#I avoid patterns LIKE THE PLAGUE it’s crazy

[moonstruckdraws]

NO STOP- THIS IS SO CUTE!! THIS DRESS IS- YES! HELLI YOUR DAUGHTER IS SO PREEEEETTYYYYYYYY STAARS!

@moonstruckdraws I just love how much we treat her like a lil Barbie doll spoiling her with all these pretty pretty stylish clothes but yknow what she fucking deserves it. I said she’d get her time in the spotlight eventually and dammit she’s gonna get it.

My original plan was to make the dress look more like a camellia but then searching up dresses on google I found this one and I thought it would look really cute on her. I know the flowers on on the dress do look like roses but it was really hard trying to find camellia brushes for FREE for procreate cuz I was not that willing to draw multiple flowers(nor pay), and the resize tool in procreate makes things like blurry the moment I adjust it so copying and pasting woulda just been meh.

And then some pops of greens to match with the leaves and stems of the camellias cuz I didn’t want it to be just ALL pinks yknow? Including the makeup surrounding her eyes :3

[onmyyan]

Hi I just wanted to make a request to ask if you could make a Drabble to ask if you could make a gabe x reader as you when you talked about caspians family you mentioned how gabe is compared to his brother caspian or possibly someone else I would like to know more about him in general and about what would he do with a clay maker s/o who secretly knows about the family business and is an insomniac and also likes to sleep a lot but tries to do the most that they can and won’t fall for the manipulation tactics he uses and just says “ you know if you wanted me to stay home you could’ve just said so?🤨

sorry if your burnt out also have as much fun as you can as a 22 year old !!! You don’t have an obligation to answer this but thank you.

A/N: Ello bby i am soooo happy you asked about Gabe omfg im kicking my feet rn!!! I tried to check all the boxes of the request i apologize if i missed any, Also I'm not burnt out thank you for your sweet words i wanna give u a forehead kith anyway!!!! Heres Gabe! NOT EDITED

T/W: YANDERE, MURDER, GABE IS FUCKIN CRAZY LMAO,CURSING

Gabrielllll Mi Amor omg where do I even begin?!

Standing at a proud 6'4 this mf is big. He's the strongest of his brothers physically, and has always used it to his advantage.

Early on in his life he was being compared to Caspian. They looked so alike it wasn't hard to see why people brought it up the way they did but it still bugged him.

Subconsciously he began to act anyway his brother wasn't. Be it avoiding the kitchen like the plague or gluing himself to the workshop downstairs.

Has a voice like warm butter and can sing stupidly well.

Sings/hums little tunes whenever he's working.

Love languages are acts of service and gift giving, he just wants to take care of you.

Terrified of spiders, he will call you crying to come get it.

Loves tinkering with things, surprisingly delicate hands for such a rough guy.

He laughs with his whole body, the kinda loud boisterous one that made other people start.

Snorts when he finds something especially funny.

He has a hard time reading social cues so he's constantly making dumb jokes, especially when he's not supposed to but he's so funny it's hard to stay mad at him.

Charm up the wazoo, the kinda guy where no matter where he goes, someone's coming up to say hello to him.

He's really good at pattern recognition and it makes him come off a bit psychic at times

Like how he'd clock someone's bad mood the second he seen them, notices details most people wouldn't.

Himbo.

The kinda guy where if you accidentally burn yourself he'll do it too just so you could be in equal amounts of pain, is it dumb as hell? Yeah. Is it also the sweetest thing ever? Absolutely.

Wants the kind of love Mortica and Gomez have, unfiltered raw passion.

Morbid sense of humor.

He's always warm no matter the temperature, comes in mad handy during the colder months and means he wears the smallest amount of clothing when it's hot out which is just a win for everyone.

Scorpio male I repeat Scorpio male. Do with that what you will.

Believes in love at first sight, he's such a big softie.

Had his tongue pierced in his friend's dingy kitchen when he was 18, a secret to this day his mom doesn't know about it.

His canines are a little longer than most and he absolutely had a vampire phase.

Likes to bite. A lot. It's a love language.

He confides in Caspian for everything, expect his envy of him. For that he talks to Ricky.

He can knock someone out with his right hook and has many times before.

He grew up working for his dad's approval and that meant getting his hands dirty.

At first his was a bit weary of using his strength to hurt people but that all changed when his Father put things in perspective for him.

"Everything we do- it's to keep food on our table, to keep us safe- your mother safe." And it all clicked.

Violence for the sake of violence wasn't okay. But violence for the sake of love? That shit was poetic.

He's essentially the family's guard dog. If anyone fucked with them? You told Gabe and suddenly the problem was gone.

He loves the color red, specifically the shade of red that came outta' the first guy his Father sent him after.

He was just supposed to rough him up a little but had too much fun caving in the dude's face.

Thinks killing in the name of love is the most caring thing you can do for someone.

Lil bit of a masochist streak. Likes when he gets to fight someone who can actually keep up with him cuz that little jolt he gets down his spine when he gets hit is addicting.

Animals love him, like you got a cat that hates everyone? Loves him.

Likes preening himself, takes about an hour in the shower everyday, since he dyes his hair so often he takes extra special care of it.

He has a beauty routine and he never skips it, definitely sets up self care spa days with the two of you once you're together.

Really good at videogames, like don't let him goad you into any sort of bet around gaming bec you will lose.

He's the second oldest but carries a lot of the weight of the older brother title since Cas wants nothing to do with the family business

Loves taking things apart to see how they work then putting them back together. He's done this to his PC a lot.

Really such a sweetheart but he has a dark side that feels a lot like a caged animal.

He's not afraid to show you this side because he's proud of it, it's kept him and his kin safe time and time again, why wouldn't he want you to know he'd do anything for you?

Does not like large public spaces, he needs to have a clear way in and out of any area.

Has mad anxiety, takes meds for it.

Works out every day, his favorite way to do so is jogging, he loves being able to just turn off his brain and go.

He meets you on one of those jogs!! Runs right past your art studio but stops when he sees you about to drop this heavy ass box you're attempting to move in a truck.

"Woah- I got you don't worry." He said in an attempt not to scare you as he was some random man running at you from across the street.

You'd peak your head out with the sweetest smile he's ever seen. The honest gratefulness in your eyes warmed him to his core.

"Oh thank you!- I appreciate it." Sure the words were simple but paired with that sheepish little laugh brought heat to his cheeks, he had the sudden to urge to fix his hair, make sure he looked presentable because holy shit were you gorgeous.

You're in a dust covered pair of overalls, your hair is windswept, and you still knocked the breath from his lungs.

"Whatcha' got in there?-god sorry if it's personal you don't need to, I'm sorry." He was very obviously flustered but he was so cute it only added to the charm.

"It's some clay my friend asked for- I had some extra from this project I'm working on- anyway thank you so much.." She trailed off waiting for his name. "Gabriel, you can call me Gabe." His voice was deep and warm like molasses on a hot cookie.

He asks for your number then and there and your fate is sealed.

He runs home faster than he's ever run before, like straight to his apartment, straight to the laptop, doesn't even close the front door kinda rushing.

You only gave him your first name but since he knew you most likely worked at the pottery studio he met you outside of he could find what he needed easily.

He wasn't the most technology savvy man out there but he managed to find a few of your socials and made a quick call to a friend, he has a lot of connections and it was nothing to get the info he needed.

He's a straight shooter and texts you asking for a coffee date that night.

You accept, and despite not usually entertaining men you'd only met that day, he had this captivating energy that had you accepting before you could talk yourself out of it.

The date would be dummy cute, he shows up with flowers and what was supposed to be a quick cup of coffee turns into an all day adventure where you just talked and talked about everything and nothing.

He has you laughing the entire date, blushing from the sheer intensity of his gaze. He was blunt in the way where he said whatever was on his mind.

"I'm sorry- Ima be real I didn't catch a word you just said- the sun hit your face and I had to take a second. Holy shit- you're stunning." His genuine disbelief along with the way he shyly inched his hand to interlock your fingers had your heart skipping a few beats.

He's so into love and the idea of being entirely wrapped up in it.

Before you know it it's getting dark and if he's not walking you to your door he's politely demanding you let him know when you're safe and sound.

The kinda person who makes sure your seatbelt is on or if you're walking on the sidewalk he'll always take the street side just in case.

Would jump out of his coat if you gave the slightest inclination you were cold.

He once balled up his hoodie and threw it at you from across the room like a basketball, like he jumped and dunked.

If you wear fake lashes first time you take em off he the type of dude to be terrified thinking you're just yanking out your real one's.

If he has stuff in his hands and you jump at him he will launch the items if it means catching you better.

Definitely the type to randomly come up to you and silently demand affection.

He wants you to go with him to the gym just to see him be hot. N like maybe give him a reward kiss every time he completes a set.

Surprisingly graceful for such a big dude.

He's an all or nothing type, makes that abundantly clear on the phone one night as he'd gotten in the habit of falling asleep to your voice.

"I want you. Entirely. And I've never been good at denying myself." He'd sound so sure, so certain in his words it made your brain go a bit fuzzy.

Possessive in a hot way not an icky controlling way.

Like if someone hits on you in front of him he has to physically distract himself so he doesn't commit a crime in broad daylight.

Instead whenever his jealously is triggered he becomes a koala, latches himself to your back like a demon, his massive form hovering behind you whenever you went.

"My girl can dress however she wants. I can fight."

Does not tolerate any disrespect towards you or your relationship.

Some girl tried to grind on him at the club and he threw his drink at her.

Petty as HELL when mad, he has a shit list and you do not want to be on it.

Protective as hell, if you indulge his little tendencies (putting sunblock on you if it's warm out, always bringing extra snacks incase you get hungry when you're working) he will start talking about marriage lmao

Speaking of he loves to linger around your studio whenever he can, be warned he will distract you by being adorable so working will be hard but it's totally worth it.

Nicknames for you are : Baby girl, Ma', WIFEY,(almost always followed by a kiss) Darlin', Mi Amor.

He's struggled with insomnia before so he knows a thing or two.

Once you start sleeping over more he notices your nocturnal habits and quickly adjusts.

If you ever get up because you just can't sleep and need to get some energy out he always wakes up.

He can't sleep without you so if you're gone longer than a minute sirens go off in his mind and he's wide awake.

If you wanna watch TV until you can finally rest you know he's right there with you, likes to have you resting in his lap so he can wrap himself around you entirely.

If you simply want to exist in silence he can do that to, so long as he's with you he knows peace.

It wouldn't take long for you to realize his family's secret.

Gabe can keep a secret from anyone.

Except you.

Sometimes his Father would call for him at odd hours of the night, and he'd have to shoot out of bed with little explanation.

You'd wake up to the lightest pressure on your forehead as he kissed you goodbye.

"Shit- go back to sleep Baby, somethin' going down at the shop, they need me." He'd say this cradling your still half asleep face, gently thumbing over your cheeks before stealing another kiss.

He'd come back hours later, the sky still dark and he always showered and put his clothes in the washer before he came to lay back down.

After a while these constant exits would have you a little worried, while yes he was the single most loyal man you'd met and the idea of him cheating seemed laughable, especially considering how seriously he took you, you knew he was hiding something.

Eventually our boy slips up and leaves some blood on his shirt, it was splattered on like paint and yeah at first you were a bit terrified at the concept of your boyfriend being violent then you really started to think about it.

The way he talked about people he didn't like, that look in his eye whenever you told him someone had upset you, how he seemed almost eager to fight at any time.

It made sense.

Then there's the way he talks about his family's shop.

"It's kinda' fun working down there- yeah it can get messy but that's my favorite part."

"I mean Jimmy knew what kinda' businessman pops is- no wonder he die- retired. No wonder he uh, retired. 👀"

It's embarrassing how slick he thinks he is.

It all comes to its boiling point when one day you two are out and bump into a smaller, who at the sight of your loving boyfriend, goes pale as a sheet, nearly dropping the bags in his arm.

"H-Hey Gabe! Boy it's been a minute huh? Listen tell your pops I ain't ducking him or nothing I swear!-" The man said practically vibrating in place, sweat pooling down his flustered face. He was petrified.

Gabe cut him off with a look, his eyes glancing between you and the vermin across him.

"It's Gabriel. Only my friends get to call me Gabe. Do you think we're friends Joey?" You'd never heard this tone from your boyfriend before, it was cold and dry, as if was an entirely different person speaking.

His hold on your waist would tighten when the trembling man looked to you.

"Aye don't look at her look at me, I'm the one talking to you right?." He sneered down, he didn't move and still had the stranger flinching. "Your mama never taught you manners or somethin'?"

"My apologies- really Gabriel, I didn't mean nothin' by it." And with that he'd practically run away, checking over his shoulder every few seconds as if he though Gabe would be following.

"Forgive me, Amor. Some people-" he sucked his teeth before shaking off his nasty look. His fingers began dancing against your side.

"He owe your dad some money?" You'd ask figuring the interaction far too intense to be about a late car job or something.

Gabe would respond honestly before thinking, "Yeah, little bastard has been dodging me all week now he wants to come up to us- nevermind that, let's go were gonna miss the movie!" His flustered response would break all tension, but you'd gotten all the confirmation you needed.

All in all this big bad bastard just needs someone to hold his leash and accept his particular brand of love.

[justaholycorpse]

“The Giant and The bird.”

|| König x gn!reader ||

reader’s pronouns aren’t mentioned other than “you”

pairing: König x reader(you)

i wanted to make my own because this man is eating away at my brain and this idea fits him so well

König paced around the idea of sending you a text, he hated the idea of confrontation, especially when it was a person like you. He opened his phone and found the shared texts between you both. His eyes softened while reading texts, you texted even when he didn’t respond. He could never find a pattern to your texts, they were as chaotic as you were in the best of ways, like a ticking time bomb that never had a clear time for detection. König found it impressive that you never found him to be scary or intimidating, you would always wave or flash a smile at him when you saw him, every single time it made the giant man melt.

He wasn’t sure when he started feeling like this, it could have been when you called him ‘your König’ or when you shielded his face from debris on the field. You were always right there when he needed you. Even when you first struck up conversation with him, you were always so kind and never showed any fear towards him. He has never been more glad to be cleaning his weapon than that night, if he hadn’t he didn’t know if you’d ever talk to him. He watched from afar, watching you work or talk, the subtle way your mouth twitched at the corners when making up a plan. It was always the little things that made him melt, he couldn’t talk to you because of how sweet your voice sounded compared to everyone else.

He would listen to you talk for hours on end just to hear the sweetness in your voice, it was enough to get him drunk, to steel his shaking nerves. He felt so many things around you it drove him crazy. He took a long, deep inhale before typing his confession in german:

“Du füllst meine Tage mit Freude, ich werde dir die Sonne und den Mond geben, wenn du fragst, ordne die Sterne neu an, um deinen Namen zu buchstabieren, ich würde dir Galaxien geben, um dich lächeln zu sehen.” He began, the mountain of a man tried his best on his rather small phone. He prayed he did not mess up the message he was typing out, words failing him as he mindlessly roamed the key board with his eyes. König took a deep breath, hoping the others at KorTac wouldn’t question his nocturnal patterns. he continued on: “Nichts in diesem Leben kann damit verglichen werden, wie schön du bist. Bis die Zeit verstirbt, wirst du die Schönheit in allem sein, was diese Welt zu bieten hat. Mein kleiner Schatz.” He read over it countless times, was it worth the time? He didn’t even know if you could even read german despite picking up a few choice words to throw out here and there. He fumbled with the phone for a moment, lost in thought, he didn’t realize the text he had spent the last week trying to come up with had sent. He snapped out of thought when a text bubble popped out of the corner. You had seen it, he scrambled to delete the paragraph, the text bubble went away. He let out a deep sigh and called it a night.

The next time he saw you, he avoided them like a plague, too afraid to find out what you had planned to say that night. He would turn away at your waves or gentle smiles, it pained him but he was embarrassed. You felt like you had done something wrong, had he sent the message to the wrong person? There was a medic on the team that was awfully close to him, was it meant for her? You huffed out, following Soap while he ran off, your mind followed König the entire time. You hit your shots and made your calls like clock work, everything felt off: wrong.. You gathered the courage to knock on his door, hearing the muffled voice cursing along with some tumbling before the door cracked open.

“König, can i come in?” You whispered, keeping your voice low while the others slept. You watch as he gives you a small nod, opening the door further, you took a shaky sigh and found your spot on his bed. “What is the matter, (y/n)?” His voice rung softly over the sound of the door closing, glancing up at him from your fingers. “Uhm.. Was uh..” You mentally punched yourself for sounding so hesitant. “Was that text meant for someone else?” The words spilled from your lips as you locked eyes with him, his pupils became the size of a needle with how much adrenaline pulsed through his body. Words failing him again he stumbled with forming a sentence but he settled for a shake of the head. “It- I wrote it, uh..” He searched the air for the correct words, swallowing the effects of anxiety that held him in a death grip. “I wrote it for you.” He finally said, it was like a whisper but in the quiet room it sounded like a gun shoot ringing in your ears and reverberating in your skull. Your eyes searched his but found no evidence of lies, not that you thought he would lie to you of all people.

“König…I..”

[enjoy the cliffhanger, here’s the translation for the german text: “You fill my days with joy, I will give you the sun and the moon, if you ask, rearrange the stars to spell your name, I would give you galaxies to see you smile. Nothing in this life can be compared to how beautiful you are. Until time dies, you will be the beauty in everything this world has to offer. My little darling.”]

[femmefatalevibe]

Hey! I love your page and your work.

I needed your advice on this. I am in a relationship with a gem of a guy. He's a walking green flag. And he goes above and beyond the bare minimum at every step. He's emotionally mature and wise, considerate, patient, deeply loving, etc. He makes me feel safe. In all- he meets all my standards and then some. We do long distance.

I have been feeling increasingly overwhelmed about this lately. He loves me crazy, to him it's passionate, groundbreaking, lightning-struck love. And i remember feeling all the butterflies and excitement in the beginning, but now I don't see myself loving him with the same intensity as he loves me. And that makes me fear if I love him at all. I come from a past of parental trauma and abuse and i know that my attachment patterns have been affected by the immense trauma I have endured. I remember how intense my first love was, just like in the books and poems and films. It breaks my heart to keep thinking that he loves me the way i first loved someone else. But i don't love him with the same intensity. Lately, I've been feeling a lot more detached due to these thoughts and I wonder if I'm losing interest. But he treats me so well and i don't know if this is just a trauma response or something that's actually happening. I don't "feel" A LOT. My attraction to him varies majorly. It comes and goes. I'm feeling very conflicted. Please help?

