#I saw a writing prompts and thought of this...

[scarletttries]

Write A Kiss Request: Kang Dae-Ho/Player 388 (Squid Game) x Reader...a kiss in a rush of adrenaline

(prompt list here) & 2025 Request List - requests open

..a kiss for Dae-Ho in a rush of adrenaline

You hadn't really thought about finding an ally in this awful place. Honestly you thought the desperation that filled the sad dorm every night would make everyone here focus on only looking out for themselves. But amongst the darkest times there is always a glimmer of hope in the kindness of others, and the Squid Games were no exception. After only the first game you found yourselves falling in with the previous winner Gi-Hun and the team of friends he seemed to so effortlessly gather around him. One of your teammates in particular seemed to have the innate ability to keep the lights of hope on in your heart when they could have so easily been extinguished - Dae-Ho.

The awkward former marine had been the first to offer you a seat with them, dusting off one of the metal steps you perched on as if he was pulling out a chair at a nice restaurant. It was easy to feel safe around him; his strong arms always settling him in the seat beside you, his kind eyes seeking reassurance you were okay as the games progressed, and his sweet smile telling you this situation would be over soon enough, even though you had no reason to believe him. The two of you were clearly drawn to each other as you entered the game of Mingle, Dae-Ho swearing on his life to keep you close no matter what. But with each passing round the crowd got more aggressive and desperate, the sea of frantic bodies pulling you apart in its current, even as you fought to stay together. After each round you managed to find each other again, only to be grabbed by different groups in the next round and left desperately hoping and praying you both would emerge safely when the doors unlocked again.

"Hold onto my hand." He said firmly as you reunited for the final round, a renewed intensity in his eyes knowing that he only needed to keep you safe for one more torturous minute of this terrible game. "In-ho thinks it will be two per room next, so I promise, me and you are going to be safe." He tried to sound confident, but even in the dim lights you could see his eyes were glistening on the edge of tears as he clung to your hand and braced himself for the wheel stop.

"Groups of Two!" The automated game voice called out for above, and suddenly you felt your whole body getting heaved upwards, the ground below you moving faster than you thought possible from this strange new angle. As you saw the spinning platform disappear from your view, your hands clung desperately to the shape moving at full pelt below you, everything happening in such a blur you couldn't make sense of it.

You heard a door slam and lock, and finally the same strong arms that had made you feel welcome in this strange, scary place gently lowered you back to your feet from where you had been resting over Dae-Ho's shoulder.

"I wasn't taking any chances that time." He laughed out with a nervous smile when he saw your awestruck expression. Rather than risk losing you in the crowd again, he'd just held you tightly and ran as fast as he could to the first free room, never looking behind him because he knew he had everything needed with him.

You stared up at his bashful grin, his head shaking apologetically for the rough way he had handled you, feeling the sheer weight of the situation finally sink in. You were safely through another game. Because of him.

"We're safe! You kept us safe!" You cried out excitedly, your heart hammering in your chest at the realisation, your skin tingling with electricity where his hand still rested lightly on your back until he was sure you wouldn't fall.

"I told you I'd keep you safe." He said simply, offering you a small smile that felt so sincere you couldn't stop yourself from crashing your lips against it. Your hands reached over his shoulders to thread through his long black hair, desperately pulling him closer as if in this moment you two were the only people here. Like you would always be safe if you could stay this close.

Not losing a moment Dae-Ho arms wrapped tightly around your waist, lifting your feet off the ground as he dragged you closer, diving into your kiss like it offered him salvation from your solemn surroundings. His teeth nipped against your bottom lip clumsily, all hungry desperation and making the most of every second, shutting out any noise from outside your little room; your little sanctuary, a place where everything would be okay.

As the lock on your door clicked open you both reluctantly parted, unsure if anything so sweet could exist in the rest of this foresaken place. Dae-Ho spoke first, goofy smile plastered across his face where once a worried grimace had been.

"We should go vote to leave, and then maybe I could buy you dinner with my winnings?"

[eph3merall]

⟡ ݁₊ . INTRODUCING . . . ARTIST!MATT X MUSE!WRITER!READER

an. sorryy i couldnt wait to post this. pls dont flop .... pls ...

the pen in your hand accidentally rips the thin piece of paper in your notebook, scoffing under your breath as you quickly scratch out some unintelligible words before writing a little note next to it with your new thoughts. your eyes flick up to scan over the canvas of art on the wall, a scenic painting of a crowded forest experiencing its first snow.

it was a pretty piece of art, no doubt. but you didn't think much of it, you didn't feel your attention getting captured like usual when you find an artwork that really grabs at your brain. your friend is next to you in a second, hearing her mumble an 'ooh' under her breath at the painting hung up in front of them.

"it's pretty, isn't it?" you turn to her with a weird look on your face, shoulders shrugging as you smile sheepishly.

"it's not my favorite.. but yeah. you should write your report on it, i know you like this sort of thing," but your friend is already jotting down various notes and nodding to herself, one of her hands lifting up to shoo you away.

"y'should go down that hall to the left, i saw something i think you'd like."

snaps of cameras and hushed voices surround you as you peer at the canvases hung on the walls. your eyes meet your professors, as he stands to the side to let everyone inspect and make a final decision. you flash him a smile, and he nods at you—prompting you to go and find a piece of artwork you like with a wave of his hand.

you aren't sure what your friend pointed you to, surveying every painting you see after another. nothing really scratches that itch inside your head that aches to be scratched. maybe you just aren't seeing the true beauty that other artists would see, being a writer.

as you keep walking, two paintings hung up beside eachother seem to stand out to you. not only were they both in black and white, what you presume is the artist also stands beside one of them—greeting some of your classmates and flashing a charming smile.

funnily enough, the brunett you're staring at doesn't even look like he would paint, if he even is the artist. he's dressed in baggy denim jeans and a hoodie, the brightest of smiles adorning his face at something a few girls say to him. the corners of his eyes crinkle when he grins, and you cant help but smile to yourself at the sight of him.

but then it hits you that you're staring, and you clear your throat while stalking up to this mysterious guy, watching as he runs a hand through tousled brown hair. the group of your classmates are hurrying off to take more notes, giggling to one another and talking far too loud for an environment like this.

approaching him, you gaze at the paintings first. it would be awkward to come up just to meet the artist, because you're writing about a piece of art, not the person who created it. but, you wouldn't exactly mind writing about him either. he's sweet looking—nonchalant but in the sense that you can feel he has hidden energy that comes out with close ones.

your eyes scan across the two paintings, both in monochrome black and white—one canvas showcasing an eye and the other two hands delicately joining together. the little plaque next to it explains the name of the work and the name of the artist, who you read as 'matthew sturniolo'. you jot down some words that popped into your head to describe both pieces of art, then turning to matt.

"these are nice. s'pretty.. you did make these, right?"

he laughs, and you cant help but melt a little at the sound. his eyes are a pretty blue and its even cuter seeing him grin up close. assumptions about matt are already forming in your mind, like how you believe hes the type of guy to laugh at everything. he doesnt seem too professional like the other artists you've encountered, all shaking hands and brief nods. but matt is all loud laughter and bright smiles, yet he doesn't seem overbearing or a push over at all.

"yeah, i did.." and he glances over to his work. you follow his gaze and even manage to find some little details you didn't notice the first time. a few unblended spots of paint that dont make the piece any less appealing, some random spots of darker colors so it isn't all black and white. you scribble down some notes, peering out of the corner of your eye to see matt talking to one of your classmates. and she was being awfully touchy—a hand on his shoulder that trails down his arm while giggling.

with scratchy, hurried handwriting, you jot down your number on the paper and tear it off. when you're sure no one's watching and people aren't crowded around, you turn to the brunett and offer him a soft smile. you hold your hand out with the little slip of paper, tilting your head a little as if saying 'call me?'

matt glances down and takes the slip of slightly crumpled paper, letting it slip into the pocket of his pants with a wink as you turn away.

—

the words dont come to your head easily, sitting in your bed as your fingers hover over the keyboard of your laptop that rests in your lap. you thought this writing assignment would've been one of the easier ones, being both a fan of writing and art. but, your attention is elsewhere, eyes promptly straying to your phone that sits face down on your desk.

you've been eyeing it every five minutes to see if a certain someone would text. and... well, there's been nothing. but, you've learned to give things time. its not like matt is free 24/7, recently learning he went to the same school yet you've just never seen him before. he has classes and work he needs to do anyways.

with fifteen more minutes of typing and deleting everything you put down, a decision is made to put the assignment to rest for tonight. as you're plugging in your device, your phone buzzes and its like a tiger pouncing on a gazelle. blinking at the screen, you read the text from the unknown number.

11:32 pm | unknown caller

'hey? yk who this is baby'

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns @slut4brunettes @starclinexo @slvtf0rchr1s @itsmaddielouis @slut4chris888

an. phone sex at the end whatt who said that

©eph3merall 2024

[httpsdana]

I need more stories about Mason Mount. Maybe about him feeling insecure after getting injured again and becoming distant with his close family

Spilled Thoughts~Mason Mount

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: masey's bday deserved a fic

y/n turned the tv off as Mason was subbed off with yet another injury. She dropped on the couch with a sigh, the image of her boyfriend’s devastated face plastered in the back of her mind.

She remembered how excited he was in the morning for this match, having his first start after a while. But now 15 minutes through the match, he was down on the pitch.

Two hours later, Mason finally arrived, dropping his bag on the floor and closing the door gently behind him.

She quickly stood up when he entered the living room, his smile weak and his body tense.

“Masey…” she started, but he quickly shook his head, his gaze shifting to the floor.

“Please, just…hold me?” his voice was vulnerable and raw, and she could swear she saw his eyes tearing up.

She nodded, putting her hand out for him to hold. She pulled him down with her on the couch, his head immediately resting on her shoulder and arms around her waist, while she brushed her fingers through the short strands of his hair.

She waited for him to say anything, hoping he would open up and speak about the feelings he has been bottling up in him. But a few minutes later, she felt his weight heavier on her, his breathing more calm and steady.

She looked down at him, how his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks, his lips in a small pout. As she stared at him more, she noticed something. A single tear at the bottom of his cheek. She felt her eyes tearing up as she wiped the tear of his cheek, pressing a faint cheek in the same spot.

“It’ll get better, Masey” she mumbled against his hair, kissing the crown of his head. “I promise”

A few days have passed since Mason’s injury, and he has already started working on his recovery. But he hasn’t been the same since then. He hasn’t been physically distant, quite the opposite actually.

