it is, it is still… comparable. Still relative. One torture can still be worse than the previous even if the first seemed at the time like it was the worst thing a human soul could possibly endure.

When Edwin was strapped to Esther’s table, he was terrified, of course; but also, a little bit, relieved. Because… it’s not something he could ever explain to anyone, even Charles, but it reminded him of the good memories from Hell, for the only definition of “good” which can apply to any memory of Hell - that is to say, the agony was not quite as bad as the rest.

The Doll Spider, Edwin firmly believes, was the worst of his tormentors in Hell. Not because it caused particularly extreme pain. It didn’t; being torn apart every fifteen minutes or so was nothing, in terms of raw pain, compared to some of the others.

But the thing is, while torture is comparable, at a certain point pain isn’t, particularly. There is a limit to how much the human brain can process, even in Hell, where unconsciousness and shock and endorphins are not permitted. Which means the factors that affect comparison are not so simple as pain.

The unique torture of the Doll Spider was that Edwin couldn’t not run. He runs, it chases - that’s how it worked, for decades. He didn’t have the option of just lying there and waiting for it to tear him apart. He was never quite sure what the mechanism was, really; if it was some sort of Hellish control of his mind, or a purely natural effect of animal prey instincts. But when it chased, he ran. Every time. No rest for more than a few stolen moments.

That was perhaps part of what enabled him to escape, that prey flight; he ran and ran and eventually ran right out of Hell. So perhaps he should be grateful.

He is not.

Because some of the other tortures were, in comparison - and this is another thing he can never say to anyone, especially Charles - relaxing.

There was one demon, Makal, who enjoyed vivisecting him. Put him on a table much like Esther’s, and somewhat like the one he died on, and played around with his insides, trying out different ways to make his organs twitch, but unlike those others he didn’t have to bother tying Edwin down. Because while it hurt so much more and so much more constantly than the Doll Spider’s chase, it allowed Edwin to just… give up.

To lie back and let it happen.

His torture before then had also involved labor, and he was so tired, and… he thinks there’s about a decade that he doesn’t really remember, where he just drifted. It’s not that he could just close his eyes and sleep - they would never allow that. Sometimes his eyes were held open and sometimes he had no eyeballs and sometimes Makal was experimenting with whether Edwin could see through eyes still attached to nerves but not in his head. But he has only the vaguest, most scattered memories of those incidents, because he was able to just relax and accept the pain.

He was so, so tired, and he was allowed to just lie down on that table and let it happen, and he thinks sometimes that Makal was the kindest demon he met.

Edwin can never tell Charles that the Doll Spider that so horrified him was among the least physically painful of the tortures Edwin experienced in Hell, no. But far, far more than that, he can never, ever tell Charles that he considers the time when Makal boiled his intestines like noodles to be a happy memory, because at least he was allowed to rest.

[katmaibearfan]

given that every other obvious candidate for the boar who screwed up 32 chunk’s face has rolled into brooks falls looking fine, am i wrong to start getting worried about 747’s conspicuous absence

i think a lot of people are worried, and it's definitely something I'm thinking about also.

This is gonna get away from me a bit, just as a warning. it's gonna be long.

One of the hardest parts of watching the bears cams is the fact that there are things that we will never know. Bears do sometimes just disappear for a year or two and then come back, or return in a different season than usual (fall bears arriving in early summer, early summer bears arriving in fall). In 2017, 747 didn't show up until late August, and no one knows why or where he went. All we know is that he was somewhere else, and wherever he was, he was really successful -- he came back huge.

But, also, sometimes bears don't show up one year, and they never come back. Sometimes those bears are old and we presume that they have passed, like 410, who we last saw when she 29 years old. Sometimes those bears are young adults that we assume have moved on to somewhere else, like 902 Peanut, who we last saw when she was 6 years old. And, sometimes, those bears are adults that have used the falls their whole lives and we have no idea what happened to them, like 409 Beadnose, who we last saw when she was about 20 years old.

747 right now would be roughly 23-25 years old, since he was first seen as a subadult in 2004. So, anything could have happened to him. Maybe he's just fishing somewhere that we can't see. Maybe he passed away and it is fully unrelated to 32 Chunk's fight. Maybe he fought 32 Chunk and is off somewhere else, nursing his wounds and healing. Maybe he fought 32 Chunk and passed on from his injuries. We don't know, and we may never know. All we can do is wait and see if he turns up again.

The waiting is the worst part. Different people will have different thoughts and feelings; some will begin grieving while others are still hoping, and some will put it out of their mind entirely & just try not to think about it.

But for now, i guess...we don't know. We just don't know, and we may never know. And it sucks. And it hurts. And it would be way easier for a lot of people if we could just know. But we can't. So, we deal with the uncertainty as best we can. We speculate if that helps us, we don't if it doesn't. And we wait. And we see.

[bueckersbitxh]

She says im ‘so american’-ch 2

———————————————————————————————

master list for all chapter

pairing: paige bueckers x british OC

Summary: After getting settled into your apartment you get roped into doing a crumbl review on live with the team. it takes the public twenty minutes to clock your attraction to paige. your roomate however? oblivious as hell.

Warnings: first person POV, lowercase writing galore, fluff, poor hoop writing, just funny with light tension.

a/n: this was fun to write but i’m eager to get to the next chapter to finally be done with the introduction requirements of writing a story. next chapter will focus way more on paige and rowan and less setting the vibe of the group.

i don’t want this fic to end up being too long, but i definitely want it to have definition as a peice and not be something quick paced or rush. if you’re into that then welcome

———————————————————————————————

Getting used to living in America was… a lot to say the least.

It's been a few days now since I moved into the apartment. Getting unpacked and set up was the worst part, but Briar was freakishly nice. My second day here I woke up to an iced latte on the counter with my name on it and a note beside it that read, "To give you energy for unpacking! I'll be home soon to help if you need it" with a big smiley face.

A smile tugged at my lips without my permission, it had been such a long time since someone did something so...casually thoughtless for me.

After that, I spent hours totally locked in, I unpacked all my clothes, and reorganized the furniture in my room. I hung up my Arsenal football posters from home, put out some photos of me and my family, along with music records to line the walls. I had just collapsed backward on the floor of my room when I heard our front door open followed by Briars voice.

"Rowan? you alive?" She called out, her American accent still sounding out of the ordinary as it rang through the air. I sighed and leaned up on my elbows calling out a weak 'in here' as a response.

Her footsteps grew louder as she approached my open door appearing in the doorway. She was dressed in a blue sweat set that said 'the future is unrivaled', her blonde hair was down. Now that I knew she was Paige's sister, the resemblance was uncanny. Briar wasnt as tall, and her hair was cut in a stylish bob, but they both had those bright blue eyes and soft features.

"Wow, it looks great in here!" she exclaimed as she walked further while glancing around the room. I smiled up at her as i picked myself up off the floor.

"Thanks, I've just finished setting it all up."

"Do you game?"

Briar was by my dresser now, where my tv sat, my playstation tucked neatly underneath it.

"Oh yeah," I replied, my smile growing, "I actually have a nasty addiction to the thing, unfortunately."

She nodded her head grinning, "Perfect, Paige and the other girls on the team love playing. You'll totally have to play with them." She said helpfully. I felt myself frown in confusion as I glanced at her.

Team?

"What team?" I said back. She blanched at me, spinning around to face me fully. Her face held a bewildered look and her next sentence came out slowly as if I were a child and scared easily.

"The UCONN womens basketball team."

I shook my head in further confusion, she tilted her head at me before clapping as if she just realized something.

"Oh my god- sorry I must sound so stupid. I don't know why I forgot you literally are not from here for a second." She said and laughed to herself. "The women's basketball team is a huge deal here; they've won eleven national championships, and it's a known fact that women who play here advance into the pros with fierce."

My mouth parted slightly as I listened, "Whoa.. so like, its like football for you guys? Basketball is your mainstream sport?" I said back, nodding my head along as I started to understand. She smiled as I spoke.