Hi love! Thank you so much <3

Let me just say that questioning your interest over time with a long-distance partner is incredibly normal, and feeling safe in a relationship easily sets off alarm bells for many people who have experienced trauma/have insecure attachment styles. So, dealing with both at once sounds like a lot. I commend you for remaining highly self-aware regarding your triggers and emotions.

Firstly, I would do a gut check to see if this man seems like he's a compatible match for you at this stage of your life – not just a super kind and attentive guy (while both are important qualities, but just because someone is a good partner, it doesn't mean necessarily that they're the right partner for you and vice versa).

Second, I would evaluate if you're losing interest in your relationship or if the spark fading due to the physical distance (no to little IRL intimacy or shared experiences). Do you find yourself excited to talk, text, and see him, or do you hesitate/avoid communication with him? Are you in similar life stages? Are your goals, values, lifestyles, and future paths compatible? How long are you planning to remain long-distance if you believe you're still right for one another?

Third, considering your history of ongoing relational trauma, I would consider what your definition of love and a healthy relationship look like. Do you believe passion involves intense or fleeting emotions? Do you thrive in emotionally stable or chaotic relationships? Do you see passion, attraction, and companionship as interconnected or separate aspects of a relationship?

It is perfectly normal to settle from the "honeymoon" phase of a relationship and take those hormonally-charged blinders off to see the "normalcy" that plagues all stable relationships. This stability can be super uncomfortable if you've never experienced it and can make you want to run back to the chaos you're accustomed to. However, in a long-distance relationship, losing this spark is too easy when you see each other much less often in person and especially if you don't communicate frequently or in engaging ways.

My recommendations would be:

Figure out why you're pulling back in the relationship and prepare to have an honest conversation about these feelings with your partner. Maybe also see a therapist or mental health professional about this issue if you have the resources to do so

Once you determine your unmet needs or wounds being triggered in the relationship, start ideating some low-stakes solutions and implement them into your daily/weekly interactions with your partner. If you're missing the frequent physical intimacy or shared experiences that typically exist in romantic relationships, consider ways to foster this closeness again (for intimacy: phone sex, sexting, FaceTime date nights, etc.; for shared experiences: FaceTime date nights, have a couple of long phone call recaps/story-sharing sessions per week, agree to watch some of the same movies/TV shows or read the same books/listen to the same podcast episode and chat about them; create a special photo-bonding activity – whether it's sharing your homemade dinners with each other most nights, a lunch-break selfie, a specific object/location that reminds you of them every time you pass it, certain memes you exchange every day, etc.)

Consider how much effort you're willing to put into making this relationship work. Being honest with yourself about this determination can make all of the difference in your perception on how to move forward (or not) with this relationship

Hope this helps xx

[byunbhyunz]

Yuta - “I said two, not twenty-two.”

Pairing: Yuta/Reader

Genre: fluff, bestfriend!Yuta

Word count: 903

Prompt: “I said two, not twenty-two.”

The sun has set hours ago. The light coming from your lamp painted weird patterns of shadows on the walls of the room. Your phone said it was nearing midnight, and you felt like you will tear your hair out by the end of the week.

Finals were coming up, starting on Monday, and you have to get everything in your head, but the only thing that seeped into your mind was craziness, not the curriculum. You studied throughout the school year too, but as the finals were coming up, formulas and historical dates simply slipped out of your head. It was ridiculous. You felt ridiculous. It never happened before, you always knew everything you learned once, but now, as you started to go over them, all of it were gone. Your mind was a blank page. Clean as a new shirt.

The only thing you could think of was calling your best friend, complaining and nearly crying to him, asking what to do. He was silent for a moment, than sounding very determined, stated that you should have some snacks, because it always helps him, so it should help you too. Even offered to buy and bring them to you. You were skeptical, but didn’t say anything, only that he should bring you two chocolate bars at least.

It was after midnight, when Yuta got to your house. He sent you a text, that he was at the front door, not wanting to ring the bell, because your parents were probably sleeping. They never minded Yuta coming over in the middle of the night, so you figured it wouldn’t be a problem tonight either.

As you opened the door, you tiredly looked at his smile, which he liked to refer to as a ‘healing smile’, then your eyes instantly went to the plastic bag in his hand. There were two bags actually, both of them full of chocolates, candies, even some drinks. What was more fascinating, that all of them were pink.

“Aren’t you gonna let me in?” He asked, smile not wavering one bit.

You stepped back. Mind running a thousand miles an hour, you tried to collect your thoughts to finally say something, but you were stunned.

Yuta hated pink food and snacks. He liked pink clothes, even owned a few shirts and sweaters in lighter shades, but when it came to food, he always said that the ones in pink wrappings were too sweet for him, therefore he avoided them like the plague. And yet, here he was, with a bunch of pink snacks, because you liked them.

After taking his shoes off, he went straight to your room, his steps comfortable and quiet, as he has been there many times before.

He gave a disgusted look to the books and notes on your desk, then turned his attention on the bags, pouring all of the snacks out on your bed.

“Sometimes I forget how girly you actually are,” he murmured, but his tone wasn’t malicious at all. He sounded casual as if he was simply talking about the weather.

One hand pointing around the room, the gesture including the coral colored walls, the pink bed sheets and the pinkish decorations. You liked it, and believed that the bright colors were a good influence on your mood. Except for tonight, when your mind went blank right before the finals’ week.

“Maybe because I’m a girl, Yuta,” you replied finally.

He flopped down on your bed, picking out some chips which you never saw before. His healing smile turning to you.

“Thank God, I thought studying did temporal damages in your head, when you stayed quiet for so long. You didn’t even greet me!”

“Oh, shut up!” Rolling your eyes, you sit down next to him, eyeing the snacks. “Just how many chocolate bars did you buy? I said two, not twenty-two.”

“Y/N, you almost cried when you called me. I figured only two won’t do the work.”

He munched on the chips, a sweet scent filling your nose. He frowned down at the pink bag, but kept eating anyway. The chocolate he brought was milky and strawberry flavored, one of your favorites. You could eat it for the rest of your life, and die happy.

“Do you feel better now?” He asked after you finished your third chocolate bar, and started to eat the chips he opened up earlier. It was weird to taste sweet and salty on chips, but you liked it.

“Definitely.”

You lay down on the bed, head resting on his legs, not minding anything in the world anymore. Thoughts about the finals ran far away. Humming in content, you read the label on the chips, but fail big time. It was in Japanese.

“When did you get this?” You inspected the bag further.

“Mom sent it last month.”

“But you don’t like pink food,” you said, offering him a small smile.

“But you do. So I asked her to sent some and I put it away for emergencies.”

“Thank you, Yuta,” your voice sounded small.

“It’s nothing.” He ruffled your hair, his smile brighter than ever. Then he lay back and told you about his football practice from yesterday, and you told him about your own after school activities, joking here and there, forgetting about finals for a few hours, and feeling grateful that Yuta came to Seoul to study and becoming your best friend.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Basic Submission info

Blank form and information for what to fill in each form: https://at.tumblr.com/residents-of-the-darkforest/blank-format/nn4vcgbef0d9

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--click the three dots on my bio

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--click the chat bubble with a + on my bio

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Pretty much any OC. Cats from the main Clans, cats from fanclans or Clangen. AU characters are also accepted.

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Yes, the limit is 103

(This does not include cats killed by massive events, such as plague or water poisoning-- it is only for those who kill cats individually).

Do you have to fill in everything?

Preferably, yes, but some things can be answered vaguely. For example, family can just be “unnamed mother, unnamed father,” and their mentor can be “unnamed mentor”

Other things, like Aliases / Nicknames or Cautionary Tale can be answered with ‘N/A’ or ‘??’

Things that must be included are: 

--Name, 

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--Cause of Death,

--and most importantly, Story

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Picrews, cat makers, or anything, really, can be made so long as the design itself belongs to you and is not taken from someone else’s art without permission.

Links to the ones often used on this blog will be added (or after they are, can be found) on the links post.

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As long as the story is told, you’re fine! It can be a few sentences to several paragraphs.

There are moments where cats without stories are posted, but that’s generally unrecommended and only acceptable if the submitter already has at least one cat that does have a story,

Any other rules?

Nothing too strict! Just things like

1) try to avoid giving someone too much power, like cats using chainsaws. If it’s realistic in terms of the Warriors universe, it’s all fine!

2) on the topic of realism, please try to keep designs such. Unique patterns are more than welcome, I just mean avoid cats with unnaturally green fur or giving them mohawks (unless it’s a joke submission, in which case go crazy!).

3) not so much a rule, but some stuff written in stories may be deleted and replaced with a vaguer description if it contains themes such as sexual violence or particularly dark abuse. Murders, however, will always be seen in its gruesome light.

[vizthedatum]

I think that so often I have received what I’ve asked for (a job offer, an acceptance into a program, marriage, partnerships, sex, an activity, an experience, etc.)… and I’ve still fallen into despair.

Sometimes it feels like everything is going “great” but then it ALL FALLS APART.

And I think that this pattern has been happening because I have refused to do the inner work of how I view all these seemingly positive things I want to - and under what circumstances and conditions I accepted them.

—

Did I accept marriage knowing I was marrying the potential of a happy relationship rather than a straight up happy relationship? Yes. I sacrificed a lot of myself. We fought so much. We had serious issues I was plagued by but I stopped speaking up so much because I loved them so much - and they took advantage.

Did I accept my university acceptances with glee? Yes. And it wrecked me. I was following to the beat of drums that weren’t mine: of society, my family, my field (science is so political), and what I thought would make me successful.

—

I think in order for me to RECEIVE the joy from things I want (financial security, relationship security, etc.)… I need to embody them so fully. It needs to be so subconscious in my wiring. I need to let go of negative self-talk or limiting beliefs… and lol, it is not easy. Especially when you subconsciously put yourself down all the time or don’t think you deserve any of it.

How many times have I told myself I was crazy or ugly? How many times have I felt guilty for spending money on myself or spent too much out of avoidance?

Do I really investigate the root of why I do or think things? Or am I following yet another script or construct, just because it’s something that is comfortable (either from my upbringing, abuse, or because it’s the “way it’s done”)?

When will I stop holding myself back and heal? So I can receive and fully experience the joy and all the emotions of what it is that I truly desire?

When will I realize that even if I receive something horrible, that it is a sign of health that I can experience my true core emotion of sadness or anger or whatever in response to that?

I want to flow so seamlessly.

[ticklish-n-stuff]

K so, I would like to make a request.

Can I please have a fic where Rui has been avoiding Tsukasa recently (with them already dating or just really close), and Tsukasa already figured out previously that Rui was ticklish and so he hunts Rui down, traps him in his arms, and tickles him into telling what's wrong and it's a self-esteem issue?

Hope there aren't too many requests going on! And still working on my fic, but I also love your fics!

Insecure

I got pretty excited when I got this~ After all, I can't resist writing for lee Rui hehe ^^

Good luck on your fic and I'm glad you enjoy mine~!

Hope you like it :3

___________________________________________

Rui x Tsukasa (romantic)

Lee: Rui

Ler: Tsukasa

Warnings: Tickles!

___________________________________________

It was weird, the past few days it felt like Rui was avoiding Tsukasa at all costs. Whenever Tsukasa would try to greet him at school he'd just walk right past him, and at work he barely even looked at him! It was driving Tsukasa crazy, why was his partner behaving this way? One day after school, getting ignored once again, Tsukasa went over to his house to confront him about it. He made his way into the purple haired male's room.

"Oh Tsukasa, what're you doing here?".

"Don't you Tsukasa me!" yelled the blonde as he slammed the door behind him. Before Rui could speak, he got interrupted "So, why have you been avoiding me recently?! D-Did I do something wrong...?" he asked, looking a bit down.

"No! Of course not!" Rui quickly went to comfort him by squeezing his shoulder.

"Then why have you been avoiding me like the plague?!" Tsukasa looked deeply into his eyes, trying to stare the answer out of him. But Rui only shrugged and said 'it's nothing'. "Do you take me for a fool? Look, clearly something is up, so why can't you just tell me?".

"I already told you, it's nothing" Rui sat on his bed as he crossed his arms, pouting like a toddler.

"Fine! Have it your way" Tsukasa said in an ominous tone, a teasy smirk making it's way onto his face.

"What're you- GYAH!" Rui yelped as he was suddenly tackled across his bed by his lover. "T-Tsukasa, what's the meheheaning of thihis?!" he giggled out as he squirmed underneath his boyfriend.

"I tried being peaceful with you but you've made me use extreme meassures" Tsukasa looked down at him with an evil grin, keeping him trapped under his weight. "Now... are you gonna tell me or do I have to tickle it out of you~?" he teasingly dragged his index finger across his tummy in a circle like pattern.

"Mph! Ehehehehe! D-doho your wohorst!" Rui spat out through his giggle fit, trying to seem tough. But all those thoughts went out the window when Tsukasa pinned his arms above his head. "Wahahait! Nahat thehehere!" he shook his head around, his giggles sounding more desperate even without Tsukasa touching him.

"Well you did say do your worst~" and just like that, Tsukasa dug all ten fingers into Rui's armpits, gently scratching at the tickle spot.

"PFFT! AHAHAHAHA! TSUKASA PLEHEHEASE!" he screeched out, kicking his legs out from how badly it tickled while squeezing his arms down as tight as he could. Sadly for him, that didn't stop his boyfriend from tormenting him.

"You know what you have to do to get me to stop~" Tsukasa chuckled evily as he kept going to town on his boyfriend's armpits. Watching him scream and thrash around but hey atleast this was an effective way to get him to smile.

Rui kept on cackling like a madman, his eyes completely squeezed shut and his smile so wide he felt like his cheeks would rip appart.

Not wanting to seem too evil, Tsukasa slowed his fingers down, opting for gentle strokes on his lover's armpits. His laugh died down a bit but he was so ticklish it kept driving him insane.

"Are you ready to talk now?".

"Ahahahaha! F-fihihine! Just stahahap! Plehehease!".

At that, Tsukasa slipped his hands out from his armpits. Now laying down next to him to cuddle. "Please, what's been bothering you?" the blonde spoke softly as he ran his hand through Rui's hair.

After catching his breath, Rui hid his face against Tsukasa's chest, feeling a bit shy. "You're gonna think it's silly..." he whined out. Tsukasa had to control himself from cooing at him he was just that adorable.

"Nonsense, if it bothers you this much then it's no silly matter" the blonde reassured him.

Rui took a deep breath, "It's just that... I've been feeling so insecure lately, about us... What if I'm not good enough for you or you get weirded out by me and decide to break up and-".

Before he could continue on his long tangent, Tsukasa interrupted him by bringing a finger to his lips. "I can assure you that that'll never happen! I love you too much to let you go!" he said as he squeezed him tighter in his embrace. "I love everything about you. From your ungodly creations to your beautiful smile~" he poked Rui's tummy, causing him to giggle.

"Thanks... I guess I've just been overthinking it".

"In that case, I'll tickle all those negative thoughts away!" Tsukasa declared, lightly scribbling Rui's sides up and down in their embrace, while also peppering his neck with sweet kisses.

"Gah-! T-Tsukasa nahahahaha!" Rui squeaked, his cheeks errupting into a deep red color as he allowed himself to drown in his laughter.

"Such a beautiful laugh you have~ One of the other many reasons that I love you!".

They both remained all cuddled up, with Tsukasa showering Rui with light tickles while listing off everything he loved about him. Well, if he ever felt insecure again, he knew the best person to go to.

___________________________________________

I hope this was alright ^^

[emeren]

bloodlust ☤ 1

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“The devil and I get along just fine...”

Pairing: Fem!reader x Vampire!Eren 

Word Count: 5.1 k 

Chapter Warnings: Blood, anxiety

Chapter Summary: Reader, a nurse, finds themselves facing a fanged beast, unsure what to make of the world. But this devil with dark hair may not have the intentions you think. 

☤ this work of fiction deals with vampires. in turn, there will be discussions of blood and minimal gore. it will also include nsfw content in the near future. all chapters will be marked appropriately☤

Moonlight soaked the path towards his freedom. It danced and reflected off of the dew coated blades of grass. Each one emulated a life he planned to save, with the destruction of his  people and the protection of the person he cared for most in the world. She had yet to materialize into something more than the soft breeze of a memory.

He was hungry; the tortuous cry of his instinct to ravage told him so. However, years of training and restraint had yielded him more than capable of swallowing his own desire. The one thing he sought most weighed heavier than impotent monstrous actions. For his goal, he could resist the craving to release his sharpened fangs.

He allowed his eyes one last glance over the house he’d called home for the past four years; dark and gloomy against the stormy night sky. Soon, those who’d chained him in shackles and dragged him to the cellar would be amiss in panic. Wrought iron bars that once caged his devilish soul would be found empty. A beast was on the run.

He felt brief sorrow for those he would hurt in the process of securing their freedom from a pained existence. But he’d made up his mind. All that was left to do was to head north.

His nimble hands pulled the dark hood of his coat above his head. He took one deep breath, the entrancing smell of rain and dirt wafting through the air.

North, to the person that occupied his past, present, and future. To freedom.

☤    ☤    ☤

You considered yourself well suited to the role you’d decided to serve for the rest of your life. Time spent meticulously memorizing health patterns and disease characteristics had broadened your sense of confidence. Doubt rarely ever plagued your mind past the childish decision of what to eat for breakfast in the morning.

Nursing had not always been your final destination in life; the unprecedented scared you enough to mark healthcare as a profession to avoid. Losing two parents unexpectedly in high school due to a mysterious illness had been enough to change your once convinced mind.

Your rain jacket was slick with the slight precipitation clouding the late night sky as you entered the hospital locker room -- a weak cup of coffee in hand, marred with a ring of chapstick residue against the lip. Night shifts were often greeted with unrelenting misery on your behalf.

“You look excited to be here,” The familiar tone of your coworker hummed from behind you. There seemed no force strong enough to concur surprise in your unrested eyes. Historia was someone who lacked a certain fear factor in most aspects of her being, anyways.

“I didn’t see you when I came in, Historia,” You answered, eyes glancing over your shoulder to take in the blonde-haired nurse. Despite having walked in the rain the same as you, her demeanor was much more spritely.

She gave you a smile, following you towards your adjacent lockers. “Ah, I came in the back entrance today.”

“You’re awfully chipper for someone who’s working the night shift,” Your half-assed attempt at being friendly mingled with the clammer of your locker. Historia chuckled softly from behind her door.

“I prefer the night shift, actually. Isn’t this your third night on?” She asked. You slipped your wet jacket from your shoulders, shaking it slightly before hanging it in the metal box.

“Yeah, it is. Can’t say I enjoy it as much as you do,” You lightly closed the door, Historia doing the same. Overt kindness wasn’t a trait you claimed when burnt out on work; she knew this and gave you no foul for it.