He was always lingering by her side, never pulling away from hugs until she did it first. It just seems like he was keeping too much inside, that he wasn’t speaking much.

y/n didn’t want to pressure him into talking about what’s bothering him, but the phone call from his mom changed that.

“Mason hasn’t called in a while, is everything okay?” Debbie asked, her vice laced with worry.

y/n was surprised. This wasn’t the first time Mason became more reserved after an injury, but it was the first time he was distant to his family, the people he loved the most.

She didn’t want to worry his mom about him and saying she didn’t know the reason behind him closing off so she said, “it’s just with his injury and the recovery he’s been a bit busy, you know?”

“oh…I get it, I was just worried. Take care of him honey” Debbie said, making her smile

“Always. Have a great day” she said before hanging up.

Just as she placed the phone down on the coffee table, the front door opened and Mason appeared.

“Hey handsome” she stepped closer as he took off his shoes. He looked up at her, his smile small but genuine.

“Hey darling” he murmured, leaning closer and pulling her into a hug. She hugged him back tighter, not daring to pull back first.

They stood for a while by the door, in the comfort of each other's arms. When they pulled away, she couldn’t help but let the question slip off her lips.

“Is everything okay?” she asked carefully. Mason’s face twisted in confusion.

“Yeah…why?” he asked slowly. She let out a sigh, reaching over to play with the string of his hoodie.

“Your mom called,” she said, not looking up at him. She felt him take a deep breath before replying, “What did she say?”

“She said that you haven’t talked to her in a while. Why?” she looked up at him, watching how the guiltiness and sadness found their way back to his face. 

She felt her heart crack at his pained expression, her fingers grazing his forehead to smooth away the crease of his frown.

“I just…forgot” he said hesitantly, making her look at him with a knowing look that made him sigh.

“Talk to me, Masey. It’s not just your mom you’re not talking to, your friends, your teammates, even me. You haven’t talked to me properly since your injury. Let me help you baby, you can’t be carrying this weight on your own,” she said gently, trying not to push him too much, but she needed to know what’s wrong.

Mason smiled sadly, before pulling her by her hand to their living room. As they settled on the couch, she waited patiently for him to speak, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze that made him smile for a second.

“It’s just everything you know?” he said in a low voice, his eyes glued at their intertwined hands.

“The fans, the team, the coach, and then the injuries just make it worse. Everyone hates me cause I can’t seem to play two consecutive matches without getting injured. And for some reason my body can’t just fully recover so I can go back to my usual self. I just miss how it was before I was betrayed by my own body. I really just wanted to prove myself that I’m worth this number 7 in United but for some reason everything is going against me” he let out a long sigh as he blurted out all his insecurities and fears.

y/n couldn’t help the tears in her eyes as she listened to his shaky voice talking bad about himself.

“Masey…” she started, making him look at her, his heart dropping at the sight of her tears. “Your body hasn't betrayed you baby. You just haven’t adapted well with this move but that doesn’t mean you’re not worth playing at United. Everyone is excited for you to be back on the field and to show them the real Mason Mount that was once Chelsea’s golden boy. Your time will come sweetheart, you just have to be patient with yourself and work harder to be back stronger than ever. I’m so proud of you and of everything you’ve done. Never forget that” she said, never breaking eye contact with him.

Mason smiled softly, his hand squeezing hers as a way of thanking her.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you” he murmured, his other hand brushing against her cheek gently.

“You’ll never have to know. You’re stuck with me forever Mount” she joked, making him chuckle.

“I love you so much darling. I know I haven’t told you that a lot recently but I really do,” he said with guilt.

“I love you more honey. I know you’re going through a rough time but I’m always gonna be here to help you” she assured him, leaning her face against his hand.

Mason gave her another smile, before lowering his head and capturing her lips in a kiss. A way for him to tell her how grateful he is to have her by his side as his girl and number one supporter.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[fanaticsnail]

Sfw Writing Prompts: Love Languages

Dialogue prompts to get those words flowing. Written with platonic interactions in mind.

Touch

"You look cold. This blanket I've got is big enough for both of us. Jump on in, let's share the warmth."

"I just... I need a hug. Can... Can I... I just need you... Please?"

"You. Me. Arm wrestle, let's go. This time, you're going down."

"Lean on me for a bit. I can take it. No, I don't mean metaphorically, you look like you're barely holding yourself up. I got you."

Affirmation

"I'm proud of you. You've come so far, and I just... I've never been prouder to be by your side to see you accomplish it."

"You've done a good job with that. I like how you've thought it out. Talk me through it?"

"I love how your eyes light up when you do that. I can see your passion, and it's almost enchanting to witness."

"You're one of a kind. I mean it, and I mean it in a good way."

Time

"Come here. Need another body with me for a minute. You don't have to do anything, just be there."

"You reading? Mind if I just sit beside you while you do? I won't make a peep. Lips zipped."

"I'm trying to work out how to play this card game, and I feel like you'd be able to help the best. Can you play it with me?"

"Woah there. You look like you're about to pop with what you've got stewing. Let's go talk about it. You talk, I listen."

Service

"Alright, I'm here to help move the stupid thing in your bedroom. Lets get to it together."

"You've been standing for too long and your back looks all wonky. Come here, let me get that knot out."

"Did your chores for you so you could get off work early. Rest, damn it. Your eye bags are packed and ready to go."

"Made your usual breakfast along with mine to save time. Eat up, we've gotta run."

Gifts

"Saw this in town and thought of you. Doesn't cost you anything other than that massive grin on your face."

"You said you needed a new one. I saw the opportunity and took the initiative to do something about it. It's all yours."

"Had some stuff lying around. I thought I'd make it for you. I... I put your initials on it too. Right there, can you see?"

"I, uh... I picked some herbs for dinner from the garden, and these flowers were out there beside them. It didn't take much effort to throw them together, but I know how you like plants, so I thought you might like it."

[shewhowritessometimes]

Changes

“Keeping the place like this was easy when I lived alone, but now I need to make some changes.” A prompt I saw on tumblr and thought i’d write something about it but in a sweeter tone with Simon “Ghost” Riley.

His apartment is as simple as they come. He spends most of his time away on missions to even think about putting any effort in it. But then he met you.

You, who started staying at his place more often than not. Waiting for him to come home from his missions with your sweet smile and heavenly cooking. You, who welcomes him home every single time with open arms and tightest hugs despite the fact that you can’t even close your arms around him.

“I miss you.” falling from your lips like a prayer every time he enters the door.

Until one day, Simon has finally decided it’s time to ask you to move in. There’s no sense for you to be renting your own apartment when you stay at his house all the time. 

You said yes with no second thought and before he knows it, everything has changed.

He used to only have one couch, now he has different kinds of seats in his living room which you said serve different kinds of purposes. He used to only have one set of utensils, he rarely even used them. Now? He has loads of them, different sizes even. Who even uses those small spoons which you called a “coffee spoon”? He can use any kind of spoon to stir his coffee or tea, doesn’t matter.

And pillows? He used to only have one. Now his bedroom is full of different kinds of pillows which most of the time ends up on the floor in the morning when you wake up. His apartment used to look black and white and now it’s screaming in colors. Your throw pillows on the couch in different colors that you said makes the place look more alive. 

The potted plants and flowers all around the house that you always move to the window facing east every morning because you said it might wither and die if it didn’t get enough sunlight. The walls now adorning pictures of you both together or just you and some pictures of him you have taken without his knowledge, he swears every time he comes home from a mission, there’s a new one hanging in there.

Your pretty dresses and pastel clothes in his wardrobe right next to his almost all black clothes and pants. Simon also ended up buying and assembling a vanity mirror in his room where you can put all your skin care and make up products on and where you can do your make up every time you need to.

There’s a lot of changes… but welcome ones. And you are the biggest change that he loves the most.

[rlbbackup]

A year in review - 2024 (SxF)

So, after reading the lovely @unhappy-sometimes's 2024 retrospective (which I highly recommend you read!), I thought I'd do something similar!

This will be pretty long and have lots of links and tags but I hope you enjoy this little romp I took down memory lane about all the fics I wrote this past year!

All for Naught

This was a fic that was inspired by a conversation with @glacialdawn and I wrote it up completely in 12 hours. I’m not exaggerating! We were just goofing off in dms and we got on the topic of Yuri’s decision to become an SSS officer and how it relates to Yor’s raising him…and it evolved from there. 

All in all, I’m VERY proud of how this fic turned out. Having it be solely from Yor’s POV and forcing her to deal with an abrupt change in how she views her brother was a lot of fun. Of all the reveals that may or may not happen in SxF, I personally feel that the Briar Siblings reveal will be the most critical. Yeah there’s betrayal involved in the TwiYor one and Anya’s reveal will likely end in bloodshed, but Yor has hid what she needed to do to raise Yuri for over a decade and a half at least. And while she admits that her brother is intense, seeing him in his work environment would probably shatter something within her. The work of the SSS isn’t glorious. Neither is that of an assassin. 

All this to say that with this as the start of my fics in 2024, I’m not surprised how later fics turned out XD

Hypothetically…

While my Post-reveal, Pre-relationship series has been written almost entirely out of order, I really enjoyed the inspiration that led me to writing this one. When I saw this post by @itsmechini, the words almost poured out of me. Twilight and Yor have had a lot of things taken from them in life, things that ultimately made them who they are but they didn’t have a choice or say in the matter. Having the choice to reveal who they truly are to each other and accepting the other for who they are feels like a healing of that particular wound and I couldn’t help but put pen to paper. 

I was also inspired by the writing style of the lovely Puolain while writing this, leading me to use different scene change styles and I think it flows better because of it! 

I will also admit that I cried several times while writing this, especially at Yor’s answer to a hypothetical question asked. Beyond that, this was a really cathartic fic to write and I’m glad I got to share it with you guys!

Side by Side and Locked in Tight

THIS FIC.

It’s been bouncing around in my head for a long time now, since I love the song that inspired this (Cop Car by Sam Hunt - there is also a version by Keith Urban, but the Sam Hunt version feels softer so I’m going with that one XD). I had an early draft of this fic existing in my Google docs since… 2021 I think? Right after I fell down the Ken/Anya shipping cavern and haven’t wanted to climb back out.

But actually writing this fic was a STRUGGLE until talking prompts out with the people in the SxF Rare Pair server. While it was a NSFW prompt, handcuffs just broke through the fog I’d had regarding this plot idea and BOOM I was finally able to post it. 

While Ken has some of the shortest character involvement in SxF, I love this kid. I get he’s practically an OC at this point, but I’m okay with that and I love playing around with how he’d interact with the Cecil Hall Gang. I want them all to be friends. Anya should have more friends!