"Yes! exactly, sorry for not saying that before, its just... you dont really meet anyone here who doesnt freak out over the sport and the team so, I forgot." she shrugged and I went to answer before suddenly the puzzle pieces fell together.

"Hold on, you said 'Paige and the team', Paige plays?" I said back, slightly startled.

"Well yeah, she's more than a player. Paige is the start of the team, shes the predicted number one pick for the WNBA draft, its a huge deal" she gushed, obviously proud, "And then, our neighbors, the ones who helped move you in? they play too, also killers on the court." she finsihed but my blood ran ice cold before she even finished.

You mean to tell me my drunken hook up that took place approxamitely as soon as i stepped foot on American soil, had not only been my roommates sister.. but also the biggest athletic star in.. america?

Come. The. Fuck. On. Universe.

"Wow" I breathed, more so out of shock but also out of awe. Im a huge footballer fan, and I know how much dedication and commitment it takes for them in the pros. Im guessing its basically the exact same here.. and Paige is supposed to be the best out of her whole rookie class?

Suddenly those toned biceps are making a lot more sense.

And the towering height.

And the excessive amount of UCONN clothing she had in her room.

"Come on, I'll make us dinner and explain all things American to you," Briar said before spinning on her heel and walking toward our kitchen. I followed behind her like a brainless puppy, which is exactly what I felt like. I am so out of my depth here.

-——

So, note to self, Briar can cook. And by cook I mean damn. an hour and a half later im sat beside her on the couch stuffed way too full of chicken parm and something called 'dirt cake' for desert which was surprisingly appetizing despite the name. Briar had turned on a UCONN game from last season on the TV and was explaining all of the rules to me. I was catching on.. kind of, my brain was still trying to compare it to football. Which Briar informed me to NEVER say outloud around the team if I wanted to remain unharmed.

But seriously, it’s like football- or sorry, 'soccer 'with your hands and a floating net.

My eyes roamed across the screen as I watched play after play go by, the girls all moving around the court with a calculated precision and grace. My eyes latched onto the number five jersey as I watched her sink three-pointer after three-pointer, which I learned was extremely good. But it was more than that; there was something about her presence on the court. It was magnifying. I couldn't stop watching if I wanted to, she kept making these no-look passes with this insane court awareness. They landed in the right hands every single time, sometimes she would throw the ball before the other person had even arrived at the position they needed to be at but it didn't matter, she timed it perfectly and by the time their feet hit the mark, her pass landed in their hand.

Bueckers with the assist!

Bueckers buries the three!

Bueckers to Fudd for the three.. and BOOM she finishes!

Briar was right; she was the star. Not in a way that she shined brighter than the other players, but in a way where she shined so bright that everyone around her orbit just knew. They knew that she was confident, collected, every move she made, she thought about two steps ahead already, and she wasn't selfish with it either. She didn't take risky shots to show off, didn't hog the ball with the determination to be a one-woman show, she made sure that the ball got to her teammates.

"So, what do you think?" Briar nudged me as the buzzer on the TV went off, UCONN for the win with a forty-point lead. The cameras cut to Paige, a massive smile on her face as she ran around her teammates hyping them up.

"Honestly? I love it. I mean ive watched basketball before, but its mostly been mens league. And I'll tell you one thing, that is nowhere near as interesting as this," I said, throwing my hand in the direction of the TV as I laughed slightly.

"Yay!' Briar squealed beside me, "You can come with me to all the games then! i'll finally have someone to sit with. When all your friends play basketball, it makes watching the games by yourself not so fun." She said wincing slightly.

I smiled, nodding my head in agreement. I would love to go watch thier games, but I felt as my stomach coil tightly with an unknown tension. The idea of being in the same room as paige when shes on the court, when shes in the zone like that.

I took a deep breath, shaking my head to myself. Lock in Rowan. Beside me Briars phone buzzed, the screen lit up and she leaned froward to read it.

"Oh its KK. She said her, ice, paige and Jana got crumbl cookies and are gonna do a live review. They wanna know if we wanna join," Briar said before turning to look at me, "Jana’s from Egypt, you havent met her yet but youll love her, trust. Crumbl is this overpriced cookie place, but the girls love getting boxes of them and doing a taste test on live streams. Is that something you feel like doing? Because we dont have too."

My brain slowly processed all that information. My social anxiety burned slightly at the idea of meeting another new person while being surrounded by people I already barely know. But i know I came here for a reason and it wasnt to cut myself off socially. Plus Paige is Briars sister and I'm pretty sure telling your brand new roomie no to hanging out with her sister is a bad look.

A bad look? a bad look would be when you fucked her three times.

"Yeah, sounds good" I smiled, pointedly ignoring my inner thoughts.

Briar smiled widely, "Ok, they're just at KKs now so I'll tell them they can walk over here whenever. Don't worry, you'll love being around them during a live crumbl review, it's so chaotic." She replied. And immediately I knew saying yes was the right answer based off the happiness written all over her face.

It wasn't long before the front door swung open, no knocking needed, and loud voices filled the apartment. Briar and I turned to peer over the couch before she lightly punched my arm, motioning me to stand up with her.

"Don't worry, ill reintroduce you to everyone again, and if you feel overwhelmed or tired, you can give me a secret signal," she whispered before pulling me toward the kitchen.

My heart warmed, it was the second time today Briar had done something so small but so thoughtful for me. She seemed so great, I can tell she obviously grew up around sisters by her comforting nature.

as we entered the kitchen, I tried my best not to become overstimulated.

Standing around our island were the two girls from across the hall, ice and KK, beside them were Paige and a really tall girl with black hair who im assuming is Jana. They were all laughing as KK animatedly yelled at them with no anger in her voice.

"I didnt participate in that last review because YALL LEFT ME AT THE MALL. Girl BOO we been talked about this. Dont piss me off." Kk said waving her hand in front of her face before snapping. Briar snorted a laugh to herself, inadvertently making our presence known.

Kk turned toward us and her smile lit up even brighter, "Oh hey girlypop, and british girlypop."

"KK, loud as always I see, You remember Rowan." Briar said gesutring to me. Kk side eyed briar while pursing her lips, before turning to look at me.

Her tone dropped to a slightly softer voice, "Hey rowan, glad to see youre still here. I wouldve abandoned briar as a rommate on nigth one." She said smiling sweetly. I let out a surprised laugh at her obvious jab. Briar reached around the back of Kk's head and smacked her as she moved toward the cabinets to grab plates and a knife.

Briar waived haphazardly from across the kitchen at the dark haired girl, "Jana, this is my new roommate Rowan, shes british." I side eyed Briar myself for adding the last part on there.

Jana smiled turning to look at me, "Hey nice to meet you, Paige told me some about you. Nice to finally put a face to the name."

My smile faltered for a minute as I thought about her words, my eyes flicked to paige on their own accord to find her already looking at me, expression unreadable. Suddenly It came back to me in a flash.

Leaning down to tug on my jeans I tripped.

"You don't gotta rush out of here, ma, Jana always makes breakfast in the mornings." Paige shrugged. I furrowed my eyebrows at the unfamiliar name and just went with it anyway, not having time for questions.

My heart dropped into my stomach, fuck my fucking life. I could see it all over paiges face, she realized the moment I put two and two together. It wasnt obvious, her lips tugged up only slightly, and her head tilted to the side just a fraction, like she was curious as to how id react.

Jana and Paige are roomates.

I turned my head back to Jana and plastered a smile on my face, "It's nice to meet you too," I said softly. Jana didnt make any faces that would lead me to believe she knew what happened, she just turned back to the group and reached for the cookie box. Kk slapped her hand off immediately.

"Ok let me set up the live, Rowan girl come over to this side of the island so you'll be in the camera." Kk said before leaning down and moving stuff on the counter to set up her phone. I walked around the counter coming to stand beside Kk. It lasted about three seconds before she huffed and moved paige out of her way, "Girl move over so I can set this phone up." next thing I knew paige and kk had switched places, leaving paige beside me instead.

