#I'm only a few chapters into the first game so this is all subject to change and all that

[stxrvel]

remorse (5)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader... or not? content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, flashback, a lot of remorse, fights, stubborn people, lack of communication, angst. a/n. its finally here. i haven't re read this chapter bc im almost falling asleep and i have to work tomorrow, but i'll give this one another look in the weekend. a friend of mine helped me with the traduction bc i'm really really burnt out rn. also, chapters names changed!! i hope you guys like this one! see you on the next one🫶🏻

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“Oppa…”

Yoongi raised his head, his body leaning toward the piano acknowledging your presence in the room, and you could tell how he was physically struggling to move away from the instrument. Under his watchful gaze, you walked in his direction shuffling your feet, with a pitiful expression and every intention of openly complaining to one of the elders in your group of friends. But you relaxed your expression when you were a few steps away, recognizing his notebook on the piano lid and the trail of ink between his fingers at a safe distance from the keys.

His laughter confused you, and when you looked up, his lips were curved into a pretty smile. It was annoying. He was only two years older than you.

“What happened now?”

You remembered that you had come with a purpose, but your mind, as evasive and suggestible as ever, found more interest in what your eyes had caught.

“The usual,” you barely commented, moving to sit on your legs in front of Yoongi. “Were you writing?”

Yoongi glanced over to find his notebook, his shoulders shaking in a sigh because he knew he wouldn't be able to escape this conversation now that you had discovered him.

“Something like that…”

“Can I see it?”

“It's nothing decent. I don't think it's prudent.”

You pressed your lips together at his response, letting your shoulders droop, disappointed. But it was what you had expected; after all, Yoongi was quite secretive about his notebook, and it was rare for him to let you get this close and know so much about him. Even though you had probably known each other since you learned to swim and multiply, and surely knew more skeletons in his closet than he would like to admit, Yoongi still had a reluctance to show you or anyonw his writings. You had to catch him at a very relaxed moment.

So you set aside your emotions, not allowing Yoongi to respond as you pouted, and crossed your arms while turning your head away.

“Taehyung and Jungkook got so competitive on the court that they kicked us all out,” you frowned, remembering how the two had rushed past you and stolen the ball in the blink of an eye, moving so quickly and with cheeky laughter that you barely understood what was happening until you saw them tussling with the ball in front of the scoring area.

They were already in extracurricular hours, and although everyone had subjects to study and delve into, they decided to take a moment to take advantage of the fact that the school court would be empty and play for a while. Jin and Namjoon had left the game after two quarters because they simply couldn't keep up, and since one was in your group with Jimin and the other with the two kings of competition that day, they decided to kick them out and leave them as referees along with Hobi, who was the initial one.

Surprisingly, Yoongi also didn’t attend the game or his extracurricular class, choosing to get lost in the music room, taking advantage of the fact that it was empty that day because classes ended early.

“I don’t understand why they have to ruin everyone’s fun.”

Your little thirteen-year-old self, ignorant of many aspects of life, could only cross her arms and complain. Yoongi smiled, his two extra years of age giving him an understanding that perhaps you didn’t have access to, because it was inconceivable to you that such a sacrilege could be considered funny. Basketball hours were sacred!

“They're just messing around.”

“Oppa, you should've seen how they were pushing each other,” you shook your head, refusing to believe that Yoongi really wanted to defend them. “If you had been there, you could've stopped them.”

“And Jin?”

“He was laughing with them.”

“Ah,” Yoongi turned his head. “So the second best option was me?”

You shrugged. “Well, I thought I could convince you to go to the court, but…”

“But…?” Yoongi rested a hand on the bench, leaning in to see you on the floor.

“Maybe it’s more fun to listen to you play the piano.”

You smiled brightly, intertwining your fingers while Yoongi wore a half-smile. Without responding, he straightened up again, adopting the posture he had when you saw him through the glass of the door, before you interrupted his concentration. His fingers danced in the air for a few seconds, touching the notes in his head, recalling sound after sound, until the pressure on them gave way to a melody unknown to you.

It had to be a new piece, a new composition in his notebook. Yoongi played, calm and serene, focused and absorbed, letting the sound flow as if it came directly from nature.

Seeing Yoongi like this was… a strange event. Later, as time passed, you would think it was unbearable to have to see him everywhere, to hear his name around every corner, but at that moment you were lost in him, absorbing the sounds of his mind that his fingers materialized on the piano, allowing yourself to be carried away by the tide of his emotions, the way he conveyed so many words with his touches. The fast and slow notes, the change of tempo, all so meticulously created and organized to send a message, to describe an emotion, to paint a scene.

Yoongi was scared. Perhaps nervous, even. When he finished his piece, you could only look at him in awe, his shoulders moving a little faster due to the intensity with which he finished, keeping his head down, as if processing what he had just done. His fear was palpable, his hopelessness and unease.

“Oppa?”

“I don’t know…” he paused, dropping the lid over the keys and taking a calmer posture. “I don’t know if I’ll do the right thing when I graduate.”

“Why?” your brow furrowed, and you leaned forward in concern. “You’ve always talked about it. And you have a lot of talent, oppa, I know you’ll make it.”

Yoongi gave a nearly pained smile, as if he understood something you had no idea about.

“Jin is going to medical school.”

“I know. But it’s what he’s passionate about,” you moved closer to your friend, trying to give him some of the support he always gave you. “Isn’t music what you’re passionate about?”

The black-haired boy frowned. The answer was clear in his eyes, in the way he played the piano until he was breathless, but the gestures of his doubts were there too: when his fingers trembled with anxiety, his eyes gaining more shine as the seconds passed.

“Oppa,” you called, trying to break the silence, trying to prevent his thoughts from eating him alive. “If it’s what you love, you’ll succeed. I’m sure of that.”

You saw how the haze in his eyes disappeared, his features relaxing at least a little.

“I probably only have your support. I’ll have to rely on that.”

His small smile constricted your heart. In that moment, you didn’t know what you could do to show him that it was enough, but you were also unaware of the reality that his words held. It was probably due to your age, the age difference with Yoongi, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he would never be completely satisfied with that. You wondered if it was about you, just for a second, recalling the way he smiled when some of the other boys gave him words of encouragement.

Maybe he was just more vulnerable with you than with the others, but a thirteen-year-old's reasoning didn't go that far.

With your foolish conclusion, you came home that day with a heavy heart.

-

Speaking of loose ends and unresolved issues, there were some specific people who deserved to take home the award and the crown for the most intrigue of the century. Because when you entered Choi Dohyun's office, with Seojun and Yuna on either side, even knowing that there were things still pending answers and others you could barely understand, the last thing you expected was for those you weren’t even aware of to suddenly materialize, like a kick to the stomach.

But keeping your head high and your composure was something you had lacked the last time, and thus, against all odds, your face showed no emotion when you caught a glimpse of Min Yoongi storming out of the office looking angry, not even when his eyes moved towards your figure and his wires crossed for a millisecond, betraying his movements. The sound of his shoes against the floor didn’t even distract you, keeping your gaze fixed on the man who appeared behind the door, with a huge smile on his face and eyes that screamed that signing this contract might take more from you than it would give.

Min Yoongi flanked you, a nearly imperceptible gasp of surprise escaping him as you passed by his side, not even giving him a glance of acknowledgment over your shoulder, as if he were less than a mere insignificant dust particle, and he collected himself as best he could to keep walking, ignoring the astonished looks your companions shot him.

You flashed the biggest smile, a feeling of anger settling deep in your stomach, and you shook hands with Choi Dohyun, who was cheerfully introducing himself with a voice an octave higher than usual.

You didn’t miss the way he shot a glance down the hallway, where Min Yoongi should have been disappearing, and the bitter sensation in your throat intensified.

“Well, don’t take it the wrong way, I’m very happy because we finally have this,” Yuna beamed, raising the envelope with the contract as if it were her most cherished possession, just as they exited the large publishing house and the cool afternoon air greeted them, “but did we just see the damn Min Yoongi leave that office?”

You simply sighed, feeling the tension radiate from your brother’s body, who hadn’t separated from you since the moment you were ushered away by Choi Dohyun's secretary.

“That was… wow. I don’t even have words.”

Seojun rolled his eyes, and you had to suppress the urge to pinch his side when Yuna turned to look at you with the envelope in her hands while you all waited to see your father’s blue car navigate the avenue.

“Do you think… this means we’ll have more opportunities to meet the seven gods of Olympus than most people?”

Her smile made you feel nauseous, but out of her ignorance, you could do nothing but try to mimic it. Seojun, on the other hand, was making nothing but irritated faces.

“Maybe, if you work harder.”

Yuna let out another squeal of excitement, and you took a deep breath when she turned around to look at the cars again. Seojun wrapped his arm around yours, glaring at anyone who came too close, even by accident.

Your friend kept murmuring in disbelief, and all you could think was that she was probably holding in her hands the worst decision you had ever made.

-

Whatever the reason for your encounter with Min Yoongi, you had deduced that your bad luck came down to being out of the house. Putting a foot outside the holy altar of your home was proving lethal for your emotional stability, so you spent the rest of the day locked up, managing your social media and overseeing deliveries.

Dohyun had agreed that the publishing house would handle the entire printing, packaging, and shipping process of the books, as purchases were only growing with each passing day. His real offer was to leave you with nothing to do but continue planning your stories, because at that moment, you were a goldmine for him.

“Unbelievable! Jung Hoseok revealed the truth behind the distancing of the Korean entertainment dynasty.”

The voice coming from Yuna’s phone caught your attention. You lifted your head from the blank document on your computer screen, glancing sideways at your friend, who was comfortably sprawled on your bed with a furrowed brow and a conflicted expression, as intrigued as she was worried about what she had just heard.

“These past few days have been tough for the kings of entertainment, as the last public sighting of them was over a week ago when Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Jeon Jungkook left the businessman’s building and enthusiastically greeted all their fans. As good followers, we know it’s too strange not to see them often, and the last time this happened was when Jung Hoseok had the accident that prevented him from continuing to play professional tennis.”

Yuna looked intensely focused, biting her nail and awaiting the climax of the video. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but you couldn’t deny you were a bit curious about what news they would share, knowing that the boys weren’t ones to openly discuss their private matters.

“With their reputations at stake and rumors flying back and forth [how exaggerated], Jung Hoseok had to come out to clarify the situation. His official statement, which was informally published on the famous app Whotalks, said: ‘We’re all fine. Please be patient with us.’ Whether his statement implies misunderstandings among friends that are in the process of being resolved or if we should wait for an official statement from their leader, we’re not sure. But it’s concerning the—”

“Why would they make such a big deal about this if they aren’t even sure what that post implies?”

Yuna paused the video, giving you a confused look, surely thinking you were immersed in whatever you were doing on the computer (nothing), too busy to pay attention to these “insignificances,” as you used to say.

“Y/N, you really have no idea of the magnitude of power these men hold over the entertainment industry. With a snap of their fingers, they could shake everything.”

“And why did they get so much power?”

“They earned it. Through their hard work.”

You couldn’t help the huff that escaped you. You didn’t find what Yuna had said funny because it was true; they had worked incredibly hard to achieve what they had at that moment. At least you knew that their beginnings had been humble. But it annoyed you, inevitably, because you couldn’t control the resentment shaking in your chest. Healing my ass, you hadn’t forgotten anything from the last few years, no matter how much you wanted to convince yourself otherwise. So much effort to force them out of your life, only for them to find a way to disrupt it again in a week as if they had some right.

What a bunch of audacious—

“Oh. A message came in.”

Your friend sat up on the bed, and you sent her a confused look.

“Messages come in every second, Yuna.”

“It’s from a verified account.”

Without lifting her gaze in your direction, you froze in your chair.

“Oh—”

Oh no.

“No fucking way—” Yuna stood up in the bed, exclaiming loudly: “Kim Taehyung is in your DM's!”

“Tell him to go to hell.”

“¿¿Huh??”

The words slipped out before you could think twice. From the tense way the words left your mouth, you could tell Yuna was torn between asking more or simply contradicting you. Her eyes moved from the screen to your face, her fingers moving almost imperceptibly over the device.

“You know, every time you make it harder to understand what’s going on with these people.”

Finally, she locked her phone and dropped it on one of your pillows. You had never been a fan; your friend understood that. She had never questioned you about it… except for that random afternoon in this same room when she asked too many questions, but after the encounter with Yoongi that afternoon, you wondered what moment or what would need to happen for her to stop believing that it was just a matter of taste differences and for you to have to tell her the truth.

Before everything that happened a week ago, you had never considered it necessary to talk about it because so much time had passed, and you believed you were at a point where things related to them really didn’t affect you anymore, nor would you ever have to interact with them again to warrant giving your friend a statement. But of course, things were different now, and emotions would continue to clash with one another, and you hated to think that their attitudes meant they were trying to return to your life, or at least get involved to some extent, which would imply, strongly, that you would have to tell Yuna what had happened.

“Have you ever thought that you might have run into him if you had gone to the convention?”

“Yeah...” you sighed in defeat. It was impossible not to consider that alternative, how things might have turned out. If you would still have this overwhelming resentment in your chest or if they would have carved their way back into your heart once more.

The foolish you at eighteen would be thrilled right now.

“And even with that doubt... don’t you have even a little curiosity about what he says?”

You preferred not to, to be honest. You would rather just rip out every memory from your head with tweezers to be able to return to a semi-normal life, where your biggest worry should be saving enough for a trip and not when those damn lunatics were going to leave you alone.

But you found yourself stretching out your arm to take the phone when Yuna handed it to you, a grimace of insecurity settling on your face.

“I’m not going to ask,” Yuna spoke, and you sent her a glance just as she turned on the bed and took her own phone to continue watching her celebrity gossip. “I’m not going to pressure you.”

You didn’t respond. You lowered your gaze to the device in your hands, feeling a mix of relief and bitterness. Well, at least she had given you the opportunity to worry about that later.

The screen lit up, and there it was. A new message from Kim Taehyung.

thv Hi. It’s Jimin.

Huh?

You ?

The read notification arrived almost instantly after you replied. With your brow furrowed, you watched the bubble appear from his side of the chat.

thv I’m sorry for writing from Tae’s account, but you blocked me

Ah. Ah. Right.

After receiving the notification that Jungkook had followed you a few days ago, and especially because he had shown up at your work out of nowhere short after that, you had blocked everyone else with an Instagram account, just to be safe.

A small detail.

You Oh, yeah

That Jimin was trying to contact you, considering the context of the whole situation, wasn’t too outrageous. When you studied together, apart from being the first to start teasing others and fostering friendly banter, he was also the first to try to fix things because he couldn’t stand hostile and tense environments. It’s not that you thought he had a chance to fix anything now, but maybe you were a little interested in what he had to say. After several days, it was inevitable not to feel curious, right?