Anyway! I go back and read this fic from time to time and I’m still happy with it. Especially the twist at the end XD

Don’t forget to lock the door

Another fic created with the help of the Rare Pair Server! (love you guys!)

One thing that makes me laugh constantly in SxF is the fact that the Forger’s apartment has a deadbolt but it looks like the Forgers never use it XD. Imagine all those times people barged into the apartment stopped by a simple use of a sliding lock 🤣So, why not make it a plot point of a fic!

I blame @creativwit for this ultimately. Though it was a pleasure to write Twilight and Franky needling each other and Yor soothing both of them. On a second/third/however many times I’ve read this thing, I still love how they are soft with each other in their own ways.

Little Black Number

A fic inspired by my own art!

Sometime in 2023, I was talking to some friends on discord when I was reminded of Princess Diana’s “Revenge Dress” that she wore after then Prince Charles’ “Tell All” interview where he sort of hinted at being unfaithful to her during their marriage. This spiraled into “I’m pretty sure Yor would look fantastic in the Revenge dress” and going from there.

Now, based on anecdotal evidence, it’s believed by myself and others that SxF takes place mostly in an alternate version of the 1960s. Endo-Sensei does mix things about the world regarding technology in his story, but the fashion is straight out of 1960s fashion magazines. So, the revenge dress is way out of the possibilities. Still. I think the dress would look good on Yor and drew it!

The dress I describe in the story is notably different (namely that the skirt is ankle/floor length versus the above knee design of the inspiration). 

To the story itself, I really want Yor to have friends and while I’m still wary of Melinda I think the two of them could be close! So I wrote about them having girl time together, bonding even when they are in two different social groups and where they can compromise on things. It was a quick and fun write! I really loved this one!

A moment of weakness

This fic was inspired by @/usleepover's art on Twitter!

Like most of the other fics mentioned here, this was inspired by chats on Discord. I have USleepover and @astersugar for this. Long before ch. 109, we were wondering what would lead these two to interact, and guessed that it would probably involve Dr. Forger’s office. Now…that conversation spiraled into something wildly different from what I did in this fic, but it did inspire me.

As a little more background, I have had a fic in the background for a year and a half now where Yor experiences a medical emergency and how the Forgers’ lives change as a result. I have no idea when or if I will ever post that fic since it’s…heavy. Emotionally and mentally heavy. But I was able to write this in relation to it. While I’m not specific in what ails Yor, I did leave enough for one to guess. Like it’s larger, heavier sister, this fic took an emotional toll on me. Having someone you love in the hospital and not being able to do a damn thing to help them is…difficult. I can’t put into words exactly how difficult that is. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, that’s how bad it is. So writing Loid and Melinda come to terms that they are out of their depths and still want to do something for Yor was cathartic in a way. I’m really happy with how this one came out and still reread it on occasion.

Rendezvous

I half blame @sister-cna-reader for this 🤣Her Hidden Under Roses’ Au with McMahon and Sylvia has me in a CHOKE HOLD and I was sunk for this ship from the start. So I decided to write about it. The other person I “blame” for this is @/Ari_Gateau on AO3 for encouraging me and ultimately giving me the prompt idea in the first place! You both are wonderful and I love you dearly!

I went back and forth on where in any timeline to put this, but ultimately decided that my PRPR verse was the best place. With Twilight and Thorn Princess revealed to each other, I could see their handlers also involved in that. Handler and Director aren’t exactly friends, but they are allies enough to watch each other’s backs if they find themselves on an assignment where they have aligned goals. 

Leaving this fic with the ending I did was a choice I also debated internally but I like it! And I guess that’s what matters 🤣

Pink Sakura

OH BOY THIS FIC.

The inspiration for this hit me upside the head very suddenly on Kiss Day (May 23) and I decided to choose violence. Like with Side by Side and Locked in Tight, I pulled my “canon but mostly an OC” buddy Ken back for some hanahaki “fun” 🤣This one is in the same universe as Flowers and Thorns, but this is clearly the angster younger sister. And once I started writing, I couldn’t stop. I wrote for almost three days straight before I was ready to post this. But it was worth it.

Adding Anya’s chapter wasn’t something I had originally planned (not that there was much planning involved in this fic 🤣) but once I finished Ken’s chapter, I realized there were some pretty glaring plot holes. So I used Anya to fill them and I think that worked out really well! I know hanahaki isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I enjoy it and I’m glad I wrote this one!

New Moon Blues

I return to my Myth Au! 👏 I’ve mentioned this in my author notes, but this whole au was developed by several people (@httplovecraft1890 , @gonnahypatia, @whatroguewrites, @awphooey2u, @juuyeah and @connoisseursdecomfort) and started by @foxtamer113. I couldn’t have made this without everyone’s inputs!

This one was a plot we had discussed ages ago. I think once we nailed Loid and Yor’s roles down, we almost immediately started brainstorming how Anya fit into their lives. We pretty much made her their biological child from the start (if my memory serves me), which I genuinely love in Aus. We did debate over HOW she was born, even though we agreed that she would be a baby goddess. One of the ideas mentioned was something about mingling blood and tears but we decided that the "Athena" route was much more fun to play with. In the end, I altered it just a bit mostly because of inspiration from a comment on the story before this one (Soothing Rays). (thank you to that commentor! I can’t find it right now, but you are amazing!)

Floodgates / Throwing Away Fate (just to keep you safe)

These fics are a RIDE my guys. 

First off, Floodgates was originally a gift from the lovely @creativwit and I hijacked it because of conversations about this au on discord 🤣(like several others on this list amirite??) The idea of Kasper came from those conversations and we’ve grown insanely attached to him. Originally, he was going to be the contact that Garden silenced in ch 43, but we loved him too much to do that.

Since then, we had this idea of what would happen if Franky really did end up in Garden’s crosshairs, and Wit wrote the first chapter of Floodgates as a start. I’m pretty invested in Yor as a fault, so I kept thinking about how she would handle this situation and ended up writing the “interludes” for this fic. I’ve since renamed those chapters to the lyrics of Loyal, Brave, True by Christina Aguilera since that’s the song I primarily write these chapters to. 

Throwing Away Fate is a prequel (hence why i’m mentioning it here) and was pulled from those same conversations. I love the idea of Kasper already been head over heels for Franky before the real action gets going in Floodgates, so I wanted to explore how he found Franky and went on this adventure running from Garden. Originally, I had wanted to write more (up until they are found in Floodgates ch. 1) but I was running out of steam and didn’t want to force myself any farther. Maybe one day I’ll (or wit, or both of us together) write the scene where Shopkeeper finds Kas. That might be fun 😈

Crosslegged in the Dim Light

Unlike the song this title is drawn from, it’s pure fluff! I saw this art by EvuriKigen and immediately started writing. There wasn’t much thought put into the development of this fic since I just started writing. The only thing I did think was that I wanted this to be in my Post Reveal/Pre relationship series, where even though Twilight and Yor have all their cards on the table, sometimes they don’t need to talk about the specifics of their jobs. They know and trust their partner, and that’s really the point of this story. 🥰

Inferno

Shifting gears pretty abruptly, we once again dive into my chats over discord 🤣While I will grumble about how Yuri’s superior doesn’t have a name 😒, I love the dynamic Endo-Sensei set up for the First Lieutenant (I know in the English version he’s called “Captain” but the Japanese says “First Lieutenant” so that’s what I’m going with!), Yuri and Chloe. So I wanted to expand on that outside of their tracking down WISE agents. 

And while I know there is no evidence of any of them being closer than colleagues, my shipping brain just loves the idea of Chloe at least admiring her superior. Hence This fic. 

Like Crosslegged in the Dim Light, I wrote this one very quickly and with little thought about plot. I’m pretty happy with this one!

7 Minutes in Heaven

This one was a beautiful joint venture with @cambot77, @sister-cna-reader, @strangeduckpaper and @creativwit! As with several of the last fics, this one started it’s life on discord. It was our original hope to have this done by Kiss Day (May 23) but that changed as we all kept writing. It was a blast!

Writing out a list of all the pairs to start off was a treat because I kept randomly forgetting some of them XD. But we got them all and planned out a vague idea of what could happen in each chapter. Then I used an online spinner to divide up the ships that hadn’t been previously claimed. After confirming that everyone was happy with what they had, we made the order. 

Ao3’s Collections and Co-author features really helped us here and reading everyone’s chapters brought me genuine joy. It’s so wonderful watching how all of our different writing styles and takes on the characters fit together as a whole. I honestly cannot pick a favorite chapter since I love them all. Thank you all again, my dears. This project was so much fun!

Complicity

The fact that it took me 9 months to finish this one is still astounding to me 🤣I had planned for All For Naught to be a stand alone, but then I saw a prompt on the @dailytwiyorprompts tumblr and that quickly flew out the window!

Seeing everything from Twilight’s perspective and going through his mental gymnastics was honestly a blast. Not sure if there will be a follow up to this duology or not, but anything’s possible.

Psyche

The last fic I started in 2024. This is a gift for the lovely @cantareincminor and was something she requested specifically. Her prompt was: “Mole hunt arc with a twist: Garden sends Thorn Princess to Shellbury to assassinate Wheeler. Instead of Nightfall, Thorn Princess is the one to stumble upon Wheeler and Twilight. She absolutely mops the floor with Wheeler and saves Twilight. Up to you whether his mask is off or on—could be awesome either way if she believes her husband or her brother is in danger.”

No going to lie, I was completely surprised when this developed into a 10k first chapter. The second chapter is still in the works and looks like it may also end up about that length and there’s no clue about the 3rd. But I want to talk about the inspirations behind this fic beyond the prompt. 

The title for this fic changed multiple times as I was writing it and probably spent more time as “untitled” than anything else. But within the day I posted it, I was struck by Orpheus by Cantare herself! I honestly love mythology (as my Myth series shows I hope 😅) and considered the wider plot of where this story would go. Without giving away too much, the story of Eros and Psyche just fits. Yor is the wife that doesn’t truly know her husband and through some twist of fate ends up finding out. While this story won’t be a one-to-one retelling of the myth, there may be echoes found within it until the end. And I’m really excited to share that with you all!

Honorable Mention: Sleeping with the Telephone

While I started this fic back in Nov 2023, a lot of it has been written in 2024. This fic has been an honest to goodness rollercoaster to write…and it’s not done yet. 

In my author’s note, I mention that I originally wrote part of the first chapter as a one shot on my RP blog, but it has developed moreso than I could have anticipated. There are a lot of themes in this, from draftees suddenly leaving their children and spouses behind, to family dynamics and the struggles therein, how war impacts relationships as a whole, and the like. Of course most, if not all, of these are addressed in Spy x Family, but bringing the war back to Ostania and having them fight another country entirely was interesting. 