At the island it was me, paige, kk , Ice, Briar, and then Jana. I took a small breath feeling jittery as I rocked back and forth on my feet. My arm brushed against paiges, and i stilled. I moved only a centimeter in the other direction to avoid touching her.

only a second later I felt the contact again, I glanced sideways without moving my head. Paige had moved closer to me, like a magnet, chasing the contact until our arms were pressed against each others again. Her face remained forward, completely unreadable as she stared at Kk starting the live.

The live started and quickly, the number of viewers sky rocketed, my eyes widened as I watched the numbers tripple, then quadruple all at once. "Bloody hell" i muttered out loud acciddentally.

Ice let out a laugh glancing over at me before the chat on the phone exploded.

"'Wait who is that?"

"IS SHE BRITISH??"

"did she just say bloody hell"

I read them subtely trying to keep my face passive, but im pretty sure i wasnt. My eyes met Paiges through the screen of the live and she let out an accidental chukle, dropping her head forward to her chest.

"Okay girly pops welcome back to another crumble review. Today we have- Briar girl where are the dang knives?" Kk stopped turning to look at her as she flipped the box open.

My eyes widened as I saw the massive cookies in the box. Bloody hell, I thought, but this time was smart enough to not say it aloud. Paige, who apparently has telepathatic powers, or can just see my face on the screen in front of her, turned to look at me.

"Have you ever had crumbl before?" she asked lowly, voicing the first words shes said to me all night. Her head was so close to mine, with our arms being pressed together I was downing in that intoxicating vanilla smell again.

"No, we dont have these at home." I said,matching her casual tone. she nodded looking down at me.

"They’re just big ass sugar cookies really, we just get a lot of them and have one or two bites of each cookie. They're too sweet to just sit and eat the whole cookie." Paige explained back. I nodded my head in understanding before glancing toward the box of cookies again.

My eyes snagged on the comment section of the live again, the comments came in fast.

"Kk PLEASE we wanna meet this new character"

"Aw shes pretty"

"ok paige, i see you , leaving no room for jesus over there"

Ice let out a loud laugh before smacking a hand over her mouth, I turned my head to look at her with a startled glance. She looked at me and I had a feeling she was also reading the comments. I moved my eyes to paige indiscreetly, seeing her smirking to herself while looking down. Yep, I was definitely not the only one seeing the comments.

"Guys this is my new roommate Rowan. She's british!" Briar exclaimed leaning over Jana to put her head in the camera, knocking jana sideways. Jana huffed and lightly shoved her back while rolling her eyes.

I let out a laugh turning to look at Briar, "You really don't have to add on the british part, as soon as I speak, everyone will know."

"Oh come on! let me have this, its so fun having an exotic roommate."

I fixed her with a deadpan look

"Im from england not ibiza."

KK let out a laugh at that. Up until now, she had been focused on cutting every cookie into four pieces with some weird circle cutter.

"Ok so boom! she got an attitude. love it." She said without even looking up, she was on the last cookie by now. I smiled shyly looking down, secretly pleased that everyone in the room at this point had interacted with me in a positive way.

"Ok so first we have stuffed smores" Kk called out and started distributing peices to everyone, when she got to paige she stilled, "P this cutter only makes four cuts, so split yours in half with Rowan every time." She said before turning back toward the live.

Somewhere, in the heavens above, the gods are laughing at me for how wrong I was about a one-night stand not coming back to bite me in the fucking ass.

Paige broke her piece in half and handed one to me. I mumbled a thanks before turning to look at kk. Out the corner of my eye I saw Jana lifting the cookie to her mouth Before Kk yelled.

"JANA- wait, when I tell you to wait you wait." I let out a shocked cackle at how loud Kk was. I slapped a hand over my mouth but not before paige let out a real laugh at my reaction.

Jana yelled back just as quickly, "Ice already bit hers" She snapped, Ice reared back like she had been physically hit.

"Wha- I did NOT bro don't lie on my name," Ice replied, waving her portion of the cookie around. Kk huffed at them dramatically before turning back to the camera and starting to count down.

When she reached the number one, we all took a bite of our pieces, everyone looking around for other people's reaction. It was unanimous that this cookie was fucking delicious. We all nodded and smiled as chewed as if to say 'okayyy'.

Jana spoke up first, "Row, what do you think? This is your first time eating these, right?".

I nodded. "Dude, these are good. This tastes way better than I thought it would."

Kk leaned forward to read some of the comments on the live, "Hey rowan someone wants to know if youre a football fan." She called out looking at me over her shoulder. I smiled looking to the live.

"Yeah im a huge arsenal fan actually."

"No way, I love them," Ice said. Paige nodded along with her in agreement.

I leaned forward seeing some more comments roll through, some arsenal fans some not. I saw one comment that read:

"How do you feel about leah williamson?"

I gasped in excitement, "I love leah, Ive got a signed jersey from her in my room from one of the matches. My athlete crush for sure" I laughed.

Jana piped up at that, "aye Paige aint they say you look just like Leah after you did that photoshoot?" Jana smirked as she said it.

Paige looked up between the live, Jana, and me, before mumbling, "I mean yeah but- well, yeah". The apples of her cheeks flushed red and she looked around for something to do with her hands.

Ice and kk laughed before mumbling to themselves, "y'all is messy".

My heart rate spiked and I glanced toward Briar, she didnt seem bothered by any of this at all, if anything she seemed entertained. I glanced up again and saw the live chat roll in with exactly what I thoguht theyd say.

"Omg so paige is a replica of he crush. FUNNY"

"Girl the way paige blushin mad sus"

"I TOLD YALL THEY AINT LEFT NO ROOM FOR JESUS"

The taste testing went pretty smoothly after that. But every brush of paiges arm against mine, or the way her fingers lingered when she would hand me my piece of the cookie. It was clear as anything to me immediatley.

Paige Bueckers? That attraction is NOT one you get over after one night. I felt it running through my veins like my own personal drug. And I have a feeling that being in close quarters with her for the next year is going to be my own personal hell.

----------——————————————————————————

[mrskyler]

Helloo, I hope ur having a nice day today:33!!! I wanna request for boyfriend Sung Jinwoo ueueueu. Jinwoo with a reader that is artistic and has tons of hyperfixations. They like to do art, tarot readings, are heavily invested in marine biology and mushrooms, and makes crochet stuffed toys^^!!! Reader is also very fluffy and cute bebi, they are very bubnly and bright like a lil sunshine:DD

🧡🌙 " If I am the Moon, you are the Sun. " ✨☀️

ᯓ★ 「 Sung Jin-Woo x Artist! Male reader 」 𖹭⭑.ᐟ

Versão em português.

「 I used Google Translate to translate this work, so I apologize for any spelling mistakes! 」

⋆｡‧˚ʚ☀️ɞ˚‧｡⋆

ᯓ★ A/N:

╰┈➤ Helloo, Jellykyunnie ! Thanks for the request. I hope you are having a great day! If you're having a bad time, I hope this post makes you fell better! ‹𝟹 ( I'm so sorry, it took me so long to make your request!! 😭😭💔 )

╰┈➤ Also, i don't have much knowledge about hyperfocus / Hyperfixation or tarot reading so I read some articles about it and made this post based on that. So i'm sorry if something is wrong!

╰┈➤ It's been over two years since I last read Solo Leveling, so it's quite likely that the characters are OOC. ( I haven't finished reading the manhwa and I've never read the novel. )

╰┈➤ I'm trying to change my writing. So the style will be quite different compared to my last post. ( I'm really sorry for not posting anything in a year, 2024 was one of the worst years of my life and I barely had time to do anything. And i also suffer from some things that prevent me from posting. )

╰┈➤ No beta reader, we die like all my comfort characters.

𖹭 ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

₊˚⊹♡🌙♡⊹˚₊

M/n is known for having a large circle of friends, which he has won over with his cheerful personality and a great presence in the room – one that could easily rival the Sun itself.

While Jin-Woo only has three or four friends – whom he met over time in his work environment as a hunter.