After the bubble appeared and disappeared several times, the message finally arrived.

thv Do you think we could talk in person?

You No.

thv I promise it'll just be me

You No.

thv It can be anywhere you choose

You I said no If you have something to say, write it If you don’t have anything interesting to say, then I’m going to block this account too

thv No Wait Okay.

The sound of Yuna’s phone had faded into the background of your mind. You kept your eyes on the typing bubble, fearing that maybe Jimin would change his mind and decide not to respond to the questions swirling in your head. Now that he was being so persistent, you were more eager to know. I mean, it was the least you deserved, right? Some kind of answer, some kind of reason, a why. Something to explain everything, because the root of that growing resentment in your chest was due to their lack of communication, to their ease in discarding you like a worthless piece of paper, not even caring if the air swept you away or the rain destroyed you.

They owed you something, and you had the right to an answer. You could have moved on, yes; you thought you had, yes; living with resentment in your heart affected a person’s life, yes... but God would be the only living being on earth and in the universe who wouldn’t feel even a pinch of pain for everything that had happened. For the inexplicable disappearance, for the disconnection, for the destruction of an incredible blind trust that was woven with that friendship you believed to be unconditional but ended up being one-sided. Who could really blame you for being cautious of them?

If when you cultivated that friendship, that friendly love, the fruits they returned to you were rotten, how could you simply trust? Who could?

thv I’m sorry for what happened. I know this was very abrupt, and it must have been strange for you

Strange, for lack of a better word. Strange was a euphemism.

thv I apologize on behalf of everyone.

You I’m not interested

thv If we could meet in person, I could explain better

You I’m not interested. That wouldn’t change anything.

thv I know this goes beyond what happened this week, but I don’t want you to have a bad impression

You You’re a damn audacious one, Jimin Do you think it’s only the latest thing that would make me see you all negatively? Is that the only thing you’ve done? Or well, what you haven’t done either

thv Okay, I expressed myself very poorly I know we were already on bad terms before; I meant that I didn’t want it to get worse

You Well, honestly, I didn’t think it could get worse until now.

thv I’m making it worse

You Wow, apparently you do have awareness and common sense For many years, I thought you lacked that

You blocked the phone, letting it drop onto the table, your heart racing because of the audacity that man had to refer to what had happened as if it were just a silly childhood memory, as if it had simply been a stupid basketball game where you weren’t allowed to play. That only reinforced your thinking, the only plausible reason you had given life to over the past few years, the only explanation you had for their disappearance: that they never cared about you as much as you did about them; that you were never truly fundamental in their lives. Because, come on, they had built a friendship and shared memories before you appeared on the scene; they knew each other beforehand with a depth you could never reach, long before your name reached their ears. They had a connection; you were never ignorant of that; there was something in them that kept them united, something that made them understand each other almost on a spiritual level, and naively, you believed they had made you a part of it; that you had managed to be part of that connection.

But no, it was never like that. It was always one-sided. Whether you were a game, a case of charity, or someone they simply couldn’t say no to, you had no idea, but none of those options felt too foreign to reality. Especially considering the way Jimin referred to the past as if it had been a child's game and nothing more. There was never more for them. You should've known that.

thv I’m really sorry, y/n I truly wish I could talk to you in person I promise I can explain many things

His messages shone on the lock screen, and more than feeling curious again, you felt rage. So now they could talk. Now they could fucking communicate. Where was that willingness ten years ago? Five years ago, even? You never thought you would see any of them so willing to offer you what you had longed for, maybe at least to finally bring closure to the whole situation.

But you didn’t want to give them the right to become the victims in this situation. They had time to do something, yes, now you knew, and they simply chose not to; it was high time you really let it go. Let them go. What would an explanation fix now? When, if there was still something of the friendship you built, it should've crumbled to dust. Their willingness now meant nothing. If you ever saw any of them again, you would rather rip their hair out in a fit of rage.

You Fuck you Fuck all of you

And you blocked Taehyung’s account.

Anticipating any possibility, you also blocked Jungkook and hoped that would be the end of it.

Finally, you would try to seek true healing, because it was about damn time.

-

You y/n, I'm so sorry y/n? y/n????????????????

Oh no. Taehyung's going to kill me.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Speaking of the king of Rome.

Park Jimin flinched, tightening his fingers around the phone he was holding, which clearly wasn’t his, literally caught red-handed. He swallowed hard when his friend’s footsteps drew closer, circling around to face what he feared most.

“Jimin...” Taehyung began, his confused expression turning into caution, quickly shifting his gaze between the phone and the wide-eyed blonde. “Tell me you didn’t do it.”

Jimin shrank even more, pursing his lips, realizing there was no escape. In his defense, he had fervently believed for a moment that he would succeed. Taehyung hadn’t agreed from the start, especially given how angry Yoongi had been that afternoon when he arrived at the penthouse and how he had locked himself in Namjoon’s office, and the tone of their voices hadn’t diminished for even a second, especially not when Jin arrived an hour later.

Taehyung and Jimin weren’t sure what had happened, but considering the recent events, they could make an educated guess.

It all led back to you.

They were surely paying for what they did.

“I told you it was a terrible idea!” Taehyung strode closer and snatched the phone from Jimin’s tightly clenched hands. Jimin let out a defeated sigh, sinking back against the couch as Taehyung began to scroll through the messages, growls escaping his throat.

“I didn’t think she’d be so...”

Jimin hesitated, and when he turned to look at his friend, his furrowed brow silently asked, “are you serious?”

Another defeated sigh escaped him.

“You’re not fixing anything. If Namjoon finds out about this...”

Taehyung didn’t finish his sentence, but Jimin understood. But could any of them really blame him? Let he who is without sin cast the first stone! No one was a saint in that place when it came to you. At least he had the decency to try to explain things when the others just charged in as if nothing had ever happened (for now, Taehyung and Jungkook, simply because he still had no idea what had happened with Yoongi).

The problem, of course, was that Jimin was better at comforting someone in person than through messages.

“There's no going back from this.” Taehyung murmured, still focused on the screen. The shine in his eyes gave Jimin an idea of what was going through his mind, and he remained silent until Taehyung looked up. “We really messed up.”

“Did you need this reality check?”

“Did you?” Taehyung frowned. “I don’t know why you expected a different response.”

“Well, what did you expect to happen doing what you did?”

Jimin watched his friend click his tongue.

“What did you expect me to do? I didn’t think it would snowball like this.” Taehyung shook his head, and Jimin barely recalled with a shudder how the atmosphere had felt in the penthouse after Tae had posted that story about your books on his Instagram. “I just wanted...”

Once again, Taehyung chose to remain silent, but in his absence of words, Jimin understood.

To make up for it.

“Obviously, I’m not going to say anything,” Taehyung added, shooting a sideways glance at his blonde friend. “After whatever happened with Yoongi, I don’t even want to imagine how Namjoon would react if he finds out about this.”

“If he finds out what?”

Jimin and Taehyung froze on the couch, watching through the reflection of the TV as the person appeared behind them before they could recognize the friendly yet concerned tone.

Jung Hoseok circled the couch, clearly troubled by what he had just heard. It was evident he had just returned from practice because his hair was wet and he looked somewhat flustered, his cheeks flushed despite the chilly weather that night. He dropped his training bag on one of the armchairs, and Jimin averted his gaze when he caught his friend's eyes. It wasn't that they usually kept secrets and tiptoed around the others, but ever since Jungkook had pulled that stunt of searching for you at work when Namjoon had expressly forbidden it, the waters between them had been a bit tense, and any topic involving you could explode any healthy and cooperative conversation in seconds.

Hoseok crossed his arms, allowing his cheerful expression at finally arriving at the penthouse to fade completely, hardening his features as he shot a stern look at the two young men.

Taehyung also averted his gaze. The moment he heard Hoseok's voice, he tucked the phone between his legs and probably looked tenser than he should have. He, just like Jimin, didn’t dare meet Hoseok’s eyes at that moment. Because Hobi had stopped at the door, and with whom they had in front of them, they couldn't hesitate. They both knew it, they both understood.

And Hoseok knew very well. He was aware of all the tricks the two shared and could sense from their silence that they were up to something. Besides, of course, their conversation had been overly revealing. They had to be thankful it was him who arrived in the midst of their confessions, and of course, he would demand to have a conversation of such gravity with such freedom.

But no, in that house, secrets were not kept.

“If he finds out what?” Hoseok emphasized the words, urging the stubborn young men to keep their mouths shut.

Hoseok then exhaled through his nose in a sigh.

“Is it about y/n?”

Jimin and Taehyung lifted their gazes, a bit tempted but diverting their eyes as if pretending to be uninterested. While the atmosphere had been very tense lately, Hoseok and Jin had kept themselves somewhat distanced from all that unease, mainly because their demanding jobs kept them away from the penthouse most of the time. Namjoon, for his part, couldn’t escape the topic as easily since he had an office at home, initially to monitor them in a healthy way, and now because he felt the need to keep an eye on each of them to prevent them from doing something stupid.

Yoongi... well, maybe he had tried to stay on the sidelines, but he had clearly failed miserably if he had ended up arguing with Namjoon and Jin.

“What did you guys do now?”

Hoseok's severe tone was chilling. Jimin remembered the times he had decided to participate in his dance classes, the few that he taught personally each month, and how he had felt Hoseok’s sharp gaze and his blunt comments about his steps in front of all the students. It was as if he became another person. Although it was terrifying, the two young men admitted it was refreshing to see him like that in the academy, because he had lost a bit of his spark since his accident. Before, he only looked that serene and committed when he was at his tennis practice.

At that moment, however, Jimin and Taehyung appeared more reluctant despite his severe attitude, because they didn’t know if he would spill the beans to Namjoon afterward.

“And what happened with Yoongi?”

The slight softness in his tone made Jimin lift his head. Still with his arms crossed over his chest, Hoseok sat across from them at the table in the center of the room.

Jimin sighed, and Taehyung shot him an alarmed look. Are we really going to give in this quickly?!

“We don’t know what happened with Yoongi. He just arrived in the afternoon, locked himself in the office with Namjoon, and they wouldn’t stop arguing. Then Jin came in, but that didn’t make them stop.”

Hoseok looked up, scanning the hallway. Now the house was silent, perhaps more grave and tense than usual. Hoseok didn’t know how it had come to this and hadn’t sensed that atmosphere immediately.

“Is Jin here?”

“I think he’s in his room,” Taehyung replied, shifting on the couch. “He stormed out of the office a while ago.”

Hoseok grimaced at the mere thought, causing a shiver.

“Then it is about y/n.”

Jimin and Taehyung once again averted their gazes.

“Oh, come on.” Hoseok uncrossed his arms, more frustrated than angry at that moment for not being able to fully understand what was causing so many arguments among his friends. “I’m not going to go talk to Namjoon later, regardless of what you tell me. I just want to understand.”

The two young men exchanged a glance, Hoseok believed, communicating mentally. It was always strange but interesting how those two could understand each other at such a level that often they didn’t even need a look. They could support each other's ideas without overthinking it, just like they were doing at that moment in front of him, and Hoseok couldn’t help but think that this topic could cause them more harm than they realized. That these two were even hesitant to share something with him now, fearing to do so, considering whom they could trust or not, spoke volumes about how this issue was being handled and it was not healthy at all.

Hoseok didn’t know that Namjoon had been arguing. The only time he had talked about that topic with the others was when Jungkook’s incident happened, because by crossing such a clear and blatant line, Namjoon saw the need to have a group meeting to set some ground rules. But whatever had continued to happen that he was unaware of was creating cracks in the trust of all the members, and that didn’t sit well with him at all.

“I wrote to her on Taehyung’s Instagram,” Jimin began, looking down with his hands intertwined on his legs. “And I might have made things a lot worse...”

“Might have?” Taehyung turned to look at the blonde, who barely raised his head to meet his gaze before Hoseok interrupted.

“And what did you say to her?”

Jimin pressed his lips together. “I asked if we could meet in person, and when she said no, I just tried to apologize for everything.”

“Don’t forget that you proceeded to carry out a rather undisguised gaslighting.” Taehyung added.

“I didn’t manipulate her!”

“You spoke to her as if everything that happened didn’t matter at all!”

“That’s not how it was! I just expressed myself very poorly,” Jimin exclaimed, facing Taehyung’s accusations, who remained with his arms crossed and chin raised, clearly in disagreement with him. “You, more than anyone, know that I don’t communicate well through text.”

“Because you overthink everything. You didn’t even need to text her in the first place. I told you it was a terrible idea. Now she hates us even more!”

“Did she say that?” Hoseok intervened.

Taehyung gave him a disbelieving look.

“And I quote: fuck all of you.”

Hoseok took a deep breath, trying to process the situation. Taehyung looked angry, and Jimin appeared offended that Taehyung was so upset about what he had done, in addition to misrepresenting his words, if Hoseok understood correctly. But the brown-haired guy had a point: it had indeed been a terrible idea, and Namjoon would lose all his hair if he found out. He understood Jimin’s motivation for trying to reach out, but Hoseok felt Jimin had lost some tact in the process by approaching you just to find a quick solution. Clearly, the atmosphere in the penthouse was affecting everyone, and not in a good way. He couldn’t judge or blame Jimin for trying to lighten the situation for both parties, even if he could have approached it differently.

So Hoseok sighed, understanding the magnitude of the problem they had, and turned to the two young men who were now looking at him attentively, after recently avoiding his gaze as if their lives depended on it.

“How did you think you were going to meet her with the level of fame you have?”

Hoseok knew Jimin had acted on impulse, and perhaps addressing the underlying reasoning would make him think better next time, if there was one.

Jimin opened his lips slightly, confused.

“I... I don’t know, but I would've found a way.”

Taehyung scoffed. That would have been impossible because, surely, only after Jungkook, Jimin was one of the most recognizable faces in the industry and, therefore, couldn’t walk freely down the streets without having a horde of fans behind him within seconds. If, for some divine reason, you had agreed to meet with Jimin, then he would have exposed you too much to the public eye and you would have had more problems before getting any answers.

“There’s no way, Jimin.” Hoseok spoke, as the blonde shot a fierce look at his brown-haired companion. “We’re no longer in a small town.”

The two young men turned to the elder, putting their silly squabbles aside. A feeling of nostalgia and longing filled the air, embracing them and bringing to the surface poorly buried memories in the gardens of their minds; the gusts of Hoseok’s words uncovered them easily.

“We can’t afford that luxury now. We lost the opportunity a long time ago.” Hoseok reminded them, with a hint of discord in his voice.

Taehyung hated remembering those times. Having had his hands tied, sealing his mouth voluntarily, believing he had no other option... it completely sickened him. For a long time, regret had physically drained him.