Unlike the phenomenal @niregonnagiveyouup’s Not a Vein of Stars (which i HIGHLY recommend), I wanted to base this story around some of the hot conflicts during the Cold War. The US and USSR were infamous for recruiting other countries to help fight “their own” wars (like the Philippines sending troops to South Korea and The Warsaw pact sending troops to fight with the USSR in Albania). This still happens in the present day (such as the UK sending troops to Afghanistan and Belarus to Ukraine), even if it’s not to the same insanity that WW2 was. I don’t like it. I never have liked war, and writing this story from the perspective of a family being caught in the proverbial crossfire helped me hate it all the more.

But this story is a passion project of mine. I’m at the home stretch and re-reading this story to center myself for that happy ending I’ve promised myself really helps me love it all the more. Someday soon that fic will have a complete next to it’s name and I can’t wait. 

I know this was long as heck, but thanks for sticking with me! I didn’t realize I had written so much this past year since I took a break for a good chunk of it. But in hindsight, I’m really proud of how all of these works turned out and want to thank everyone who read, left kudos and/or comments. You all are wonderful!

Happy 2025 everyone! Here’s to more stories! 🍾

[obaewankenope]

"WELCOME TO HELL."

A loud, booming voice bellows across the flaming planes of despair and misery that make up, well, Hell. Maybe if I'd been born a medieval peasant or, I don't know, suitably Christian, I'd probably have been more concerned with the literal reality of Hell but, honestly, I'm a millennial. I focus on weird shit to the exclusion of all else because hey, that's more sane than watching the news and seeing the 21st century being the end-of-humanity century via war, climate change, and ecological destruction the likes of which humanity has never before known! Cheery things to focus on, not.

Anyway; loud, booming voice bellowing a greeting to the newly dead and Judged™ (I guess) me.

"Who got the job to welcome new souls to Hell and didn't think to be original with it?" I asked out loud because sometimes internal thoughts become external sentences that my brain and I do not agree on and thus happen without my informed consent.

ADHD is... Something and even dead, I've still got it apparently. Kind of feels like a problem for everyone else really. I'm used to my brand of chaos. Double RIP to the souls that aren't.

"Or did they get the job like millenia ago and got real bored trying to be original every time a soul showed up? Or is the voice automated? It's probably automated. Everything is nowadays." I rolled my eyes. "Good luck finding an actual human to talk to before the automated voice lists twelve million options and gives you way more advice and 'warnings' than you need to hear with anxiety and a hyperactive mind."

I rant, I admit that. I've already ranted. Rambled. Digressed along a seventeen year path. Waxed lyrical about Parisian sewers, so to speak. It's just what I do. ADHD brain, as we say.

Now, I don't think I did anything wrong, personally, but apparently ranting when you get dropped off to Hell and let your inner thoughts become a slew of outer words is... Grounds for direct intervention.

No, I don't know why, and no, I'm also not going to ask why. I'm banned from having contact with The Devil™ for eternity. There's an actual court document stating it. Yeah, the afterlife has a court system, I know.

Anyway, direct intervention.

"CEASE YOUR PRATTLE!"

Big, booming voice on The Devil™. A mix between very loud choral music and a heavy metal rock band concert that's figured out how to make their entire set louder than human ears can safely hear. And they're pretty close to that limit normally.

"Uh, okay," I slowly said in response to the very loud demand from a literal Fallen Angel because, well, you kind of would, wouldn't you. Except I'm not normal. Like I said, I'm a millennial and we've never been known to stay quiet when we probably should.

I blame the internet.

"But seriously, it's a valid question," I continued after a moment where The Devil™ probably thought I was cowed or terrified or something. Jokes on them, I have no self-preservation instincts to speak of and have literally not reacted to almost being ran over before.

Which... Might be how I died, actually. Hmm. Something to think about!

"Just, this is meant to be the place for damned souls and all that jazz, you'd expect the initial experience to really set up the whole thing to be more... Well, more impressive than a loud voice shouting 'Welcome to Hell'," I kept going because, again, I have the self-preservation instincts of a mantaree.

I may have done a little dramatic voice change for the 'welcome to hell' bit of my sentence but that's not really important to this story .The Devil™ wasn't impressed by it though.

"YOU ARE TRAPPED IN HELL, CAST OUT AND JUDGED BY GOD—" a lot of vitriol on that word there "—AND WILL FOREVER BE DENIED PARADISE AND YOUR FOCUS IS NOT ON YOUR SUFFERING BUT ON THE GREETING YOU RECEIVE WHEN YOU ENTER THIS PLACE?"

Okay, so, I don't think The Devil™ can sound confused the way we humans do, honestly I don't, but at the moment The Devil™ definitely sounded pretty confused to me.

"Well, yeah," I replied. I'm still confused about how The Devil™ didn't seem to understand my perspective here but, well, I can rant like the best of them and I'm very good at it when I need to explain something. "It's the principle of the matter really. You've got the whole damned-ness going on; the fire and the brimstone and the vibes are very despair-y. That's all great! Top marks there. But," I pause to make that sound where you pull air in through your teeth to sort of hiss but not hiss. You know what I mean.

"The voice isn't intimidating, it doesn't really give you anything when you show up confused or whatever. It's just loud and not even demonic or anything. Honestly, it sounds like how a greetings sign to some random town feels. Kind of just... There. It's a bit underwhelming." I paused. "A lot underwhelming."

Maybe it was the way I talked or how fast I am when I speak aloud but The Devil™ seemed more bothered by my critique than by me actually not being scared of them. Which, well, I figure us millennials can't be the only ones who focus on weird shit when there's more 'reasonable' stuff to focus on at times. Kind of figures The Devil™ would do the same. Though, in The Devil's™ defense, I guess their entire getup inspires fear and terror so they just take it as their due, so to speak.

"YOU DARE INSULT MY DOMAIN!!"

Where The Devil™ got that from, I don't know but I was not there for it. At all.

"I AM THE RULER AND ABSOLUTE OF THIS DOMAIN AND I SHALL-"

"Woah, wait a minute, I'm not insulting your domain! I'm giving a critique that you asked for tacitly by asking me so don't forget about that!"

I cut The Devil™ off mid-sentence. I literally cut The Devil™ off because, honestly, listen, I've survived a lot of shit online in my life. I have had enough of being accused of insulting something or someone when I've been giving an actual critique or criticism that was constructive. If I didn't take it off BootLickerTrumpLover99 then I sure as hell wasn't going to take it off The Devil™.

Even if The Devil™ could reduce me to metaphysical mulch.

"Like, it feels superfluous to have that voice when, I don't know, a sign would work just as well. And even if you wanted to keep the voice greeting, which, yeah works for anyone with a visual impairment, it's not creepy or demon-y or even scary sounding. It's just generic." I looked up at The Devil™ then and maybe they realised I wasn't being an ass or something. Like, honestly I wasn't. I actually really was kind of invested in this now.

Mainly because they sort of offended me by thinking I was insulting their greeting voice without at least having some constructive criticism for them.

"AND WHAT WOULD YOU SUGGEST?" The Devil™, the actual fucking Devil, asked me and they didn't even sound pissed.

I literally got asked my opinion by The OG Fallen Angel. This is probably why I ended up in Hell. For this reason alone. Or because I may have caused some uh… Questionable things to occur in my lifetime.

I hummed in thought, tapping my chin because I thought it'd look cool. It probably didn't. "Well, I guess you could change the pitch of the voice if you want to keep that particular greeting so it's less corporate American mall and more... The batteries have run down but the speakers are still working enough to transmit so enjoy the distortion and the accompanying nightmares it'll give you. That would work better," I said and the Devil™ actually nodded at me.

Nodded!

"You could change it to something more childish sounding complete with giggle or laughter or something equally disconcerting because of the dissonance of a child's voice announcing that you're in Hell; that'd get some people good, I think," I continued, really in the swing of it now because this, this is my jam really.

Belting out ideas whether they be for cursed fics, crack pairs or the kind of voice you could use to welcome people to Hell, it doesn't matter the context, I am very good at thinking things.

"I guess a really distorted, demonic sounding—like you hear in movies and stuff all the time because hey, being original is something Hollywood is allergic to I swear—that could work too. I don't know if it'd work for everyone or if they'd not be able to make out what was said." I blinked. "Though, that might scare some people more if it's on a loop and they have to listen to it over and over to figure out it's welcoming them to Hell. Oh, that'd be kind of evil actually." I looked at The Devil™ sort of delighted with myself for that little realisation.

"REPETITION DOES TEND TO TERRIFY MORTALS MORE THAN SINGULAR OCCURENCES, YES." The Devil™ actually agreed with me.

"Yeah, it's because our brains are wired for pattern recognition. When something is just not normal to our perception but we listen or watch it over and over, we notice the discrepancies more and more until they're all we can see and they freak us the fuck out," I explained because, well, this is also my wheelhouse.

I have a lot of jams and wheelhouses, okay.

"YOU HAVE GIVEN ME MUCH TO CONSIDER," The Devil™ said in what was probably the closest to a conversational tone they could manage. It still sounded like it'd obliterate my eardrums if I wasn't a metaphysical representation of my human form and was made of flesh and bone still.

"Oh, you're welcome then," I said because, well, what else are you meant to say to that? "If you ever want to throw some ideas or things to critique my way I'm—"

I got cut off then by a very, very loud sound that was sort of like a thousand echoes all sounding at the same time and also an orchestra and choir at full volume. It was really loud, okay, and I definitely blanked for a second or two on the metaphysical plane of existence because of it.

"RELEASE THE SOUL YOU TOOK BEFORE ITS TIME OR YOU SHALL BE CAST FURTHER FROM WHERE YOU ALREADY FELL!"

I don't know if you've ever seen The Devil™, you probably haven't, but they had that look a toddler does when they've been naughty and got caught at the last second. You know the look? Yeah, you know it. Well, that's the expression The Devil™ had on their huge form that was vaguely humanoid.

Actually, thinking about it, they probably only looked humanoid to me because I perceived them that way. Huh, that's something to think about again at 3am.

Back to that loud voice and what clearly seemed to be a kid caught being naughty.

Most people, most sane people, probably would have stayed silent there but well, we've already established I am not most people.

"Uh, what's happening right now and does it really require violence to resolve?" I asked because, well, you gotta ask that really. "Because I really don't think violence is the answer, unless it is the answer in which case can I please vacate the area before the fighting because I am definitely out-classed here?"