Her blue eyes crinkled in the ghost of a smile. “Not a creature of the night, hm?”

“I’m no vampire, that’s for sure,” You chuckled. Historia’s smile faltered slightly. It came as no surprise that she was afraid of monsters and ghouls. You decided to change the subject in her favor. “Speaking of, I hear it’s a full moon tonight.”

“Oh?” Her eyes widened, coy smirk wiggling its way back onto her blushed cheeks. Despite your adverse to the unknown, you enjoyed indulging in childish hospital rumors. The notion that weird cases spiked on nights when the moon was full in the sky was a tale as old as time; strange people flooded the hospitals, with even stranger injuries and illnesses. Or so that was what people said, not that you’d ever experienced it yourself. “I wonder if anything crazy will happen tonight.”

“Doubt it,” You stepped aside, allowing her to match your stride as the two of you headed towards the conference room for a briefing before the shift. She hummed in agreement, the rest of the walk done in a comfortable silence.

The room for debriefing was a mundane conference set up. The walls were a bleached white; anatomy posters and warnings about the harmful nature of cigarettes decorating the walls. An oval desk surrounded by blue, plastic chairs took up most of the room. It smelled like microwaved Kraft, courtesy of a nurse scarfing down a last helping before their shift started.

“That’s odd,” Historia frowned, blue eyes tracing the room. Staff sat around in quiet huddles, most silently waiting for the briefing to start. She glanced down at her watch before nudging you in the arm. “Where’s Doctor Smith? We start in two minutes.”

The tall, burly man was never late for a briefing; his stoic nature didn’t allow room for such a lack. He had never given you a reason to doubt his trust, but something about his demeanor made you uneasy. He commanded a room with such conviction that your coworkers fell to his feet with unadulterated respect; you, a mindless sheep following their lead. Rational thought would’ve placed your discomfort on his position of power and his role as your boss. Simply put, however, he gave you the creeps.

The plastic chair skidded against the polished floor as you took your seat at the table beside Historia. The older staff coughed and occasionally grumbled, filling the tired silence with a sense of annoyance. Your blonde coworker sensed your gripe, elbowing you in the ribs and leaving a crease in your lilac scrubs. You suppressed a smile.

“Pardon me,” Doctor Smith’s commanding voice echoed through the room before he stepped in the doorway. Your muscles tensed; back straightening as if to give the illusion that you hadn’t been hunched over, looking exhausted and miserable. His blond hair was perfectly sculpted; not a strand out of place and not a wrinkle in his blue dress shirt. His lab coat was almost a sickeningly bleached titanium. “Sorry for my tardiness; I was dealing with an emergency back home.”

Historia shifted beside you.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” He gave a terse smile before picking his clipboard off of the table and flipping through the papers. “Looks like we’ve got the regular scheduling for this evening. As usual, the night shift staffing is lighter than our other shifts, so remember to be vigilant and take action without being told to.”

You tended to tune out the mundane precautions and warnings that were part of a pre-shift briefing. Outside the window, rain pattered against the glass pane. The shower provided a sense of comfort; rain often preceded a night spent inside, wrapped in blankets with a mug of hot tea. Though your current schedule didn’t allow room for such indulgence, you took a small delight in the weather condition.

Historia bumped your knee with her own under the table. You glanced at your friend, slightly alarmed from your daze. She leaned over, attempting to discreetly whisper in your ear. “He looks distracted tonight, hm? Wonder what that’s about.”

Your eyes glanced at Doctor Smith, who was reading through the clipboard with a staccato like urgency. Not wanting to cause any disturbance, you nodded your head in agreement.

“We’ll follow through with our regular assignments. If you don’t know where you’re located this evening, I suggest checking the bulletin in the locker room. As for this meeting, you’re all free to go,” His blue irises scanned the faces of all the employees, searching for confusion or questions to be answered. You averted your gaze, following suit as the rest of the room erupted in moving chairs and shuffling scrubs.

You already knew where you were working for the night; the same place as the last two, over in the geriatrics wing. This night would be the same as the others, not that you were in any place to be upset about that.

“Y/N!” Historia’s voice called you to look over your shoulder, barely out of the conference room. She had a slimy smile on her face; the kind that reeked of favors and avoidance. You felt the need to control your eyebrow from rising in annoyance. “Can I ask you something?”

You exhaled from your nose. “Shoot.”

“I have a patient in room 702 that I was assigned to,” The slightest batting of her mascara slicked lashes, blue irises working their hardest to win you over. You raised your eyebrows, urging her to continue. The other staff shuffled by you, sparing nosy glances. “I was wondering if you could take it? I’ll work in the geriatrics wing tonight for you.”

You had to give it to the tiny woman; for all she was worth, she was great at getting people to do what she wanted. You valued her responsibility and reliability, and she’d proved to be a friendly presence in the workplace. However, that didn’t stop you from seeing the selfish underbelly of her prosperous actions.

“What’s the patient in for?” You humored her. Even if her request was self-fulfilling, you figured might as well use it to your own advantage. Almost anything beat another night in geriatrics changing diapers and administering pill dosages.

“A blood transfusion,” She responded, smiling softly at you. “I’m not very good with bloody things, you know. Easily squeamish.”

You pretended to ponder whether or not to take her up on her offer. It was an easy choice, really. “Yeah, sure. What blood type are they?”

☤   ☤   ☤

The stand rattled unpleasantly against the tiled ground as you stopped in front of room 702. The thick bag of blood shook slightly from the sudden stop. How Historia had ever become a nurse when grossed out with the concept of blood, you weren’t sure. It seemed that her sweet disposition often aided her in whatever situation she needed to change for the better. You were an adult woman though, so whatever her motivations might’ve been didn’t concern you.

You gave the cart a once over, making sure all the necessary tools and items were there: a needle, an IV, gauze, those sorts of things. Blood transfusions were a typically fussless procedure; tediously watching the red liquid pump itself into the body.

Your knuckles lightly knocked on the door. “Hello, I’m here to give you your blood transfusion!”

Silence, beating through the empty hallway of the hospital. The lights were dimmed and eerily abandoned. You waited for ten seconds before opening the door to the sleepy room.

The heavy door creaked open, revealing he who was to be given blood. Historia had mentioned he was a John Doe, lying unconscious on the bleached sheets. You turned back to grab your cart, not bothering to be quiet. He’d be awake soon enough, anyway.

As you wheeled it in, your back was to the patient. The cart squeaked and rattled, stopping at the foot of the bed. You turned around, ready to rouse him from his slumber.

Beautiful.

You’d had attractive patients before. Both men and women who floated by life with the easy wings of accurately placed facial features to boost them up. A pretty face often had heat rising to your cheeks, but professionalism stopped you from thinking any further. Natural biological responses couldn’t be helped, after all.

Never had a patient left your lips parting in awe, heart drumming up it’s own beat of excitement in your chest. His face was slim; sharp jawline and a large, broad nose peeking out into the air. Pale cheeks barely dusted by the pink of an almost intangible blush. His eyelashes were long and thick, jutting out against the purple hue of his impossibly dark circles. Hair the color of old driftwood swirled and bunched on his pillow. He had to have been one of the most attractive people you’d ever treated, let alone seen.

What color were his eyes? Were they a dark brown, one to match the nature of his hair color? Or were they green, contrasting his pale skin? You began to feel eager to find out, more excited to know and learn as your gloved hand gripped his broad shoulder. You frowned at the frigid temperature of his skin.

“Excuse me, sir,” You gently shook, trying not to give away the way your body was reacting. There was no place for hormonal displays in your line of work, and despite his undeniable beauty, you were determined to remain professional.

His eyelids snapped open with such a speed you had to compose yourself not to trip backwards. Contrary to what you thought, his irises were a pale, almost sickly greyish blue. They held no gleam; no life behind them. Disturbance washed over your brain, warning bells going off in your mind. He looks slightly… feral?

He jolted upwards, confusion knotted on his once peaceful face. You stumbled backwards slightly, hip clipping on the cart.

“Who are you?” His voice was gravelly, as if it hadn’t been used in quite some time. Blue eyes stared at you with such an uncertainty it made your head spin.

“I’m your nurse, I’m here to give you your blood transfusion,” You gestured towards the cart and stand, a red bag hanging from it like a token of peace. Despite his prickly reaction, you weren’t frightened.

“I feel like I’ve met you before,” He said, eyes squinted. Analyzing you, trying to pick apart your being, yet there you stood before him, a marvel to be held. He briefly glanced to the side; not more than a millisecond were his eyes off you before they were back, filled with unadulterated panic. “Where- where is Historia?”

You frowned, a little perturbed. “She asked to swap-”

“I need you to leave, now.” He growled, voice deep and authoritative. You widened your gaze, taken aback by his demanding request. The sheet fell from around his shoulders, bare chest exposed. Large hands raced to his face, hiding the features you’d once considered beautiful. “Get out of here!”

“Are you alright?” You panicked, stepping closer to the bed. His large form began shaking, knees drawing towards his chest from under the blanket. He appeared to be in pain; like a wounded animal.

“Fuck,” He yelled, breathing becoming labored. There wasn’t time to ponder. Was he having a panic attack? Was he going into shock? Questions didn’t need to be asked, you just knew that you needed to act. “I said leave!”

“No, I need to help you with whatever-” His hand shot off of his face, long, black claws sharpening from his fingers. You became fear stricken, his palm connecting with your chest. It sent you stumbling backwards, tripping over the wire to the heart monitor and slamming into the wall with your back. Tendrils of pain clamored up your spine.

“Close your eyes,” He rose from the bed, both hands dropping from his face. You couldn’t see his eyes, fist clutching your scrubs above your heart. Uncertainty. Terror, facing death like this. A monster stood before you, created by the devil himself. Tall, foreboding, chest heaving. His neck snapped upwards; wide, red eyes piercing into your thinly veiled soul. He spoke something like a garbled beast. “Promise me you’ll close your eyes.”

You didn’t respond. There were no words to be spoken. Between his pink lips glinted a pair of large, sharp incisors. “Promise!”

You reverberated with his words, wincing and shutting your eyes involuntarily. He didn’t want you to watch as he slaughtered you. “I-I promise!”

The loud clamor of metal colliding with the polished floor had you breaking your promise mere seconds after it’d been made.

He stood, illuminated by the fluorescent bulbs like an angel ascending to heaven. The bag, once an object you’d believed to be a healing beacon, clutched between clawed hands. His teeth, bare to the world, puncturing the thick plastic as though it were paper.

His adam’s apple bobbed rhythmically as he swallowed mouthfuls of thick, red blood. It was as if he’d been starved; knees buckling and desperate blood sucking so intense that his legs could no longer support his body weight. He knelt on the once clean floor.

The twine that connected your sense of reality and rationale had been pulled taut -- pieces of the frayed string snapping and threatening to drop you into depths unknown. Uncertainty had always been a foreign concept; you’d been given the option to study your circumstance and fully conceptualize it before going head first into a situation.

That’s what had intrigued you about being a nurse; though the job seemed like a bull in a china shop, you’d learned every reason why or how that bull ended up there and what exactly you needed to do to get it out.

You lacked the expertise or even the understanding to handle this particular situation. What studying could’ve been done? Reading horror stories or watching Twilight as a teenager with your friends? Even then, the probability of this happening to you felt like it should’ve been a zero percent chance.

You liked knowing what to do. Thrived on it, actually. This man, tall and dangerous, presented you with no opportunity to know. There was no textbook on how to handle a vampire, as childish as it felt to recognize that that’s what this was.

You’d been so sure. So convinced that there was no possibility of this heinous monster being an actual thing to walk the same crusted earth as you. Yet here he was, dawning the shape of a man and the face of an angel. How could someone so beautiful be so terrifying?

The hospital wall was cold against your back, the distant hammering of an organ that no longer felt placed in your chest rang true against your clenched fist. You felt the chilling call to move, to rise from your place and run. You didn’t know where, but the muscles in your thighs screamed a silent symphony.

He made quick work of the bag, like it was nothing and had never been anything in the first place. Who had donated that blood? They were probably asleep somewhere, lying in a bed and dreaming of a different world. A world where their charitable donation wasn’t being consumed by a devil before your terrified soul.

The red liquid oozed from his lips and dripped onto his barren chest. You hadn’t moved since you’d collided with the wall what felt like an eternity ago. Your ears rung rapidly with the obnoxious blood flow to your overstimulated brain.

Eyes the shade of a blue jay traced from a pair of blood soaked claws up towards your face, following the path of destruction. Though shock and fear reverberated through your every nerve, the softness in his gaze dulled a small part of your terror. He looked guilty, holding his dripping hands in front of his face like he’d just committed murder.

“You promised to close your eyes,” A voice so small, as if he’d known you your whole life and you had just witnessed a character altering situation. Something echoed in the back of his words, something that sounded like resentment. You couldn’t tell if it was directed at your prying eyes or himself.

“I- I didn’t, I mean, I tried not to but,” You were at a loss. A loss for a way to communicate how you were feeling, a loss for sanity in the world. The monster before you scowled, as if scolding a child who’d disobeyed their parent. “What are you?”

He brought his bloody hands to the floor; you noted that the claws were gone. “I figure it’s pretty obvious at this point. Can’t you tell?” He whispered.

“But vampires aren’t-” His steely gaze hardened at your choice of words. “They aren’t real, are they?”

“They are,” He responded, looking at you with such a strong emotion that you shifted uncomfortably against the wall. What was he thinking? Those eyes looked like they were fixed on someone he cared deeply for, not someone he’d met mere minutes ago. “But you weren’t supposed to know that, which is why I asked you not to open your eyes.”

“You started drinking a bag of blood right in front of me!” You whisper-yelled, brows knitting together to display your slight frustration. The wonder and fear still laid active in your chest, but something about him was familiar and comforting, despite his gruesome actions. You couldn’t explain exactly why you knew he would bring you no harm. “Of course I was going to open my eyes. If I’m not supposed to know, why would you do that right in front of me?”

His scowl deepened. “I tried to warn you. I haven’t had any blood in awhile and I lost control of myself.”

“What happens now?” Your question came out smaller than intended, unfamiliarity rising in your abdomen. The thick stench of blood was beginning to make your intestines twist in disgusting unease.

The question sought to strike a chord in the young man’s features; a grim and saddened look swept across his sharp attributes. His hand came up to pinch his temples, unperturbed by the bloody fingerprints left in its wake. “We have to get out of here, and fast. If we don’t, the people who are after me will kill you.”

“Kill me?” The word had a different sense of fear wafting over you; the kind that pricked your eyes with the sensation to shed tears. He looked pained. “I can tell them that I didn’t see anything, I can promise that I never saw you and-”

“It doesn’t work like that,” He snapped, glancing at you with irritation. His harsh tone forced your pleas to die unsaid in your throat. “The people following me aren’t rational. One of them will also be able to tell you’re lying.”

“So then, what am I supposed to do?” You cried, allowing the bottled up and suppressed emotions to spill over the thin wall of resolve that his comforting presence provided. He didn’t flinch but remained in serious tranquility. “I’m supposed to leave here and hit the road with some random man, who is a fucking vampire, and what? Hope for the best?”  

He looked away from you, blood-covered face staring at the hospital bed that he’d once occupied. “It’s my fault you’re stuck in this now. I owe you enough to protect your life as best as I can.”

You were in hysterics. What sort of ultimatum was this? Stay and die or leave and risk dying? Another predicament that couldn’t be solved with the aid of literary education. Resentment was beginning to build in your own chest. Diving into an unexplored depth of the ocean, brimming with creatures and lore that you had never predicted to be real.

“Hey,” You snapped back to reality. The man before you scooted forwards slightly. Though his face was that of a devil, soaked in another’s blood and deathly pale, his movement had your chest tightening in something other than fear. “I won’t let them hurt you. I promise, if you come with me, you’ll be safe until I can get them off our tail. Then I’ll take off and they’ll follow me, leaving you alone.”

Sticky tears trailed down your cheeks, eyes burning. When did you start crying? “How -- how can you be so sure? How can I trust you?”

He was on his hands and knees in front of you now, sharp nose half a foot away from your face. Any call to breathe was put on hold, teary eyes widening slightly at his stare. It was soft and open, trusting in the strangest way. His dark hair hung around his face.

“My goal is to rid the world of demons such as myself. That’s why they’re after me, and why they would take your life to guarantee silence. When I’m finished with what I want to accomplish, I will be dead and so will they. I have nothing to gain by hurting you. I promise to keep you alive long enough to see the end of this.”

Your lips parted in awe. The conviction in his tone was that to lead an entire army into battle; to create religions and cult followings. Blessed be the demon who wished to take down his own kind.

You had spent years convincing yourself to trust in what others told you to follow. Self-intuition wasn’t enough to breed a successful nurse; you needed the expertise of studies and procedures done before you. You required the necessary tools that others had used and approved of. Your heart’s certainty had no place in medicine. It had no place in the tried and true.

The man slowly rose one freezing hand towards your face, apprehensively watching for your reaction. You sat unmoving, owl-eyed. His palm caressed your chin, cold thumb swiping the tear from your cheek, smearing blood in its wake. “Find it in your heart to trust me.”

The conviction of his words rang lightning through your veins, mouth speaking without precedented thought. “Okay.”

He rose from his crouched position, offering a red hand to help you up from against the wall. You shook your head. There had been enough blood sharing for the evening, sanitation crossing your mind as you shakily slid along the rough plaster, bracing yourself to display a toughness that you weren’t sure you contained.

The rule of thumb not to trust those whom you don’t know played a soft melody in your heart. Mothers’ warnings and fathers’ lectures. Apparently all you had been told fell upon deaf ears, clouded with the hazy judgement of a life threatening situation. But in circumstances such as these, did the general rule apply? You were left to ponder.

“Hey, wait,” You frowned, a dumbfounded feeling crossing your mind as the man stepped towards the opposite side of the room. He stopped and turned, sharp jaw jutting against his mane. “What even is your name?”

“Oh,” He turned back towards the other side of the room. You didn’t follow. The door was the opposite direction, so whatever business he had over there did not concern you. “It’s Eren. And you?”

You felt a slight heat rise to your cheeks at the confession of his name. It was beautiful, feeling somehow appropriate for his physical appearance. “It’s Y/N.”

“Ah,” He responded, as if he already knew. You scoffed inwardly at his tone, still anxiously pressed against the wall. His blood stained hand rose to the latch on the window, attempting to open it.

“Why are you opening the window?” You questioned, noticing a beep from out in the hallway. The door stood open, allowing passersby to witness the blood on the floor and your cheek, as well as this man called Eren, who appeared straight out of a horror movie.