“I won’t talk to Namjoon, don’t worry.” Hoseok assured them, and although the two young men should've breathed with relief, the truth was that they already felt too shaken. “But be more careful about where you talk about these things.”

“What things?”

“Fuck!”

Taehyung jumped off the couch when the voice came from his right, being the closest to the source. The three friends turned to see Yoongi, walking down the hallway from his room to the main living area of the penthouse.

“Are you guys sharing secrets?”

Instead of being scared, Jimin and Taehyung fell back onto the couch, letting out an exhausted breath. Yoongi shot a confused look at Hoseok, who returned it with a more severe expression.

“Come here, Yoongi. We need to talk.”

-

i hope you guys enjoyed! and thanks to my friend for helping my unresponsive overworked ass.

[Friend: I don't know if the tags worked. I'm sorry!]

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7 @11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi

[rika-mmendmethings]

Interdimensional Epiphany l Rafayel

CHAPTER 2

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Summary: A fortnight of compensated leave from your company was supposed to be a rejuvenating experience. Things take an unexpected turn when Rafayel, your choice of ML, starts becoming self-aware. His love knows no bounds, not even interdimensional ones.

Warning(s): Subject to change as we progress further into the story. For the prologue, currently none. Though story has major character deaths, subdued manipulation, heavy angst with a happy(?) ending, slight yandere themes, fluff, did I mention angst? (I'm so bad at tagging send help)

Word count: 2.0k

Playlist coming soon.

Notes: As promised, chapter 2 is released on Wednesday and you can expect every new chapter every Wednesday. Keep in mind, that as cute and a total man-child Rafayel is; he can also be vengeful and undeterred from what we've seen in his anecdotes. If you feel that this is too serious for him, then you simply need a better understanding of the red-flag side of Rafayel shown in some parts of the game. This story circles partially around that side of his as well, so I don't feel it should be that much uncharacteristic. Mikayla is the name of the mc in this fic and aside from Rafayel no-one else is aware of being a video game character. Anyways, hopefully you enjoy the read and stay tuned for the series. Lmk if you wish to be added to the tag list for this. ♥

Taglist: @loveanddeephistory @lyssandraxo @micasosa34 @ittybittyfanblog @hyein21 @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @blessdunrest @altair718 @3fg7 @froleineeeee @mikachux3 @aiehtta

You were thoroughly enjoying the first week of your compensated leave. You spent an entire day sleeping, waking only for a few hours to eat and freshen up before drifting back into restful slumber. After weeks of relying on takeout and fried foods, you finally went grocery shopping. You reconnected with a few friends, had meaningful conversations with your parents, and allowed yourself to indulge in a long, relaxing skincare routine. Your headspace was beginning to feel clear and at ease.

You even treated yourself to foam roller workouts, easing the tension in your sore muscles. You’d start a session with Rafayel in Quality Time, and for the next thirty minutes, your focus would be entirely on stretching and relaxing. It was the perfect way to unwind and restore balance to both your body and mind.

Rafayel found himself pausing every now and then and it wasn’t even because of the programming, he had long broken out of that. He never particularly enjoyed exercising on land anyway because it made him all sticky and gross but he sure as hell liked you exercising. He would pedal mindlessly on the gym bike, dusky eyes trained on you as you rolled the foam roller up and down the length of your hamstrings. He felt like a Victorian man seeing ankles whenever your shirt rolled up slightly and he would see a sliver of your waist. He banged his head on the handle of the bike, ears red as the soft, blissful sounds of your relief filled the room, signaling that most of your muscle tension had been eased.

When you grabbed your phone after the 30 minutes had passed, you were completely rejuvenated, and Rafayel was far from it. You tied your hair into a ponytail, and Rafayel drank in the sight of you — a pink scrunchie perched between your lips, beads of sweat trailing from your forehead down your collarbone and disappearing wholly after reaching your cleavage. He was accustomed to adjusting his footing every so often due to his Lemurian nature, but now, he found himself losing his balance for an entirely different reason. And it wasn’t just because of the gorgeous woman before him. No. Yes.

After freshening up following your workout, you grabbed a bag of chips and made your way to your bedroom, practically melting into the satin sheets as soon as your back hit the mattress. With no plans to leave the house today, you decided to spend a few hours indulging in your favorite game. You had even charged your phone in advance for this moment. Logging back in, you claimed the rewards from your daily tasks. Rafayel was sitting in the Destiny Café, casually inspecting his nails.

You went to change the lead character on your screen to Sylus, but a bug prevented you from doing so. Every time you clicked on his character, the game’s main interface reappeared, with Rafayel still sitting in the chair. Frustrated, you tried selecting Zayne instead, but you were met with the same result — the now agitated, purple-haired man.

He tapped his foot impatiently, his eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a frown. It almost seemed like he was annoyed by something. You dismissed it as something characteristic of him and muttered with a smile, “What? Only want me for yourself?”

“Yes.”

His tone carried a sense of finality, and once again, his words didn’t appear in the usual white speech bubble, as they always did. This unexpected shift left you momentarily stunned. Was it the strange behavior of his character, or was it the flutter in your chest that unsettled you? You weren’t sure, and frankly, you didn’t want to delve into how delusional you might be getting. So, like you often did with your past, you ignored the problem and clicked over to the memories tab.

Earlier, you’d purchased the "Poised Elegance" outfit from the lunar shop and were excited to dress up Sylus’ Goodcat Code memory using Illusio.

The moment you pressed the button, the screen went black. You waited a few seconds, tapping on the screen, but nothing happened. Just as you were about to check your internet connection, the interface of Destiny Café reappeared. You huffed in disbelief and tried using Illusio on the other characters, but aside from Rafayel, the game would reboot every time. 

Already frustrated by the situation, you decided to pull for Caleb’s myth using the 20 free wishes. You nearly dropped your phone in disbelief as you saw that all ten cards were Rafayel’s four stars and three stars. This had never happened before. Sure, you’d occasionally pull two or three additional cards of a specific lead, but all ten cards being from one character, out of five possible options, was nothing short of perplexing. You gulped, using the remaining 10 wishes as well, and your soul almost left your body as you stared, wide-eyed, at the new set of 10 cards — every single one of them a 5-star and all of them Rafayel’s.

Just last week, during Rafayel’s "When Tides Echo" myth rerun, you had spent every last one of your dias and still hadn’t pulled a single memory of the pair. And now, all ten cards from that myth were what you had managed to get. You couldn’t believe it. You had seen players joking about miracles like this in the candle circle memes, wishing for such luck to happen to them, and now here you were, pulling for Caleb — and getting Rafayel.

You were many things, but ungrateful wasn’t one of them. So, you immediately rushed to the memories tab and ranked up his myth cards before awakening them. Once you were done, you found yourself back in Destiny Café, facing Rafayel. You finally let out the squeal you had been holding in and pressed a kiss to your screen. Rafayel’s ears turned red once again, and his lips curled into a gentle, sincere smile at the sight of your infectious joy.

“I love you so much, Infold,” you chirped, and Rafayel’s smile faltered. He should’ve been the one that line was addressed to. 

You logged out of the game, humming to yourself as you went over to your kitchen to prepare a celebratory dinner of some good ol’ spaghetti, leaving a spluttering Rafayel stuck in his spot at the Café. 

"Rafayel, I'm not letting you go first on the claw machine this time." Mikayla flashed him a playful wag of her finger, signaling that she wouldn’t be giving in to him today. She practically bounced over to the machine, her hands hovering over the buttons.

Rafayel, however, was leaning lazily against a wall, his dusky eyes focused on his nails rather than the bubbly woman in front of him. He replied, "Sure, MC. I’m not in the mood anyway."

Mikayla paused, glancing back at him over her shoulder with a raised brow. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she wiggled her eyebrows. "What? No ‘miss bodyguard’ or ‘cutie’ this time? You wound me."

Rafayel didn’t bother to look up. Instead, he nonchalantly dropped onto one of the nearby couches, crossing his legs and throwing an arm over his eyes as though blocking out the world. His voice, laced with indifference, carried over to her. "Let me know when you’re done, Mikayla. I’m resting my eyes for a bit."

And with that, he drifted into the land of dreams, leaving Mikayla standing alone by the claw machine, frowning.

She couldn’t make sense of his behavior. Mikayla knew Rafayel was often a bit petulant, but she had never seen him act quite this distant. For the past week, while he had helped her gather information for her new mission, he’d seemed more aloof — dismissing her attempts to make plans or even join her for a casual meet-up. Something had shifted, and Mikayla was determined to figure out what it was, though she knew she’d need to wait for the right moment to get to the bottom of it.

Rafayel didn’t intend to come off as rude, but he was too exhausted to lift a finger now. The past week had been nothing short of grueling — exhausting with a capital E. By day, he had to watch you log in, then rush around performing tasks and maintaining an act of normalcy to avoid raising suspicions. And when you slept, he scoured the darker corners of the world for information on what was truly happening. Yet, every person he approached simply advised him to see a psychiatrist, urging him to keep his — and he quotes — "barely sane, childish thoughts" to himself and not bother them. 

Somehow, by the end of the week, you had unwittingly become his source at the end. He had overheard you ranting to yourself about someone named 'Infold,' expressing a strange mix of hatred and affection — how they were both the bane of your existence and the love of your life. Who was this Infold? And why did you harbor such a paradoxical relationship with them? Why did you refer to them as the love of your life? 

From your scattered monologues, Rafayel had picked up on a few peculiar phrases. He had even started a list in his journal — strange words like “stamina,” “ascend,” “daily login,” “deep space trials,” and others filled the pages, each followed by large question marks. Thomas — bless him — had noticed Rafayel scribbling these words down and informed him that most of these terms appeared to be related to the controls of a game.

At first, Rafayel had dismissed the notion, but then one day, he overheard you venting as you worked on something beside him during "quality time"—another strange term. He recalled the way your lower lip wobbled slightly as you taped and glued some paper together. “I hate Tyler so much,” you muttered with disdain. “He didn’t even consider the money I spent buying this and just tore it all up like that.” A tense silence followed until you held the paper aloft, your expression shifting to one of subtle satisfaction. 

What he saw on that sheet forever altered his perception of reality. It was a poster of himself in one of his outfits, and in the left corner, emblazoned with bold text, was the label: *“Rafayel: Character of Love and Deepspace.”* He was a game character. Fully alive in his own universe—breathing, thinking, existing—but nothing more than a programmed entity in yours. He felt a deep conflict, struggling to comprehend the full implications. Was this some kind of curse? Has he truly gone insane over the years? If all of this was real, if he really was merely code in your reality, then what cruel twist of fate had disrupted the natural order of things? 

Why was he the only one who had been granted this interdimensional epiphany? 

No-one other than him seemed aware of whatever was happening with him. No one knew that they were all game characters in a different reality. He knew that he could choose to ignore your uncanny existence yet something about you drew him in. It made him wish to escape the world he calls home and just enter yours without a care. Your eyes held all the love and warmth he had ever wanted and some selfish part in him intended to keep it that way. It baffled him further how you were aware that he was a mere programmed character in your world yet you never viewed him as such. 

He wanted to be real for you. 

And he would. He’ll make sure of it.

He was brutally shaken out of his reverie when Mikayla woke him up, showing him the plushies she got. He felt his eyebrow slightly twitch in annoyance when she grabbed his cheeks and squished them. On any other day, he would have let himself be pampered by her affections but this wasn’t just any other day and he was completely not in the mood to entertain her. He watched her retreating figure as she went to play another round on the claw machine. There was only one thought in the front of his mind: He couldn’t get to you in his weakened form. He needed to unlock his full potential once again.

He needed to awaken the seas and restore Lemuria.

And he’ll be doing just that no matter what the price or sacrifice.

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI 

Labor of Love - Part I

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: this shit has zero smut, angst angst angst, did i say angst?, this is so dramatic i'm sorry, expletives, a bit of fluff, pregnancy, cliff hanger, let me know if i forgot anything

Word Count: 8k 

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: You are now entering angst town, please buckle your seatbelts and try to enjoy the ride. Jokes aside, GUYS. This chapter…is the most angsty thing I’ve ever written. I’m excited and nervous, and everything in between. There’s a lot going on in this chapter and I just hope to Eywa that I’ve written it in a way that flows and is easy to follow. I’ve had this idea brewing for months, it feels. Now…this shit was over 20,000 words long. That is a personal record and I will not be subjecting you guys to such a monstrosity. Therefore, this is part one of (at the moment) three. I apologise in advance for the cliffhanger, hehe. Also, welcome to my brain, because idk how I came up with this shit. 

Synopsis: You didn’t foresee this, Ralak kept you in the dark for the sake of you and your baby’s safety. But now the time has come, it’s all too overwhelming for you to process. 

<- Previous-> Next

Ralak never shared more than he needed to when it came to his duties with Tonowari. No matter how much you vowed to keep it confidential. He’s a man of few words, but when it came to his business he kept them fewer.

As much as you knew, his trips inland consisted of hunting and gathering bigger game that most warriors struggled to handle.

There's a few times you can count on one hand that he's come home a little more worn down. Each time you cursed Tonowari under your breath as you helped your mate unwind. You’d insist on knowing what the olo’eyktan had him doing to be so spent and why he had not entirely fulfilled his promise to lighten Ralak of his duties since the mating.

Ralak would be quick to shut you down in the most gentle way despite feeling irritable and sombre. It was always something along the lines of, ‘it keeps you safe, and that is my duty’, and that he’ll ‘discuss it when the time comes’.

It seems the time has come. 

Another gloomy night, rain and thunder tear through the sky. These storms are more frequent in this season, as it’s Ewyas way of keeping the balance with the freshwater and seawater ratio for the mangroves.

But tonight it’s torrential. You’re in full bloom, ready to step into your new chapter of motherhood at any moment. The babe sits low in your womb and you’re swollen from what feels like head to toe. The rain isn’t helping with the soreness in your joints. 

Ralak is seated next to the crackling firepit, stirring the bubbling stew with one hand and mindlessly rubbing your swollen ankles with the other. Meanwhile you lay snuggled in bed, wrapped comfortably in the thick shawl as you listen to the pitter-patter. It’s peaceful, despite the dull ache in your lower back. Maybe the rain isn’t so bad, after all. 

Ta-toom!

The low-pitched sound of the war horn has Ralak's full attention, shredding him of whatever serenity he had in his being. Moving hastily, he stands and darts over to the marui door, slipping into his gear and fixing his largest spear on his back.

The scene unfolding before your eyes is a rare one. You’d only seen him in full gear on the day you first laid eyes on him. The day you arrived here in Awa’atlu. And it brings a sinking feeling to your stomach.