"COME AWAY MORTAL, YOU DO NOT BELONG IN THIS PLACE!" That very loud, clearly not The Devil™ voice said to me and, okay, I'm not stupid but I can be slow on the uptake sometimes.

Besides, no one is stupid. That's ableist as fuck and I'm not here for that.

"Wait, I thought I died? And got judged, or whatever it is that happens to assign souls where they belong or whatever," I said because I'd kind of assumed that. Though, I didn't actually remember any Judgement™ happening.

"YOU WERE STOLEN BEFORE YOU COULD BE JUDGED MORTALS FOR THE FALLEN ANGEL KNEW WELL YOU DID NOT BELONG IN THEIR REALM OF DESPAIR!"

"THEY BELONG HERE MORE THAN THEY DO IN HEAVEN!" The Devil™ argued back with the… Angel, I guess. "ALREADY THEY SPEAK OF THE SUFFERING OF OTHERS WITH GLEE!"

"Hey hey hey, we don't kinkshame okay!" I blurted out and definitely got Looks for that. Fair. "You can enjoy something just fine but if you actively use what you enjoy to hurt others without their consent, then you're an asshole. Having ideas is not the same as acting on those ideas!"

"THE MORTAL SPEAKS TRUE AND YOU KNOW IT FALLEN, LET THEM LEAVE!"

I never knew The Devil™ could look sad but, well, they kind of looked sad at that order. Rebellious but that's expected of the literal first rebel ever to rebel. Sad though…

"Hey, it's not like you can't still ask my opinion on stuff, or for some concrit, you know," I said to The Devil™ trying to literally cheer up The Devil™. Yeah, I actually did that.

"THE FALLEN WILL HAVE NO CONTACT WITH YOU MORTALS FOR THEY DO NOT BELONG IN ANY PLACE THAT HAS THE LIGHT OF THE CREATOR IN IT!"

"Isn't there a Skype or, I don't know, Spiritual MSN or something to at least send a message though?" You'd think there would be something like that in the afterlife.

Apparently not though.

"NO."

I looked at The Devil™ and, honestly, I felt pretty bad. I hadn't been judged yet so maybe I'd end up back in Hell anyway but just up and disappearing, possibly forever, when The Devil™ seemed to actually enjoy someone having some constructive criticism for them… I'll admit, I'm a sucker for that. Blame my Livejournal and Ff.net days for that.

"Well, what if I just don't go then?" I asked, "you said I'm not judged yet so why don't I just judge myself, say I belong in Hell and then we all just go on our way like nothing happened?"

"HELL IS FOR THOSE WHO DESERVE PUNISHMENT, MORTAL!" The Angel reminded me like I didn't know that already.

I might have been a shitty Catholic but I still got raised on that stuff, I know what Hell is for.

And purgatory.

"It's also for a variety of people who didn't really do anything wrong but got the short end of the religious diatribe anyway," I pointed out. The Devil™ looked strangely delighted with me. "Unless Dante was wrong about the structure of Hell in his Comedies."

"HE WAS NOT," The Devil™ helpfully added.

"ENOUGH!" The Angel bellowed. "YOU WILL COME WITH ME MORTAL, NOW!"

Okay, so, bit of advice for you. Never, I repeat, never tell someone with ADHD to do something. If you're lucky, they'll grumble and do it but, usually, you're not lucky. Because most people with ADHD also have this thing where they get really oppositional to commands. It's called Oppositional Defiance Disorder. And, well, guess what I have?

"No."

"NO!"

"NO?"

"No." I repeated. "You don't get to tell me what to do just because you're all big and Angelic and stuff."

Now, I never knew this but The Devil™ is actually capable of the exact same shit-eating-grin you read about in stories and see on TV that is absolutely the grin someone has when chaos is happening and they are here for it.

"YOU CANNOT REFUSE!"

"I just did," I retorted. "And since Free Will is a thing, you can't make me."

Now, apparently a single Angel can't, so I'm right there. And Free Will is also a thing, so another right there. But…

Well, Free Will can be superseded by The Creator if and when they feel like it. And, apparently, death can be overruled too by The Creator when you're being stubborn.

"THEN THE CREATOR SHALL TAKE YOU MORTAL, FOR YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE!"

"Consent is sexy and I am not okay with this!" I exclaimed.

"GOODBYE MORTAL," The Devil™ said to me and in the next moment, I was here.

So yeah, that's how I've ended up alive again, and yeah, I'll take a straw with my drink, thanks.

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #128 part 1

Danny wasn’t sure what exactly happened, but one moment he was hiding out in an alley trying his best to wrap the bandages around his torso and the next he found himself in front of a clown. His thoughts began to blur further as he began to panic. His first instinct was to tighten his fists and move into a defensive position but when he tightened his fist something happened. The clown that had been right in front of them was there and then he wasn’t. The gun he was sure he wasn’t holding before fired and sent the clown away from Danny.

Shock began to set in as he looked down on what he had done. Everything had moved so fast he couldn’t even comprehend it, he didn’t even get a good look at the one he so swiftly ended. The force of the gun caused him to fall back, breathing heavily he stared at the gun before quickly setting it down on the ground making sure the safety was on, he wasn’t risking another death. With the weapon safely placed on the ground he finally decided to take in some of his surroundings.

His soulmate was wearing a helmet and what looked to be some armor, they were in a warehouse of some sort. Danny had forgotten what it felt like to be human and he’d pay a lot more attention if the panic from murder wasn’t setting in. The clown wasn’t moving, they layed there a heap on the floor… Danny really murdered someone. Okay, he could deal with this. 

…

Who was he kidding what the hell was he supposed to do? It was then that he saw movement from the corner of his eyes and he truly knew he was fucked. Someone was right by his soulmate while he had his gun pointed at the clown, did his soulmate want the clown dead? His mind was still racing incoherently as he tried to piece together what exactly just happened. 

A minute passed  or what felt like one, Danny swore Clockwork messed with his sense of time sometimes. He slowly raised his hands after he realized the other wasn’t going to speak, he slowly turned to see the absolute worst person to help in this scenario. 

Batman, Danny was pretty sure he was fucked. He was so entirely fucked and it was then that he realized how truly he messed up. His head snapped back over to the clown and yep that’s the Joker, oh he just killed the Joker in front of Batman in his soulmate's body. Did that mean his soulmate knew Batman? Danny was absolutely stunned into silence, he had nothing he could say, who knew his soulmate would have a life probably just as messed up as his.

“Jason…” Batman’s gravelly voice broke Danny out of his thoughts, oh his soulmate's name was Jason.

Danny who finally finds his voice says, “My soulmate's name is Jason?” The voice modulator startled him and it was then that all hell broke loose.

Voices started crackling into his ear with several different people starting to speak at once.

“Did he just say soulmate?”

“Jason this better not be a prank”

“Wait, who pulled the trigger?? I heard that gunshot”

“Enough, keep coms clear” Batman commanded and everything went silent he then turned to address Danny, “come with me, we’ll need to find Jason so you and him will be alone to switch back. We’ll talk about that after.” He didn’t motion with his hands or jerk his head or anything but Danny knew exactly what he meant. 

He swallowed harshly and then followed. 

—————

Jason found himself no longer holding his guns, no longer in front of the damn clown, and his armor and helmet were gone. He was wearing clothes closer to rags than street clothes and his entire body seemed to ache. This must have been his soulmate's body and they were having a way worse time than Jason was at the moment. There seemed to be hastily done bandages around his waist and he honestly felt like he’d been hit by a truck. He was in an alley thankfully although that also meant he triggered the switch. Everyone knew when you got close enough to your soulmate you switched bodies.

Jason had to get to the closest safe house and hopefully he could do some proper first aid on his soulmate. He stumbled to get on his feet and began to make his way out of the alley. 

Im going to update the original post as the master post and you’ll be able to find all future parts there.

Master Post:

next :

[toxintouch]

I'm not sure if what I wrote is what this post had in mind but… also I meant to do this as a rb but my toxic trait is writing things in drafts/private posts so I err uhhh look I can't keep fighting with Tumblr formatting ok

Mhin receiving an unusually specific compliment. ᵕ ω ᵕ

“You're so fascinating, Mhin. If you wrote a book, I would definitely read it.  Even if you wrote the book about something really boring.  Even if you wrote…a dictionary, full of words I already know the meanings to.  I'd still read it, just because you wrote it.  Just to feel like I got to walk beside you in the world for a little while."

Mhin looks over at you despite themself. Your voice is low, tone affectionate difficult to parse over the incessant noise permeating the Wet Wick. They find themselves staring at your lips, as if to read your words despite hearing you clearly.

“You're really the most interesting person I know...  Which is saying a lot, in this city!”  You laugh at yourself, bandaged fingers trailing around the rim of the glass placed in front of you at the bar.  Your face is flushed, pupils dilated.  The longer they look at you, brows furrowed as they try to make sense of your words, the less you seem able to look them in the eyes.

The liquid in your glass is clear.  

Tequila?  Vodka?  Gin?  A stomach wrenching combination of all three, possibly.  Who knows what Leander was willing to put in front of you, if it makes you so…

Mhin huffs, mouth wrenching into a frown. They clasp a hand around the glass in front of you. "I think you've had enough." They must have gone (miraculously) nose-blind from the boozy scent of the Wet Wick because even as they slide the heavy tankard closer to themself, the pungent tang of alcohol is no more invasive than it was prior. They expected to be able to taste the fumes coming off of whatever concoction they just took from you.

"I'm--" You start to protest, but you find yourself cut off when Leander says something that causes the crowded bar to go wild, cheers erupting. One of the Bloodhounds jostles Mhin in their mirth, causing your confiscated drink to upend, contents sloshing over the surface of the bar and soaking the sleeve of Mhin's shirt.

It's water.

You were saying those things while sober.

Mhin's eyes find yours, no attention spared for the slurring Bloodhound beside them. You're looking at them affectionately, lips quirked.

"Would you be mad at me if I told you that you're too cute?" You ask, something far too warm, too inviting in your words.

Mhin is halfway across the bar in a heartbeat, burning red ears gone deaf to the sound of Leander's voice, calling out to them that they haven't picked their pay up yet. They'll get it tomorrow, they think, racing towards the respite of the fresh night air. Away from the urge to--

Mhin doesn't let themself turn to look back at you as they leave. Though they can't stop themself from wondering: if they did, would they see you staring back at them?