Closing the wooden door meant deciding with certainty to trust him; to follow him and hope that whatever tales of murderous vampires he’d shared had been truthful. To step away from the knowledge and the comfort of your current life. It implied that no one would see you in there with him and come to your rescue.

They will kill you.

Your hand gently clicked the heavy door into its place.

Turning back to Eren, you noticed his hand wrapped around the latch to the window. He was frozen in place, watching you make your final choice.

“You didn’t answer my question,” You reiterated. Eren turned back towards the glass. His reflection wavered slightly in the shine.

“This is how we’re getting out of here,” Eren responded, pulling the latch and shoving the window open as far as it would go. It stopped at about two inches, for safety reasons.

Disbelief once again danced across your mind, pulling you into what was beginning to feel like a new equilibrium. “If you’re planning to leap out of that window, it only opens that far.”

He ignored you, bringing his bloodied palms up against the glass. It appeared as though he merely shoved it; so light that it shouldn’t have budged. It shouldn’t have moved at all. The heavy window snapped at its industrialized hinges, pummeling down towards the ground below.

He glanced at you from over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised semi-smugly. You gawked back; simultaneously impressed by his strength as well as put off. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll die if I jump from here,” You scoffed, still not moving from your place. Eren stared back emotionlessly. He stepped towards the bed, reaching beneath it and pulling out what appeared to be a black hooded jacket.

He swung it over his shoulders, pulling the hood above his head. “I know. If you ride on my back, you won’t die.”

“Are you always this mundanely serious about fucking supernatural shit like this?” You spat. There was a warmth beginning to settle in your face as well as your core; heated by the idea of being so close to him.

“Yes,” He retorted, walking towards you so quickly you thought your head would start spinning. “No time to waste with your endless questions.”

He reached down, abruptly swooping you up from behind your thighs, effectively gripping you bridal style.

“Eren, put me down. Put me down!” You started squirming as he thundered towards the open window. You hated heights as much as the next person; they were fine in retrospect, but made you dizzy when in close proximity. Eren seemed unbothered by your quiet cries of protest.

“Eren, I swear to god,” You brought your fist to his broad chest. He ignored you, stepping onto the ledge of the window. Against any better judgement you still retained, your eyes glanced towards the drop. Your stomach sank, becoming a heavy boulder in the bottom of your abdomen. “Fuck, put me down!”

He stared down at you. A gaze so tranquil that the rest of the scene seemed to fade away. You became hyper-aware of his bare chest which you were pressed against; that unfamiliar churning in your core spreading towards your limbs.

“Hold still, or I’ll drop you.”

☤   ☤   ☤

next chapter >>

tagging: @sunshinedragonofthewest​ @ryukatters​

[sidespromptblog]

Between the Mask: Part 1

Two, Three, and End

Warnings: Angst (Just general nothing too spicy), mentions of masking to an unhealthy degree, Logan is sad, Janus is sad, Roman is sad, food mention, and miscommunication via the light sides.

Word Count: 3015

Summary: Roman confronts Janus about how exactly Roman should act around him, after being told by the others that both being nice and mean to him is wrong. Only to discover that, after everything he’s been through Janus isn’t the person he portrays in front of everyone else.

AO3 LINK

All of it was driving Roman crazy.

Ever since his most recent interaction with Dece… Janus, the looks that he’d received from the others had slowly been driving him mad. Out of everyone he would have at least expected Virgil to understand where he was coming from, especially considering his seemingly rough behavior around Janus.

But no!

The moment that Patton had told Virgil just how Roman had reacted to the news of Janus’ he might as well have been dead to the anxious side, given the way that he had looked at him upon hearing the exact words that Roman had so carelessly spouted off. The snarl had curled on the anxious sides lips wasn’t one that he was bound to forget for a long time to come, especially when paired with the almost betrayed look that the other side had shot him. Roman got it, he really did. Names weren’t to be made fun of around Virgil, but with all the stress that been piling and piling since the wedding it had kind of...

Slipped out.

He hadn’t meant it, or maybe.. maybe he had. for whatever reason Janus’ mere presence had a way of making the truth slip right out of him without even giving it a second thought.

It was infuriating.

That wasn’t even the worst part, to top it off with Virgil avoiding him like the plague now, Logan virtually wasn’t even around anymore. He barely even saw a glimpse of him in the past week alone, in compared to the landslide of facts that always seemed to flow out of the nerdy side once he had something to show all of them. From the looks of it aside from when he was called into the conversation none of the others had been seeing him all that often either, or when he was just made to come down for dinner Logan was just… gone. In his room not backing Roman up in the slightest bit anymore, leaving him to battle a dying fight with no support.

He honestly didn’t get it anymore.

First they get upset at him for siding with Janus and wanting to give him a chance to speak, and then… Now they want him to be treated as if he hadn’t been a bad guy to begin with. Virgil had hissed at him multiple times, and that’s not even counting the times that Patton and him had screamed at him when he popped up like a little snakey weasel.

He just didn’t get it, it felt like no matter how he tried to resolve the issue he was always heading in the right direction, just at the wrong time when it came to the others.

So he was going to put an end to this turmoil once and for all.

“Deceit!” He practically roared as he slammed the door open more than a little dramatically, “I-“

Whatever words had been on his lips abruptly died all at once.

Whatever he had been expecting from Janus’ room... this most certainly was not it. Whatever cold den of debortuary he had been thinking of, this was definitely not it. The crackling of a warm fireplace surrounded by bookcases full to the brim with old dusty books, who’s spines had been well loved and taken care of. The rug under his feet was shaggy and equally as warm as the air, making Roman’s bare toes sink right into it. For a second he had forgotten just what time it was, as with the atmosphere of Janus’ room it felt almost timeless in a sense. Where it could have been anything from the middle of the night to the early early morning where the sun hadn’t even risen yet.

The drapes were a gorgeous deep maroon color that only served to make the room feel even warmer and cozier.

There wasn’t a single hint of yellow in the entire room.

Was this even Janus’ room?

“I believe,” A familiar voice drawled out from the side, “My name is Janus, not Deceit. Roman.”

Sitting nestled comfortably in a little reading nook was the side in question, a book sprawled out onto his lap and a simple cup of tea on the nightstand next to him and a tiny jar of honey next to it. He looked so.. so cozy sitting there among the fuzzy blankets sprawled all around him, and a pair of reading glasses on the tip of his nose. Had Roman only gotten a glance at him, he would have mistaken him for Logan just based on looks alone. But the coy smile smile said it all, as the mismatched eyes glimmered playfully behind those glasses.

“Well?” Janus stuck a loose bookmark in his book effectively halting his reading, and also showing that all of his attention was directed at Roman and Roman alone. “To what do I owe the please Princey? It is somewhat of a surprise given how our last meeting ended, come for revenge or perhaps just to throw more insults?”

Out of everything Roman was just at a loss, he had felt so sure as to what he was walking into. He was sure that whenever he busted down Janus’ door he’d find some creepy room that would almost certainly match Virgil’s for edginess. To see all this was certainly a surprise for him, if anything it left him feeling absolutely foolish as he once again judged one of the dark sides wrongly and was left to clean up after his incredibly long list of mistakes.

Even with all those thoughts rumbling around in his head it didn’t stop the words that left his mouth, “Are you sure that you’re Janus?” He suspiciously asked, narrowing his eyes at the comfortable looking snake side before him. “You seem too…”

Happy?

Comfortable?

Nice?

Not evil?

There were so many words that Roman wanted to use, and so many words that he didn’t exactly have the name for. He wasn’t exactly Logan, so there was no placing definitions to feelings here.

Not that Logan could help in that capacity even if he wanted to.

“Contrary to popular belief, but... How I act in front of Thomas is not how I am in real life. I do have hobbies and interests outside of your little gaggle of friends you know. You guys don’t exactly take up my every waking thoughts." Janus drawled, as he languidly stirred in a spoonful of honey to his tea before taking a long drawn out sip. “I do have standards.”

The long was more than enough sip for Roman to collect his thoughts.

Mostly he was confused, he hated being confused more than anything. It made him feel like he was back in middle school struggling to grasp the complicated problems that Logan seemingly had no issues with. It made him feel dumb. "So what do you really act like?" He felt like he was being more than a little demanding towards the side who’s time he had interrupted, but after the time he'd had after Janus' had come out with his name... He almost felt like he deserved to be, given the silence that had enveloped him in the past week. "Why act like that in front of Thomas?! Or us for that matter?! Why would you need to-"

"Would you have listened?" Janus' cool but comforting voice stopped him gently, leaving his mouth to gape openly for a moment at the loss of words. "How else was I going to be listened to? And not immediately turned away from all of you? Or worse… just ridiculed?"

And just like that Roman was struck with the sight of Logan's face.

His face with a brilliantly bright smile that had did nothing but dim to a scowl the longer they had been introduced to Thomas. Logan who hadn’t been around since Patton had skipped him, since he had chosen ignorance over whatever Logan was going to say, and since… just everything involving all of them. Logan hadn’t ducked out yet, since Thomas still seemed to be fine. But even if he did there wasn’t anyway for them to know if it would even impact Thomas at all, especially given that he had done it before with the fiasco that was going to Patton’s room.

It had been such a long time since Logan had come to him for Spanish lessons, and even longer since he’s seen Logan smile genuinely.

Logan still hasn't had that astronomy class that he had been promised.

Logan who'd felt the need to change who he was for Thomas.

Logan who had changed for all of them.

Something uncomfortable tugged sharply, like a shard of broken glass, in Roman's chest.

Janus' face was lined with scales and the dark shadows of sleepless nights that should have been avoided. His posture was one of exhausted dignity, that he couldn't even bother to uphold in front of Roman now that the others weren't in sight. He didn't even have his hat or gloves on, letting Roman see the speckling of scales on his hands as well as the scales that receded into his hairline. The smile on his face wasn't one of calculated resourcefulness, but genuineness.

He seemed so... so...

Relaxed.

That uncomfortable feeling tugged again, this time more insistent than before. "It's Thomas' fault?" He asked, not even sure as to what he was even asking about. He didn't want it to be Thomas' fault, but as the saying went.

One was happenstance, but two...

Two was a pattern.

"No no no!" Janus' rushed to quell his worries, hurriedly standing, sending the mountain of blankets into a landslide around his feet. His hands coming quickly to rest over Roman's, without even having to think twice about it. "I don't think he realizes it himself, but like with Virgil... He only listens once the problem gets bad enough. He shouldn't, but... That is the case for now. I'm trying to stop him from doing that." For the first time Janus' lips quirked into a sad looking frown. "No matter how he sees me, it doesn't matter. I just.. I just want to help."

Within an instant, Roman's hands found Janus' once again giving them a great squeeze. His heart felt so heavy and full he was almost scared that it would burst on impact.

Not only had he severely misjudged Janus', but he hasn't noticed the very thing that Janus was trying to help with.

If anything he'd made the problem worse in the beginning.

“Thomas… isn’t ready for the real me yet.” Janus murmured, gazing almost longingly down at Roman’s hands as he gave them a testing squeeze. “I don’t know if he ever will be honestly.”

And just like that, Roman felt the temperature of the room shift a little, getting colder as the warm comforting fire died down a little. As if to coincide with the feelings bottled up in Janus’ heart that couldn’t yet be said, and with the change in temperature Janus reluctantly released Roman’s hands in an effort to snag one of blankets to protect himself from the cold he knew so well. By this point Janus was used to the cold, he’d grown up in it and he’d received plenty of it when he’d made himself known to Thomas and everyone else.

This cold was nothing.

But still watching Janus swaddle himself in blankets in an effort to gather the warmth he had before, was almost heartbreaking.

“Is there.. is there anything that I can do to help?” He began, sounding almost like he was begging. “I can talk to Thomas, or even Patton! We can work something out, I can explain everything to Virgil and he’ll understand!”

Even to his own ears that sounded weak.

They both knew that Virgil was as stubborn as a bull, and had the temper to match when it came to anything involving Janus. The moment that Janus’ name left Roman’s lips he would have nothing to do with it. And Patton… he was still getting used to Janus’ presence, so asking him to do something this big would immediately scare him off for a long time to come, thus further delaying Janus’ plans. Thomas though… Thomas was even more standoffish against Janus being a part of anything, just getting Thomas to relax after the wedding had taken a whole day for Janus to manipulate things into place.

They wouldn’t listen to Janus, let alone Roman after the fight they’d had against one another.

Especially not so soon.

So was it just useless then? Was he just supposed to leave Janus here lying about who he was to everyone in the hopes that one day he’d be accepted enough to come out?

A deep frown tugged at Roman’s lips, “So you’re just going to keep masking around the others? Until what? Where’s the end for you? When will it finally stop? When will you be able to show them this place? Or just show them that you’re not who they fear you to be?”

Who was to say that the moment Janus came out with this, things wouldn’t immediately revert to how they had been before?

What then?

A deep sigh withered whatever spark of hope that Roman had left. “It’s okay Roman,” Janus placatingly told him. “It’s just how it has to be for a little while, and then things will get better… for all of us.”

No.

That was not going to stand.

No matter how comfortable Janus was with this, he didn’t want to be. Had he not stopped to question the back and forth of what exactly the others wanted… he likely would have started twisting himself to fit whatever fashion they wanted in the moment. Changing just so Thomas could be happy for the time being, even if it wasn’t what would benefit Thomas in the long run.

The fire in the room blazed a little brighter.

“No.” Roman sternly said, snapping Janus’ attention from the cover of his book that he had gone back to looking at. “I’m not going to just leave you now that you’ve explained everything. You aren’t happy, even if you’ve told yourself you should be. Just because things are better than they were before, doesn’t mean that it’s okay. It just means that you won’t notice when someone else is treating you wrongly.”

With that having been said, Roman turned on his heel his stomach twisting at the utterly shocked and baffled expression on Janus’ face, before he started marching towards the door.

“Where are you going?!” Came Janus’ bewildered call, the quick pattering of feet telling him that Janus was attempting to catch up quickly.

A hand snagged at his shirt attempting to pull him back into the room before he could leave to who knows where. Turning again though to face Janus at the other side’s question, he felt the other’s face solidly collide with his chest before a pair of hands seized his shirt so to not fall backwards from the impact. But not before the creative side looped his arm around the other’s back giving him a brief but very heartfelt squeeze, holding the dishonest side close enough to share his warmth.

As if that alone would stop all of his worries.

Roman treasured that one little second of contact.

“I’m going to get Logan, and were all going to talk like civilized people. We’re going to apologize to each other, and then…” Here Roman paused, taking in the look on Janus’ face. “We’re going to see what we can do to ensure that nobody gets hurt like we have in the past.”

Whatever cool relaxed composure Janus had before, it was gone, as he stared up at the creative side with what felt like a mixture between awe and shock. Out of everything that he had expected to come from Roman’s mouth when he had busted into his room, this.. this was not it. Sure he had expected shouting and yelling, but nothing like this.

A little blossom of pride bloomed within Janus’ chest.

His arms had no trouble finding their way back around Roman, pulling him in for another and much lengthier hug, relishing the warmth that came with it. “I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this before,” Janus mumbled into Roman’s chest, a giddy smile tugging at his lips as he stood on the tips of his toes. “But… you’re really smart. You know that?”

Roman was absolutely sure that he was going to cry now.

Seizing the back of Janus’ shirt, the only thing he could do was hug him tighter. “I think you could mention it a little more often.” He teased, a wet laugh leaving him as the creative side tried to hastily blink away his tears.

He could get used to this Janus.

After what felt like an eternity he pried himself away from Janus, hastily swiping his hands under his eyes before Janus could see the liquid that had started to run down his cheeks. “I’m going to go and get Logan,” He finally settled on, “I’m pretty sure that he needs help, even if he hasn’t said it. He hasn’t exactly been leaving his room lately, and I’m sure its due to how we’ve all been treating him, and how we’ve reacted in the past when his emotions get to be too much for him.” The guilt that tugged at his chest was less painful than it had been before, but still just as present. “I think he needs a hero.”

Janus only nodded, taking a step back into his room. The hearth was blazing behind him, Roman could feel the warmth radiating outwards even from where he was standing a good couple of feet away from the door.

He had brightened up Janus’ spirits towards the present as well as the future, just as he was supposed to do as the epitome of passion. The bright warm smile from the other side told him as such.

“Then go be a hero, Princey.”

[sararaiden]

Redamancy

A post-canon gintsu fanfic. All the flower talk references the Hanahaki disease (since this is a tie-in of an okikagu multichap that had the Hanahaki as a plot device). AO3 link.

It takes them some time to decipher who is the early riser, and in all honesty, it depends on many things. It has to do with the long nights at the pachinko parlor getting more and more sporadic until they are only an excuse for Hasegawa to unwind from his job, in which Gintoki obliges because that’s what friends are for.

Tsukuyo still has to bail him on those nights.

Or maybe it has to do with him drinking less and less alone since it will be a shame to waste the sake Hijikata gives her. So, she pours it for him, and it becomes a sacred ritual at dusk instead of a way to drown his sorrows. Or, perhaps, this is about his empty house and how he was drawn to her, desperate to have an excuse to quell his screams at night now that Kagura was gone. In the end, he stays at her place for weeks, even if that meant fewer hours of sleep because he has to drive back to Kabukicho.

(Until Kondo started coming too and then he had an excuse to freeload on the police’s gasoline and sleep some more on the way back).

Perhaps that will change now that his daughter is back. He realizes that he hadn’t taken her to his house as much as he had liked while he could —because Kagura is still his little girl and she doesn’t need to know how much he wants to ravish Tsukuyo on his desk. Then, he remembers her tired face and her beautiful laugh at Otose’s all those nights they spent at Kabukicho just to be there, only for them to return to Yoshiwara, sometimes drunk and stumbling, sometimes sober and embracing each other in the quiet of the dawn, and he supposes that is enough for the time being. They can’t know who the early riser is when they don’t even take off the day’s clothes before going to sleep and get up because one of them managed to kick the other.

They can’t know it either when Tsukuyo takes those crazy shifts, sometimes at night, sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes by day. He has spent months playing pachinko with this: will she be at his side when he wakes up? Will she even come? Their sleeping schedule is so messed up and so unnatural they don’t even bother trying to learn the other’s pattern. Whenever they remain awake plagued by their thoughts doesn’t count either as getting up for they didn’t even get to sleep. It is like this that the fact remains clouded in mystery, much to Hinowa’s chagrin.

It is, indeed, a mixture of a gazillion of circumstances. But one thing is for sure: it reveals itself when he doesn’t waste away his nights in solitude, when the life outside his futon beckons him with all its colors —even if Kagura is away, and the day Tsukuyo starts loosening on the workload she puts on her back and fits herself into his routine too.