“Ralak… what was that?” You ask nervously.

You watch him aggressively tighten the strap of his tstalsena [knife sheathe; carrier] and chuck a bucket of water in the fire—killing the flame. A precautionary measure. He knows the time has come. He hears your voice but he also hears Tonowari's...

'When the horn sounds… you come. And that…is an order.'

In his head, he’s going through an array of possible responses but there’s simply no time for any of them. Using the frame of the bed to pull yourself up, you slowly come to your feet and waddle towards him.

“Ralak. What is going on?” You ask a little louder, a hand gripping his wrist. 

Turning to face you, his hands fly to support your stomach as he looks you deeply in the eyes. Then he kisses you with purpose. Pressing his lips into yours like it would be the last time, forcing himself to pull away to briefly glance down at his unborn.

It catches you by surprise, leaving you looking up at him open mouthed. Now you’re really scared. It feels like he’s being plucked away from your fingers and there’s nothing you can do about it. “Ralak—”

“I will explain when I am back. All of it.” He already sounds out of breath, fixing the shawl over your shoulders. “You stay here. Stay warm. Do not leave. Do not answer to anyone. Understand?” 

Your forehead wrinkles as you try to process this all. 

Don’t answer to anyone? To whom? Why did he put out the fire? Why is he in full gear? What the fuck is going on right now? He said he’d be back…right?

“Y/n.” He booms your name, yet his tone remains steady and calm. “Understand?”

You nod hurriedly, “Yes. Yes.” 

“I will be back soon.” He fixes your shawl a last time before stepping back and bolting through the door.

You follow behind him, keeping the marui flap open to watch him click for his skimwing. He makes the bond and mounts the beast hastily, and is airborne soaring towards the mainland at full tilt. 

Befuddled, you waddle back inside, your back slamming into the marui stilt as you huff and puff to catch your breath. You nervously check the stew, and see that it’s almost done. The glowing charcoal should be enough to finish it off, so you opt to leave it covered and fidget with the prrsmung [baby carrier] you've weaving for the past couple days. 

Anything to keep you busy. 

——

Ralak effortlessly dismounts his tsurak, letting it glide past him in the water as he climbs up to the communal pod. This is a gathering place for important meetings and announcements to the clan. He watches as others assemble under the larger, woven marui, drenched with the water of the sea and sky. It’s clear that this was a signal for the warriors of the clan, from the elite, to the former. The young and the old. 

Even Zu’té is present, standing lone far off in the corner.

War horn in hand, the olo’eyktan makes his presence known as he stands on the highest part of the pod. His mate, the tsahìk, stands next to him with her chest high and their children next to her.

Jake and Neytiri, along with Lo’ak and Neteyam, group together behind them at the back of the pod, observing the unfolding scene. The warriors begin to chant, defensively positioned with their tongues on display. They’re all armed and ready to protect their own from whatever the impending threat is. Ralak takes his place next to Tonowari, standing tall and still. He observes the uproar before him, his mask of indifference fixed tightly to his face. 

“Mawey. Mawey. [Calm. Calm.]” Ronal speaks loudly over the heavy rain, hands splayed out in front of her. 

But it makes no difference. 

The uproar is growing even louder than the downpour. It was rare to hear this particular horn. It’s been years, ten, to be exact. And those who know exactly what it means are up in arms. Ralak knew this day would soon come, but he was hoping to Eywa that it would be after the birth of his son. Tonowari lets loose a throaty ‘gwah’, driving the butt of his spear into the ground. The crowd hushes down into a dead silence, acknowledging their leader.

“Warriors of Awa’atlu. I summon you for good reason. Ten years have passed and it is time to meet with the ash people once more.” Tonowari begins, only for the younger warriors to mumble among themselves, some of who are unaware of who the ash people are. 

“Tìfnu! [silence!]” Ralak snaps through his teeth, “…the olo’eyktan speaks.” Tonowari nods to Ralak. 

“The treaty has ended. We meet with them far inland to discuss the terms of a new treaty.” Tonowari’s eyes bounce among the sea of na’vi. “It will be no easy or short journey. We must make the trek by foot. Tonight.” 

A few male na’vi are unable to keep their excitement to a minimum and siren a few calls, smacking their strakes together. Neytiri snakes her arm around Jake's upper bicep, tucked under his wing. Neteyam and Lo’ak listen intently, their heads tilted down as they grip their bows firmly. 

“Not all will come. I have chosen a few to be at my side.” Tonowari glances at Ralak, and then the Sullys before continuing, “The rest must stay and protect the clan if needed.” 

Ronal interjects, speaking of the ash na’vi and their horrid way of living—from their occasionally cannibalistic diet to their view of Eywa and the balance. She further reminds the people of the treaty, and that its tenets include immunity from their ‘hunting practices’ in exchange for a resource only attainable on the reef. The treaty is valid for a decade and then the terms are subject to negotiation based on the two tribe’s needs. She commences it by announcing the names of those who have been chosen by Tonowari.

“I need you by my side, Ralak.”

It was a direct order, and Ralak knows that. He knows that no matter what he says, the olo’eyktan’s order must be obeyed. But it doesn’t mean he won’t try. 

“She is due any day now. You know that.” Ralak speaks crystal clear, stating exactly what his concerns are.

He doesn’t want to leave you alone, especially so heavy and full with his firstborn, who will come at any moment. Every bone in his body is telling him it’s the wrong move. But Tonowari glances at his own wife who is swollen with his fourth child.

“I know. I know, Tak. But we must do what we need. For the people.” 

Ralak holds a stare with his superior—his father figure. He’s gritting his teeth to keep himself together, to keep his composure. To keep his thoughts just as his thoughts. The two communicate through facial expressions, and a quick tilt to Tonowari’s head has Ralak looking away in frustration. 

It’s final. 

“No.” Jake butts in, sharp and quick with his disapproval. “He gave me his word.” 

Alas, a moment where father and son in law are in favour of the same thing. 

“You have the sky people and we have the ash people. They demand his (Ralak’s) presence. If we fail in this, we will be at war. He comes with us.” Tonowari is stern with his tone, leaving no room for an argument. 

“Ma’ Jake.” Neytiri chimes in, fright evident in her voice. She is tired of the war. 

As a last resort, Ralak’s gaze shifts over to Zu’té. He knew Zu’té would also be chosen despite his...'retirement'. He was undoubtedly one of the best warriors the clan has ever had, wielding great strength and skill. Zu’té returns the stare, crossing his arms over his chest as he cocks a brow. Their brothership had strengthened after Ralak sought help. 

Jake notices this, and shakes his head with his hands on his hips. “Nope. No. Who is that guy anyways?” 

“My brother.”  

“His brother.” 

The two taller na’vi speak at once. 

“Since when do you have a—You know what? I don’t care. Okay? You? I trust. Him? Not so much. I’d rather my boys stay with her.” Jake says sternly, glancing at Zu’té. “No offence, bud.” 

“Good thing I care not for your opinion, koaktan [old man].” 

“Zu’té.” Ralak whispers harshly, throwing a glare at his sibling. 

“Look, if you got a problem—”

“What about tuk?” Neytiri cuts her mate short, tugging at his arm to remind him of who is watching their youngest daughter. 

“Then they take turns or somethin’, I’m not havin’ one baby girl watched and not the other.” 

“Toruk makto.” Tonowari lays a heavy hand on the former olo’eyktan's shoulder, drawing him away to break the tension. “They cannot step foot on our land with the treaty. She will be safe. Trust me…” Their voices drown out from the pounding downpour. 

As they go back and forth, Ralak begins to process what Tonowari said.

‘They demand his presence’.

Tonowari had made this meeting the topic of conversation over the past few weeks, preparing him for this. But he never mentioned anything about them demanding his attendance in particular. The last meeting with the ash people happened when Ralak was a very young warrior, long before his iknimaya. 

Back then, Tonowari had a different warrior at his side—a different right hand. She was strong and well known for being patient with her students. It was a frequent story at family dinner when Tonowari and Ronal took Ralak under their wing. And as Ralak became Tonowari's right hand man, he was thrusted into enforcing the tenets of the treaty, going inland with Tonowari to uphold the clan's part.

Ralak has only caught a glimpse of them once after delivering the resource to the agreed spot. He had just started these excursions with Tonowari, and his curiosity got the best of him. He looked behind him for just a moment, and caught the sight of a curvy, grey woman hastily gathering and stuffing everything into a satchel of some sort. 

Her stripes were a deep, ashy blue, and her skin seemed almost scale-like. She was rid of any bioluminescence, as if the light within her was gone, and her hair was matted with what looked like burgundy clay. Tonowari then seized the back of Ralak’s neck and shoved him along, advising that he never looks. 

“It is decided. Neteyam, Lo’ak and Zu’té stay.” Tonowari announces as he and Jake rejoin the group, looking at those who are left—Tonowari, Neytiri and Ralak. “We leave soon, make your arrangements.” 

Ralak knew his last few words were directed to him. With that, Ralak strides towards Zu’té. “I know what I am asking of you, Zu’té—” 

“I will do this for you.” Zu’té turns to face Ralak, who’s undeniably uneasy and concerned. 

“Protect her.” 

“You protect her. Get in and get out of there, baby brother.” Zu’té speaks, extending his hand out to Ralak. Ralak nods firmly. He’s right, your safety, along with the rest of the clan’s, depends on how this all plays out. 

“Oe irayo si ngaru [I give thanks to you].” Ralak's hand meets Zu’té’s forearm with a smack. They tug back and forth a bit, silently wishing each other luck on their own endeavours before setting off on their skimwings. 

They arrive, walking with haste along the beach towards the stairs to Ralak’s marui pod in the pouring rain.

“That’s...interesting.” Zu’té makes a comment about the railings for the stairs. 

“She has a hard time without it.” Ralak responds, stopping at the bottom step, coming to the quick realisation that this man will essentially be replacing him for the next few eclipses. “She may need help using them.” 

Zu’té nods, understanding what he really means. “Do not fret, brother. I will take care of your mate.” 

Ralak releases a shaky breath as they make their way to the patio, finding shelter from the rain. 

“Wait here.” Ralak speaks with his back turned, “I must speak with her first.”  

——

A torturous hour has passed, and you’ve burned circles into your marui floor from pacing so much. He’s taking longer than you’d expected, and worry is really starting to set in now. 

What’s going on? What did that sound mean? Why did he leave in such a rush? With all his gear, too? 

You gnaw at the calloused piece of skin on your thumb, keeping a warm comforting hand on your bump to keep your kicking babe calm. Regardless, he continues doing somersaults in your womb.

Fuck it. 

You rush towards the marui door where your gear hangs, and fight with the strap of your chest piece to slip it on you. It won’t fasten and it’s simply too tight to fit your body right now, but you continue to grapple with the stupid strap with shaky hands. 

“Tanhì.” Ralak’s voice is rough and he sounds winded. “What are you doing?” He rushes over to you and quickly removes the piece off your chest. 

“Ralak—oh, thank Eywa.” Your voice is shaky, but thick with relief. “I’m sorry, I just got s-so worried.”

“We must speak. Time is going.” Ralak carefully ushers you over to the bed, and assists you in sitting down, holding your swollen belly along the way. He takes note of his active child, feeling his little kicks and pokes. He comforts his young with a few strokes to your stomach. “Shh-shh, little one. Alright.”

He knows this whole ordeal must be stressing you both, and he’s really regretting not telling you all of this sooner.

“What do you mean?” You ask, urgency thick in your voice.

Ralaks demeanour is nothing short of solemn, tensed jaw and tightened lips. It seems serious, and this man is no person to jest on such matters.

"Ralak...What is happening?"

He takes a moment to reply, his gaze fixed on his hand that still lays firmly on your stomach. He then looks up at you, concern etched into his features. “It is time to speak about… my duties with Tonowari.” 

You feel your heart thud against your ribcage, your eyes widen at the words. You’ve been eager to know, but now that he’s telling you, it implies that everything isn’t alright. It implies… the safety of your unborn is compromised. You nod slowly, trying to remain calm for the sake of your son. 

“We reef people hold a peace treaty with another clan…” the giant begins, slipping his hand from your stomach to clasp yours tightly. “…the ash people.” 

“Ash people?” Your voice is less than a whisper, tiny and croaky.

“They are a horrible people, tanhì. Truly wicked. Kawnglan [malicious; bad hearted]. Much like the sky people.” He shakes his head as he mutters the words, not even wanting to go into any more detail. He didn’t want to taint your innocence. To stress your mind. Especially now that you’re heavy with his child. “The treaty keeps them off this land. It keeps you safe.” 

“Kawnglan [malicious; bad hearted].” You repeat through a gasp. 

“To them, Eywa is nothing. Tsaheylu [the bond] is for control. Their diet…” Ralak catches himself, bringing his words to a halt.

“Their diet…?” Your bottom lip trembles. 

Ralak just shakes his head, taking your other hand with his. “The treaty will soon end. I must go. Tonight.”

“What?!” You shout, wrenching your hands from his grasp to quickly stand up. A shooting pain sears up the side of your stomach, and your hand flies to clutch it. Ralak rushes to steady you.

“Careful, y/n.” He snaps, high strung and tense. “I will be back in a few eclipses.” 

“What? No! No, no. It’s too dangerous.” You protest, gripping his wrists to stay standing.  

“It is the olo’eyktan’s orders. I must.” He’s quick to respond to you. 

This quietens you. Does Tonowari not know that you’re due any day? Or perhaps he doesn’t care. How could he rip your mate away from you at this time? Especially for something so…risky. You feel your fear bubble into something more hot. 

Anger. 

“Then I’m coming.” You announce, dropping your hands from his wrists to waddle over to your gear once more. Ralak stands in front of you, hands on your stomach to stop you. 

“No. You're staying here.” Ralak orders sternly, backing you up to sit back on the bed. 

“No. I’m coming. I’m safer with you.” You resist his pushes, trying to stand firm.

“You are heavy with child.” He grits his teeth, giving you another light push, “I cannot protect you there. You—agh—you are safer here.”

Ralak makes the confession, feeling like he’s failing at his duty as your mate. He shouldn’t even be leaving you, not when you're this far along. He should be by your side, tending to your every need. 

“What? By myself? What if—what if something happens? What if the baby—” You’re cut short by the sound of Zu’té’s not-so-reserved entrance. He yanks the marui flap to the side, ducking under it and standing tall behind Ralak, by just a couple inches. He, too, is fully equipped with his gear and weapons. 

“Brother. I can hear the war party.” Zu’té speaks with haste, keeping his eyes locked onto Ralak. 

'Brother?' Your eyes snap back to Ralak, beady and full of tears. “You didn’t.”