But, honestly, he doesn't really care about the small number.

Satisfied only with the company of his few friends; his mother, younger sister, and last but not least – his boyfriend.

M/n and Jin-Woo already knew that there was a phrase that was very common to be spoken among their circle of friends.

Which they always used to refer to the couple – as a little inside joke.

To the point that whenever M/n made a new friend and they heard that phrase coming from others, they would definitely agree with the rest.

As if it were an absolute truth.

"If M/n is the Sun, Sung Jin-Woo is the Moon."

And Jin-Woo definitely agrees with that.

–

Jin-Woo is not the type of person who has an interest in art, and even if he did, he couldn't and wouldn't be able to go to a museum.

After all, before receiving the system, he had always been extremely busy entering the portals – only to come out with a measly crystal that wouldn't even be enough to pay half of his mother's hospital bills; and as a gift, numerous serious injuries all over his body that would cause him to have to spend the next entire week in the hospital.

Thus, further increasing his debt as the only man in the house.

And even if he didn't want to, he still remembers that fateful day that completely changed the course of his life.

He doesn't know how many times he replayed that day in his mind, over and over again – the number was probably already in the triple digits.

How many times he replayed dialogues in his mind like an old cassette tape.

It was certainly a way his brain found to react to the trauma – making him have to relive that nightmare countless times.

Maybe that's why he remembers the events so vividly: how the weather was slightly sunny that particular afternoon; the people whispering behind his back and the looks of superiority in his direction; the feel of the almost-healed bruises beneath his Band-Aids; the feeling of the portal consuming him.

But, without a doubt, the worst part of this memory is when he steps into that room full of statues.

Even if he tried to forget them, they would still be there – following him until the end of his eternity.

He vividly remembers the state of utter terror he felt when those golden-bright eyes looked at him, along with the sickening smell of burning human flesh that followed; the blood painting his hands, clothes, and the soles of his shoes; the pain of the spear piercing his body, the stone pillar crashing into his head and back – the strange rectangular blue glow.

Player...

But even after all this, he still felt this urge to venture into the portals.

With the system in his favor, Jin-Woo managed to obtain immense power – one that he could only imagine having in his wildest dreams.

But, as people always say: "Nothing in this life is free."

As long as he did everything the system told him to do, he wouldn't have to worry about whether he would earn enough money to survive another day.

Even if it meant killing other people.

So imagine Jin-Woo's surprise when his sister, Sung Jin-Ah, asked him to go to the museum.

He didn't even know his sister was interested in art. Don't teenagers usually enjoy art, only online? So did she like these types of art – made centuries ago – or did she just want to spend time with him?

That's how Jin-Woo finally realized that he was never very present in his sister's life.

After all, while she was studying, he was fighting for his life in a dungeon to be able to pay the countless things he was responsible for – like the medical bills for his mother in a coma; his sister's school fees; the rent for his apartment, along with the water, electricity and internet bills; calculating how much money he could spend on groceries that would be enough to last the entire month; and a small allowance for his younger sister, so she could buy something on her own – thus feeling somewhat independent of his brother, even though the money was originally his.

Because of this, he finds himself sitting on a bench with his arms crossed, staring at a painting he's not even sure what it is. 'Is this really a renowned painting, or a drawing by a five-year-old that accidentally ended up in a museum?' Jin-Woo thought in confusion.

Wanting to get a better look, he squinted and leaned forward a little—similar to those older people who wear glasses; who for some reason decide to lift them up in a failed attempt to see better.

Giving up on deciphering those countless confusing colors and not wanting to waste any more time, Jin-Woo looks around for his sister.

Spotting Jin-Ah a little in the distance walking towards a specific area of the museum, he decides to stand up and put his hands in his coat pocket before starting to follow her.

Meanwhile, in the back of his mind and beneath his feet, Jin-Woo could hear his shadow army discussing what shape that enigmatic painting was.

"Dog!"

"Bunny!!"

"Duck!"

"An ant."

"HORSE!!!"

Jin-Woo stopped walking.

'A horse?' Jin-Woo wondered mentally as he broke out in a cold sweat.

To tell the truth, he didn't even know some of those shadows could talk. After all, some of them just grunted or something like that.

The shadow that spoke more than one word was definitely Igris. Was he referring to Beru?

"I wasn't, your majesty."

This made Jin-Woo shiver a little. He completely forgot that the shadows could read his mind.

Already able to feel the people around staring at him, he starts walking again.

But they weren't confused faces, or the superior ones he was so used to.

But, impressed – eyebrows raised, mouths slightly open, eyes wide, faces slightly reddened.

Not being a narcissist or anything, but if he saw someone who looked like he does now, he definitely wouldn't be able to take his eyes off them. What if he became a model for extra income? After all, a little extra money never hurt anyone.

Getting closer to his sister, who was looking at a painting with her back turned, he called out to her: "Jin-Ah!"

Hearing her name called by a familiar voice, she turned toward the person. Her face lit up slightly when she spotted her brother in the distance. "Oppa!" she called, waving her arm.

Stopping in front of her, Jin-Woo gives a slight smile of recognition, and looks at the painting behind Jin-Ah – which she was observing just seconds ago.

"Did you find this painting interesting?" He asked as he pointed with his finger – mildly interested in what his sister found.

"Ah." She turns, and stares at the painting again – which stares back at her.

The painting looked more like a photograph than art that was made by human hands.

The painting depicted the seabed and its stunning creatures – consisting of brushstrokes in various shades of blue, along with other lighter hues such as white, yellow, purple, pink, and green. Jin-Woo doesn't have much knowledge of marine life, but with what he does know, he can recognize some of the animals.

But what really stood out was the enormous jellyfish that was in the middle of the painting – as if it were the main star.

Jin-Woo didn't realize he had been staring at the painting for so long until his sister tugged on his coat sleeve.

"Hey Oppa, look!" Blinking his eyes a little in an attempt to get out of the slight trance he was in, he looks at what his sister was pointing at with her finger.

It was a small golden rectangle right below the painting – probably telling the name of the artist and the date the painting was placed in the museum.

Leaning in slightly, and trying not to touch the thick red rope that protected the perimeter of the board, he analyzed the information.

"M/n, right? That's a nice name." Jin-Woo compliments.

'Was that a foreign name? It sounds like one.' If it was a Korean name, he had never heard of it before.

Jin-Woo's eyes lower slightly, reading the next piece of information – which causes him to make a slight noise of surprise and confusion.

Okay, that really surprised him. "Was this painting put here today?"

Jin-Ah smiles and turns slightly toward her brother. "Yes! I wanted to come here today because I heard some girls in my class talking about a cool event happening at the museum." She replies, before placing her hand on her chin and looking away – as if trying to remember the rest of the information. "As far as I remember, the event's focus is on exhibiting some artwork by the best students at that art college near our house, you know?" Jin-Ah asks while looking at him, hoping her brother knows what she's talking about.

Jin-Woo nodded – his eyebrows were slightly raised at the information. 'The best students, right?' He looks again at the work of art in front of him.

'Yes. The person who did this definitely knew what they were doing.'

While Jin-Woo was deep in thought, Jin-Ah started looking around a bit – as if she was looking for something specific.

Seeing something moving out of the corner of his eye, Jin-Woo turns his head towards his sister again.

Seeing what she was doing, he asked curiously, "What are you looking for?" This caused her to turn her attention back to him.

"Oh, I'm just looking for more paintings made by him." She replies with a slight smile on her face.

Jin-Woo raises an eyebrow – curious about his sister's new interest in this specific artist.

"Did you really like this painting that much?" She just nodded excitedly – it reminded him of when she was a child and was so happy about something.

That memory brought a faint smile to his face.

He turns fully toward her. "Okay then, I'll help you look for more of his paintings." Hearing this, Jin-Ah's smile widened even more.

She really look happy.

Jin-Woo wouldn't admit it out loud, but this was an excuse for him to also look for more works by this artist named M/n.