Gintoki is the early riser. For one thing is sure: saving cats from trees is less tiring than beating the ever-loving shit out of some thug. If only she knew how good she looks when her palm sends the head of the idiot in case bobbling backward…

Yes, Gintoki follows her sometimes, like a stupid Gorilla stalker.

(Oh, how low the mighty have fallen).

Not because she needs saving, but because he’s bored, and Tsukuyo and her girls know how to put on a spectacle. And still, whatever she is capable of doing in the field stands no chance against what she does to him with her mere presence, the slow rise and fall of her chest, and the sunrays painting gold her hair.

He is glad he gets up earlier than her. With this Gintoki can steal a few moments from her day and not feel guilty about it. He can steal her from Yoshiwara’s claws; the Red District is lucky he still has some shame. Gintoki doesn’t pretend —could never, in fact, know what she thinks but he is aware of this much: Tsukuyo still shares him with everyone who needs him. She’s that selfless.

He, on the other hand, wants to steal her from Paradise. Shame and the utter respect he has for her are stopping him from doing so.

His hand brushes against her forehead, pulling her fringe away to reveal the scar. The marred tissue never made her ugly, but he had a hard time trying to grasp the meaning behind it, just to realize later that she was far braver than him. It is easy to throw yourself into the pits of danger, wishing that maybe your life would end gloriously. It isn’t so easy, however, to cast a part of yourself away for the sake of duty.

It is beautiful, that with her he doesn’t want to fall to pieces, not anymore, and that with him, she can be whole again.

“Creep.” Her voice is hoarse, a blend of the tobacco and the morning sleepiness. She raises her hand from under the covers and grabs him by the wrist. Gintoki just smiles, lazy and unapologetic. “Don’t tell me ya haven’t slept, Gintoki.” There’s a veiled threat in her words yet she loosens her grip and drawls her fingers across the calloused skin of his hand’s palm.

Taking the route of the playful banter is second nature to him, just like kicking asses —his included, is to her. “You didn’t let me, you Terminator, remember?” He slides his fingers between hers and encloses her hand in his, like a predator. He feels the ring biting into his skin; it’s so cold, just like her. Or, to be more precise, how she wanted to be, just that he didn’t let her, and now here they are. Tsukuyo has that sweet expression of complete shame plastered across her face. “Poor Gin-san works his ass off and instead of letting him rest you decide to mounfhgth!”

He licks her hand, but it's futile; she acts like a maiden but she’s hardly disgusted by the actions themselves, just at the mention of them. “Ya are one boastful moron.” She releases his mouth from its confinement and makes a face when a sunray hits her right in the eyes.

Next thing she is snuggling against his chest. It’s dark in there, just what she needs.

“I’m just proud of your stamina.” She sneaks an arm around him and smacks him in the head. “Watch it, Tsukuyo.”

“Ya watch it, Gintoki,” she grumbles against his skin, tickling him. Her lips linger a little above one of his scars, never touching him. For all the “reject womanhood” discourse she loved to throw at him back in the day, she is a courtesan at heart and knows exactly how to silence him.

(He finds it poetic, how after spending a lifetime howling at the heavens, he has finally reached them).

So, he remains silent. The only sound that fills the room is the ruffling of the sheets when he caresses her back and the distant call of a new day several stories down from where her quarters are. He ought to thank Kagura for giving Tsukuyo a mini-vacation to compensate for the ruined free day spent with Hijikata and Sofa-kun.

“Say, do you have a favorite flower?”

It is a strange question. It didn’t rob him of his sleep last night, but he figured he had never asked her. With all the drama surrounding the police captain —and Kagura, but he isn’t thinking about that right now nor does he want to, he thought about the maple leaves of her kimono.

Her voice comes out muffled by his chest. “I hate the cherry blossoms.” He knows. He’s the only one that knows.

“I asked for a favorite one, tho.”

They remain in silence again. She doesn’t get it, why it’s so important, but like many other things, she indulges him. Tsukuyo’s hums almost make him drift back to sleep, until her voice, now clear, stops him from going too far. She has one elbow on the pillow and her hand lazily supporting her head. He feels triumphant, for some reason.

“I don’t know why are we having pillow talk about flowers…” she seems to be mesmerized by how their hands are still interweaved, “but I like those that grow by the riverbank.” She scowls a bit, to which Gintoki brings his lips to her brow. “The ones that are fluffy and with many colors.” He leaves there a chaste kiss, coaxing her to relax. There’s no need for her to get stressed for not knowing how they are called.

“The hydrangeas, aha.” He recoils in time to catch the suspicious glare she regales him.

“I didn’t take ya for a flower enthusiast, Gintoki.”

He isn’t. It’s just that some memories can’t be purged, nor does he want to. It’s funny those are her favorite ones, or at least, the ones she likes the most.

“I’ve lived ten years with Otose.” That in itself, isn’t an answer. Even so, she doesn’t need one. She had let go of his hand and now is combing through his perm with lazy strokes. “They grow on her husband’s grave.” Her movements do not falter. “And we had them by the fence at the temple school, too.” She doesn’t still, doesn’t look at him with pity, doesn’t even look him in the eyes. She lets him bare himself while she continues to mess his hair.

Truth is, she made a mess out of him a long time ago, when Yoshiwara was as dark as his life before the kids came into it.

“Yoshiwara needs a bit of green,” she comments casually. Tsukuyo drops her hand and turns away, reaching for her pipe, and Gintoki pretends he didn’t see her soft smile. She sits up and takes his yukata, draping it over her shoulders. Her fingers lighten the kiseru with grace. “We can plant them in the main avenue.” The tobacco smoke fills the room almost immediately. He doesn’t care anymore. “And then you can plant the ones you like.”

Always the tsundere, avoiding asking the real questions.

He stretches, and circles her waist, his hands resting on her thighs and his chin on her shoulder. He follows the swirly pattern of the cloth, thinking.

“I can’t plant maple leaves, Tsukuyo.”

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

Astor nodded. He and paced the hall and muttered under his breath.

“I see...I never meddled in the realm of technology...but to think that Sheikah Technology could hold such a secret.” He tapped his chin, staring at the astrolabe on the other side of the dungeon bars. “I suppose it makes sense. The advanced accomplishments and feats that such technology is capable of...it’s only naturally that it is powered by unconventional means.”

Siv spun the Sheikah Core on his index finger like it was a ball. “Yeeeep. I’m guessing that’s what allowed the super old dudes to beat the Calamity all those years ago.” He shook his head. “So, yeah. Dick Lord Ganon is gonna use that to turn the Guardians and Divine Beasts against us. And even if the science peeps keep researching into them...well.” He looked up at Astor. “Obviously, they would never figure out this crucial little detail even after a hundred years of science-ing. So this is our little secret, capiche?”

Astor nodded again. If what Asivus was saying was true (And it was) then Hyrule were truly doomed. The Calamity would exploit this secret, and use it to flip the entire war on its head. This is what Ganon would use to turn the Divine Beasts against them.

If any of the researchers found out about this aspect of Ancient Technology, and adapted to it, then Ganon would lose his biggest advantage...and it might be possible to...

The seer quickly shook away the thought. No, even if they knew, the world would be helpless all the same when the Princess fails to awaken their powers. In fact, it would probably be more brutal if Ganon’s forces were reliant completely on the bludgeoning and stabbing that came with monsters. Machines would have avoidable patterns in a post-apocalyptic world, but monsters of malice would be exceptionally harder.

So yes...We keep this info from everyone. Especially Robbie and Purah and...

“How sure are you that no one else could figure this out?” Astor asked.

“Decently sure. I mean, it’d be pretty hard to guess such a crazy thing.” Asivus shrugged.

“Are you positive? Because I know my—” He stopped in his tracks, suddenly stumbling on his words. “I—in reference to random researchers—other non-specified—she’s not—Look. There are very talented and intelligent researchers across the kingdom, surely someone—”

“Did you say it yourself? Everyone’s way to arrogant around here!” Siv threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “No one’s gonna look for faults in their perfect little war machines! They shoot lasers, and don’t talk back. It’s a general’s wet dream. Even if someone figured out this secret, no one here would listen to them.” He waved his hand in a circle and gestured towards his half brother. “Case in point: You.”

Astor folded his arms and sighed. “Alright, fine. So that’s how the Calamity will turn the Guardians and Beasts against us. But what’s the actual execution of it all? The plan? What’s your play in this? How did the Guardians in the yard get corrupted?”

Siv was silent; thinking. He seemed to be endlessly swimming through thoughts and words and memories. The man fiddled with the discs surrounding the astrolabe, eyes drooping in misery. Interesting.

“I was supposed to make them. That’s what he wanted,” Asivus finally said. “Beast of water, lightning, air, and fire. Or, demons? Blights or something. Creatures that were to take on the Divine Beasts.They’re built slightly different than Guardians, so he needed a little something special to deal with ‘em.” He blew hair off his forehead with a huff. “It all sorta just came into my head in the minutes before I fucked up those Guardians, so the details come and go, but that’s the gist. I make the Blights, Ganon does his thing, then I wait at the Sanctum to achieve true happiness or whatever he was bullshitting.”

“But you failed.” Astor interjected. “You failed to make the blights, and thus today’s calamity failed. At least, in this timeline.” Siv opened his mouth to object, but he continued to think outloud. “The Guardians were a fluke, then. You were not capable of creating Blights, but wielded enough malice to corrupt a Guardian. Although that brings into question how you control malice to begin with...and why you were chosen specifically for the task...”

Asivus was silent again, spinning the astrolabe on the floor. Astor observed him for a moment.

“Is he speaking to you? At the moment?” The seer asked. “Every time you fall silent is when you start looking down at that device. That thing I can correctly assume is the instigator of all this, given that you look at it every time I ask about the recent Guardians you ruined.”

Asivus narrowed his eyes at him, annoyed at being so readable.

“Ganon isn’t in your head, as you said you were overcome with this information in the minutes you truly held that astrolabe and walked by the Guardians.” He thought back. “Earlier before the incident you said you had a dream, and then you found the astrolabe? You leave it on your desk as a paper weight, before developing the decent moral to drop off a potential lost item to the Sheikah. But then you were holding the astrolabe in proximity to the Guardians, and subsequently are suddenly given the revelation to the Calamity’s plan...”

He locked eyes with him. “Combine that with the truth about all Sheikah Technology itself...and the fact that your eyes only change when that core is in your possession...”

Astor walked closer and gripped one of the bars, calmly. “That astrolabe is the link between you and the Calamity. It speaking to you through it. It’s lending you the power to control malice. It’s a manifested vessel of Ganon’s ill intent for this world...perhaps made of whatever malice plagues yourself. Perhaps he chose you for the job because you’re brimming with his favourite substance.”

Assivus started at the seer, and blinked once. Astor took that as confirmation, but asked anyways: “Am I wrong?”

Siv bit his tongue for a moment, before sighing in defeat. “You’ve got Ligero’s mannerisms down to the T. The perceptiveness nearly makes me wish I had actually paid attention to his parenting attempts.”

Something twisted inside Astor at that comment, and his voice grew a dangerous edge. “I’m nothing like him.”

“It’s alright, don’t take it personally. I just have a love-hate relationship with smart people.”

“Tsk.” The prophet stared down the corridor in thought. “Don’t we all.”

“But you’re wrong about one thing.” Siv added, and he looked up at Astor with a new seriousness. “I didn’t ‘fail’ to make the blights.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I didn’t fail to make the blights, I didn’t want to.” Asivus raised his voice, and rolled the astrolabe to the other side of the cell. “You can’t fail something you never really attempted in the first place.” He winked. “I mean, that’s been my philosophy on life for the last 15 years, heh.”

Astor blinked in surprise. “But...why? The world is doomed, and you were handed a position of life and power on a silver tray. Chosen above anyone else.  Why wouldn’t—?”

“I didn’t do it because I’m not like you, pissface!” Siv snapped. “I jump outta my socks to make a selfish decision. I don’t just run away from any inconvenience in my life.”

Astor nearly laughed. “Oh? And what exactly is it that you do, then? You’re really going to preach to me, Mr. Assivus Asunder?”

“YEAH! That name is exactly why I decided this!” He waved his arms in the air, and gestured to himself as he slumped against the wall. “Taking action and fighting for anything, regardless of what, sucks ass. Initiating change? Bad. Acting on what you care about? No likey.” Siv pounded his chest proudly. “The ideal ending for Asivus Ex-Hartell is to just chill out, and wait for the end. Drink in hand!”

He raised his empty flask, but nonetheless pretended to drink.

Astor frowned, but let the distant drip of leaking water echo in the corridor.

He watched Siv for a few more minutes, silently tapping his fingers on his elbow.

“You still care about your brother.”

It was a good think his flask was empty, as otherwise he would have spit out his drink. Siv angrily sputtered. “The fuck does that have to do with anything—?!”

“Why are you just relaxing in there after all this time?  You think you deserve this? Don’t want to be a burden for others?” Astor looked him up and down.

“Listen, you little shit. I know at this point it shouldn’t be a surprise that my family is made up of asshole, but—”

“You know when I first saw you around the castle, I did recognize you. The eyes, you see. But of course, I didn’t see the need to trouble you with my story, but I did watch you.” The prophet sneered. “Dear Asivus Hartell, sneaking into town to share a peach cobbler with his niece. Assivus Asunder, teaching his nephew to shield surf, and trying to encourage him down a more righteous path than his own. The Royal Orator Siv, who thanks his little brother for taking care of him by spending four hours making perfect hand drawn rat doodle cards.” Astor leaned down with a smirk. “You’re not the only one who paid attention to the captain’s birthday presents.”

“Alright get to the point, fuckface.” He waved the prophet off. “What? I screw around with my dumb family. What’s it gotta do with anything?”

“It means that for all your talk of laying down and dying and giving up, your action seems to indicate that you don’t actually believe that.” He jabbed a finger at Siv through the bars. “Or at least you don’t fully. Maybe you don’t want to. So don’t go blathering about your sorry life, only to try and insult me in the next minute. This isn’t about your apathy. You’re just scrambling at this low bar Ganon gives you as you drool the rare opportunity to unequivocally be an undeniably good person. You just want to tell yourself you’re a hero.”

Quiet.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“OK.” Asivus curled his lip. “I didn’t want to join Ganon, because I’m still stupidly trying to not be an asshole. I’m too much of a wuss to commit to the dickhead role I was probably meant to fulfill. I’m pathetically trying to keep control over my image—is THAT what you want to hear, magic man? Congratu-fucking-lations. You turned the tables, you can see how pathetic I am and can feel better about yourself. How do ya feel?” The astrolabe had rolled by Asivus’ lap, and gold speckled in his eyes.

Astor sighed and answered honestly. “...Well. I’m envious, truth be told.” Siv blinked, but let him continue. “I haven’t bothered trying to be a hero my whole life, much less have such a driven (and these days useless) hunger to be ‘good.’” The seer shook his head, staring down the hall again. “I’m envious, but I do think you’re a fool. I’d take the opportunity to wield the future in a heartbeat, no matter the consequences.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” Siv chuckled. “This malice stuff is fucked up.”

“Only because you don’t understand it.” Astor replied, offended. “I’ve studies it for years, and it’s often misunderstood. There’s a beauty and usefulness to it, even detached from the Calamity. You’re just not intelligent enough to get it, I understand. ‘Love-hate relationship,’ like you said.” He snorted.

“Are you sick?! This Ancient Core thing made me walk through so many shitty memories and thoughts...I wouldn’t walk through that again to end OR save the world.”

“Again. All due to your plight of ignorance. It’s not your fault.”

Asivus rolled his eyes. “You know what? Why don’t you explain it me then?! If you’re so excited about it? Talk aaall about how I’m not fit to properly wield this and how pathetic I am?”

Siv dangled the astrolabe in the air between his fingers.

“Go on! Explain how great this malice is, and maybe then if you’re so eager I’ll just leave the thing in your care!”

[fractalfrostandfun]

Underground it Snows ~

The wild shrieking of the Wind melded seamlessly with the raucous laughter of unadulterated joy as Jack Frost was spun round and round within her protective hold. Snowflakes softly began to fall to the earth below, blanketing the ground in gentle white that would bring much snowballs and fun times among the children of Burgess. Jack let out another whoop as the Wind tossed him onto different levels of higher heights then just as quickly dropped him into lower currents, but never once did he feel fear that she would drop him. In three hundred years of their odd friendship, Jack trusted the Wind and Wind would never hurt him on purpose, so he enjoyed the crazy ride as he shepherded in Winter on the small town, dusting windows with delicate patterns of frost while the snow sailed cotton like from the heavens.

As much as Jack loved Burgess, though he was uncertain as to why, he didn’t stay long and the Wind was unwilling to remain in the human settlement for long; she took her favorite child away from that place where inevitably one of the human children he would attempt to play with would walk through him, sending him right into one of his melancholic moods - and Wind was not in the mood to deal with such a mood! She wished to play and toss and throw and soar through the sky unhindered with her beloved Winter Spirit! Jack was therefore swept away from the city by Wind, his duty completed as the seasons changed and Fall became Winter, and carried towards the nearby mountains overlooking Burgess.

Jack didn’t like these mountains and there were many folktales spread throughout Burgess and neighboring towns concerning children who climbed the mountains only to disappear and never be seen again by their loved ones; mere stories meant to keep the children from wandering off and getting lost or hurt, no doubt, but either way something always felt off about those mountains. Mount Ebott in particular had always made Jack uncomfortable and give it a wide berth on his travels. The aura of the area felt foreboding and heavy and inspired a sense of dread whenever he got within its boundaries and normally the young spirit would avoid the mountain like the plague - but Wind ignored his attempts to change her course, enjoying her play too much to notice his reluctance and growing anxiety the closer they grew to the peak of Ebott.

When they eventually hit the summit, Jack’s heart was pounding hard and fast underneath the cage of bones that protected it. An inexplicable fear having formed. “Wind...Wind! I don’t think this is a good idea-!”

Wind paused suddenly, confused on why her beloved playmate would want to stop playing and in that second of confusion, she dropped him. There was a surprised shout from Jack as he fell but he wasn’t worried… until he saw what appeared to be like a gaping maw gashed into the mountain as if to swallow him whole grow larger and larger the closer he got. Then he panicked.

Already he heard the Wind race to catch him but it was too late… As Jack passed into the mountain, Wind hit a barrier she could not pass. She screamed her fury at being stopped from catching her Jack, and wailed her terror at losing him; the gentle snowfall in Burgess kicked up into a furious blizzard without warning, frightening the citizens into their homes for safety and sending a shockwave of unintended power to a certain king of the shadows that drank it all in with glee. Wind wailed, pressing against the mountain and seeking out every nook and cranny she could squeeze into - but something ancient and powerful pushed her away; defeated, she settled on Ebott, still wailing and searching for her child...