It quickly dawns on you that Ralak had planned this out. Made these arrangements in anticipation things went south and he had no say in the matter. To ensure your safety, and the safety of your unborn by going to the greatest length of rekindling a flame that had been extinct for twelve years. Ralak has spoken casually of his brother before, but never in any great detail. 

“Y/n. This is Zu’té, my brother. He will keep you safe.” Ralak speaks with shame in his voice, knowing this must be way too overwhelming for you. He hadn’t planned for it to go like this. 

Zu’té finally allows his eyes to wander over to you. They widen when they get their first proper look of you, darting all over your body to take in your foreign features.

He caught a glimpse when your family first arrived in Awa’atlu, but never this close. His eyes land on your bulging stomach, lingering a second too long to make even himself a bit uncomfortable. He clears his throat and looks back at Ralak.

You look at Zu’té with anger in your eyes, and then back at Ralak as they begin to swell with hot tears. Zu’té tries to make himself smaller, feeling the thickness of the air now. He backs up into the marui flap, tempted to lift it and walk himself outside to relieve some of the pressure. 

“How long did you say this would be f-for? What if I go into labour? Will you really allow another man to deliver our son?” 

Zu’té quickly but silently excuses himself from the room, taking a spot on the patio with his arms crossed over his chest, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Oh, Toto. What have you gotten yourself into?’

Angry, you shot the words like an arrow and they pierced your mate’s chest with ease. He grimaces, as if he were actually in pain.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I—” You sob the apology, burying your hot face into your hands. 

Ralak embraces you, wrapping his large arms around your body, hugging you close and tight. He sways a little with you, humming deep in his chest. “‘ts alright. You’re okay. Take a breath. I know this is frightening.” 

He understands—it is not uncommon for a navi pair to remain close during the final weeks of pregnancy. It’s an unconscious mechanism, keeping them together for the birth of their offspring. Ralak feels it just as much as you but in order to truly protect you he must go— another thing that he understands. 

“You c-come back to me, o-okay?” Your breath won’t stop hitching. “Come as s-soon as y-you can.” 

“I will, I will. ” He coos, pulling back enough to look down at you. “Mawey, tanhì. Strong heart. For our baby.” 

You nod, lifting your head to look up at him. He sees the terror in your eyes and his heart breaks with guilt. He gently presses his forehead against yours, slowly stroking your back. 

“Nga yawne lu oer, nga yawne lu oer. [I love you, I love you]” He whispers longingly as he closes the distance between your mouths. 

“Nga yawne lu oer [I love you]. S-So much.” You sputter, lips trembling against his.

He kisses you with force, pressing his lips into yours until it almost hurts. You both linger there, not wanting to part ways. But you feel him pulling away, knowing there wasn’t much time left. Instinctively, cling onto him when his lips leave yours. 

“Please don’t go.” You mumble into his chest, knowing that he has no choice.

“I have to, my tanhì.” He mutters as he begins to pull away before letting go completely. 

You follow behind him, thumb in your mouth as you nibble at the skin, hand resting on top of your bump. You watch him call for his tsurak for a second time tonight, and look back at you for a moment. He takes in the sight of you standing next to his older brother, trying to find comfort in knowing that you’re in safe hands. Ralak gives him a nod and mounts the beast, taking off towards the war party.

Leaving you in the presence of Zu’té. 

“Y/n, is it?” Zu’té asks, already knowing the answer.

It’s awkward and he doesn’t do well in these types of situations. He knows comfort is what you need right now, considering you’re now sobbing into your hands again. You’re worried sick. Literally. It’s all making you feel woozy and lightheaded. 

“Listen...” He goes to rest a hand on your upper back, but he hesitates, leaving his hand to hover. He retracts it completely, allowing it to fall back to his side. He sighs, droopy ears and tensed brows. “He will return soon.”

Among all the emotions that cloud you at once, anger still remains roaring at the forefront. You find yourself turning your heel and ignoring his presence, waddling away as fast as your swollen feet will allow it. 

“Leave m-me be.” You spit between hitched breaths, ensuring the flap of the marui door shuts harshly behind you. 

Despite feeling sympathy for you, Zu’té stands outside, finding solace in being alone. He chooses the driest spot, and sets himself up on the patio, getting ready for the stormy night ahead. 

You waddle in to bed, wrapping yourself in the thick shawl that smells like your mate, and lay next to the prrsmung [baby carrier] you still have yet to finish. Feeling defeated and empty, you lay on your side in bed as you process everything, letting silent tears crash onto your bed.

——

You’re not entirely sure at what point in the night that you drifted to sleep, but you wake up in a groggy state. Dried tears make it hard to open your eyes, and your hair sticks to your face. You look around in a daze and realise that it’s still dark outside. 

The pang in your bladder keeps you awake and forces you out of bed, making you wobble to the curtain. You pull it back and are met with the sight of Zu’té sleeping propped up against the marui wall with his spear tucked to his chest. 

Seeing him painfully reminds you of the heart wrenching events of last night. That even though you were hoping and praying to Eywa for it all to be a bad dream—it was all very real. 

An icy cold breeze gusts by, making you shiver under your shawl and Zu’té shift in his sleep. The rain had eased off into a light, continuous drizzle some time during the night. 

Your ears droop with guilt for leaving him out here in the cold, damp night. You let out a sigh and grip the railing to the marui stairs, turning your body sideways to take your first step down. The wood squeaks when it takes your weight, Ralaks usual tell tale sign that you’re sneaking out at night without his help. 

It seems to work for Zu’té too because by the time you reach the second step you hear a raspy voice.  

“I was told you need help with these.” Zu’té offers his hand. You let out a sigh and take his arm. 

 You’ll admit, his helping hand is actually helping, especially now that you’re so far along. 

“Irayo [thank you].” You mutter, holding on tightly as you make your way to the bottom step. Zu’té leans against the railing, waiting for you to finish your business. 

You don’t take long, most trips recently have been false alarms—just the baby pushing on your bladder because he’s so low down. As you make your way back to the stairs, your lower back begins to warm up. It radiates to your upper and inner thighs, making them ache as you walk. 

It’s nothing new, aches and pains are becoming more frequent as the days pass, and the cold certainly isn’t helping. Zu’té meets you at the bottom step with an extended elbow, and you take his arm without a second thought. 

It starts to rain again, hard. The temperature easily falls by a few degrees and all you want is to be inside the warmth of your bed right now. Your feet move at a quicker pace and as much as Zu’té tries to be gentle as he can, his grip tightens. 

“Take your time.” He says, keeping you steady as you reach the top step. 

Once you get to the door, he immediately lets go of you, stepping aside to take his spot on the patio for the remainder of the night. You pull back the marui flap but find yourself hesitating to step inside. You look over your shoulder, watching Zu’té tuck his spear close to his chest and prop himself against the wall.

“Zu’té.” You say. He looks at you, brows raised as he listens. “It’s cold out here. You should come—” 

“Don’t worry about me.” He cuts you short, closing his eyes. 

“I’m not.” Your words are quick and almost defensive. 

Zu’té chuckles a bit, if you could even call it that. “Sounds like you are.” 

You sigh, getting a little irritated. “Whatever.”

“I’ll be alright out here.” He says nonchalantly, opening his eyes to look directly at you. Your heart skips a beat and you feel the blood drain from your face. You thought Ralak was intimidating, but this guy is something else. 

“Sure.” It’s awkward, but a good awkward…if that were a thing. “Night.”

“Wake me if you need me. No more sneaky shit.” He’s muttering now, ready to go back to sleep. “And get some rest.”

You hold back your laugh, a little amused by the stark difference in his personality and Ralaks. How are they brothers? Or related, even? 

“Will do, sir.” You match his sarcastic tone, entering the marui and laying down in bed, hoping to Eywa that sleep will find you soon. 

——

Village life continues despite Ralak and the others' absence. You wake up earlier than usual, despite the exhausting circumstances. Your baby moves, letting you know he’s awake too. 

“Daddy will be home soon.” You reassure your babe, gently rubbing your stomach. 

Perhaps you were also reassuring yourself. 

You feel empty, and numb. And as much as you want to lay in bed all day and wait for your mates return, you still have a few things left to do before your son’s arrival. 

First thing being, getting some food in your system. 

You get ready, and walk outside, noticing that Zu’té is no longer in his spot. 

He wakes early. 

Looking out into the distance, you catch sight of Zu’té crouching next to a small flame, cooking what seems to be squid. It’s hard to be sure of what it is—the sun hasn’t fully bloomed, and though the rain has stopped it’s still a bit gloomy. You make your way over to him, taking extra care when going down the stairs.

“Morning.” You say nonchalantly. 

Zu’té’s ears spring up and he looks behind him—behind you—directly at the stairs. His brows lower and he sighs quickly, knowing there’s no point in making the comment. He looks back at his task, turning the slightly charred squid impaled by a sharpened branch. 

“You’re up early.” The giant states, back turned to you to reveal his insanely intricate tattoo. 

“Same to you.” You respond, staring at his back hard enough to burn holes into it. You see some scarring and thickened skin, presumably from his days as a warrior. That much you knew because of Ralak. 

“Squid. Help yourself.” Zu’té says, handing you a stick of burnt squid. 

Taking it from him, you hold it in front of your face, a little baffled at how he seemingly saw nothing wrong with it. 

“Hm…thanks. Looks…well done.” You try to force a smile, to no avail. 

You try to take a seat next to him, struggling to keep your balance as you lower yourself to your knees. His ears lay flat and he instinctively springs to his feet, helping you sit down. He didn’t think you’d join him here. 

It’s silent. Uncomfortably silent. And awkward. You keep your extremities close and your tail closer, curled up in on yourself to remain as small as you can. Although, in comparison to your mate's brother, you were tiny. 

He’s not taller by much, but still taller nonetheless. It really makes you wonder how their parents looked for them to turn out this way. 

Zu’té eats hastily, shovelling the squid in his mouth as if it had the ability to slither away. It makes you look back at your own serving and suddenly your nerves go haywire. You didn’t want to risk getting sick, your bedside bucket is too far away to fetch. But you didn’t want to be rude—he’d obviously woken up early to make this for you. 

You take an experimental bite and fight for your life to keep a straight face. You exaggerate a nod and cover your mouth with your hand, hiding the way you're smacking away at this blubbery piece of meat. 

“Mm. Mhm.” You grunt, forcing it down and clearing your throat. “It’s—uhm, it’s not—”

“I am no ‘emyu [cooker].” He says, chucking his cleared stick into the fire. 

“Ahem—yeah. Yup.” You twirl the stick between your pointer finger and thumb, bringing his attention to your five fingered hand. His eyes widen a bit before quickly looking away, and you tuck them back in between your thighs. 

“Thanks for breakfast.”

“Sleep well?” 

You both speak at the same time, unintentionally clearing the tension in the air. 

“I suppose, all things considered.” You try to speak lightheartedly. “And you? Did any part of you freeze?” 

Zu’té laughs and shakes his head. “No, not quite.” 

“Well, that’s good.” You say, looking out at sea to witness the sun's emergence. It casts an orange hue over the water, illuminating the ripples of the oncoming waves. 

He’s watching it too. 

“Your tattoo.” You speak softly, witnessing his ears flutter. “…on your back.” 

“Ah. What of it?” 

“What does it mean? I mean—” You stutter, still adapting to the idea of inking being a symbolic statement. “What’s the story behind that?” 

The story replays in his head—the death of the spirit brothers and family. It flashes before him, as if he were in that moment again. The guilt and pain inside him is eternal, something that’s never left him since. He’s never spoken of it, not even to the person he hurt the most through it all—Ralak. 

His ears pin back and his jaw tightens. He shrugs his shoulders and mutters, “Felt like it.” 

“So…you’re telling me you did that, for fun?” The surprise is evident in your voice as you look at the tattoo again. His skin is raised and it spans the entirety of his upper back. “That must have been really painful. Ralak did mine and it took days.” 

“Didn’t hurt.” Zu’té says, turning his body to you yet keeping his eyes on the sun. But it did. It hurt—a lot. Self inflicted pain, to symbolise the pain he inflicted on others, even if it weren’t his intention. 

Maybe they are brothers. You think.

“You going to eat that?” He asks, interrupting your train of thought, pointing at your squid on a stick. 

“Uhh—I’m going to pass.” You answer, offering it to him, “…sorry.” 

“Again. Not a ‘emyu [cooker]” He takes it gladly, biting off a decent chunk and chewing at it unbothered with a deadpan expression.

Nevermind. 

Now the silence isn’t as awkward. You choose to sit here a while longer, enjoying this moment as much as you can before coming back to reality. The reality that there may be a war brewing. That—

Ralak isn’t here. 

Well, that didn’t last long. 

Sadness washes over you, making your ears droop and your tail heavy. Your baby gives you a sudden, hard kick in the ribs, as if he were telling his mummy to cheer up. You uncross your legs and shift your weight to the one side, getting ready to get up and be productive.

 Zu’té seems to take note of that. 

“Need to get up?” He asks, chucking yet another stick into the fire. 

“I got it.” You grunt, shuffling to your knees.

Zu’té lets out a displeased grumble, understanding what his brother meant when he said you have a stubborn streak. He goes to help you anyways, supporting you by the elbow. 

You’re just about standing when you feel a sharp stabbing pain in your back. It makes you jolt and grab onto Zu’té, whose slight irritation instantly turns into concern. 

“Y/n.” 

“I’m good, I’m good.” You repeat out of breath, steadying yourself before letting go. He seemed unsure if you really were okay. “Really. Happens all the time now.” 

Zu’té nods, letting go and giving you a little more space. “Alright.” 

——

The meeting spot is no other than the ‘head quarters’ of the ash people. It is only on this occasion that another clan may step foot on their land and walk away with a beating heart. That is, if all goes well. Tonowari is confident, however, knowing that the resource they provide the ash people is sufficient enough to prolong the treaty for many decades to come. 

It is an ore that forms deep underwater, and can only be extracted by the most skilled divers. Divers that can hold their breath for up to half an hour. The use of this ore remains unknown to the reef people, but the ash people are quick to seize it almost instantaneously at the drop off point. The ore is plentiful among the reef, renewing itself as it is harvested—the act of the great mother restoring balance as needed.

Truth be told, although the reef people are a peaceful people, it is no secret that they hold some of the strongest warriors on Pandora. They are proud of their home, and will fight to protect it at all costs. Even the ash people know this. Which is the reason for their agreement on something as laughable as a ‘peace’ treaty.

Otherwise, what’s really to stop them from annihilating the reef people and taking the ore themselves?  