He didn't know why, but something about that painting grabbed him, and now he needed more of that unknown feeling – perhaps to satisfy this new interest that had blossomed within him.

After walking around the exhibition area for a while, the two brothers found more of the artist's works – all of them paintings depicting marine life, or the most diverse types of mushrooms.

One characteristic that Jin-Woo found quite interesting in relation to these two types of paintings that M/n made, was that when the painting depicted aquatic animals; cold colors were used, and when it was about small fungi; they were replaced by warm colors – with the sun's rays always present.

When they both stopped in front of a painting, they would spend a few minutes analyzing and discussing what that particular painting wanted to tell them – Jin-Ah believed that the meaning was hidden among the brushstrokes and the animals or fungi chosen; while Jin-Woo believed that the artist just really liked the sea and mushrooms.

Analyzing one of the latest works by the brother and sister duo's new favorite artist, Jin-Ah looks at her brother, causing him to look back at her.

"Do you think there's a bathroom here?" She asks genuinely.

Jin-Woo remains silent for 5 seconds, mentally wondering if his sister was serious or not.

Jin-Ah's eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" This caused a slightly mocking smile to slowly appear on Jin-Woo's face.

"Obviously they do," he says in a slight mocking tone.

Her eyebrow twitched.

"I was just asking!" She says irritated and embarrassed, her voice rising as she turns fully towards her brother.

Seeing this reaction, Jin-Woo gave a small, genuine laugh – which caused Jin-Ah to stop talking immediately.

When was the last time she saw her brother laugh?

This reminded her of the countless nights she spent awake waiting for her brother to return from a dungeon. Only to wake up to a call from the hospital, and be informed that Jin-Woo was, once again, hospitalized with serious injuries – or even on the verge of death.

When he woke up the next day, Jin-Woo felt very guilty for making her miss class because of him. But while ignoring her own feelings, she assured him that it was her choice to miss it, and that he should focus on resting and recovering.

But he was released from the hospital a few days later – even though doctors recommended he stay a little longer to fully recover. But, as always, Jin-Woo said everything was fine.

But Jin-Ah noticed the way he limped as he said goodbye to her before heading towards yet another dungeon.

Noticing his sister's strange behavior, he called out to her as he extended his arm toward her shoulder. "Jin-Ah-"

Jin-Ah snorted, causing Jin-Woo to stop moving. "I don't need your help, Oppa." She said pouting and crossing her arms. "I'll go find the bathroom myself!"

Jin-Woo noticed the way she deflected the subject, so he decided to do the same – not wanting to pressure her into saying what was bothering her.

Jin-Woo sighed as he lowered his arm. "Okay. You can go and I'll wait here for you."

"Right!" She confirmed and started walking away. But she stopped after a few steps, causing Jin-Woo to raise an eyebrow.

She turned and looked at her brother. "Don't go anywhere! I don't want to have to look for you all over the museum!" She shouted into the distance, causing a few people to look in her direction.

Jin-Woo just smiled slightly and waved his hand for her to quickly go find the bathroom.

Seeing this, she walked on until she was out of his sight.

Looking around a bit, he spotted a bench in front of a painting he hadn't seen before. This was enough to pique his curiosity, causing him to walk over to the bench and sit down.

Analyzing the painting, he realized that it was the largest painting he had seen so far by this painter. The painting was divided in half – one side was the sea animals painted in bluish tones, and the other, the mushrooms and sunbeams painted in yellowish tones.

While Jin-Woo was deep in thought, he noticed a person sitting next to him.

He didn't care much about the stranger's presence, until he asked him a question:

"What do you think of this painting?"

This causes Jin-Woo to have his attention taken away from the painting.

He glances slightly in the direction of the person – who was already looking at him with a small smile on his face. Without realizing it, as if it were something automatic, his body immediately went on guard and his eyes slowly scanned the stranger from top to bottom. 'A young man, probably in his twenties. Doesn't appear to be a hunter, but I can't let appearances deceive me.'

Jin-Woo gives a businesslike smile. "It's a good painting," he answers honestly. "What about you? What do you think of it?" He shoots back.

"Hmmmm" the man thinks as he places a hand on his chin and turns towards the painting.

A few seconds pass.

"I think it could be better."

Jin-Woo's eyebrows rose slightly at the answer. "Really?"

The man nods – still with a smile on his face.

Jin-Woo looked at the painting again, and for some unknown reason, decided to be really honest with his opinion.

He began to explain how this particular artist's various paintings made him feel; how he could see every brushstroke he made; how the artist seemed to really enjoy what he painted, just by seeing and analyzing some of his paintings. The more Jin-Woo talked, the more immersed in the feeling he became.

To the point that it seemed like he was talking more to himself than to the unknown man beside him – who had turned completely towards him and seemed to have his smile growing bigger by the second.

After a few minutes, Jin-Woo realized what he was doing – which caused him to immediately shut up.

Placing his hand lightly over his mouth, he turned toward the man. "Sorry about that. I ended up saying too much." He apologized through a cold sweat.

The man shook his head. "It's okay! I enjoyed listening to you talk. It seems like you really like this artist." Jin-Woo gave a dry laugh as he scratched his cheek.

His body felt more relaxed now.

"To tell you the truth, I discovered his work today."

The man's eyebrows raise. "Really? The way you talked about his work with such passion, I thought you were his number one fan!" The man teases playfully.

The two spend a few more minutes talking about a variety of subjects, until a young woman starts walking towards them.

"Oppa!" Jin-Ah calls as she approaches, waving her arm – causing Jin-Woo to look in her direction and smile.

When she stops in front of the two, she notices someone sitting next to her brother – who is almost invading his personal space.

Jin-Ah raises an eyebrow at the stranger. From the way they seemed so relaxed in each other's presence, she would say they were very close friends. But she'd never seen this person before in Jin-Woo's small group of friends. But she smiles and greets him.

"Oh, hello! Sorry, I hadn't seen you before." She apologizes as she clasps her hands together and bows slightly.

The man quickly waves his hands away in embarrassment. "It's okay! Don't worry about it."

She composes herself and turns to her brother. "Oppa, you should introduce me to your friend!" Jin-Woo looks at the man beside him and then at his sister.

He chuckles slightly as he looks away from the two.

This seems to turn on a light bulb in the man's head – he quickly stands up, causing both of them to look in his direction.

He laughs as he scratches his head. "Haha, sorry about that, I forgot to introduce myself!" He says, apologizing for his carelessness.

The next words spoken make the two brothers' eyes widen:

"You can call me M/n!"

"?!!"

–

At the end of that day, M/n insisted so much that Jin-Woo gave in his number, that he ended up giving in out of pure pressure – Jin-Woo wouldn't say it out loud, but he also wanted to get the number of his new favorite artist.

After a few months of talking, they slowly began to develop romantic feelings for each other.

Having two extremely proactive people in the relationship meant that whoever took the initiative first to ask the other out on a date varied greatly. – sometimes it was M/n, with his outgoing, Golden Retriever-like personality, or Jin-Woo with his confident, slightly flirtatious personality.

And Jin-Woo loves how M/n seems to have all kinds of hobbies.

One of the things he never imagined was someone like M/n, a walking ray of sunshine, doing tarot readings – he had in mind a stereotypical appearance of people who did this kind of thing.

So imagine his surprise when, after returning from another day of work, find his apartment completely dark; his boyfriend sitting at the dining table that was covered with a dark blanket while having an innocent smile on his face and professionally shuffling a deck of strange cards.

When he asked what he was doing, M/n just responded with a quick kiss on his lips while laughing like a child. "Go take a shower and then come back here. I want to do something with you."

Following what his boyfriend said, he soon found himself sitting in the chair opposite M/n while drying his wet hair with a towel.

After a while with M/n explaining the situation and his intentions, Jin-Woo follows every command asked – like shuffling the cards while thinking about what he wanted.

"Okay, which card do you want to see first?" M/n asks as he refers to the three cards placed in front of the two.

Jin-Woo spends a few seconds thinking before pointing to the middle one. "My present."