Jack winced as he came to, his head throbbing and his body aching but surprisingly he was mostly unharmed. Briefly, he wondered how long he had been unconscious for. Sitting up, he blinked in surprise as he found himself in a thick bed of golden colored flowers. Brushing his fingers over the petals, he hummed fondly at their soft petals and beauty but jerked away when frost started to creep over them; the thought of killing these plants even on accident had him feeling as if he were committing some sort of blasphemy. Luckily, the harsh action had his hand skirt off into a different patch of ground and hidden underneath the sunny blooms, Jack felt the rough, cool wood of his staff.

Plucking it up with a wordless noise of surprised joy, the eternal teenager jumped to his feet and examined the crook with a careful eye. He relaxed when he found the ancient wood as it had been for three hundred years and turned his attention to now examine the massive cavern he found himself in. Then he turned his gaze upwards. Far, far above he could see the hole in which he had fallen through and was again shocked at how he was not hurt beyond some aches and pains for how far he had fallen. Shrugging and not questioning the good fortune, the boy called out to his longtime companion so he could return to the sky:

“Wind! Hey, Wind! I’m down here!!”

He waited but there was no fond breeze sweeping over him and lifting him off his feet, no whirlwind of excitement blowing him over, nothing… Jack swallows with growing trepidation and tries again, and again but the Wind does not come to his call. Trembling, though not from the cold, he looks around at his surroundings (were those columns?) and eventually spies an archway that leads deeper into the mountain.

He hesitates a beat, but really he doesn’t have much of a choice if he wanted to get out of the mountain since Wind couldn’t hear him or...well, he didn’t want to think on why she wasn’t coming to his aid.

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

After the Quarantine

pairing: Jin x reader

genre: fluff, pining, close friends au

word count: 3k | reading time: 16 min

summary: You get a little too deep into daydreaming about seeing your crush while you're both in self-isolation and hating it.

warnings: mentions of a bit of alcohol, bad practicing of corona virus protection measures lol stay home guys!

Masterlist  |  Read on AO3

Scrolling through Tumblr, you see a word search game. "After the Quarantine," it writes at the top. "The first 3 words you find are the first 3 things you will get after the quarantine." It's currently been five weeks since you've been stuck at home, and honestly, it has started to drive you crazy. The weather has gotten so much better, spring evident outside your window, which makes staying in so much more difficult. And even though you think indulging this game might only get you daydreaming about days that no one knows when will come, you do so anyway.

"Wine" is the first word that you see. Then again, it was the very first word anyway so you're not quite sure if it counts. "Pizza" is the second, and you're starting to see a pattern. Your eyes circle over the picture for a couple more seconds, finally falling on the word "beach". Wine, pizza, beach… sounds like a date.

So, obviously, your mind rushes to Jin.

Not that you needed too big of a reason to think about Jin considering it has been your main occupation these past few weeks. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just the overwhelming loneliness you feel now and then when you realize there's no hope of seeing his stupid face any time in the foreseeable future. You knew you had feelings for him, you've known for months. But this quarantine has forced you to suddenly come to terms with the cosmic magnitude of them. His texts were truly in short supply, even more scarce than when the world was still functional. Which didn't show any signs of missing you, apart from the occasional discussion of how bored he was at home and wished he could see other people. But let's be honest, translating that into him missing you needed some serious jumping-to-conclusions skills.

Even if he wasn't dying to see you though, you sure were. And an evening at the beach, pizzas, and wine sounded admittedly the best. You could picture the whole thing. After the quarantine is over, it's probably going to be well into the summer –well, hopefully. And you could get two of those pizzas, Italian style, with the slightly burned cheese on top that Jin had introduced to you. And you'd bring the two bottles of white wine that were still left in your apartment after the last gathering you had with your friends. You'd drive -I mean, he would- to the beach right after the sun had set. No, while it was setting, so that you could watch it. It would probably be empty by then, by people that is, yet filled with pink colors and a warm summer breeze.

Wait, no. If you go after the quarantine is over, then he'll probably bring his friends. The car will be full by all these guys, you wouldn't even be able to sit next to him so that you can smile and casually stroke his arm while he drives. Would Jin think you're asking him out if you asked to go alone? No, you couldn't risk something like that. Maybe it'd be better if you could go now…

Yeah, that would be really nice. Why wait until summer? Why not text him "I'm sick of staying home, you're sick of staying home, let's just sneak out and go watch the sunset at our nearest sandy coast". That way you would truly be alone. You would meet wearing masks and gloves (like the ones he was wearing in that cute selfie he had sent you to remind you to stay safe) and wave at each other from 1,5 meters afar. You could still have the pizzas delivered, right? And you already had the wine… Maybe you shouldn't sit next to him in the car, but that's a small sacrifice. The beach would be the same kind of beautiful, you would have it all to yourselves. It wouldn't be too cold, either too warm. You would probably be able to stay there until late at night with just a jacket and maybe a bonfire, if you were feeling in the mood to make one. And you would sit at opposite sides of the fire and look at each other like that, smiling under your mask and hoping your eyes don't betray you too much.

Jin would ask you to take a million pictures of him. He'd pose in front of the sunset, and next to the fire, with a pizza in his mouth, lying on the beach, running away from you, running towards you. He really loves having his pictures taken. You're pretty sure that's directly linked to his self-infatuated comments about his beauty, but he insists he is normally very shy and only does that around you. In any case, it's not that he's wrong when he says his face is gorgeous. Nor is having that gorgeous face stare at you through the camera a bad way of spending your time. Especially since you get to keep those pictures afterward.

By the time you'd sit down to eat, the pizzas would have turned cold. No problem, however, the specific ones tasted even better cold. You don't have to imagine how his thick lips would glister thanks to the oily cheese since you've already seen it many times. But maybe they'd still manage to look even more inviting with the fire's orange light dancing on and off them. Just like his eyes would look huge in the dark and shine when they would meet yours by accident. You'd need an excuse, like saying his hair looked funny because of the wind or that you still hadn't registered the fact that you were experiencing human interaction after so many days. Then you would have a free pass and would be able to stare at him as much as you wanted. Jin never seems to mind you staring. Perhaps never even notices. He is always devoted to his food, or the movie you're watching, or the coffee you're drinking. He talks to you, which means he knows you're there, but it's almost as if he actively avoids eye contact like the plague. Or, better yet, like Corona.

You're not saying that to complain, of course. If it weren't for Jin's casual neglect, you probably wouldn't have gotten to be as close friends as you are, before being found out. Or, even if you weren't found out, you wouldn't be able to keep your emotions in check around him and it would irritate even you. Sure, just watching him munch on that pizza made you blush, for whatever reason, but it didn't make you too flustered to talk, for example. You could either look at Jin or talk to Jin, not do both at the same time. It's almost as if he knew that, and he'd always sit next to you yet look straight ahead the whole time. Perhaps he couldn't do both either, without his ears turning red. Perhaps he was indeed a little shy.

Alright, maybe if you really went to the beach you'd just sit away from each other and admire the sea and the sky individually because getting too close would deem both of you off. But that doesn't mean it has to be like that in your daydream too, right? If you stayed there long enough, any light from the sky would be gone and it would start to get a little chilly, and maybe you'd have to scoot closer to him so that his broad shoulders could block some of the wind. He would most certainly say something about the virus, and how you're breaking the rules, but you wouldn't let it get to you. He would just be joking. In reality, he probably wanted you to sit close to him. It would be the closest thing to physical contact he'd get in so long. With the sun gone and the darkness providing a strange sense of privacy, you'd feel brave enough to turn your head to his side, and not turn it back ahead. Jin would finish off the second box of pizzas, and then pick at the fire with a stick, and maybe play with the sand; anything to avoid having to turn his head towards you as well.

The wine would still be in abundance. At first, you wouldn't have much to say –what news could you have when you're both at home all the time?– and you'd enjoy the view, and the comfortable silence, and each other's company. At least you would. But after you'd get to drinking, and finish off a couple of glasses (the paper ones he'd provide) you would suddenly find your tongues in great energy. If Jin started telling his jokes, which he always does, you would be in grave danger of giggling and pushing him playfully. There was generally a lot of touching involved in two cases: when Jin made you laugh, and when you were drunk. When both were true?

Well... How has Jin not realized your feelings for him yet? Thinking about it now, it seems almost impossible. Unless he has, and that's why he acts all shy around you. But that doesn't make sense either. If he knew about your crush on him, he wouldn't keep hanging out with you so much, would he? No, that'd be giving you false hope. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't come, say, at the beach with you like that, if he knew. So he probably doesn't know.

If he did come to that beach, however, he would definitely find out about your feelings by the end. If it wasn't after the first bottle of wine, when your face would be all red and you wouldn't be able to take your eyes off his face, or your hands off his arms, it would certainly be after the second bottle. Because by then you would have probably confessed. Not intentionally, of course. Logical, sober you would never do such a thing. But silly, drunk you would undoubtedly let something stupid slip her mouth, like a complaint about his dry texting or a compliment about his peculiarly nice eyebrows. And silly, drunk Jin would blush, a little confused, not knowing how to respond. Eventually, he would note how close you'd gotten, and the tone in your voice when you made those unusual comments. And if he still didn't say anything, well, then you'd get frustrated enough to blurt everything out. Right?

After that, there is no way of telling what would happen. Hopefully nothing so embarrassing that you wouldn't even be able to survive a car ride back home with him. And yes, that's as hopeful as you can get. If you start hoping for more, like a reciprocation of your feelings, or even a mere acceptance, you'll scold yourself for getting your hopes up. For thinking of such impossible stuff. This whole wine, pizza, and beach idea is too far fetched anyway. Jin wouldn't want to do that with you. And even if he did, it wouldn't go the way you think. Sure, if you actually had the whole beach to yourselves, a nice day, a beautiful scenery, a warm bonfire, good food, lots of wine, and most importantly Jin by your side, you'd get all mushy, and slushy, and gushy, and then… who knows? Maybe you'd be crazy enough to kiss him.

Okay, maybe just hug him 'cause you're a coward above all.

You register the view outside your window and realize it has gotten dark. How long have you been sitting there thinking about Jin? The hidden word game is still the first thing you see when you move your mouse a bit. You shake your head at your antics. It's a good thing you don't have anything else you should be doing, otherwise, you might have to ask Jin for compensation, considering the damage he could do to your work if you keep up like that. But still, you download the picture and send it to him.

"I got money, friends, and marriage," he texts you just seconds afterward, as if he was right over his phone, waiting for your text. But then again, he probably was. Not waiting for your text, that is, but over his phone all day. Quarantine edition.

"You already got the first two, the third one is the only one that concerns me," you reply with a smirk. Yes, he probably thinks you're so funny. If you think about it a little more, however, you'd start to literally worry.

"It's only concerning if you didn't get it too ;)"

You blink at that text. Concerning… if you didn't get marriage too? Why? Did he not want to be the only married one in the group or something like that? No, that couldn't be it. But whatever, Jin's humor was lost to you sometimes. It wasn't the first time he made comments like that, chuckled awkwardly and confused you even more as to how to interpret them.

You decide to avoid immediate acknowledgment and simply state: "I got wine, pizza, and beach."

"Oh… sounds like a date!"

You can't fight the blush that appears on your cheeks, however much you tell yourself he isn't asking you on a date, he's just stating the obvious. He didn't say a date with you, just any date. But your cheeks keep on burning. You chew your bottom lip as you text him back.

"That's what I thought too. But I'd also do it with a friend. After staying in for so long an evening at the beach would be so refreshing."

You very specifically wrote the word "friend" in there so that you could include him. Not that he is just a friend to you, but that is probably what he sees himself as, right? That's a good strategy. Let him think this is anything but a date, this is far from that. This is just two friends casually hanging out. And then maybe it will happen.

"No don't go with a friend let's go together.."

Yes that's what you mean too. You didn't write that though. Obviously. You didn't tell him that he is the friend (well, not exactly friend if you want to be literal) you're talking about since he apparently thought you were talking about one of your other friends. That's what he meant by "a friend", right?

Wait… Did he actually say you can go together? Does he mean alone? The two of you?

"You wanna go to the beach after the quarantine is over??" you text with your eyes wide, watching how the three bubbles appeared from his side immediately. Maybe this will really happen? Maybe thinking it might happen now isn't exactly getting your hopes up?

"Hmm the quarantine is taking too long. Wish we could go now."

You don't have time to think. You don't have time to overthink, actually. You just ride on that wave of God knows what and text him back to back as fast as you can.

"Now? Do you think the police will arrest us or something lol"

"Small price to pay, don't you think?"

"Small price to pay to see me?"

"No, to eat pizza."

You exhale loudly. Then you facepalm. You can't believe you let yourself get excited again. See, this is why you can't dare to kiss him even in your dreams.

"If you want pizza you can just order delivery you goof."

This was the first time he took a little too long to answer. Well, it was still under two minutes, but it wasn't as immediate as the rest and you noticed it.

"Okay maybe it's not just the pizza…"

You sigh and decide to lie down on your bed. What were you going to do with that man? How he was playing with your heart so easily as if he was born to do that, and yet he had no idea.

"Let me guess. The wine?"

To your surprise he said: "Hm no."

You weren't sure what to say after that. The beach? The human contact? Like… any human contact? Just getting out of the house? It couldn't be you, he had already discarded that explanation, right?

Maybe you took a little too long to reply since he double texted you: "Anyway I guess you'll find out when we go.."

"Okay… I'll bring the wine!" you write playfully, trying to pretend your heart was fluttering.

"Does that mean I'm on pizza duty? Alright, I'll get the Italian ones I showed you the last time, remember?"

"Yummy :3 will you drive too?"

"Of course, I wouldn't let you anywhere near the wheel."

"Does that mean you won't let me ride shotgun?? :("

"No, shotgun is obligatory. I'm not your taxi driver."

You laugh at his text and roll on your stomach. You knew you wouldn't actually do it, at least not right now, but it was nice to see he wanted it as much as you did. Maybe for different reasons, but you still wanted to see each other. Right?

"That sounds less than 1,5 meters distance," you text him back.

"Details… let's meet first and then we decide on those ;)"

The rest of your evening was spent texting with Jin about what you would do if you could actually sneak out and go to a beach right now. And, who would have thought, the excursion didn't sound too different from how you imagined it. There were a few different opinions expressed here and there, such as he would take pictures of you, not the other way around, or he would definitely throw you in the water. He argued you'd eat most of the food and get drunk faster, and he would have to carry you home. And that you would pretend to be cold just so you could steal his jacket. But in the end, you both agreed on one thing: it didn't have to be a beach, or pizzas, or wine. It just had to be you two, hanging out, and it would be just what you needed right now.

You thought about that, as you fell asleep that night, whispering to yourself with a smile: "Maybe he misses me a little after all…"

[foxtophat]

(still trying to figure out how i link these but whatever)

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!! i decided to just sit down and hammer out the last edits for this lil one-shot so i could get it out today!

i’m gonna be real with you: the only reason i wrote this fic is because i couldn’t get the idea out of my head.  you weren’t supposed to see mercyverse for another month, honestly!!! but it’s been cold as fuck here and it’s made me fantasize about classic bed-sharing tropes, and so here we are!

this is a bit of a slice of life, to sort of give an idea of how day-to-day these guys all interact, especially now that carmina doesn’t have to pretend john doesn’t exist.  plus, i’m starting to see how the caches might be involved in the overarching plot???? awesome!!!

as usual, the full text is below the cut for my friends who don’t wanna leave tumblr.  i hope you enjoy -- feel free to leave a comment, i loooove hearing from readers. likes and reblogs are also great! kudos are fantastic! adding to the hit counter is just fine by me!!! anything you do to show support for fanfic is a good thing imo.  i hope y’all have a happy wintereenmas or whatever and i will see you guys in 2021 with more mercyverse :)

The best thing Nick can say about the blizzard currently sweeping the county is that he could see that it was coming. They'd gotten almost a foot of snow the night before, which gets him worried about getting snowed in, and as the day progresses, the sky grows an ominous gray that Nick recognizes from a lifetime of living in the area. He knows that they probably only have a few hours left before they're going to want to get inside and avoid the worst a winter storm has to offer.

Nick and John spend the entire morning hauling wood into the house, while Kim does her best to clean out the broken chimney and ensure they won't die of smoke inhalation. They also pull in some pre-made stock that Kim had left in the freezer after it had gotten cold enough to use, as well as a few smaller pieces for miscellaneous projects. But with the storm rolling in overhead, they don't have long; they end up leaving a lot of things for later as the wind whips up around them and turns the snow sideways.

By two in the afternoon, they've closed the doors to officially bunker down for the rest of the blizzard. They have enough wood to last them three days, plus their military rations and plenty of coffee, so Nick isn't particularly concerned about their safety. The only thing he's really got to contend with is boredom, which is easier to stave off in the first few hours of captivity than it is later in the evening.

For the most part, Nick passes the time by sharpening their knives, cleaning their guns, and checking the radio every hour for any emergencies. The blizzard ensures that not many people are on, but at least he gets to check in with Jerome and make sure that Grace is safely in her bunker. It's unlikely they'll get in contact with the trailer park until after the worst passes, but that just means Nick's gonna worry about those jackasses all night.

Kim is probably the only one comfortable with the downtime, making the most of things as she chews on the radio's instructions. When the technical jargon gets to be too much, she switches to entertaining Carmina, who gets bored quick when her only job is to keep the fire going. The easiest distraction comes from card games; the deck they'd had in the bunker had shrunk to only 32 cards, but now that they've got a full deck to work with, Carmina is eager to relearn and master games like Go Fish and Old Maid. Nick doubts Jacob planned to be entertaining kids with his survival gear, but it's not like the guy's gonna complain.

Carmina isn't the only one that Jacob is keeping busy beyond the grave. Ever since they found that cache of his, John has been borderline obsessed with figuring out what the point of it could be. He'll go all day without mentioning the puzzle plaguing him, but any available downtime has him staring at the map and its coordinates. Nick and Kim have both been keeping an eye on it, just in case it turns into something worse than his usual tunnel-vision, but so far it hasn't gotten out of hand. If anything, John seems more aware and alert now that he has something to focus on, and now Nick can even pretend he's a normal guy for conversations at a time before being reminded otherwise.

Of course, the blizzard's making it impossible to find alternate distractions. John does spend part of the afternoon in his room, but eventually, he can't help but come downstairs to mull over the map. There's only one problem with that — they've hung the map up in the radio room, so there's about ten minutes every hour where Nick has no choice but to sit in John's presence. It probably wouldn't bother him so much if there was somewhere else either of them could be, but they're stuck for the foreseeable future. John's looming is just going to be part of Nick's life until the storm passes.