Ralak meets with the others—Tonowari, Jake, Neytiri, and Ronal. They all set off far inland to the place the two clans met ten years ago. The trek is long and tiresome, leaving Ronal winded and in need of a couple breaks along the way. She is, too, heavy with child, but as tsahìk, she perseveres. Tonowari had tried to convince her several times to stay home, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

“We are here.” Tonowari announces as the group nears the settlement of their natural enemy. It’s a rocky environment, much like the reef but with plenty of soil and clay. “Heads straight. Ignore them.”

——

Zu’té stays nearby the marui as he tends to some of Ralak’s duties, keeping an eye on you from afar. You sit comfortably on the bottom step of the marui stairs, concentrating on finishing your baby’s sling. Your fingers are a little swollen, making it more difficult to weave. Frustrated, you plop the sling to your side and bury your face into your hands. 

Everything is just too overwhelming right now. 

“Your technique is poor.” Zu’té’s voice booms over you. 

You look up, seeing this tall man with his hands on his hips tower over you, shading you from the sun. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know that I have plenty of knowledge on—” 

“This is a prrsmung [baby carrier], yes?” Zu’té picks up the sling and sits himself next to you, searching for the point in which you left off.

You watch intently, intrigued to know his next move. He carefully unravels all the wefts you’ve managed to do since sitting on this damned step. 

“What are you doing? Stop!” 

Zu’té sighs and demonstrates a weaving technique you’ve never seen before, entwining and knitting the fabric until it comes together in an even neater fashion. You look at him in awe, dumbstruck that he was able to do that. Ralak dislikes weaving, in fact, he loathes it. 

“Try it.” He says, plucking the fabric away from itself to unravel it once more before handing it back to you. You hesitate to take it, caught off guard from his unexpected, skilled movements. 

“My fingers are swollen.” You say, feeling defeated and a little embarrassed. He looks down, noticing your five-fingered hand again, not nearly surprised as last time. 

“Not as big as mine.” He tries to hand you the sling again. “You got it.” 

Reluctantly, you take the sling and slowly mirror his movements, replicating the technique perfectly. 

“See?” Zu’té sounds pleased with himself. Looking down at the sling, it dawns on you.

“So, you’re a weaver?” You ask the question as if you had just struck gold. “Usually the women take on that role.” 

“Not here, forest girl.” Zu’té defends his role proudly, “But yes, I am.” 

“Nice. It is good to see that. My grandmother is a great weaver, she taught me all I know.” You begin. 

For as long as your body would allow it, you and Zu’té sat on that step and wove together. You wove the sling and he went to fetch his satchel to work on a piece of his own. Though you did most of the talking, and found yourself dodging one too many snarky remarks, a bond formed on that step. 

You told him about your past at hometree, your reason for seeking uturu to begin with. 

The sky people. 

The words wouldn’t stop flowing, especially when you got onto the topic of how you met his brother. You explained that Ralak was your karyu [teacher] and how that quickly morphed into something much more beautiful. How you broke past his walls—took off his mask of indifference. 

But then that awkward silence came again. The silence that reminded you why this stranger was in your home to begin with. That he was playing watchdog because your mate had to leave your side whilst being heavily pregnant. 

“I lied.” Zu’té fills the silence. It has your ears perked up and your full attention on him. Your heart picked up speed, almost expecting something bad. “About?”

“That tattoo hurt like a kalweyaveng [son of a bitch].” 

His confession has you bellowing out in laughter, clutching your stomach to keep you from shaking up your baby. 

“I knew it.” You finally say once you calm down from a much needed laugh. “No good comes from trying to pretend that things don’t hurt, you know.” 

Little did you know these words weighed heavy on him. Heavier than you meant for them to. He falls silent, contemplating if he should say what he’s about to. The real confession. The real reason behind the tattoo. 

“I killed our spirit brothers.” He blurts out, astonished by his own voice. 

Did I really just say that? Shit.

“What?” You exhale, your heart now galloping in your chest.

“It was twelve years ago. I was…seventeen. Sent out to war. I had to keep Ralak out of it. I went alone…lead a group of warriors to protect the tulkun.” His voice seizes up, as if his throat were closing. He looks away, fixing his gaze to his feet. “I was still learning. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. The sky people…they slaughtered them all.” 

“Hey, hey. That’s not your fault, Zu’té. You didn’t kill them. The sky people did.” You rest your hand on his back, feeling how raised and toughened the skin where his inking lay deep.

Zu’té just looks at you, eyes trembling with vulnerability. It’s the first someone outside of the family has ever told him that. It’s something that he needed to hear. 

“Is that why you fled? Ralak told me you left him.” 

Zu’té nods, looking away in shame once more. “I abandoned him.”

You shake your head, knowing now that Ralak has healed and no longer feels this way. “He has healed Zu’té. And now it is your turn.” 

Zu’té only nods, allowing the silence to fill the space again. This time it’s needed. 

Until it's broken by a familiar voice. 

“Sister.” Neteyam greets you at the bottom step, throwing a smile your way, then to your stomach. “Little one.” 

He’s checking on you per your fathers request. Of course he wanted to ensure you were okay, too. 

“Tey.” You smile big, happy to see such a familiar, comforting face. “I thought you went.”

You reach out for the railing to pull yourself up, and both Neteyam and Zu’té go to help you get up. You side-hug Neteyam, finding comfort in your brother. It’s been a hectic night. 

“No, someone’s got to watch Tuk…and you.” Neteyam chuckles. As you let go, your glances at Ralak’s brother. “Neteyam, this is Ralak’s brother. Zu’té.” You introduce the two properly. 

Taught manners from a young age, Neteyam gestures ‘I see you’ to the former warrior, and he returns the sign. 

“Uncle TeyTey’s got you guys for the day.” Neteyam coos at your tummy, and then offers you his arm. 

“Right...Dads orders?” You ask, happy to go with him. 

“Dads orders.” Neteyam nods firmly, looking at Zu’té to relay the message. Zu’té returns the nod, being present to hear your fathers concerns about the entire arrangement. Besides, it’ll give him time to hunt for something proper for dinner. 

“C’mon guys!” Lo’ak shouts from the ocean, mounted on his skimwing with Tuk behind him. 

“See you. Think about what I said.” You say to Zu’té, prompting him to wave goodbye. Neteyam walks you to his tsurak, helping you to get on. You had retired your tsurak for the time being, finding it hard to ride with your back pain. 

“Hey Lo’. Tuk-Tuk.” You say with relief in your voice, finding comfort in the company of your family. 

——

The ash people are impudent to say the least. They follow behind the five na’vi weaving their way through the growing crowd, right on their tails as they try to get a better look at them. They are particularly interested in Jake and Neytiri, seeing the forest people for the first time. But most haven’t even gotten a look at the reef people yet, despite having the agreement with them for so many decades already. 

Some even dare to poke and prod, tugging at their tails and their hair to get a feel or whiff of their scents. Tonowari, Jake, Neytiri and Ralak walk in a formation that allows Ronal to be in the centre, safe guarded from any pointed fingernails or astray noses. Ralak is on edge, but one could never tell by a glance. His appearance is intimidating, a stature so tall he and Tonowari tower over the crowd. 

“I do the talking.” Tonowari says discreetly as they near the entrance of the hut. 

The room is made of some sort of red clay substance, seemingly burnt to a char until it has been hardened into what feels like rock. This one in particular is large, containing smaller sectioned off rooms, partitioned with thick leather curtains. It's all very bleak, rid of liveliness and colour. 

As they enter the hut, two bigger ash na’vi guard the door on either side, blocking and guarding the entrance behind them. Two more ash na’vi lead the group with spears to their backs to a large curtain, and shove them towards it with a few harsh jabs to Jake’s and Ralak’s spines. Jake snaps around, throwing them a dirty look. Whilst Ralak keeps his gaze fixed to his feet. He feels deep in his gut that something isn’t right. 

Whether it be here, or back home. 

With each step he takes, the sense of impending doom only worsens. He has no desire to be here but he recognizes that this is what is necessary. Yet, he can’t help the way he feels. And when he finally raises his head all the pieces link together. It all makes sense. 

Before them are five na’vi in total. Two women and three men. Four ash na’vi and one…reef na’vi. A female, reef na’vi. Her face is unmistakable—unforgettable. It’s been seared into his mind since he was a young boy.

And when Ralak sees it, he almost caves in on himself. His mask of indifference—of intimidation, cracks. Hell, it shatters. Into thousands of pieces, scattered at his feet. Tonowari’s previous right hand. The banished. 

His karyu.

[yvesdot]

How To Get Roughly 50 Notes On An Original Writing Post And Possibly Net A Single Reader

I had someone ask today how I get people to click through and read my writing, and I'm realizing that I've never actually made a post all in one place of everything I do to get a new piece of short fiction off the ground... so here you go! How to get (some) eyes on your work, even if it is not published anywhere of interest and you don't have a marketing team behind you.

The #1 thing is presentation. You want to get people's attention, and once you have it, convince them to keep paying attention. Fortunately, people tend to be both reasonable and predictable, which means all you have to do is follow The Formula.

(original post link)

Here's the formula from the above post broken down:

[giant horizontal title card, preferably animated to catch the eye] OR [a few tasteful parallels, if you're good at parallel posts]

TITLE (linked to where you can read the piece) / wordcount

a quote that is representative of the tone, themes, prose style, and/or the "promise of the premise"

A longer pitch, featuring the overall subject of the piece (transsexual reality TV drama), any comp titles (Detransition, Baby), the main draw (in this case, watching trans people be awful to clueless cis people), major themes (performance), and any other promises you'd like to make (food romance and tigers). You can see that the quote I chose delivers on the promise of trans people intellectually outperforming cis people-- if I were a reader, I would be more likely to trust that the rest of the pitch was accurate based on that assurance.

If you have any positive reviews on your piece, say so. If it has won any awards or contests, say so. If your work has made people cry, Doja Cat - Say So. Always. Generally speaking, more personal and more detailed is better, but keep it to one or two people-- e.g. "when I gave this to my S/O to read he shot milk out of his nose so far I had to go clean under the couch" or "my favorite review of this piece is the reader who said they read it chapter-by-chapter under their covers because they wanted it all to themself." This should be one sentence.

Depending on where the story is published, what you usually promote, etc., it may be worthwhile saying the story is free. Use your judgment on whether the reader can tell.

I also like putting my links at the bottom so someone seeing this on a friend's dash can easily track me around the 'Net. They make me look more professional (I now include a link to my website) and they visually balance the post, in my opinion. This post also happened to have some additional links for bonus content.

This is not as high stakes as it seems. I'm not 100% happy with the pitch here, and I'm not 100% happy with the graphics I've used in other cases. These are some bones that help to sell the piece even when the details aren't as sharp.

REBLOGGING

When is the last time you read something the first time you saw it on your dash? I schedule reblogs of all important posts at least twice over the next 2-3 days, often three times so I can get the morning/afternoon/evening reblog. If your followers tend to be more active at certain times, go ahead and use those. In the past I've intentionally scheduled posts for times I knew more popular mutuals were active, and it has paid off!

I also schedule a reblog for a week and a month and sometimes even a full calendar year out, because I know there is going to be that person who tags the piece '#to read' and instantly forgets about it, only to get excited when they see it weeks later. I am very often that reader. The goal is to catch people when they're ready to read immediately, and this is a game of chance.

Every so often, I go through my entire #writing or #important writing updates or even just #popular tag(s) and queue two dozen posts before shuffling my queue to redistribute matters. This keeps my older work circulating, ensuring new readers get a chance to see older pieces and giving those older pieces another shot at dashboard space. (More on #popular later.) This sounds like a lot, which is why you have to space everything pretty far apart. Fortunately, this is the world's best site for cool things to reblog. I guarantee you that you can find something new you love to post in the meanwhile.

COPING WITH FAME

The post above is what I, a published author, consider "doing well" for a post about my writing on Tumblr. As of October 10th, 2024, over two years after its initial posting and over five years into my posting doggedly about my original fiction, it has 77 notes. More than half (43) are likes. Around half of the reblogs are me promoting my own work or the same very sweet person dutifully reblogging me every time I do so. Glancing through the reblogs now, I know of four people whom I can confirm have read it. Presumably, there are more who are completely silent and have never interacted with the post whatsoever. Genuinely: wahoo!! I am so grateful and happy for the attention and reception of my work.

This is the number one thing I suggest: focus on what you have, and not what you lack. Imagine your post from the perspective of an outsider: even one reblog means you convinced that one person to spread your art! How cool is that! This is also good advice because moping is simply not helpful; it will not get you more reads. (And no, neither will guilting others. Kill that vent post in your head!)

GETTING FOLLOWERS

I don't have that many followers. Of the followers I do have, people are very unpredictably active. When I hear about other people's follower counts I am consistently surprised, because people with half of mine will have fans and haters the likes of which I could not possibly dream of. I follow 500-follower folk who post "I ate a strawberry today" and get 6 asks ranging from "Wow I respect you so much for eating that strawberry" to "I'm going to come to your address at [REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED] and shove bananas down your throat for hating on my favorite fruit."

I point this out to establish three important things. 1) Be grateful for what you have (in my case, 0 anonymous hate asks about fruitpinions), 2) followers have far less impact on interaction than one might think, and 3) followers don't engage with the things you might like them to.

Think about yourself. Are you more likely to reblog a photo of a cat in a pumpkin (alright, here) or something advertising fifteen minutes' worth of writing, which could be, for all you know, bad? Or, for that matter, by a person you should not like to support? Reblogs on generically interesting things are 'safer' (unfortunately) than reblogs on art, and it makes perfect sense that people are skittish around the latter. People don't often reblog things they haven't read, and nobody can reblog every artpost on their dash. Having someone else put it there, however, is incredibly powerful—someone's vetted this post as Worth a Reblog, after all. Having more followers allows for much more of this.

(Followers don't guarantee any one sort of interaction, but having more of them is rarely bad. Rarely.)

Across my most popular posts, one theme becomes very obvious: people like things that apply to them or their blog. I try to post writing advice/opinions/memes every so often, because I know I have a loyal base of writerfolk who like to see that from me, and it's "easier" to reblog than my writing. This is simply the nature of the universe. I used to pretty frequently go into the #writeblr tag and check out what was recently popular so I could figure out how to serve the same base, and from time to time it worked.

You're welcome to examine the list of #writing posts that made it to 100 notes, because each tends to have a notable reason behind its success: a reblog with an exceptionally good review, a contest win, a wordcount that lends itself to pasting the whole thing in one go.

(Posts about my book's release are a notable exception, in part due to Blaze and in part due to my absolutely relentless flogging of their reblog buttons during the ~year of promotion. Also in large part to a dedicated circle of friends who passed the post around nonstop! Thank you so much!!)

A lot of people will tell you to attempt covert reciprocal promotion. You know—reblog a lot of stuff, in the hopes that people will reblog yours. If I could change one thing on Tumblr, it would be this: the culture that quietly encourages disingenously interacting with other people with a secret True Goal in mind. (On the autism website.)

Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, do not do this. If you comment on other people's work, do it because you're happy to do so. When I released Paper Tigress, I went through everybody else who responded to the same prompt and read their work, because I had the day off and I was curious. This has led to Paper Tigress having more comments on Reedsy than one of my contest winners, and even outranking the shortlisted story in the same prompt category. However, this would have been a waste of my time if I did not genuinely enjoy reading the other stories. I read 80+ stories, taking several hours, and gained 30 comments from the venture (half my comments are my responses).

Crucially, I do not promote other writers' work on Tumblr in the hopes of them reading or boosting mine. This is the #1 tip I see thrown around that I viscerally disagree with. While, again, I am grateful for engagement with my work regardless of the context, I do not want people suffering through my work in the hopes that I will promote them. I work a full-time job, and my reading calendar is perpetually overbooked, including with work by my absolute best of friends. Even if it wasn't, I think it would be quite insulting if I were posting works in the hopes that someone would choke it down like medicine. I post what I think is good so that people can read and enjoy it. If you are not enjoying it, I do not want you to feel as though you have to read it. My aim is to give to others what my favorite authors have given me, which is most certainly not A Bad Time Spent Being Dishonest In The Hopes Of Getting Something Back. You have better things to do with your time. Please be honest.

CONCLUSION

Realistically, the readers I have, I gained through being a published author for five years promoting my behind off on Tumblr, the least forgiving social media for promotion. People like it when you have a book they can buy, especially if it has Goodreads reviews that make it look like you have been vetted for them. Many people who follow me have read only Something's Not Right and nothing else. (Many people who follow me have read everything but Something's Not Right.) I have posted dozens of pieces on Tumblr and Wattpad (and AO3). I gained a small number of readers writing and posting fanfiction for the Locked Tomb Tri(?)logy, even though I marketed it absolutely terribly.

Just keep writing. Keep writing, keep posting, and keep making sure everyone who follows you knows you write. And keep writing because you want to. There's no better advice than that.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

ANOTHER CHAPTER ALREADY?!

I mean

I dunno what happened

It kinda wrote itself, I had no real hand in this

Please consult with my muses on the subject, I didn't know they were this cracked out tonight

Anyway awaaaay we gggoooooooooo

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x AFAB!Marine!Reader

Ch. 7 of something there's gonna be at least two more chapters

First Chapter link Previous Chapter link

Brief summary of The Story So Far: Your mission, as a Marine and Zoan type devil fruit user (gray parrot), is to gather intel on Dracule Mihawk, a pirate on the Grand Line who has become a thorn in the Marines' side over a relatively short period of time. He's discovered your secret, and your life hangs in the balance of his mercy.

Possible !!Trigger Warnings!! in this chapter!! Largely for imprisonment and psychological turmoil, though not necessarily psychological torture yet. I will say, for readers who are used to my writing characters with a relatively gentle depiction, I likely won't be taking quite as gentle of an approach here. There is some Yandere possessiveness prevalent here that I haven't written much before.

Tags: Enemies to lovers, eventually NSFW, idk maybe more later

Word Count: 3,095

Taglist: @i-am-vita @browneyedhufflepuff @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @littleleelee @nerium-lil @schanwow @dragon-bubs @animefreak818

I'm happy to add anyone that asks. Still flabbergasted that the list is this long.

I forgot to do a music thing last time bc I was so sleepy but I'mma do one this time but IT'S NOT FRATELLIS?? WHO IS EVEN RUNNING THIS BLOG?? SHOULD YOU CALL THE AUTHORITIES??

♫♬The Game- Disturbed♬♫

Tell me, exactly what am I supposed to do, now that I've allowed you to beat me?

Do you think that we could play another game? Maybe I could win this time

Dead, you were dead, he was going to kill you, and all he would have to do to get the job done would be to leave your right there in the shallows and let the tide slowly wash in until you were submerged, drained of strength and helpless.

To tighten his powerful grip around your neck until you ceased gasping for air.

To pull the golden cross from around his neck and plunge the small knife hidden within it into your torso, drag the sharp blade across your neck, watch the light leave your eyes.

So many ways he could kill you, in this very moment.

And yet his hand moved up your neck slowly, his grip unwavering as his fingers wrapped around your jaw instead. He tilted his head the slightest bit as he turned your head to one side, taking in your features with an air of both amusement and vague interest.

“And you were doing so well,” he said lightly, letting out a small sigh as he shook his head. You flinched as the rough pad of his thumb brushed across your cheek. “If you could have just refrained from making that silly little call to your boss last night—aw,” he added, an edge of mockery in his quiet words. “Did you think I was sound asleep the whole time? Poor thing.”

It hadn’t appeared as if he had done more than shift from his back to his side in the time you were gone last night—there had been absolutely no sign that he had gotten out of bed, not a single sound outside the cracked door of the study.

You should have known better.

“Though I must say, I do appreciate the vote of confidence.” Mihawk stood in a swift motion, tightening his grip around your jaw to pull you up with him, drawing a sharp gasp of alarm from you as your feet lifted a few inches from the ground. Still drenched in seawater, you didn’t even have the strength to lift your arms, held up only by his grasp, limp as a ragdoll. “‘No weaknesses.’ I’m almost flattered.”

You swallowed as he brought you closer, lifting his eyebrows a bit, the corner of his mouth curving the smallest bit into an almost imperceptible smirk.

“Provided it wasn’t a lie. You have quite the penchant for fooling others, it seems.” He quirked his brow a bit higher, his eyes darting up and down your limp form before settling back on yours. “Well? Was it a lie?”

“Mm—n-no,” you managed to choke out weakly, your eyes wincing and beginning to burn as his fingertips dug harder into your jaw and cheeks. “No…”

“No?” he repeated lightly. “Now, I’m sure you can do better than that, considering how polite you were with your employer last night. And I’m afraid it’s not them you’re answering to anymore. Try again.”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes flickering down toward his hand. ���N—no, sir,” you whimpered.

“Ah, much better. Now, then….” The spark of amusement remained present in his yellow eyes as he rubbed his thumb against your cheek once again. “I suppose we should get you back inside and dried off, yes? I’d hate to see you get sick, pet.”

Your stomach felt as if it had dropped out of your body when he lifted you abruptly and flung you over his shoulder, your consciousness wavering between the complete sapping of your strength from the seawater still drenching your clothes and the state of shock you were left in. You drifted in and out during the trek back to the castle, your muscles limp and useless. You didn’t jolt back to a remotely aware state until he heaved you off and dropped you onto the cold stone floor of an unfamiliar part of the castle.

“I do just hate to have to cage you after all this time,” he said as you gazed around, your eyes squinted against the darkness. Judging from the lack of windows, you were below the ground level—and this was confirmed when he lit a torch along the wall opposite the one you were leaning against. “Nearly two months, it’s been, hasn’t it? Hmm. How the time flies.”

The dim orange light of the flame expanded as he lit another, and you realized he had deposited you in a small, square cell. The stone walls and floor were the same as the rest of the castle, if a great deal dustier, but the heavy iron bars and door made it clear that you were in the dungeon beneath the fortress.

“But, you’ve really left me no choice,” he went on with a soft, disappointed sigh. You could just make out his silhouette against the flickering firelight, the rattle of chains as he dug around in the drawer of a heavy desk just within your line of sight. “At least for now. I can’t have you escaping before we have a proper discussion about…” He lifted a heavy pair of iron shackles, examining them before giving a short nod. “About several things, really.”

He stepped slowly into the cell, his pace one of leisure, and stopped a few feet away from you, looking down at your pitiful form as you leaned back against the stone wall of the cell, struggling to steady your breathing, shivering in your damp clothes. He frowned as he looked you up and down, and gave a nod toward you.

“Off,” he said, his voice low but commanding enough that you jumped slightly, your brow furrowing as you tried to discern his meaning. “Off,” he repeated. “Can’t have you getting sick. We have a great deal to talk about.”

Your clothes. You glanced down at the wet fabric clinging to your skin, your stomach turning—he was telling you to get out of your clothes.

“Oh, modest, are we?” he said dryly, lifting an eyebrow. He took another step forward, crouching in front of you. You flinched back a bit when he reached a hand out and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Two months you’ve spent constantly at my side. I’m certain I’ve changed clothes in your presence more than a handful of times.”

“I...I didn’t...look,” you whimpered out, swallowing, closing your eyes as your face flared with heat.

“No, you didn’t,” he agreed. “I did find that curious, but you were quite the curious little bird.” You opened your eyes when you heard the chains of the shackles clink lightly, and watched as he stood, rolling his eyes as he turned around, his back to you. “Fine,” he said. “You may keep your undergarments. They’ll dry quickly enough.”

You almost wished that he had just killed you out by the shore. The embarrassment, the utter humiliation of pulling your tank top over your head and letting it fall to the floor with the towering form of the swordsman only a few feet away was enough to make you wish you could drop dead on the spot. You fumbled with your belt buckle, the buttons at the fly of your pants, before kicking them off along with your boots, wrapping your arms around your knees and clenching your eyes shut, trembling from more than just the cold, damp air of the dungeon now.

You heard a rustle of fabric in front of you, and before you could open your eyes you felt the material land in a heap at your feet. You cracked an eye open and frowned at the white heap.

Glanced up at him, your eyes widening as you realized he had removed his flowy, ruffled shirt, his back and shoulders bare as he crossed his arms, still facing the door of the cell.

“Put it on,” he commanded, stepping out of the cell. “And quickly. I pride myself on many things, my dear pet, but patience is not among them.”

You were already picking up the shirt and shrugging it around your shoulders before he finished, fumbling with the buttons with unsteady hands. The shirt was large enough on your much smaller form that it covered you from your shoulders to more than halfway down your thighs, the hem brushing your knees as you tugged it down, staring down at the floor, listening to the chair at the desk scrape across the stone. He set it down in front of you and tossed the shackles down at your feet, taking a seat and crossing an ankle over his knee.

“Those as well,” he said.

The moment your hand touched the shackles, you felt what little strength you had managed to regain begin to drift away from your body all over again. He chuckled when you drew your hand back as if you had been shocked.

“Seastone,” he said. “I salvaged them from the wreckage of a Marine vessel a handful of years ago. Thought they might prove useful one day. Go on.” He nodded down at them as you briefly met his eyes. “Around your ankles. So long as you remain compliant, I will allow you the continued use of your hands. You may need them at some point.”

You didn’t dare ask what that might mean.

You did, however, do as he told you. The seastone shackles felt as if they weighed fifty or more pounds, and it took some effort for you to drag them up even to the height of your ankles and clamp them shut.

“Very good,” he commended, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms, his eyes never leaving you as you slumped back weakly against the walls. “Still such an obedient pet, aren’t you?” Every breath you drew in took a herculean effort, felt as if it might be the last you managed to draw before you passed out from sheer physical exhaustion. “Now, this is a first on my part. I’ve never been one to waste time taking prisoners. You ought to consider yourself privileged. Grateful for my continued hospitality despite your blatant betrayal.”

You swallowed, unable to do anything but give a weak nod.

He gave another small chuckle. “You’ve been trained to handle being the victim of a potential hostage situation,” he commented—it wasn’t a question. He cocked his head slightly to the side. “You’re quite small for a Marine. What rank are you, little bird?”

“Cadet,” you forced out—and, when he lifted an eyebrow, you quickly added, “s—sir.”

“Cadet,” he repeated, leaning back a bit further. “Hm.” He lifted a hand to his chin, his expression thoughtful as he brushed his thumb across his short goatee. “And they saw fit to send you after me.” You nodded again. “Your commanding officers either have a great amount of faith in your potential or they were trying to get rid of you. Which do you think it was?”

“T...they offered me the mission,” you said quietly. “I could have turned it down.”

“Faith in your potential, then,” he said lightly. “What a pity for them Of course, they weren’t wrong,” he went on, lowering his hand down to his knee, strumming his fingers there slowly. “You did play your role well. Well enough to fool that charming pet shop owner in Acacia, even. A veritable expert on the subject. You must have done your homework. Breezed through all your tests with flying colors. I did my own homework, as you know. Amid my reading, I recall mention that wounded or sick pets might show signs of decreased appetite. Interruption of sleep. In extreme cases, potentially isolating themselves from their owners. You see…” He tilted his head once more to meet your eyes, his gaze holding your own with an intensity that made it impossible for you to break the contact. “Had I not woken last night we might not even be having this conversation. Had I not noticed your absence and worried enough to go looking for you.”

Your worry over your mission. Your inability to eat or sleep regularly. Of course he had noticed. You were an idiot to think he wouldn’t have noticed.

“Had I not heard a voice coming from the study below my chambers,” he went on, lowering his voice, “you might have been able to complete your mission without a single hitch. I would have been forced to assume when you left that you had flown off somewhere to die.”

You flinched at that, closing your eyes and lowering your head.

“Oh, now what is this?” He chuckled. “Are we feeling guilty?”

“Yes.” You spoke through gritted teeth—there was no point in lying. You were already compromised, already at his mercy. “I…made the call last night because I…I couldn’t leave with nothing to show for it. Or without…” You swallowed once more, lowering your head to your knees. “I only had four days left. I was expected to slip away unnoticed and rendezvous with my commanding officers at a designated location before returning to Marineford to report on any potential weaknesses of yours I might have discovered.”

“And you claimed you found none,” he continued for you.

You nodded. “But...caring for another living creature is always a potential weakness,” you said quietly.

“Aaah.” You swallowed dryly, clenching your eyes shut tighter as you heard him push the chair back. The whisper of his boots on the stone floor as he took a step forward, the quiet rustle as he crouched down in front of you. “And you were unwilling to list your own presence as a potential weakness. Is that it?” You nodded again, and tensed as he caught your chin in his hand. “And here I’ve already admitted to having worried for the well-being of my pet. You certainly did do a stellar job, didn’t you, my little bird?”

His tone, his touch was almost gentle, despite that edge of persisting amusement at your predicament.

“Open your eyes.”

You obeyed his command once again—though your eyelids fluttered in your growing state of exhaustion brought on by the effects of the seastone shackles wrapped around your ankles, you did your best to maintain eye contact, only vaguely aware of his thumb brushing across your bottom lip as you gazed into his yellow irises.

“I may yet have use for you,” he murmured, his voice still light and amused. “I suppose you are a pretty little thing, if nothing else. And your abilities...well, you managed to fool me, now, didn’t you? Don’t,” he added, his tone sharpening as your eyes began to drift shut, and they shot back open. “There’s one more matter. You spoke of some offer while you were making your call last night. What is it?”