M/n whistles. "That's an interesting choice! " He slowly extends his arm and finally turns the card over.

'Death.'

A few seconds pass with the two of them just staring at those words.

Jin-Woo seemed slightly surprised. After all, he never told him about his death-related powers.

Yes, he kept Igris in his shadow all the time. But he highly doubted that a normal person like him, who wasn't a hunter, could sense the presence of his shadows.

So there was only one concrete answer to this.

Him was very good at reading people with these tarot cards.

M/n smiles.

"Don't worry about it! It might sound scary, but the death card doesn't mean you're actually going to die." He quickly explains while waving his arm. "But, transformations and the closing of cycles. A need to leave behind old patterns, habits, or relationships that no longer serve you, making room for something new. " As he finished explaining the meaning of the letter that usually terrifies the people who pick it up, the doorbell rang.

Jin-Woo raises an eyebrow, wondering who would be at his apartment door so late at night.

But before he could get up, M/n had already jumped up and almost knocked over the chair and table together. "Finally! " He screams with joy as he runs towards the door.

After witnessing this, Jin-Woo finally gets up from his chair and follows his boyfriend.

When he stopped behind him, Jin-Woo saw him closing the door while holding a pizza box. "Did you order pizza? "

When he heard his voice, he quickly turned around and jumped. "Aah! You scared me!" This drew a hearty laugh from Jin-Woo.

"Sorry about that." Sometimes he forgets that people can't hear his footsteps.

After recovering, M/n answered his boyfriend's question: "Yes, I ordered while you were taking a shower." He explained before walking past Jin-Woo, who soon began following him towards the living room.

"I ordered half of my favorite flavor, and the other half of yours." He said as he placed the box on the table and threw himself onto the couch.

Jin-Woo sat beside him, gently cupped his face, and kissed his soft lips as a way of thanking for the food. "Thank you, love." He said with a sincere smile on his face.

Which you return with a big smile – so bright it momentarily blinds him.

The two of you soon settled in, turned on the TV to a fun show, grabbed a slice of pizza, and enjoyed the rest of the evening in the comfort of your apartment.

Another hobby M/n has is crocheting animals – which Jin-Woo thinks is really cute that he does.

Because of his hyperfixation, M/n could sometimes clean the entire house in a matter of hours or quickly master a new hobby.

But sometimes, he didn't realize he spent hours just locked in his office painting pictures or crocheting stuffed animals – unable to do the basics, like showering or eating.

And since Jin-Woo spent the whole afternoon in the portals, he couldn't stop him from doing that kind of thing.

He could make Igris, who is in M/n's shadow, ask him to take a break, and if he refused, Igris would easily throw you over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes and carry you out by force.

But since Jin-Woo didn't want M/n to know about his powers, one day he bought an alarm clock of his favorite sea animal to remind him to take a break.

Most of the time this works, but sometimes M/n is so focused on something that he completely ignores the sound of the alarm clock ringing for several minutes, or just turns it off.

When this happens, Igris immediately warns Jin-Woo – who is currently coming out of a portal.

He quickly takes out his cell phone and calls M/n. After a few failed attempts, he realizes that M/n is so focused on what he's doing that he's not answering his calls.

He immediately switches places with one of his shadows, which he keeps in his apartment for emergencies.

Jin-Woo goes to his office and finds him surrounded by a variety of penguins. 'Looks like this is his new focus,' he thinks while looks around.

"Love." M/n doesn't respond.

Jin-Woo sighs, already knowing what he has to do.

This is how he spends the next few minutes trying to get M/n's attention, and then trying to convince him to leave his office.

When he finally does, he realizes how tired his boyfriend is. He quickly takes him to the bathroom and takes a hot bath together.

Jin-Woo smiles when he feels his boyfriend's body relaxing against his.

Jin-Woo also loves the part that M/n cares deeply for the people around him.

Usually, when his friends are going through hard times or crying, they go to M/n, saying that just his warm presence is enough to calm them down.

But M/n does more than that.

If they were both in a public place, M/n would immediately notice something was wrong – just by observing their behavior, or how their friend seems more withdrawn than the others.

He would quickly take them to a more private and quiet place. This way, he can ask what was wrong and get his friend to calm down enough to get it off their chest.

M/n would make an excuse for the rest of the group of friends, and take his friend to some coffee shop or just for a walk in the park.

While doing all this, he would hold their hands and walk beside them.

If this happened in his apartment, he would make his friend sit on the couch and quickly bring a fluffy pillow and soft blankets.

M/n would soon professionally roll them into a burrito and leave them lying on the couch. He would run to the kitchen, make them something to drink, and grab some cookies and chips.

He would then return to the living room at the same speed while holding a pile of food in his arms, and spend the rest of the afternoon trying to calm them down as much as he could.

But the funniest part of all this, regardless of whether this kind of thing happened in public or in the comfort of your home, while his friend was distracted, m/n would just take a crocheted animal off his back and shove it in their face.

""Aah! What is that?! " His friend would scream in confusion as they tried to get the plush out of their faces.

M/n laughed. "He's here to help you calm down! "

This situation has happened so many times, and with different people in the group, that his friends ended up noticing that it was never the same animal.

When they asked M/n why he carried crocheted stuffed animals and why they were always different animals; and adding the fact that he just pulled them off his back out of complete nowhere, M/n just shrugged with a smile on his face.

"Who knows? Sometimes I don't even know which animal will come out."

After hearing this, his friends just accepted this fact and started calling every animal that came out of his back "Mr. Comfort."

–

At the end of the day, Jin-Woo and M/n lay in bed together.

But Jin-Woo felt like there were more figures inside their room than usual.

He gave a tired smile. "Oh yeah. Me. My boyfriend. And his collection of 500 crocheted stuffed animals he made."

This drew a hearty laugh from M/n. "Here." he said as he turned around and placed something on Jin-Woo's chest.

Looking down, he met a pair of tired eyes the same color as his own.

"I made it thinking of you." M/n said, referring to the small black cat plush he was holding.

Jin-Woo chuckled lightly. "I loved it." He said as he placed his hand on top of M/n's.

Turning towards him, he gently kissed his lips.

"Good night, my love."

M/n smiled at the nickname.

"Good night, kitten."

╰┈➤ A meme about this fanfic:

[shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck]

Well this wasn't Supposed to happen

Things don't go as expected when Wind tries to use the command melody on the weird statue he found by a pond. based off my musings here

Wind had spotted the strange statue while visiting Hateno village in Wild's era. He'd been exploring around a pond while some of the others did shopping. Spotted it the night before gin into town because of the fireflies. He'd taken the first chance to explore he got.

Of course the bugs weren't out in the daytime. Unfortunately… But the weird statue was definitely something interesting at least. It looked, sort of like the goddess statues Wild had pointed out a few times. Just with horns and a distinct air of mischief.

The Sailor had messed around with it For the better part of an hour. Poking it, brushing off some of the detritus that had compiled on top of it, Giving it a little frog hat… In his defense It was a very distinguished frog.

If Wind was being honest it was a rather well made statue under all the grime. If not a little unnerving. He liked the wings at least. Even if it was coated in dirt…

There WAS water RIGHT there…

A thought began Forming in Wind's mind. He didn't currently have his power bracelets on him. Left them in the in with the majority of his stuff. He couldn't pick up the statue without them by the looks of it.

One attempt later proved that point.

He didn't want to go all the way back right now. But he still had one more option to try.

He'd never used the command melody a whole lot. Imposing his will over another always felt a little wrong to him unless necessary, But he also knew he'd been able to control those statues in the tower of the gods…

There was no harm in attempting it right? What was the worst that could happen!

Wind pulled out the windwaker where he kept it tucked into his belt. Grinning tot he statue as he lifted his arms.

"Ready for a bath?" He asked. Familiar notes drifting on the wind.

The unexpected response echoed in his mind.

"Not particularly."

Maybe this was a mistake.