In the interest of keeping the peace, Nick reluctantly tries to have the same level of interest in the random dots that John shows. His attention, however, is distracted by the penciled-in changes that he, Kim and John have all been making to the landscape. The river's wider in some places now, and there are doodles of trees in spaces that were once open fields. A few X's mark places where bridges have collapsed, and Kim's circled anywhere they've made radio contact with. Their notations have scattered across the valley, and have even spread over to the river region thanks to Hurk and his raider gang, but they still don't know anything about the mountains, or even the spaces that are supposedly occupied by bow-wielding religious nutjobs. It's going to be a while before any of them get the nerve to go poking that particular hornet's nest.

John has his little notebook open, but he's not writing anything down. Nick's not sure what he would even put down, since they haven't gotten any more leads since early autumn, but he's always got the thing tucked in a pocket nowadays. Maybe Nick should be mad he outright stole that resource from the rest of them, but — well, come on. He can't yell at the man for taking up journaling, not without flying in the face of every therapist Nick had pretended not to listen to. It's just... well, what the hell is there for him to write down?

"Are you staring for any particular reason?" John asks, because of course he does.

"That's rich, coming from the guy lurking over my shoulder all day." Nick flips off the static-ridden radio frequency, leaning back in his chair so that he can get a better look at the map push-pinned to the wall. "I hear if you look at it just right, you can see a sailboat."

John's clearly not much of a Kevin Smith fan, because he only sighs heavily at Nick's flat joke. "If you have something better for me to be doing, I'm all ears," he says, revealing to Nick at last just how bored he really is. Weirdly enough, being in the same boat as John is somehow reassuring.

"Okay, fine. At least tell me what you're staring at, so I know what to fake interest in."

Even though it's mostly a joke, it lands softly enough that John doesn't take offense. Stuffing the notebook in his back pocket, he shakes his head, gesturing at the map. Getting John to explain himself is usually like pulling teeth, but right now he seems relieved to have someone to bounce his thoughts off of. It's a long way away from the guy Nick remembers saving, enough so that it almost catches his full interest.

"It's nothing in particular, really. I've already spent hours staring at this thing, but I'm... still looking for a pattern, I guess. Jacob was paranoid and secretive, but if there's a hidden code buried in these coordinates, it's beyond me to see it. And the snow was already keeping us from traveling too far — now with this blizzard, we're likely stuck with no new information until spring ..."

John sighs, rubbing his forehead as the pretense finally abandons him. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do until then."

That's certainly a feeling that Nick can relate to. Nick is less of a workaholic than John might be, but that doesn't mean he won't go stir-crazy without his own set of chores. Hell, that's why he's been hanging around the radio in between games of cards with the girls and cleaning whatever he can get his hands on. It must suck extra for John; the guy's been spinning his tires in the dirt for years, probably, and being this close to having a purpose beyond doing whatever chores Nick sets him to must be irritating.

Nick props one leg up against the wall, tapping his boot against the wood as he ponders the dots scattered around the map. There are a few still in the valley, but there's no driving until they thaw out. The points in the mountains are probably inaccessible to anybody, and who knows when they'll get to investigate the old vet center or find the Wolf's Den. There are a couple points nearer the trailer park, though, and not for the first time Nick tries to measure the distance from Hurk to the various red dots. There's one near the lumber mill, and one near where that godawful statue was, and of course one right smack dab in the middle of the original Peggy compound.

Nick can't imagine his truck making it all the way there and back, not without more information about the roads. Hurk might not have the same trouble. "I could send the trailer park a couple coordinates," he points out. "They might get to search before us, and it could cut the work in half."

Despite John's scowl, he only sounds tired as he replies, "I've considered it, but I don't trust them. Then again, I hardly trust myself, so who knows."

"I guess you're shit outta luck, then," Nick says. John takes obvious offense at Nick brushing him off, but hey, what else is Nick supposed to do? "God's giving you a freebie with this blizzard. Maybe you should try catching up on your sleep, or something."

"And ruin the precarious schedule I'm keeping?"

"Jesus, then go read a book! Just — you know, quit hovering over me all day. Don't you know how to entertain yourself?"

John seems unphased by Nick's half-hearted outburst. "This is how I entertain myself. Maps, resources, legal documents — that's probably the only decent outlet I've ever had." He stares at Nick's boot, unwilling to meet his eyes. "At least, it's the only one healthy enough to keep."

That is probably a safe bet, Nick realizes, quickly trying to backpedal away from the open scab that is John's history. "Uh, well, what about before the cult?"

John surprises them both with a brief laugh. "If I could source some coke, then yes, I would be entertained."

"Jesus, John."

"I'm not known for my healthy self-care habits," John points out, a little too smug to be truly self-deprecating. At least he seems to understand what Nick had been getting at originally, deferring with a vague hand-wave. "Is my loitering in the kitchen going to be too smothering for you, too, or is that okay?"

Nick rolls his eyes, flipping the radio back on to scan the channels once again. "It's fine, whatever. Just as long as you've got something better to entertain yourself than snaking the whiskey Jacob left."

"I'm more of a gin guy," John admits.

"Of course you are."

It's still a relief, though, knowing they aren't keeping an alcoholic too near his fix. On top of that, John's relaxed disregard for his past vices settles nerves Nick hadn't even realized were rattled. Sure, there's probably a whole other box of American Psycho- esque worms waiting to be opened up from John's time before Eden's Gate, but at least he seems to have comfortably packed that part of his life away for now. Unlike talking about the cult, John has no trouble dropping the conversation, just as casually as he'd brought it up. He retreats into the kitchen to mull over whatever he's written down already, leaving behind no traumatic story or sad-eyed stare — just the casual admission that he would really like to do some drugs.

Weirdly enough, that is probably the most respectable thing about John to date.

Nick spends another fifteen minutes checking the radio, scanning the channels he knows people use most. He winds up with nothing to show for it — either the storm is making radio communication impossible, or everybody else has given up on their radios. It's only after he's cleared the range twice that he flips the radio off and escapes back to Kim and Carmina, leaving John in the kitchen with a broad, somehow-sarcastic gesture towards the now unoccupied radio nook.

Carmina ropes Nick into a game of Go Fish, which Kim seems keen on losing. Nick isn't surprised — Carmina is a wily player, which is to say that she tries to bluff her way through hands with all the grace of a sledgehammer. Kim's not as willing to put up with cheating as Nick is, but neither of them are capable of even pretending to believe Carmina's poker face. It's going to be a problem one day, but Nick isn't exactly ready to teach his daughter how to lie to his face.

Well, that is until she and Nick are on their third round of Go Fish, and Nick has had to pretend not to see through all of Carmina's gambits.

He asks her if she has any threes, and she scrunches her nose up as she glances meaningfully at her cards. "Go fish," she says, making Nick regret not having Kim sit right behind their daughter as a referee.

"Fine," he grumbles, "If you say so."

Kim blinks skeptically at the pants she's fixing, but she doesn't offer Nick any out. If it weren't for his clumsy hands, maybe he could use darning socks and patching shirts as an excuse to quit playing, but as it stands, the only thing he has other than getting trounced is staring at the map with John. And since he already tried that and found it to be mildly aggravating at best...

"You know, this would be more fun with more people," Nick says, desperately glancing at Kim.

Kim, of course, gives him no quarter. "Why don't you ask John," she suggests rhetorically.

"John," Carmina calls out, "Do you wanna play Go Fish?"

Nick opens his mouth to chastise Carmina, but he realizes there's nothing to discipline her for. Especially not when John flippantly replies, "I think your father's looking to play with fewer cheaters, not more."

"I'm not cheating!" Carmina exclaims, not-so-surreptitiously pressing her cards into her lap to ensure nobody's looking at them. Between that and her guiltily furrowed brow, there's no hiding it. Her poker face needs a lot of work.

"Go Fish isn't even worth cheating at," Nick sighs, gesturing for her cards. "If that's the way you wanna play, at least do it the right way. Here, gimme your cards — John, come over here so I can teach my daughter how to lie to your face."

As if playing a game of cards with John wasn't enough to excite Carmina, she's doubly over the moon when he tells her the rules. After all, a ten-year-old girl is the prime demographic for the game Bullshit, especially when she's given carte blanche to shout cuss words at her dad. On top of that, it seems like bluffing really is half of the fun for his daughter — which is a little intimidating, sure, but at least he knows she's smart enough to understand the utility of lying.

John is... unenthusiastic, to say the least, but that only makes the prospect of humiliating him that much better. A few weeks ago, Nick would've thought John was too fragile to be messed with, but now there's a bounce in his step that will make taking him down easier. He's got to do something to remind himself that this nearly-tolerable man is usually a miserable sonofabitch.

Unfortunately, John has a fantastic poker face. Nick figured that from the get-go, but it's still daunting to play against a bored, uninterested party. That's probably why Carmina avoids John in favor of hounding Nick, calling out "bullshit!" with delightful glee whenever she thinks Nick has dropped the wrong face card or played a nine instead of a King. On the one hand, Nick appreciates that he can read her as well as she can, but on the other hand, he'd really like a chance to beat John. So far, he's the only one who's called John out, and all he has to show for it is the extra six cards in his hand.

Although Kim is on standby for this round, she keeps flashing Nick amused grins whenever Carmina calls bullshit. Nick almost hopes John can hold it together to be mundane for two entire rounds of cards because he wouldn't stand a chance against Kim.

Case in point, John lays down two cards that are meant to be threes, and Kim clicks her tongue disapprovingly. Carmina frowns up at her mom, who only shrugs and suggests, "I would call him out, if I were you."

John's neutral frown doesn't change. "Last I checked, you weren't playing," he says.

Kim only shrugs in response. Nick furrows his brow at Kim while Carmina squints suspiciously from the discard pile to John and then back again. Of course, encouraging a ten-year-old to swear is always going to win out, and so Carmina wrinkles her nose and calls John out with a slightly uncertain, "Okay, bullshit."

Without so much as a grimace of defeat, John lets Carmina flip his played cards — one three, and one dirty, rotten, lying, bullshit seven .

"That's what I thought," Kim says, flippantly triumphant. "Guess you're not as hard to read as you thought."

Nick sure can't tell what John's thinking as he lifts one shoulder noncommittally. "I stand corrected."

"Wait," Nick asks, "What gave it away?"

"I'm not helping you too , Nick," Kim laughs. "That wouldn't be fair."

"It's not exactly fair to help Carmina," John points out. Nick bets he's just as interested in what tell Kim noticed, although he manages to be less obvious about it. At least he can't crack Kim's smug smile any better than Nick, which is some small compensation.

Nick manages to win this hand, if only because his play strategy involves lying as little as possible. That seems to work against Carmina no problem, but Nick suspects John threw the game out of personal disinterest. If it weren't for the howling winds whistling through the roof and second story, John would probably excuse himself from another hand by retreating upstairs, but as it is he manages to sit through one more round of cards, this time with Kim joining in.

Carmina's poker-face doesn't improve by leaps and bounds, exactly, but she manages to fool Nick into picking up a fat stack of cards, so that's something. Too bad he'd been trying to teach her to lie to John , not her parents. Well — at least she's a nice enough kid to only do it for fun. He hopes, anyway.

Kim makes John's loss look more organic, at least, and she doesn't rub it in too badly when she wins. It's extra kind of her considering Nick is the one who called her last play bullshit, leaving him to rot in miserable third place after both his girls. Well, fine . At least Carmina seemed to have fun, even if Nick is now sitting with nearly half a deck in his hands. If the blizzard keeps up for too long, they might have to graduate to poker.

Before they can play any more card games, though, they take time out for dinner. It's almost normal, sitting around the fireplace with their military rations and some hot broth — if they were eating Marie Calendar pot-pies and watching Christmas movies, Nick would even be able to ignore John's presence sticking out like a sore thumb.

The next best thing to watching movies is talking about them, which has become something of a tradition between the Ryes. It all started in the bunker, where Kim and Nick ran out of normal Christmas stories and began taking turns narrating whatever holiday movies they could remember. They've run through all the memorable Rankin & Bass flicks, as well as a couple more contemporary ones, so they're starting to reach for their personal favorites or the very bottom of the barrel plots.

Nick intends to be paying Jingle All the Way a tribute tonight, but as soon as he mentions that the Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle is one of his favorites, he's interrupted by John snorting derisively.

"Let me guess," Nick snaps, "You're one of those jackasses who pretends Die Hard is a legitimate Christmas movie just so he doesn't have to watch good, family-friendly content."

"It is a legitimate Christmas movie," John responds, just petulantly enough to tell Nick he hit the nail on the head.

"Look, Kim and I have already had this discussion — just because it takes place during Christmas doesn't make it a Christmas movie . Set dressing alone isn't enough!"

John raises his eyes towards the ceiling, which is as subtle as his eyerolls can get. "Whatever you say, Nick."

"What's Die Hard about?" Carmina asks, excitedly guessing, "Does Santa get to shoot people in it?"

"That would be a good Christmas movie," Nick replies. "No, it's just about some guy who has to fight bad guys in a building."

"During Christmas," Kim points out.

"Okay, fine during Christmas. But nobody's dressed up like Santa, nobody sings any carols, and there sure as hell isn't any Christmas magic that saves the day, so it doesn't count!"

"So what does happen?" Carmina asks.

Damn it — Nick should have known that talking about an action flick would immediately disinterest her towards any sloppy story about consumerism. She doesn't even know what a mall is — but she knows how to shoot a handgun, and now that Nick's thinking about it, she might need to use the duct-tape shoulder holster trick one day. It would be pretty bad-ass if she knew how, anyway.

"Okay, fine, I'll do it real quick. I don't remember all the parts, so Kim, you gotta help."

Real quick turns out to take almost as much time as the movie itself had. Kim interjects whenever Nick forgets a plot point, but at least he remembers the core conflict. Sort of, anyway — by the time he's done recounting John McClane's tale, John looks visibly dissatisfied, and Kim has a "well, sort of" expression on her face that implies he didn't quite nail the execution. Well, who cares what they think? All that matters is that Carmina is entertained, and of course she is. After all, narrated or not, it's still Die Hard . Just so long as she doesn't ask about the sequels, they should be okay.

The wind is still whipping overhead, and Nick can see nothing beyond the windows. There's no telling how late it's gotten. Although his internal clock insists it can't have been that long since sundown, Carmina has been yawning for a while now, and the fire's gone down again. It looks like sleeping through the storm is the only pastime left for Nick to try.

Carmina takes over stoking the fire for the final time before bed, while Kim makes her way upstairs to gather as much of their bedding as she can carry. John follows reluctantly behind, clearly unhappy with the prospect of facing his own cold room, but Nick figures he can deal for five damn minutes. For his part, Nick busies himself checking the radio one last time, just in case there's an emergency. He doesn't know what they'd be able to do if there was one, but that doesn't stop him from checking anyway.

With the radio situated just under the stairs, it's easy to listen in to Kim stomping around in the room above, desperate to keep her temperature up. Nick had put off too many attic repairs before this winter — he's going to have to make up for that in spring, when he and John can worm their way into the rafters and ensure that their next winter won't turn the bedrooms into a cold wasteland. Of course, even if they did patch up the gaps in the floorboards and do their best to insulate the attic, not much can beat a genuine fire in the middle of a snowstorm.

Nick isn't even paying attention to the radio, so he flips it off and trusts that everyone can keep themselves safe for another night. He hears the whump of fabric as Kim tosses their two biggest, least moldy blankets down for Carmina to start with, and the creak of footsteps on the landing overhead. Kim's voice isn't raised, but it carries down to Nick clear as a bell.

"John, you'll freeze if you stay up here," she says. "Get your stuff and come downstairs."

"It's not that cold," John says, attempting to deflect from one weak excuse with another. "I doubt Nick approved that suggestion."

Well, not technically, no, but Nick had sort of assumed they were already all on the same page. What does John think Nick's gonna do, force him to freeze upstairs so he can hog the fireplace all to himself?

Kim doesn't give the excuses a chance to breathe, replying with parental exasperation. "He and I both agree it's too cold to sleep upstairs." Nick can hear the teasing plain as day when she adds, "Just don't be weird about it."

Sure enough, suggesting John might be making things awkward is enough to get him to shut up and follow orders. Nick briefly longs for the days when John would mutely nod and do as told without any additional goading, but only for a second. Even that is long enough retrospection to remind Nick of how creepy and genuinely alarming it had been. Sure, John might get argumentative or exasperated now, but at least there's an actual person to communicate with. Nick might want to kick his ass more now than before, but he absolutely hated dealing with the hollow-eyed monster John had been.

Besides, it's way more satisfying being a dick to him now that he actually gets offended.

Despite John's furrowed-brow glares, Nick doesn't comment whatsoever on him trailing downstairs after Kim, clutching two actual blankets and a tarp that's weather-worn enough to pass muster. He stands and waits for someone to point him in the right direction as Kim and Carmina do their best to bundle together a soft place on the floor, but Nick studiously ignores him until he makes a decision himself. John takes a spot close to the fireplace, off to the right of where the girls are setting up. It's still plenty removed enough, so that nobody will get the wrong idea and think John is supposed to be welcome down here. Nick wonders who he's trying to convince, but there are so many damn demons in the man's head, it's anybody's guess.

With the fire roaring for the last time that night, all the blankets arranged and everybody looking exhausted despite not doing anything all day, Nick finally gets to crawl into bed and put this whole goddamn blizzard behind him. Hopefully, the weather has the common sense to clear up tomorrow — for now, it's time to shut out the cold entirely.

He must be tired. Nick barely stays conscious as Kim and Carmina climb under the blankets, the cool air rapidly warming as they begin to shift around and get comfortable. He rouses a few times at first as Carmina kicks his leg and Kim bumps into him, but eventually, he finds himself dozing in the silence of a quiet house. Far above them, the wind is whipping through the attic, but from down here, it sounds like a generic white-noise machine; coupled with the crackling fire, Nick is lulled to sleep by the sounds of peaceful normalcy.

Who knows how long it is before Nick finds himself conscious again. Even then, he only wakes enough to hear the dying fire popping by his feet. Maybe he should stoke it. But that would mean moving, and Nick is weighted down on either side beneath warm blankets, so that's a hard no. He tries first to roll towards Kim and Carmina, ready to curl into a ball and conserve even more heat, but his right arm is stuck. It takes a few bleary-eyed blinks to realize what's pinned him down, but he's barely coherent enough to make sense of it.

Sometime in the night, John must've migrated from the no-man's-land he'd made for himself towards the Rye's pile of blankets. Unsurprising, really — but more than a little awkward, given how he's pressed into Nick's side, pinning Nick's arm in place. Worse yet, half of his blankets have been absorbed into the mess that Nick's been using to keep warm, which is going to make extracting himself tricky if not impossible.