Damn Mhin just take the compliment. I made Mhin's about their brains instead of their looks etc. bc while I think mentioning wanting to kiss their beauty mark would fluster them I think this is the type of thing that would absolutely infect their brain.  Have them thinking about those words over and over until it completely ruins their nightly Soulless hunting; they give up & just stargaze all night.

[reallygroovyninja]

It's 1965 and Lexa is a rising star in the modeling world, known for her striking beauty and commanding presence on the runway. She's just been hired by a top modeling agency in New York City, where Clarke works as a secretary.

Clarke is charmed by Lexa's intelligence and wit, while Lexa is drawn to Clarke's warmth and sincerity in an industry that often feels superficial.

But with the constant demands of Lexa's modeling career and the strict social expectations of the 1960s, pursuing anything more than a friendly working relationship seems impossible.

Will Lexa and Clarke be able to navigate the challenges of their era and fight for their own happiness, or will societal pressures keep them apart?

[abhainnwhump]

Putting your characters in a kidnapping scenario is a great way to practice characterization because there are just so many ways you can take being kidnapped. Are they terrified and crying? Or calm and determined? Screaming and yelling curses or making jokes? How about begging for mercy? Immediately getting violent?

And when/if they break, how does their behavior change? You can have a character start calm and collected and turn paranoid after weeks or months in captivity. Iconically, take your defiant and cocky character and make them scared and meek. Take the sweet innocent character and turn them into a monster. How would your OC develop if they were in a problem like this?

My closing statement is, test your characters. Like a geode, you need to break it to see the gems inside.

[scarletttries]

Write A Kiss Request: Gun Woo (Bloodhounds) x Reader ...a kiss on a scar

(prompt list here) & 2025 Request List - requests open

...a kiss on a scar for Gun Woo

You could never get used to seeing Gun Woo around the house of the older gentleman you worked for. It was like seeing an angel in your own home, a statuesque Greek god walking past you on the street, like the most beautiful idol you could imagine saying good morning to you day after day. And he was so sweet about it too, so unassuming, so timid. You almost had a hard time believing this was the same man who could take out whole gangs of criminals with just his fists.

Maybe the most difficult part about seeing Gun Woo every day was that it slowly became clear that he couldn't see his own beauty for himself. Despite being as close to perfection, inside and out, as a man can be, you could tell he averted his gaze every time he passed a mirror, so fixated with the one recent blemish on his otherwise boyish face. It was hard to watch him flinch away from your gaze when you found yourself staring his way for a little too long, Gun Woo naturally assuming the lingering looks were for completely the wrong reason. Where you saw a sweet, brave, handsome man, he could only see a disfigured scar he was sure would haunt him for all his days. There was only so long you could let him think like that for.

It was a normal morning of him arriving at your philanthropic boss's home, waiting for an audience with the older man and standing in the hall by the time you arrived for the day. As you stepped through the door he didn't sense your presence, letting himself stare deeply into the small mirror opposite and running a finger firmly over the jagged scar that ran down his cheek and along his jaw. You couldn't tell if his slight flinch was from the feel of it under his fingertip, or from you appearing in the mirror, stepping behind him so your reflection could offer him the gentle smile you thought he might need today.

"When I've settled all my family's debts, and my mother's cafe is fixed again, I'm going to save up for the surgery to fix this scar." Gun Woo mumbled the words quickly, speaking to your reflection rather than turning to face you, sure he knew what you were thinking and that you didn't need a closer look at him. Without breaking your concentrated gaze you stepped a bit closer to him until you stood shoulder to shoulder, really taking in his reflection despite how it seemed to make him squirm.

"Why do you want the surgery?" You asked softly to his mirrored form, hoping he wouldn't find it offensive that you wanted to understand a little more.

"I think this scar will stop me from getting some of the things I want in life." He shook his head before adding in a nervous chuckle, "I don't think I will be able to get a nice, pretty girlfriend if I look like this." In the small silver screen you saw him raise his hand slightly, as if gesturing towards you as the definition of pretty, enough encouragement for you to say what needed to be said.

"For what it's worth, I think it suits you." Gun Woo's head jerked to the side, no longer looking in the mirror and instead focusing solely on you, "It shows who you are, you know? That you're brave, and strong, and loyal, and fearless." As you let each compliment spill from your lips, Gun Woo edged closer to you, leaning forward slightly to be closer to your eye level, scanning your soft expression for any sign of deceit and coming up empty. He looked at you so adoring as you spoke, so awestruck by your kindness, that you couldn't help but edge a little bit closer yourself. "I think the world would be a much better place if everyone carried their scars the way you do." And with that final sweet sentiment you placed a soft kiss on the marked cheek, one hand gently holding the opposite side of his face to keep him from moving out of reach before you could.

Body frozen and mind racing Gun Woo just blinked at you in disbelief, mouth hanging open slightly as you quickly pecked the scarred edge of his jaw for good measure and then skipped off into the home to start your day, letting him stew on your words and affections in his own time.

Turning back to the mirror Gun Woo ghosted his fingertips over the slightly glistening places your lips had touched, finally processing what had happened enough to let out a beaming smile at his own reflection. Maybe he didn't need to worry about saving money to cover his scars, he thought, watching the blood flush his cheeks a rosy pink. Maybe he should use that money to take you out to dinner instead.

***

If you enjoyed this, check out my bloodhounds master list for more Gun Woo!

[seiwas]

Sel don’t be so hard on yourself about writing!! You’ve been busy and it’s okay to do slow down on other things !!🫶

But I’ll enter your lil game (only if you feel inspired) with oikawa + blissful

carla 🥺 i am hugging you!! thank you for the kind words 🥺💗 and for indulging me with my lil game!!

contains: suggestive (possibly), expletives, use of baby, bj

oikawa + blissful

"yeah, that’s it," oikawa sighs, a shudder reaching the tips of your fingertips, "right there, baby."

he melts under your hands; every movement you make is met with whines of audible bliss. it's no secret that oikawa is loud, in the bedroom especially.

your fingers drag over his head slowly, languidly, allowing him to revel in this moment for longer―you know this is the only thing he likes to take his time with.

when you press a little harder and pinch a little tighter, he groans, "fuck," with an exhale. his eyes struggle to stay open as his lashes flutter sleepily to kiss that delicate spot right under his eyes. warm brown blanketed in a physical lullaby.

you giggle, a soft satisfaction at how reactive he is under your touch. oikawa makes head massages sound like he's getting a blowjob.

he rouses awake from the subtle vibrations of your amusement, his head a deadweight on your lap. the perfectly messy mop of his hair is now tangled with your fingers.

"see? even my hair won't let you go," he'll tell you once he finds out, all dopey smile and dopamine in his system. it's a different kind of happy than when he's on the court, a kind that you cherish all to yourself, knowing it's one that he only shares with you.

"feeling better?" you hum, kneading around his temples a little bit more.

the moan he lets out is a loud enough response.

help me get back into the writing groove! send me a character + any word and i'll write a short blurb about it!

[zukosdualdao]

i'm a worst case kid / in a plague pit town

zutara month, day 1: reluctant allies

summary: ever-slight canon-divergence in which zuko accepts katara's offer to heal iroh after feeling his too-weak, dying pulse, as his injury is bad enough zuko is unsure he will survive otherwise. not much else changes. it was never going to.

warnings: canon-typical depictions of injury, violence, and trauma responses.

other notes: title is a lyric taken from tommy lefroy's "worst case kid". starting pov is zuko's, ending pov is katara's. two pieces of dialogue are directly taken from the show.

*

The wind is whistling in this dry, abandoned, dead town, dead like—

Zuko does not shiver, and he does not cry.

He used to be able to tell himself things like that and mean it. When did that stop being true?

Uncle’s pulse is so faint, for a moment, he thinks it isn’t there at all. Even when he feels it, he knows it might as well not be. He might not have long at all.

Zuko hears the other footsteps approaching, their silence loud and almost mournful, but he bristles on instinct. They can’t see him like this, can’t see Uncle like this—how could he be so stupid as to turn his back on the enemy? 

“Get away from us!” he shouts as he looks back. They’re all staring at his uncle’s prone form, and Zuko turns back to him, too, heaving heavy breaths. He needs to do something, but he is weak, useless, outnumbered—

“Zuko, I can help,” the waterbender insists, and Zuko wants to snarl, yell, reach for his fire, and he raises his hand to do so—and frowns. 

What does she mean?

He looks back to where Uncle lies prone.

A heartbeat shouldn’t feel like that. The Dragon of The West shouldn’t go down so easily.

Uncle shouldn’t be able to seem so small and worn and fragile.

Slowly, Zuko lowers his hand and looks to her striking blue eyes. There’s no pity or malice there, he doesn’t think, she just looks… still cautious and unyielding, but sad and sincere, too.

He’s fallen for tricks like this before, though—Azula has always loved how easily she could fool him—and it feels a little like he’s standing on the edge of a steep precipice.

It would be naive to just… trust the word of an enemy. She has no reason to want to help him. He knows this.

The rest of them still watch his uncle’s maybe-dying form, but the waterbending girl stares at Zuko unflinchingly, almost as though in challenge.

Uncle groans brokenly, the noise like that of a wounded animal. 

“How?”

*

The world is dead silent.

The prince of the Fire Nation is staring at her with tears threatening to fall from his right eye, though not the left, which is twitching lightly. She’s never before noticed how he can’t seem to open it fully due to the scar tissue set against it. She’s never had much reason to take in his features as anything more than the face of their enemy. 

His gaze is still steely and untrusting. In this light, his scar looks violently red and painful. He asks after her offer with a voice that cracks, though he doesn’t seem to pay that any heed. His hair is short but growing in, and he’s traded out his Fire Nation attire for earthly green and brown robes. He looks so different from when they last saw him. 

He looks so… young.

It’s all a little bizarre.

“Be careful, Katara,” Sokka insists from behind her, though when she glances back, his focus is on Iroh, a complicated expression playing on his features. Aang is staring at him, too, eyes wide and verging on teary. She doesn’t yet know Toph very well, but Katara can tell her body is rigid, her feet tense as her toes curl into the dusty ground beneath them. Toph doesn’t know that Iroh has been their enemy. But Iroh also helped them at the North Pole, and again just now against that princess, Zuko’s sister, she supposes, with her calculating eyes and strange blue fire.

Katara nods but says nothing further. If Zuko was going to make a move against them, he could have done it when his sister vanished.

They had turned away from their futile attack against her, and he’d already been kneeling at his uncle’s side.

She approaches slowly, circling to the side opposite him. When she kneels and reaches for her waterskin, Zuko nearly growls and takes hold of the edge of Iroh’s sleeve tightly, like he might try to drag him away.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” Katara says, flush with indignation. The dirt beneath her chafes her knees even through her clothing. “I need space to heal.”