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

The demon in the statue, the Horned statue, Granter of boons, bargainer, cursed. They had long since forgotten their true name. Not that it mattered much to them. As far as it was concerned It didn't need them.

name or no name they could make deals. and deals where what they loved best. If only one particular goddess hadn't TRAPPED them here, They would be able to make a lot MORE of them. Instead of just sitting here.

The fireflies got old really quickly.

At least that one hero had been interesting enough. Though all ways so SUSPICIOUS. It wasn't it's fault people had these things called "morals". Honestly so boring, what did it matter if ones soul got a little damaged while they did their work. It hadn't been destroyed!

And so what the people they used to make deals with didn't always use their newfound power to do "good" things. It wasn't THEIR fault some people where stupid and got caught.

Overall They thought getting sealed in a rock was a bit of an overreaction.

no one even bothered to clean them. That was until one new young hylian stumbled into their life. Or pond. It was the same thing really with how things had been going.

The statue could feel something was definately different about this one. Different like that other hero but also somehow other than that entirely. This one didn't feel Hylia claimed.

At least not mainly hylia claimed. There was a bit of a connection. The ties to another unknown deity or deities far outweighed it though.

The young man had grabbed their attention for sure. Even if all they did was poke around them for a half hour.

The frog hat was nice though.

What happened right after was FAR more interesting. The hylian had taken out an object of clear divine power, playing a song as the statue felt their minds connect.the hold of the old binding curse loosened. If it could smile a grin would have spit their face.

They weren't going to miss this for the world.

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

It felt like losing all weight and substance. And simultaneously being punted like a coconut. That's how Wind would describe the few moments after the weir statue started talking to him.

Surprisingly this wasn't the first time a statue spoke to him. Nor did Wind believe it would be the last. It was a far more common experience than one might actually think.

But those didn't end in Wind being EVICTED FROM HIS OWN BODY!

Since that is the only explanation he could think of hovering over himself as he remained standing. Twitching ever so slightly. Then lurching forward like a puppet being controlled by an amateur puppeteer.

"Rude, how about YOU try being stuck in a stone statue for centuries and then try walking." Wind's body turned to look up at him, eyes now looking all sorts of wrong.

Wind blinked. did he just… what-

"Yes I'm speaking to you, Wow is it nice to have a mouth again. so many more deals in the making hehe…"

Okay that voice sounded so wrong coming from his own mouth.

"yea your probably right… hmmm."

Wind watched his face contort as whatevere was controlling him seemed to concentrate. It cleared it's throat, His throat? This was so weird and so wrong.

"How about this? Ugh I sound like a chipmunk. You should really work on your voice kid."

'Hey!' Wind exclaimed 'you stole MY body! don't insult me!' The words only seemed to sound in Wind's mind. Not ever really leaving his currently incoportal mouth. Did he even have a body at all? Kind of like a ghost?

"Eh, You have a mental perception of a body you could probably make visible to yourself. or me. That's about it. Not actually anything there." Not-wind replied to the mental question. Waving a wobbly hand through the space Wind occupied.

'Give me back my body.' he hissed. Or mentally hissed.

"No." Not-Wind turned back around. As if this was the most nonchalant conversation to ever be having.

'my brothers are going to figure out it's not me in there and then you'll be in for a lot more of a world of hurt than if you don't just let be back in NOW.'

Not-Wind laughed "pfft- How would they know!"

Wind just glared, very clearly pictureing the strange Monster eque orange-red-purple eyes wind's body now sported.

"Ah yea that." The intruder squeezed Wind's eyes shut and shook his head. Opening them to reveal Wind's now much more normal grey eyes. "Better?"

Wind was stunned for a moment. then 'NO THAT IS NOT BETTER! I DON"T WANT YOU TO FIT IN!!'

"Rude."

You can't just- that's MY body!

"And me and your body are going to go do some body needed activities. I'd say see you later but your along for the ride weather you like it or not!"

The anger Wind felt seemed like it would light up the space he was floating in like a giant firefly.

"Emotions don't do that. Unless you have fire powers. Or obnoxious light powers."

Wind decided to ignore that statement. This was going to be a long day. but it WOULD end in wind back in his own body if it killed him.

"Keep dreaming weather boy!"

[teruthecreator]

hello my fellow berdly/kris comrade…. i bring you this concept: Berdly and Kris are actively pursuing a relationship on the side without the player/SOUL catching on

also. snowgrave/weird route berdly hospital scene is some angst sick fic type shit fr…

ohhhhhh see that's kind of interesting bc like. in terms of what the player can/cannot see it's kinda funny how kris is basically the only person free from our watchful eye. like we can read the internal dialogue of every other character except for kris. and clearly it's something kris is aware of, given the fact that in chap 4 weird route they specifically ask noelle to not talk about what they said because we'll hear. so i think the situation if there was like, an established relationship sorta thing, would be kind of fucked. hear me out.

imagine being berdly. you are in a nebulous kind of Thing w one of your friends. not exactly dating per se (because it is my humble onion that it takes berdly's character arc happening for this to occur) but definitely exclusive. you hang out, you talk shit, you hold hands when they walk you home at night, whole nine yards. and it's like. fairly new? so you're not sure what the boundaries are you're very excited but also very nervous. young love, amirite?

and then one day you walk into class and say hi to your partner and they just completely stonewall you. and you're a bit confused because y'know it's not like they're That expressive but at the very least they say hi. but no. they just stare at you blankly. and you don't have time to even ask what's wrong because your teacher comes in and class starts. and it's like this for the whole day, just absolute crickets out of them without any explanation as to what's going on. like, you know their homelife has gotten rough lately (they've mentioned it vaguely and you're not dumb. you know mr. dreemurr lives in the flower shop he opened after stepping down as chief of police. you may be a little stupid but you can put 2 and 2 together) but it's never been this bad? but you try not to let your anxieties eat away at you. you spend time with your other friend and ignore the nagging sense of wrongness when you go home for the day.

then, that night, while you're up studying, you get a text from your partner. it's simple and kind of vague, but it's at least confirmation that you're not insane:

sorry for being weird earlier. wasn't feeling good today.

you smile, relieved, and text back something stupid (like how it should be feeling WELL not feeling GOOD god kris do you even KNOW grammar?) and go to bed feeling the slightest bit better.

but then in class the next day the same. thing. happens. there's no response. and it's frustrating because if they're acting like this only when people are around does that mean they're embarrassed of being associated with you? do they actually even like you anymore? so you maybe start being a bit of a dick. putting up a front of superiority, looking down at them from your IQ throne of awesomeness, trying to mask the hurt with snark. and the worst part is they don't even react to that either. it's like nothing ever changed. it's like you guys were never even friends.

next day, there's a group project announced. you decide to partner with noelle 1. because that's what you've always done and 2. because you're maaaaaybe still a little annoyed at your partner for being weird. they end up getting partnered with susie and then disappear from class for the rest of the day. and when you see them next, they're still acting weird but now they're suddenly chummy with susie??? have you just been replaced??? so now you're really pissed and that front becomes even harder to crumble. you get a text from them that night and you ignore it because you're not in mood.

then, you fall asleep at the library, and have this craaaaaazy dream where you're in a cyber world. and you learn a lot of lessons about how maybe you Are a bit of a dick and need to chill, and you should maaaaaaybe learn to listen to your friend more. but the funniest thing is that your partner is in your dream too. and they're still acting weird. but it's kind of cool? like they're leading a trio and posing like a hero and they have this cool sword and armor and--

holy shit you need to lay off the fantasy games. look at what they're doing to your brain! you wake up to see them and susie waiting for you and noelle to come to, and then suddenly you have to be off because it's time for you to go to your volunteer job.