While he tries to figure out how to avoid making this mortifying situation worse, Nick watches John for any signs of consciousness. The guy usually sleeps light, but Nick watches his breathing for a solid minute and doesn't catch anything. Either his poker-face is just that good, or John is actually asleep. Deeply, peacefully asleep. Nick had assumed that was impossible.

If Nick were a better person, he'd probably be thankful to see it. Glad to know that John's insomnia might finally be coming to an end. But Nick is mostly just an exhausted, anxious mess, and now he's just wondering how to get out of the situation he's found himself in.

John shifts, and like a guilty ten-year-old, Nick immediately closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep. If he's lucky, John will roll away of his own volition, or at least move enough to let Nick roll over himself. If only he'd decided to sleep on Kim's side — she wouldn't have the same trouble Nick has. She'd just kick him away and be done with it.

Slowly, John moves away from Nick. The relief is short-lived as John pulls back the covers enough to send a cold chill down Nick's side; it's a split-second decision that John immediately regrets, hissing under his breath and letting the blankets fall back into place as he recoils from the freezing temperatures.

Nick can't help his quiet huff of amusement — which is enough to break the illusion that he'd been asleep in the first place. He could probably still fake it, but if he does, John will definitely try to move his blankets, and that is going to be a much bigger problem than tolerating John in his personal space.

"Quit squirming so much," Nick mutters. "Gonna let in the cold."

John is silent and tense beside him, but he does stop squirming. It's like lying near a tense bar of iron. After a brief struggle to figure out what to say, John's embarrassment catches in his voice as he apologizes. "I'm sorry," he rasps. "I — must have been tired."

Nick sighs. "Just don't crush my arm again."

Even though John moves as though Nick threatened him, he stops short of retreating from the blankets entirely. Nick can only imagine how cold it must be — every breath of his that makes it above the blanket-line comes with a faint puff of visible air. No matter how humiliating it might be to cuddle up to Nick, it doesn't seem like John had much of a choice in the matter.

Before John can decide to try escaping again, Nick repeats, "Whatever you do, don't let in the cold."

In for a penny, Nick decides, worming deeper into the makeshift bed so that John can have more room. Rolling over is the easiest way to avoid the mortifying process of finding a comfortable sleeping arrangement. Eventually, they wind up back-to-back; Nick normally wouldn't be able to stand John touching him, but the additional body-heat does a lot to soothe Nick's reservations. Who knew all he needed to tolerate John's physical presence would be cold weather and exhaustion?

The Deputy, probably, which only makes Nick grin in tired relief. At least they would be glad to know that Nick's grown as a person. They'd probably be glad to learn he's finally gotten on-board with not murdering the Seeds in cold blood — even if it took an apocalypse to get there. If they could see the shit he's gotten himself into now, they'd probably...

He sighs. It must be a heavier sound than he imagined, because John whispers, "What?"

"Nothing," Nick says immediately, as default an answer as John's yeses are. But that's not fair, he doesn't think, because they never let John get away with his obvious deflections. As late as it is, it's easy to blame his guilt on his exhaustion. "Just thinking about Rook," he admits.

"Oh."

John is clearly uncomfortable with the topic, but he doesn't react when Nick continues sleepily, "They'd get a kick outta this, is all."

John hums. It's a quiet noise, but Nick can feel it vibrate through John's shirt. If there are two people Nick hates bringing Rook up around, it's Sharky and John. Sure, Sharky's crush was the one that was reciprocated, but Dep had always treated John's flat-footed overtures like creepy compliments instead of outright threats. They'd probably figured John's crush was superficial, whereas Sharky's had been more real than probably anything else Nick had seen the poor sap go through. John's infatuation had been about power, control, and Joseph goddamn Seed. Still, Nick can't help but wonder just how much of it might've been real to John at the time.

"They had a bad sense of humor," John finally responds, quietly enough that Nick almost misses the hurt.

"Terrible," Nick agrees.

When John sighs, Nick recognizes it as a sign of defeat. Whatever he's debating with himself, he's clearly lost. Although he doesn't speak up again, Nick isn't sure he's gone back to sleep. He sure hopes he didn't just instill another restless night in the guy, but that's John's burden to bear. Maybe he can use it to finally find some common ground with Sharky.

Nick isn't even sure that he can fall back asleep, but that doesn't seem to matter. Before he knows it, he's being woken up once more — this time by a glance of sunlight coming in through the upper part of the windows. It's just enough light to wake him, but he spends an exhausted minute staring at the wall over Kim's shoulder as he debates whether or not he's really committing this time. He's going to need to use the bathroom sooner or later — and just thinking that is enough to tell Nick that he's not getting back to sleep again.

John's back is still facing Nick, and Kim rolls away as soon as Nick starts to squirm, which leaves his path to escape much more open than it was a few hours ago. He manages to pull himself free without waking anyone else, but as soon as he does, John worms into the warm spot left behind. Nick should probably be upset, but mostly he just needs to pee. He can kick John out of his spot after he takes care of himself.

Nick leaves the rest of them to sleep as he tiptoes across the living room to the front door. Unfortunately, the door only wedges open an inch before it hits a wall of snow. Unwilling to wake anyone else up with catastrophic noise, Nick heads upstairs, going for the broken window in John's room. It's freezing up here, cold enough to keep meat until spring, and Nick pulls his flannel closer as he crosses the room, trying not to take too much stock of his surroundings. He doesn't care about the tallies John used to carve in the wall by his bed, and he definitely doesn't care to snoop through the pile of clothes that John's been growing in the corner. What he does care about is how easy it is to crawl out onto the roof from the window — after all, this isn't the first time Nick's been snowed in, and he's made escaping his childhood home an art-form.

There's a good three and a half feet of snow on the ground below, blocking any exit from the first floor. At least the gray sky above is calm, and the weather seems to have calmed down some. They'll have to prepare for another couple of inches before the week's out, but Nick bets the worst of it is over. Now he can think about breakfast — more specifically, coffee — and debate the best way to clear the doorways. They need a path out to the hangar, although they can wait another day or two before they'll need to press the matter. Nick's still convinced there's a set of tire chains hiding away in there, but it's not like the roads will be in any condition to drive on for a while yet...

Nick spends so much time thinking about what he's got to do, he forgets to consider how willing the rest of the house will be to pitch in. The top-of-the-snow sunlight isn't enough heat to make up for the lack of a fire, and getting Kim out from under the blankets is gonna be like pulling teeth until he does something about it. Worse yet, John's rolled into the spot Nick had occupied — not exactly sprawled out, or anything, but the guy is irritatingly close to Kim's sleeping back. If he decided to roll one more time, he'd probably end up smacking his face into her shoulder.

Nick considers throwing a fit on principle, but honestly, that's too much work. It's much easier to sulk, glowering at the bed he's definitely not getting back into before getting some logs to stack in the fire. He drops them noisily by John's feet, although he makes every effort not to accidentally pull a Misery on the guy.

The sound of hollow wood clattering on the ground is enough to stir John, who wakes with a sharp inhale, and cause Carmina to groan and turn away from the noise. Kim has probably been awake for a while now, but it won't make a lick of difference until the fire's on.

He turns away to toss the logs semi-haphazardly into the fireplace, then remembers the kindling and turns to get it. John has propped himself on his elbows, but his half-waking confusion causes him to overlook Nick entirely as he stares around the room. Seeing Kim and Carmina asleep next to him is initially met with confusion. He barely seems to recognize the shapes bundled in the blankets, but when he does he recoils in shock. All the nasty comments Nick had thought up take an abrupt backseat as he stops to marvel at the physical repulsion John shows. He's not sure if he should be offended or not. Probably not, but this apocalypse has got Nick wired all wrong.

"She's not gonna bite," Nick says. John whips his attention back to Nick the moment he raises his voice, only for Nick to realize that looming over the guy with a thick block of wood in hand might send the wrong message.

Sure enough, John catches sight of him, jerking back with a startled hiss. " Jesus !"

"Shit, sorry." Nick turns and drops the log, wincing at the noise that he'd moments ago been deliberately making. "Well, judging from that reaction, looks like this isn't the first time a man's caught you in bed with his wife."

John's withering glare is enough to lift Nick's mood right up. He turns his attention back to starting the fire, listening as John slowly shifts his way free of the blankets. Part of him wants to make a few more jokes at John's expense, but that can wait until John's coherent enough to be snide in return.

Nick gets the fire going and turns to follow John, who's made his way into the kitchen to peer out the window. "Completely snowed in," Nick tells him as he gets the instant coffee and the beat-up kettle. "But it looks like the worst of it's over."

"Seems to be," John agrees, adding, "We forgot the shovels in the truck. It's going to be difficult digging them out now."

"Not a lot of other options, unless you wanna stay inside until the big thaw. Don't worry, I'm sure Carmina will be excited to help us dig."

John hums in assent, although his mind seems to be somewhere else. Nick can't help but notice that John's pensive states seem damned near reasonable nowadays. He has plenty to think about, and he seems to be keeping one foot in the here-and-now. He's aware enough of his surroundings that he stops Nick before he can leave John to it.

He tries to stare Nick down, but he can't quite manage it. "Thank you for not..."

John gestures vaguely as the rest of the sentence fails to generate. Nick could probably wait it out, but he's just as embarrassed as John apparently is, and he would rather move past the whole thing.

"Don't worry about it," Nick says. "Just don't get too comfortable cuddling up to me."

Rolling his eyes doesn't hide John's faint smile, but he turns away before Nick can see if it lasts. "That won't be a problem, trust me."

Nick is surprised that he does, even for something as small and inconsequential as a joke. "Grab the mugs when you're done looking for Santa," he says, turning back for the warmth of the fire. A few months ago, Nick might've resented how eroded the line has become between John and his own family, but it's honestly too much work to keep up. At a certain point, they're just going to have to include John in their daily routines — Nick just hadn't expected that point to be made by sharing blankets during a blizzard.

Well, there's one good thing about that, Nick supposes — it means that somewhere up there, the Deputy is watching over them. After all, there's no way in hell random chance has the same shitty sense of humor as Rook had.

[violetsystems]

#personal

I deposited my first check for my business yesterday at the bank.  I had to go to the teller because it’s an entirely different account.  They repeated the name back to me off the check and asked me if I wanted a balance.  If you look at my life from the right perspective everything seems amazing.  Truthfully, they say the American dream is owning your own business.  They say a lot of dumb shit about America.  Now more than ever.  Which is why it’s nice sometimes to stick around in a neighborhood and let people battle it out in terms of what they think of you.  It’s been about ten months of insane isolation.  I spend most of my time at home alone with my cat.  I talk to my parents every so often but nobody really else intimately.  Other than here.  I live in a city so it’s impossible to be alone once you leave the house.  I sometimes think that’s a hard balance to maintain.  It gets easier over time the less I worry about the outside world.  I know it’s hard to when you live on a planet in the middle of a dense, dark universe.  But these days I pay more attention to space in the news more than anything.  I just bought a few things for my business to experiment with.  A mini drone to learn Python with.  I flew it out on the porch for a few seconds until my neighbor poked their head out.  Everybody out here is always in everybody else’s business.  It’s almost a reflex.  Oddly enough when I fly it indoors my cat just rolls her eyes at it.  I’ve been continuing to apply for jobs and maintain a presence on the job sites.  But everything whiffs in such a weird way.  It’s like I’m invisible until I’m out on the street.  Then it’s everyone wasting my time and energy trying to project some secret messages or agenda.  It’s laughable at this point.  You’d think after years of fucking with somebody on a guerilla level you’d bother to at least acknowledge them with more than a glare.  And yet people can’t be bothered to be kind or understanding.  There’s not enough of it in the world.  So when you walk that path, everyone has their hand out.  Everybody expects it’s a given that we’re all in this together.  When it comes to my physical address behind closed doors most assuredly this is not true.  But considering my business address and my residence are one and the same right now, it’s not too hard to know I’m painted in a corner.  I don’t have friends that even check on me to see how I’m doing other than here.  Everybody in this city is too caught up in a lie or afraid of being exposed.  I can confirm this by simple math.  The people I still keep up with are business transactions at best.  There’s an icy veil between that where you get this feeling you aren’t welcome into any real social circle anymore.  This feels even worse applying for jobs in this city.  I just got out of a twenty year employment opportunity where you get to work with your friends.  Only to find ten months after being let go, none of those people were my friends.  I personally at this point care more about making money than friends.  The teller is friendly enough when they stare at my account from behind the screen.  It’s a nightmare to think over two years ago my life was quite the opposite despite having it all.  Dream jobs are in the past now.  Everybody’s godson is their own personal cybersecurity officer.  The nerds got rid of their IT managers and are locked in their bedrooms on zoom with their cameras off.  I’m more excited about drones on Mars and autonomous delivery.  And I still see no future for me here, there or everywhere.

The biggest lesson for me has been about validation.  There is a point when what you want to do isn’t the clearest road.  I’ve had my share of friends doubt who I wanted to be or become.  I’ve cautiously shared things about my life I couldn’t put into words only to have my concerns gaslighted or dwarfed for the main narrative.  People who lie are really good at one thing.  Continuing to lie.  When I catch people in lies, it makes me angry.  Mostly because the one thing I’ve always tried to do was be transparent, accountable and real.  The way I see America when I walk out my door is severely broken.  A thousand fractured narratives clashing together in selfishness.  I try to keep the peace and bridge things together as best I can.  But I’m no politician.  I’m not even an activist.  I’ve been duct taping my life together for almost a year only to realize everybody else’s is far worse off.  Social distancing through the plague has brought me to extremes.  It helped me distance myself from years of my life I’d been caught up in.  And yet now I find myself caught up in a city rather than a suburban area I crawled out from years ago.  College is so far away.  I actually took masters level courses in Psychology.  I wanted to go into artificial intelligence.  I settled for data analytics and human resources.  Never really did much with that degree other than learn how to spot crazy.  I don’t have any student loans to trade for leverage with an employer.  Everybody follows me around and talks behind my back to the point where I wonder if employers have a red flag tabbed on my LinkedIn profile.  The shit I have seen done with my life is so fucking amateur that people would rather erase me than confront the problem.  And therein lies the lesson.  You have to validate yourself.  Believing in yourself and walking away from the table is a tough thing when everyone negs you to think less.  But there’s a point when my Viking roots throw caution to the wind and I tell the world I’m done.  I’m sure my Gyspy roots concur.  Not sure about the Bohemian side.  I think here is the hidden key to Nationalism.  Everybody falls back on their shallow gene pool for comfort to ease the cognitive dissonance of society being a chaotic fuck show.  Primitive thinking that can’t evolve beyond pattern recognition.  The things I’m supposed to be proud of are very finite to me.  They don’t span generations or even decades.  The last ten months has been the most bleak and soul churning I have ever experienced.  And I experienced it quietly with my family and my real friends in a weird sort of intimacy.  And even my parents don’t really know what goes on with me too deeply.  There’s a point when you have to be your own person.  And some people can’t break free and stand on their own too without fear or pain.  So they’d rather fall back into a crowd.  Where they can stop being judged, negated or feel unsure about where they stand.  That is a crutch.  Sometimes the world is so hurt you need something to stand on.  And sometimes the bones heal you back all gnarled and distorted.  You look inward and all you feel is hate.  And that hate isn’t you.  It’s not a good thing to be angry all the time.  And yet I feel it too.  More so these days when I let myself get angry over things and people outside my control.  The people outside my door don’t ever validate me in a way that’s dignified or respectful.  And that says a lot about the world in general versus how I choose to live.  The real lesson I’ve learned is that this is the way it is.  If you want to change it, you must start with yourself.  And there’s some things you can’t change.  The hell of other people trying to intrude and muscle in on your place on this planet.  

It’s hard to love yourself when everyone else is judging your every move.  It makes you think there is something wrong with you.  And the world is always looking for something to point it’s finger on.  We’re all being judged.  We’re all under duress.  We are all paranoid looking over our shoulder.  I should know because I catch someone with a knowing look out my periphery every ten or fifteen seconds.  That’s a lot to subconsciously prepare for every day I want to live my life.  And yet I know there are people who are simply continuing to live through a lie.  To be further manipulated away from controlling themselves.  The reactionary bullshit in America serves a dual purpose.  Thinning out the herd.  We are so caught up in headlines we never read the fine print.  We are enraged, huddled together through protest and then led further down the rabbit hole with no end in sight.  We complain about government but can’t name a single piece of legislation other than guns that have saved our freedom.  I’ll name one for you.  The CARES act.  We know everything about everyone every second of the day but have never even asked anyone’s name.  And you can seek out that whirl wind circle jerk of group hugs and prayer circles all you want.  People are still just going through the motions.  Saying the right things to avoid confrontation even if it means blatantly warping the truth.  Ask anybody I used to work with.  I would ask them for you but they pretend I’m fucking dead.  And this was how it was supposed to feel I gather.  I was to be taught a lesson.  Freedom isn’t free.  It did teach me a lot about life.  Mostly that I’m not really sensitive to anything other than my own ethics.  There’s things I don’t do.  And these things are observed and never clarified.  I live in a silent void of rumor, legacy and shadow.  I’m living that life you people brag about in public.  Whatever that life is I’m not even quite sure.  I’m terribly alone in all of this and not at the same time.  And it requires me to have confidence enough to simply and effortless believe I’m worth it.  Like some vicious game of poker.  I’m all in at my own kitchen table.  I have no dreams left other than to be free.  And maybe to learn Premiere editing 4k drone videos in my spare time.  I don’t really fucking know anymore what to do other than to continue to not humor anyone’s dumb ass bullshit.  And to be real, this entire experience has taught me firsthand how worthless and fucked up my past is here in America.  Everybody wants some shame to hold over you so you stay a bargain.  Everybody wants to roast you and take your shine so they can look mediocre next to you at best.  Everybody wants to bring everyone down to their level regardless if it’s legal, civil or ethical.  And yet when you do the same, you understand what the problem is.  I’ve walked the walk for years and everybody can’t stop talking their shit.  Now people have run out of bad things to say.  So they either pretend I’m a ghost or speak like I’m some urban legend.  And thinking too much into that can drive an intelligent person insane.  Which is why knowing what I know I stay out of everything completely.  Even when I don’t you can see how much it drags me down to humor it all like a good sport.  These people out here do not play fair.  They never have.  And the only winning move is not to play.  I learned that from Wargames years ago.  Everybody wants to be a hacker now.  If you learn one thing from Hackers the movie.  The M1 is here to stay.  And never try to hack a gibson.  That’s the only ICE you have to fear when it comes to crossing my path.  Flatline your shit and leave you staring at the ground awkwardly with your well meaning intrusive bullshit.  End of line.  <3 Tim