“I’m not moving, so forget it.”

Katara tilts her head and looks into his eyes as he glares back. He now looks every bit the angry, hateful prince that had tracked them around the world for months, but she can see something else filtering through his expression, too, something like fear.

She almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it. Why should he be afraid of them?

“Fine,” she allows after a moment. “Just don’t get in the way.”

He nods tightly, and at the agreement, Katara opens her waterskin. She calls the water to her and sets it against Iroh’s the right side of his chest, his robes black and charred. Closing her eyes, she calls out to his chi and focuses her energy on it. She doesn’t know if she can do it, doesn’t know if Iroh is truly too far gone…

After a few long moments, his breathing evens, and Katara sighs. Across from her, Zuko’s features soften just a fraction, but when she meets his eyes, somehow, she knows exactly what they both are thinking, united in nothing but this.

It doesn’t change anything, Katara's thoughts insist as her friends draw closer. Zuko tenses again. It can’t.

[sunfloweraro]

LUtober day 26: Ruins

Warriors is tired. So is Sky. They find comfort in each other.

(Part 2 with comfort)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Sky wasn’t meant to be awake. They finally had the opportunity to sleep at an inn—a safe place, where they could all rest through the night. By all means, he should be taking advantage of such a treat. And yet, his body refused to relax, to settle into the soft blankets and rest. The rest of the group had long-since drifted off by now, and somehow, Sky found himself staring at the ceiling, eyes and chest aching.

Rustling nearby. Sky’s ears flicked in the direction, eyes following in time to see Warriors slip out of the room without a backward glance. Sky waited five, then ten, minutes before he followed their Captain, concern pressing heavy against his chest. A quick glance at the bathroom to confirm it was empty, and he stepped outside, wincing under the bite of the cold and drawing his sailcloth close. The night was dark, the moon covered by dense clouds, but Warriors hadn’t gone far; Sky spotted him sitting atop one of the many, many ruins littering Wild’s era, swallowed up by crumbling stone and splintered wood and looking too small for someone normally larger than life itself.

“Can’t sleep?” Sky asked as he drifted over to his friend, his fatigue making him feel like a ghost. Warriors flinched, head whipping up, eyes meeting Sky’s briefly, just long enough for Sky to realise why Warriors was out here in the first place. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He hurried over, settling alongside Warriors, the sight of his tear-stained face one Sky knew he wouldn’t easily forget.

Warriors said nothing. When Sky reached out to touch his shoulder, Warriors shied away from the contact. Something heavy settled in Sky’s gut.

“Wars?”

“I’m—Don’t worry, Sky. I’ll be back inside in a minute.”

“Nonsense,” Sky huffed. “Something’s wrong.” He was stating the obvious, but he was much too exhausted to be delicate, much too…

Warriors sighed. “I’m so tired.”

…tired.

“I tried to sleep, but my mind wouldn’t calm down—it’s like we’re in the middle of a fight. I think… I think all these months are starting to catch up to me.”

A sad sound escaped Sky and he shifted closer, not yet touching, but supportive all the same. Warriors inhaled, as if to apologise, but Sky spoke first, his voice soft, fragile: “Me too.” Just the admission left his eyes burning with tears, his breath hitching.

“Sky…?”

“I couldn’t sleep either,” Sky confessed, eyes firmly in his lap. “And yet I’m so tired.” His eyes slipped shut, warm tears trailing down his cheeks, emotions that had been pushed to the side for far too long brimming to the surface.

Warriors sniffled, nudged him in the side now that he knew he wouldn’t be judged. “What a pair we make,” he joked weakly, his voice breaking as more tears escaped. Sky leaned against his friend in response, an exhausted sigh escaping him. He wouldn’t break down, wouldn’t sob or shout. He was too drained, too strung out from months of adventuring, of keeping it all together, to do anything more than let the tears slip down his cheeks, pattering to the ground.

Warriors hummed in agreement, leaning his head over Sky’s. Tears dripped into Sky’s hair, an assurance that he wasn’t alone in this. Even as more tears spilled down his cheeks under the cover of the night, Sky found a pulse of warmth pressed against his chest, comforting him. He hoped Warriors felt the same.

“What do we do, Sky?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Sky confessed. “Can we stay here a while longer?”

Warriors took in a shuddering breath. Another patter over Sky’s hair. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

“Thanks, Wars.”

“Same here, Sky.”

“We’ll figure something out. Together.”

“Yeah,” Warriors said, his voice more hopeful than Sky had heard it in weeks. “Together.”

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Friday

Prev

Trespasser, In Which Jak Gets Another Bad Idea

When he'd hastily redressed and stumbled out of the garrison locker room before anything else could happen, Jak quickly found himself confronted by that Strom guy again.

"An hour? Really?" Strom pursed his lips disapprovingly. "You think we have some magic supply of water to spare?"

"Lay off, we weren't washing for an hour -- much as I'd love to," Daxter argued, "The big guy fell asleep!"

"In the shower? Isn't that dangerous?"

Jak shrugged. "How would I know?"

Strom decided after a moment that this fell under the category of "none of my business". He sighed and waved for Jak to follow him.

"The king says we're to put you up in the barracks for now." He eyed Jak's face, somewhat startled by how much younger he looked under the dirt. "How old are you?"

Jak shrugged. "Midway through seventeen-ish. I think. My "guardian" wasn't exactly a reliable source."

More things to file under "none of my business"

"Oh...kay..." Strom did his best to move past one or two odd questions surfacing in his mind. "Well that narrows down which dorm you're in, at least."

"How so?"

They stepped back out into the late afternoon heat, onto the main road through the Gate District. The burning sun barely touched Jak, deflected by his wet clothes as if he were wearing his own air conditioning. He decided to pretend it had been intentional. Just in case someone asked why his clothes were all wet.

They were led towards the end of a row of houses built into the city wall, leading to an impressibly high flight of stairs into some kind of coliseum. Strom did his best to explain as he led them up the stairs, but he wasn't usually the guy they called for rookie orientation for a reason.

"It's um. So- okay look. The Arena sublevels are divided into three floors: the hospital, the armory, and the barracks. Barracks are split between militia, citizen candidates, and teenage Squads."

He didn't explain Squads.

"You're going to end up in that last one -- probably Dorm 4, that's where they put orphans or unregistered foundlings."

"Orphans?!" Daxter chirped indignantly. Then he paused. "I mean. I guess it's accurate, but you didn't have to say it!"

They didn't end up in Dorm 4.

The Resident Advisor took one look at the slightly dusty, slightly soggy, boy and ottsel and assigned them to an empty bunk in the second hall, Dorm 2. Jak was handed a canteen and a folded set of sheets before being unceremoniously ushered down the hall and into a sparse dorm room holding two bunk beds. For the moment, it was empty.

"Lights are out at 9 bells, no exceptions unless you got a case of the screaming meemies," the RA said gruffly. He pointed at a bottom bunk without sheets -- Jak's, apparently.

"You're responsible for keeping that bunk at least clean enough to pass weekly room checks. Check the schedule on the wall if you want to know when mess hall is open. If you miss that, you can hit the markets, but you're on your own for paying for it."

Jak eyed the bunk uncomfortably. He was responsible for maintaining this bed? He probably wasn't even going to be here that long! He cringed when the RA pushed a twelve by six metal box across the floor with a terrible scratching sound.

"That's your footlocker. If you want a lock, get it yourself. You kids keep losin' em and now we're out." The RA snorted. "But most of the squad in your room is on home rotation this week, so you only have to worry about maybe Sam stealing your stuff. He won't, by the way. Too busy training."

He turned to go, then turned back quickly. "Oh. Gotta confiscate your gun mods, so don't lose your marbles when you get your gun back plain."

"The rot you do!" Jak protested, "I earned those!"

"Don't care." The RA shrugged. "None of your dormmates have and I don't want 'em getting ideas about "borrowing" em."

With a stern warning not to start any fights, and to not miss allotted mealtimes if he didn't want to go hungry, the RA keft Jak alone with Daxter. They stood in the center of the room, blinking incredulously.

"Well..." Jak said after several seconds, "It's not a cell."

"Or an alley," Daxter agreed.

He hopped down and examined the mattress. Nothing fancy, but it was miles better than they were used to.

"Here, gimme the fitted sheet."

"What's a fitted sheet?"

"The one with the stretchy corners." Daxter pointed. "That's the one that goes on the bottom. Wraps around so it don't get pulled off if you roll around a lot."

"...oh. Weird."

Jak handed the thing to Daxter and watched in fascination as his friend set about attaching one corner at a time. It looked difficult.

Before he could offer help, his talk-box activated. That was a bit of a surprise. They'd been traveling for two days already and nobody had made a peep. Daxter had thought they'd have noticed the first time he turned off the location tracker!

"Jak! Jak, where are you?!"

Samos. Jak's stomach churned.

"Don't know," he answered flippantly. "I think we just got put in an orphanage."

"Don't be ridiculous! Get out of whatever nonsense you two knuckleheads have walked into and get back to Main Town! Something is going on, and I need time to investigate without those blasted Deathbots shooting at me!"

"Life's hard."

"What did you just say?"

Jak scoffed, feeling a little of the bubbling anger of dark eco in his core.

"You can't handle a little gunfire? You didn't have an issue making a couple kids walk into it daily. You'll figure it out."

"How can you say something so horrible to me?! I raised you to be a hero, Jak! You sound like that mercenary!"

Jak snorted."Well good. Sig's the only adult in that city I still trust."

Samos sputtered for several seconds in helpless, bewildered anger. Then he gathered himself.

"Get over yourself, Jak! Lives are at stake! I don't care what you're playing at, you turn around and get back here before something worse happens!"

Jak rolled his eyes. The sage sounded like Ashelin. He tossed Daxter the top sheet and studied the foot locker, wondering if he should use it.

"Nah, can't."

"What do you mean "can't?"

Jak shrugged as if Samos could see him. As if Daxter hadn't placed a piece of tape over the lens when he got tired of the spying.

"Oracle says I'm not done out here. Wherever "here" is. Lay off, wouldja? The Precursors sent me out here!"

He listened to Samos's stunned silence a moment before dryly asking, "Did you think they only spoke to Onin, or-?"

"But-" the old sage stammered, "But why would the Precursors send you from us when our need was greatest?"

"Probably because yours isn't the only city in the world? There are other people out there, Haven can get over itself," Jak flung the sage's words right back at him.

"What makes you think there's anything beyond the walls other than ruined wastes?"