that night, you get a text again. you decide to check it because you're maybe feeling a bit different since that dream, and it is from your partner. it's a super smashing fighters meme, along with a simple message

miss you <3

and it's so stupid to feel flushed over a text that consists of two words, but it's enough to make you smile into your phone as you text them back a meme of your own. they don't end up responding after that, which is a little odd because on a friday night you'd expect them to be awake a little longer, but you try not to look too hard into trivial things. the next day you have work and you see them with susie. they're back to being weird and blank but susie seems to think it's fine so you don't let it bother you. you let up on your asshole antics the tiniest bit because a part of you wants to change while the other thinks it's silly to change your entire personality over some silly dream but nothing you do gets a reaction out of your partner anyway so what the hell does it matter. the pair leaves and you wonder if the old kris will ever be back.

you do hear from them again that day. surprisingly, it's when you call noelle asking if she'd like to come with you to the festival. you kinda feel a little bad that they managed to hear that because your original plan was to ask them, but with how weird they've been lately you weren't sure you were going to get a "yes" so you defaulted to your backup plan of going with your only other friend. they agree to go to the festival with you, but their voice sounds...weird. stilted. a bit loud. almost like an automated speaker was giving a response. it felt weighty but also off. but, still, they said they'd go with you so can you really look a gift horse in the face that hard?

that night you get another text, and you quickly pause your game to snatch up your phone to read it. as much as you're trying to be mad, you can't help but feel excited to see them text you. this message is also, as usual, simple but effective:

wanna call?

you decide to answer by just calling them, and after two rings they answer the phone. you can hear music playing faintly in the bg but what's more apparent is their breathing. it's ragged, like they've just spent the last hour running nonstop, and their voice is a little hoarse when they say "hi" but it sounds so them. so quantifiably kris that you can't help but feel a little emotional. you shoot them a quip because snark is all you're good for in times like these, and they let out a breathy laugh (more of a wheeze than anything else) and you spend the night talking about everything and nothing at all. by the time you hear their gentle snores through the receiver, the sun is already starting to peek over the horizon. you smile, wish your partner a goodnight, and hang up the phone.

then, it's the festival. you show up dressed in your absolute best (the same shit you always wear but pressed to the nines) and link up with your partner. they're staring at you with that same blank expression they've been wearing for a what feels like forever now, but you try not to let it get to you as bid susie and noelle adieu and cart them off to another part of town. you try to really play this like a date but your partner is so stiff and silent that it's hard. finally, finally you've had enough and you pull them aside and finally let them have it. that you are sick of them acting weird in the daytime and normal at night and if they don't want this to work out then why don't they just say it because if they're going to be like this then there's no way in hell they can actually date.

and it's here that you get the first expression out of them in a long while: pure and utter confusion. that's enough to leave you confused when suddenly they look like a mixture of pained and constipated and then walk off. they just leave you! in the middle of the festival! how rude!!!! and hurtful, you think as you clutch your chest. but still, you're good, you're fine. this is nothing! you're not gonna let it ruin your day. even if it did just feel like you broke up with kris. you go about your day, trying to enjoy the festival, trying not to think about the sound of your ex-partner's breathy laugh through the phone.

then, somewhere towards the end of the festival, things absolutely go to shit.

pure shit.

like. apocalyptic shit.

and you learn, in that moment, that not only was your dream in the library real but that kris, your beloved, your partner, your weird friend has been puppeted by some...thing that's been making them so weirdly stiff and awkward. when the dust settles and the world is saved, they come to you and look supremely awkward. but the awkwardness feels genuine and not like a mask, so you'll let it slide.

"sorry i couldn't tell you." they mumble in the most kris way imaginable. "i thought if it knew we were, like. a thing. it might...do something."

you have a million questions as to what that could possibly mean but you decide to hold off for now. you put a wing to your chest and boldly proclaim that you understand, really you do! if the weird entity piloting your partner's body like a marionette knew of their totally cool and epic gaming duo/friend/sort of boyfriend(?) it'd be insanely jealous and never leave! at that, kris smiles and pushes you playfully, calling you a "fucking dork".

it's everything you could have hoped for and more.

[bookishwords]

"When fear arrives, something is about to happen."

Crooked Kindom by Leigh Bardugo

As it usually goes with my re-reads, I didn't remember much. I read this book at the beginnings of my several year long reading slump and as a result I was forcing myself to go through it. Not because I wasn't enjoying the book but simply because that is what a reading slump does to you.

I think as a whole I prefer Six of Crows, but Crooked Kingdom definitely had moments which had me on the edge of my seat. All the twists and turns that take place in this book had me—to put it simply—gagged. Wylan's mother still being alive, Nina spreading the fake plague, the outbreaks of said fake plague being Pekka Rollins' businesses, the whole ordeal with Wylan being beaten up by who Van Eck thought were his henchman, the council of tides actually being the Grisha refugees? That was crazy.

I have no idea how Kaz had the brain power to think of all that. We didn't get a lot of Kaz chapters in this book which I am realising now as I'm writing this was because that's how he works. He barely lets anyone know his next move and we as readers were put mostly in the perspective of the other five Crows. It added to the feeling of truly being in the story and being a part of the crew. Because just like the Crows didn't know what Kaz was planning next, neither did we.

The way each character's backstory was told felt so natural and it fit the story and the events happening at the time. Random flashbacks can often feel quite out of place but in this book it was relevant. Learning about Matthias' wolf after Nina has asked him about it, memories of Inej's time performing with her family, Wylan looking back on when exactly his father gave up on him. It was very realistic, and it is actually how memories work. You go on a quest to do something, and the surrounding remind you of the past and you can't help but think about memories associated with that.

Speaking of Wylan though. The part where him and Jesper go to the countryside to see his mother's grave and it turns out she is in fact still alive? That killed me. I had forgotten about that detail, so I was shocked all over again. The worst part was the waterworks my eyes were performing when Marya remembered her son. It absolutely broke me when she put her hand on his face. He may look different, but a mother always recognises her child.

Kuwei is such a cunning little bitch though. Pretending to be Wylan so Jesper would kiss you? Absolutely diabolical but I live for the drama. In the end everything turned out fine because Jesper showed how much he liked Wylan. The scene where Genya was changing his face back and Jesper helped was so cute. And when Jesper left the room for a bit and came back to see Wylan's face. I just know Jesper is IN LOVE.

I really loved the relationship between Kaz and Inej. Their story is actually tragic. They both want each other's presence so badly. They yearn for each other, but they can't because they are both dealing with their demons. I cried so much reading about all the little things they did for each other. When I woke up this morning, I wasn't sure if my eyes were burning from lack of sleep or the amount of tear I shed when Kaz revealed the fourth outbreak point for the fake plague was the Menagerie. Everything Kaz did was to make sure Inej ended up a free person.

Speaking of tears, however. MATTHIAS!!! Oh my God I could cry all over again. Through this re-read he has slowly creeped up to the top of the pyramid of my favourite characters. I definitely didn't appreciate him enough the first time around. His character development was the strongest to me. He went from hating Grisha and thinking they're dangerous and unnatural to learning through Nina and realising that actually wasn't true. And the best thing is it wasn't just him thinking Grisha are okay as long as the Grisha is Nina. He learnt that all Grisha are valuable and my favourite moment of his was on Black Veil Island when him, Jesper and Kuwei were ambushed. Although Jesper and Kuwei are both Grisha, Matthias was the one who thought of using Grisha power to save themselves. I felt very proud of him in that moment leading his own army of Grisha.

That's why it hurt so much when he died. The worst thing about it is he believed the young Drüskelle boy could be reasoned with. He genuinely became a good loving person and that is what ended up killing him. His belief that anyone could unlearnt he hateful ways. And that's what hurts the most. And Nina's reaction to seeing hm injured. I hope I get to read more about Nina taking Matthias' body to the north and burying him in King of Scars.

I loved this book so much. It took me a long time to read it this time around but taking my time with it and appreciating every single page, not forcing myself through a reading slump will ensure that I will actually remember the contents of the book this time around.

[followfire]

Just had something happen to me which was very close to a situation I often have nightmares about, and I thought those nightmares were a bit over the top, like, you know, the way dreams tend to be...

Well turns out the dreams weren't exaggerating at all. In fact it's worse in real life. The nightmares were the game turned on easy mode. :)