"Those eco shipments for Praxis were coming from somewhere," Jak reasoned. Then his voice darkened to match his mood.

"There's no law that says I can't investigate. Sandover may have turned into Haven, but that doesn't mean I'm chained to it. You people already tried that, remember?"

"Jak!"

"I think the Precursors want me to find out who else survived," Jak said, though he wasn't sure that was it at all.

"I'll let you know if I find any sages."

"But Jak-!"

"Have to go, Samos. That hall monitor guy didn't say comm calls weren't allowed in the dorms but I need this thing, so I'm not taking chances."

He ended the call before Samos could make more than an outraged cough. When he looked down, Daxter was watching him with a funny expression.

"What?" he asked, a bit defensively.

"Nothin," Daxter said, unconvincingly. Then he gave a bittersweet grin. "Just never heard you stand up to Loghead like that before."

Jak looked away. "Should've been fighting him from day one. Like you. You knew he was bad news from the start, didn't you?"

Daxter rubbed his arm ruefully. "I um. I don't got a lot of memories of my folks. I was pretty little when the shark got em. But I remember my old man saying "Never trust a man who won't apologize to a kid", and then Samos came through dragging you. An'...an' you cried that whole first day, kept pointing to the sky and making a circle with your arms. And Samos ignored you."

Jak swallowed hard. "I don't remember that," he said softly. "Or much of Sandover at all now."

He sat down on the floor next to Daxter. The thanks he'd given Samos just weeks ago sat sour in his stomach. The real person he should've thanked had been right there beside him and he'd overlooked him just like Samos always did.

"Daxter?" he said gravely, "Thank you. For everything. All of it. I wouldn't be here without you."

Daxter leaned against his shoulder. "Well duh," he joked, trying to lighten a somber moment, "Heroes don't leave their sidekicks with weirdos! It goes against the bro code!"

Then he sobered.

"For the record, I don't blame ya for not knowing he had his hooks in ya. He um. I mean, you were real little, y'know? I think you maybe stuck with him at first because he was the only familiar face, and he used that against ya."

Jak laughed bitterly. "I wonder if I'd have had the guts to say all that if he was actually here?"

Daxter recognized the beginning of a spiral and elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Well he ain't! And we're not gonna will that into existence with what-ifs!"

He scurried up onto the bunk and spread out in the middle of the mattress.

"Ahhhh! Hey, are you gonna know which morph gun is ours when we get the key to that gun locker?"

Jak pushed him to one side and, after a moment's debate, unlaced his boots.

"The stock on mine looks striped because of all the tally marks on it. The others are completely blank."

"Oh! Didn't see that!"

Reluctantly, Jak took off his goggles and gauntlets and dropped them into the foot locker. At least if it didn't have a lock, he could get them back out at a moment's notice. His knife and amulet he kept on him.

The Call hadn't subsided. He still felt it, and he still didn't know what it meant. So for now, that seemed to mean staying in this hostel/barrack/orphanage combination with more Wastelanders than he'd ever known existed. At least they were Wastelanders and not soldiers. He would've slept on the streets before letting them put him in a dorm with soldiers.

The wall schedule said that the cafeteria didn't open until 6 bells after noon. That left roughly an hour before they could find out if they were allowed to take anything from it.

For a time, Jak occupied himself by polishing his channeling ring with his damp scarf. Daxter tried and failed to braid Jak's hair, but the condition it was in was just too poor.

"Pal," Daxter said reluctantly, "I don't think these mats are comin' out."

Jak sighed in resignation. He'd wanted to avoid this -- the only haircut he could remember had been a traumatic buzzcut because a KG accidentally spread bugs through the cell block -- and got himself a spot in the cell two doors down from Jak when the bugs spread to Errol. (Who was absolutely hideous with a buzz cut, and was in utter anguish about his "beautiful hair". Couldn't have happened to a nicer person. It had been the absolute highlight of Jak's entire year.)

Jak took his knife, sheath and all, from the back of his belt and held it out to Daxter.

"Do what you gotta do," he groaned, "Just don't cut it all off."

The roommate who wasn't on "home rotation", whatever that was, came back midway through the haircut. In his state of exhaustion, he didn't actually see Daxter.

"Your...hair is falling off," he mumbled in confusion.

"It's on purpose," Jak said.

"Oh."

Sam leaned against the door to pry off his boots, then blinked.

"Wait, what?"

"He's getting a haircut, doofus!" Daxter sniped.

"Ohhhhkay, the kangarat is talking." Sam dropped his boot and stared with very wide eyes. "Cooooolll coolcoolcool everything's cool."

"Ottsel, not rat," Jak corrected. "Daxter is sensitive about that."

"...uh-huh..."

Sam swung a gear bag up over the top of the top bunk bed post. With little effort, he swung himself up the ladder after it. Apparently he shared the bunk Jak had been assigned.

"Are you new? I don't remember you," he yawned.

"First day here," Jak admitted, "still dunno what's going on."

Silence for a few seconds. Then, "So...does that mean you came from Outside?"

"I guess? Don't know how I got here from Haven, but I'm not complaining."

"Oh."

Sudden Sam was leaning over the rail of the bunk, spiky blonde hair falling in his face.

"No kidding? Me too! I mean, I ran away from Kras, but. Stowed away on a cargo ship and got caught at the docks."

Kras. The name was familiar. Something to do with racing, but Jak hadn't been paying attention.

"So you planning on the Arena too?" asked Sam.

"I still don't know what the Arena is," Jak said pointedly. "Is it for races?"

"See, that's what I thought at first!" Sam exclaimed, "But apparently the only races they do in there are Leapers. It's kinda a community place? Big meetings, festivals, executions, games, theater, combat trials-"

"Festivals?" Jak was mildly intrigued.

"Executions?!" Daxter was not.

"Yeah man. Though to be fair, there's so many ways to die normally outside the walls that it takes a lot to get the death sentence around here. You have to do something really bad for Lord Damas to kill you himself. Like "engaged in the slave trade" or "abused a kid" or "betrayed the city to enemies" kind of bad. Stuff that dishonors a warrior's name for life. Otherwise he gives you a chance for pardon in combat trials."

Jak squinted up at their temporary roommate. "How...does that work, exactly?"

Sam rolled back onto his mattress with a noncommittal sound.

"Depends on whatcha did I think. Smaller offenses you gotta fight a metalhead. Bigger offenses get you more than one metalhead. If it's bad but not death sentence bad, you fight other Wastelanders who already know how you fight."

"Remind me not to get on these guys' bad sides," Daxter stage-whispered.

"So then why would I enter the Arena if I didn't do anything wrong?" Jak pushed.

"Oh yeah, that's the other thing. Civvy candidates who want to be permanent residents gotta prove they can survive the three main dangers of the Wasteland: enemy shooters, treacherous terrain, and lava. So the king makes us do combat trials simulating those conditions until he's satisfied that we won't like. Immediately die if he lets us outside."

Jak considered this for a moment.

"Fair enough," he decided.

"No??? It's not??" Daxter finished slicing off the last mat and gave Jak an appalled look. "Precisely none of that is normal!"

Jak swept the clumps of hair onto the floor and leaned back to let Daxter continue braiding what was left.

"So...you prove you can handle yourself, and they let you stay?"

Sam reappeared over the rail. "Well, you also gotta prove you're willing to work. They don't like lazy people out here, everybody does at least one thing that keeps Spargus operational, even if it's just sweeping the sand out of the stables -- which is about all they let me do on account of last time-"

"What happened last time?" Daxter asked as he finished tying off three fishbone-braids.

They could almost hear the wince.

"I...kind of...failed so hard at wall patching that I dropped an entire bucket of wet clay on a district representative. He got a concussion. It was bad."

There was a chagrined silence, but then Sam rallied. "So yeah, I'm not allowed near construction equipment anymore and I can't switch chores yet. All kids get maximum one job a day, but you get to pick what you do once you either turn nineteen, or get through the third trial."

Wheels were beginning to turn in Jak’s mind. He'd never given much thought to the future, but what if he just. Didn't go back to Haven? What if the crisis ended and he didn't go back? Might be nice to have a place like this on standby.

"So that what the grouch-in-chief said you're training for?" Daxter asked.

"Yep! Already got my first amulet and gun mod!" Sam said cheerfully. "First full trial hurts like a son-of-a-cob, but at least Scatter rounds are non-lethal."

"No they're not?" Jak sputtered.

"Yes they are?" Sam wrinkled his nose. "Scatterguns are what they give kids and civvy candidates because it's not live ammo?"

"No," Jak argued, "You can definitely kill with Scatter rounds. It just takes like six shots."

Sam stared at him with wide eyes.

"What the rot, dude," he whispered.

"What?!"

"You're telling me you've killed people with a practice gun?!"

"Well- well Haven doesn't know they're practice guns!" Jak defended.

"Okay..." Sam grimaced. "Well. Don't do that in your first trial. Only way anyone is supposed to be able to die is if they try to prioritize hunting an opponent over avoiding lava."

"None of this is making me want to try this Arena thing!" Daxter complained.

"What's the second trial?" Jak ignored Daxter's complaints.

Sam looked a little unsure suddenly. "Yellow eco trial. That's um. That's going to be my first combat to the death. And not many candidates signed up for this month's trial so it's just me and three others against a Marauder crew they captured."

"Marauders?"

"Colonists from the mainland," Sam explained. "They're wannabe Wastelanders and I'm pretty sure they're all insane because they run around out there with no shirts, ever. They also run most of the slave trade between Haven and their colony."

Jak's eyes darkened.

"They're slavers?"

"Yep." Sam shuddered. "I've seen some of the survivors brought back when the Wastelanders raid their camps or when Marauder defectors start a riot. They've been through it. And like half the Arena Guard are survivors of the Marauders, so the ring isn't where you wanna end up if you're a blood merchant."

"It's not the guards they should worry about," Jak muttered darkly. Before Sam could ask what he meant, he looked up. "So if you get through three trials, then what?"

"Full rights as a citizen, same as if you were born here."

There was a glint in Jak’s eyes that only Daxter could see, and it Concerned him.

"Ja-aak, nooo-" Daxter groaned, but he knew it was useless.

"I'll go in with you, when they do the trial," Jak offered. "World could always use one less slaver."

"For real?" Sam raised his brows. "You've only been here a day, dude. You need to do some training before you're ready for that."

"Haven's an active warzone," Jak retorted, "and I got forced onto the frontlines for a year. I'll be fine."

"I mean. If you're sure," Sam relented, "I wouldn't mind the company."

"I would," Daxter grumbled under his breath. "I have some objections!"

So, it turned out, did Damas.