“W...warlord,” you forced out. “The World Government wants to offer pirates they consider too dangerous to combat status as ‘Warlords.’ No more than seven. Bounties expunged in exchange for an agreement to cease hostility against Marines and other World Government officials, and potentially being called upon to assist with other threats.”

“Warlords,” he repeated, letting out a quiet chuckle. “And you’ve been granted permission to extend me this offer?” You gave a small nod, blinking slowly, fighting to keep your eyes open. “Since you’ve reported to your commanding officers that I have no weaknesses they can exploit.” Another nod, and a quiet affirmative hum. “Mm-hmm,” he repeated, smirking. “I suppose it’s worth thinking over. At least until you’ve regained the ability to discuss the subject coherently.”

“Four days.” He lifted his eyebrows at your mumbling, waiting for you to continue. “Need to make contact in four days or they could send a Buster Call.”

“Ah.” His thumb brushed across your cheek, and you found yourself leaning unconsciously toward the warmth of his palm. “So they would sink this entire island into the depths of the ocean with you still on it, would they?” The hum you gave this time was neither affirmative nor dissenting—it was simply in acknowledgment that he had spoken at all, as your lessening coherency made it increasingly difficult to follow his words. “That does sound quite like the Marines. Heaven forbid they should have any loose ends to worry about.”

He expelled a slow sigh, one that might have been of resignation or annoyance, or perhaps some melding of both. Either way, the warmth of his breath across your face made your eyes drift shut, made you fall fully limp against the wall behind you.

You barely registered anything beyond that. Not his light shake at your shoulder in attempt to rouse you, his exasperated sigh as he caught you before you could fall sideways and hit your head against the stone floor.

Not his irritated grumble of, “Troublesome woman,” as he drew one of your hands up to cushion your head against the hard stone floor before he pulled himself to his feet to frown down at you.

To wonder why he hadn’t shoved his way through the door of his study the moment he heard your voice last night and throttled you in that moment.

To wonder why the hell he still had any concern at all for your continued safety and well-being.

You had spent two months, two months deceiving him, abusing his good will, masquerading as a loyal companion when you were nothing more than a dirty little spy.

His hands twitched into fists for a moment as he stared down at you, gritting his teeth. He could end your life right now. It would be only too easy. Crush your throat beneath the heel of his boot. Wrap a hand around your delicate neck until the labored rise and fall of your chest ceased entirely. You had already warned him of the Marines’ potential intent to destroy this island. He could dispose of you and leave on his own before that ever came to pass.

You shifted in your sleep on the cold stone floor, shivering slightly and laying a hand over the toe of one of his boots.

Mihawk swore under his breath, reaching behind him to drag the chair back into place and sit down heavily, crossing his arms over his chest as he surveyed your slight form below him on the floor covered only by his own shirt.

“What exactly am I supposed to do with you?” he grumbled under his breath, shaking his head, not completely aware himself of how his own gaze softened as he looked down at you. “Useless thing….”

His prisoner.

His pet.

His pretty little bird.

He would be damned if anyone but him were allowed to decide your fate.

First chapter and Previous chapter links again for your convenience

[thezombieprostitute]

Hi, Zombie! I’ve heard those who work in pediatrics have such busy schedules that they hardly get time for themselves until they’re home! Do you think this video matches up to Jake’s single life? Or even sometimes to now that he’s married?

Eating Habits

Note: This takes place soon after you and Jake first meet. Well before the events of the previous chapter.

Warnings: Hospital setting, Talk of food and eating habits. Please let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.

You were two weeks into your pediatrics rotation and you were certain this wasn't the field for you. You'd already suspected, but these past couple of weeks really cemented it. You get why these rotations are important but really the only thing you look forward to every day is time with Jake.

Jake is one of the few male nurses in pediatrics and it really is a good fit for his personality. The kids all love him and he's so good at remembering their favorite games and cartoons. He was also strong enough to carry the kids around as needed. He was on the leaner side but it was definitely muscle. You'll never forget how he looked when he had to change scrubs. His arms had definitely made an appearance in your dreams.

If you had time you'd probably let your brain come up with a more elaborate fantasy but it was too busy with coursework and trying to internalize all the medical terminology and procedures. You knew med school was going to be tough but that still wasn't enough to prepare you for the reality of it.

One of your brief respites in the break room you saw Jake downing a few things of saltines and a small can of soda. Unable to contain your curiosity you finally broach the subject of food.

"Do you eat anything other than soda and soda crackers?"

"Of course!" he replies with a smile and mouth full of crumbs. His chugs the soda before continuing. "This stuff just gets me through the day until I can get home and calorie bomb."

"Calorie bomb?"

"Yeah. The human body needs, what? 2200 calories? Especially if you're active like I am? I have a decent sized breakfast of overnight oats and a ton of coffee, I eat saltines and soda to keep my blood sugar up, and then I get home and chug a protein shake with a couple thousand calories."

"Jake, I know I'm not a nutritionist but that doesn't sound healthy."

"It probably isn't," he concedes. "But I don't have the time for eating otherwise."

"How are you still alive?" you shake your head, aghast.

"How are you?" he counters. "Don't think I haven't noticed you drink more coffee than water and seem to survive on nothing more than the occasional granola bar."

"At least the granola bars have nutritional value!"

"As do the overnight oats!" he argues. "Let's face it, hospital life doesn't promote healthy eating habits."

You sigh, nodding in defeat at his words. He sits next to you and you have to fight the urge to lean into him. You want to be snuggled in his arms so badly but you barely know each other.

Then you get an idea.

"What if we make it a competition?" He raises an eyebrow at you. "For the rest of my rotation, we track calories and nutrition. Whoever meats their daily goals more often, wins."

"Hmmmmm. I do love a competition. What's the prize?"

"Loser has to cook for the winner?"

Jake's eyes widen at that and he sticks out his hand towards you. "Deal!"

When the last two weeks of your rotation are done you almost don't want it to be over. Pediatrics is definitely not your field, but the competition has really given you more talking time with Jake. Showing off foods to each other, making jokes about cooking and recipes.

Really, the competition wasn't just good for your physical health. Sure actually getting the food and water you needed had helped your energy levels which helped your studying and overall performance. But joking with Jake, getting a few minutes here and there to just relax, had helped your nerves, too. There were fewer headaches, your instructor even commented that you were showing more patience with the patients!

Part of you was genuinely scared that, in your next rotation, you'd end up reverting back to your bad habits. You didn't want to, but you couldn't exactly drag Jake with you to every department. And then there was your post-med school career. What if you didn't get an internship or residency at this hospital like you wanted to? Maybe Jake would be up for exchanging numbers? Emails? Something to keep helping each other?

You sit next to Jake in the break room and he gives you a half smile. "So, today's your last day here, right?" he mumbles.

"That's right. Which means it's time to look at our numbers."

"Um, right, about that..."

"Are you okay, Jake?"

"Look, um...my numbers...I just...How do I say this?"

"Did you sabotage yourself?"

"No! No, I promise. I took the competition seriously! I just...I don't want the competition to be over."

Your jaw drops at his confession. "Can...can I ask why?"

Jake's face turns a deep pink as he replies. "I've really...I mean, the food has definitely helped me out. I've got more energy for the kids, my insides are a lot more...regular, and my gaming scores are higher! And..."

"And?"

"And I like spending time with you," he mumbles so quietly you almost miss it.

Smiling you tell him, "I was hoping we could keep the competition going." His head shoots up, a look of confusion with hints of relief, on face. "This has been really good for me, too. So, regardless of who wins, who loses, maybe we can still...chat? Still compete? Still cook for each other depending on who wins or loses?"

He gifts you with the biggest smile you've ever seen from him as his shoulders relax and he shows more of his usual energy. "Thank you, so much! I was really worried you wouldn't...I mean, I know I'm a complete dork, so I wouldn't blame you if you regretted this whole thing and just wanted to be done with me."

"Jake, I honestly don't think I'll ever get tired of you."

"Can I hug you?"

"Yes, please! Then we'll check the numbers."

Jake wraps you up in a big, warm, tight embrace and, rather than feeling awkward about the touch, your body seemed to lean into it. You don't usually have the brain capacity for thinking beyond the next academic year, but a part of you thinks you'd enjoy this forever.

Tagging:

@alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[flambeaufelid]

MAJOR Deltarune spoilers below the readmore.

God. Damn.

I don't have too much to say really, the game speaks for itself. But there are a few things...

First of all, let's talk about the chapter 3 secret boss. The Roaring Knight.

I was a pretty firm Kris knight believer for a long while, but slowly talked myself into Alvin knight. I'm glad it didn't turn out to be the latter, but... well, it's hilarious that the former was seemingly half-right. Kris isn't the knight, but does seem to be working with them.

And the knight is pretty clearly either Dess, or Carol.

When they do... uh... this... you can clearly see that they look like a straight-up fucking wendigo. Even at other times though, the antlers at least are present.

...On the other hand... They're also clearly the things depicted to the sides of the titan in the prophecy. Is there a second one? Is the second one also a knight? Those ARE antlers and not just horns, right...?

It is just barely vague enough that I'd imagine we'll still see people talking about how this might not really be the knight (even though the game calls them the roaring knight explicitly), or how this might not be Dess or Carol, and instead just some sort of new entire species of dark creature of which this is just one member, and how the antlers either don't mean anything, or are just because Noelle is the angel and they're made in her image or something like that.

...Personally though, yeah, I think it's Dess or Carol. If I had to pick one, Dess.

I mean, the bat is a pretty big hint. Yes it's also clearly a sword made of shadow crystal, but... it's unclear if she's transforming it or what, but it LOOKS like a bat. It looks exactly like a fucking bat, when we first see it. Why doesn't it stay a bat? Unclear.

Admittedly though... Carol also has a sword. A full-blown fucking ninja katana. So. You could certainly make the argument that this was just some shoddy spritework I suppose. I don't think I'd expect a sword to STAY a sword in a dark world, but it's hard to say since I don't think we've ever seen the results of an actual weapon being brought in...

---

Let's talk about Noelle as well. The snowgrave continuation is fucking unhinged. Trigger warning for discussion of stuff that seems to be a metaphor for sexual assault.

To be clear: I do not believe a sexual assault actually occurred here in-universe, or ever will. Deltarune is a children's game. Adults like myself play it, but it's only rated T.

However, this does not mean it has nothing to say about adult subjects, like sex and sexuality.

Noelle has always been depicted, bizarrely for her young age, as "kinky". She has very strong romantic feelings. She appears to legitimately be a masochist in multiple senses of the word, literally fantasizing about Suzie beating her up, enjoying scary situations, and so on.

This is all pretty strange, but not exactly wrong. If I'd played Deltarune at a younger age, I would have found Noelle to be a very relatable and meaningful character in part because of all this, and would have seen this (relatively) healthy portrayal of masochistic feelings as extremely heartening. It's close, but I don't personally feel that it goes too far into inappropriate territory.

Especially because it also takes care to show how it can go wrong: snowgrave. The snowgrave route shows you how a meek and submissive attitude can stop being fun, and start being a problem. How you can be taken advantage of.

If you've not seen the snowgrave continuation, here you go. This link should start you at the most relevant part.

This is a scene where Kris "penetrates" Noelle with a "prick" (thorn), robbing her of her "innocence" (confirming snowgrave happened) and making her bleed, and we see this as a "flower" losing it's petals, being "deflowered" you could say...

The metaphor. Is. Not very subtle.

Obviously it's a continuation of the same bizarre fucked-up heteronormative relationship stuff from chapter 2- where by being traditionally masculine (despite Kris seemingly being non-binary), "confident" and "direct", (Noelle will ride with me, we're something else (implying maybe romantic partners?), proceed, etc.) you eventually give her a "ring", followed by another ring (much like how one might have an engagement ring, and then a wedding ring). And supposedly, this union makes her "stronger".

...So where is this going?

I mean. The next step would of course be a child, right?

Again, obviously not literally- but I could see something like, they both open a fountain together or something, perhaps one that reflects their union, with darkeners that bear resemblance to what their hypothetical children might look like? I'll call this the snowbirth theory, and I would LOVE to hear other's thoughts on it/interpretations of it.

[friendlyrandomperson]

Nice to meet you again.

Part twenty six!! This is longer than a bit of the chapters so far! :)

New things give Eddie quite a fright at first, and it takes a few minutes for him to warm up to it.

Oh, but this? This is something new, and he does not like the fact he is warming up because of it. His face, his heart, everything.

“I’m burnin’ up an’ I know I ain’t sick!” He says, mindlessly stirring his tea in repetitive counterclockwise motions. Poppy softly laughs, covering her mouth with her wing and giving Eddie a knowing look. Eddie stops stirring, placing his spoon down and sipping on his tea.

“Dearie, who makes you feel this way?”

Eddie raises his eyebrow and sets down his cup.

“Frank, why?” Poppy snickers, shaking her head softly.

“I think you may have feelings for him, Eddie Dear. No pun intended.”

She smiles that gentle, sweet smile everyone in the neighborhood knows. That smile like a mother, loving and kind. Like raindrops on the windows, a warm embrace of a blanket in Winter when one craves the warmth the outside lacks, a laugh that feels heartfilled and not forced.

“Well o’ course I do! He makes me feel happy.” Poppy sighs softly, not in a tired way, no, in a calm way. “Oh, dearie not that kind of feeling. More of a…” she lifts her wing and shakes it, ruffling the feathers. “Fluttering?”

Eddie’s eyes widen just a little bit in understanding.

“Oh!”

“Oh.”

Eddie looks at his cup as his cheeks warm up, in that familiar way they have been, in the way they do when Frank smiles, when he sees that lightness in his expression, the way his eyes crinkle at their edges and the way his laugh carries so beautifully, like a melody. With a flustered, sheepish smile, Eddie glances back at Poppy.

“I.. s’pose that’s ‘bout right.”

💌🦋

New things, whether physical or emotional, never phased Frank before. He has always been able to navigate through the unfamiliar with logic, with reasoning.

This feeling, however, this pounding in his heart, this pooling heat in his cheeks and this warmth in his chest, is far more unsettling than anything Frank has experienced or dealt with before. It scares him, all reasoning failing to explain.

What is it, why is it here, why is it only around Eddie?

Julie has not been any help, she has simply been giggly and simply saying “Oh Frank, you really have no clue”, turning the subject away and leaving Frank more confused than before he asked her for help. Not only that, but she has been finding ways to keep the two men together, whether that is partnering them in a game or having Eddie take her role momentarily to, quote, “Show me how it’s done”.

Frank shakes his head as he closes his book, looking up and seeing the Sun is long gone, the moon giving a soft glow to the neighborhood.

“Oh, again?”

He sighs, standing up and walking inside.

⏳⌛️

"Mailman— Mr. Dear, could you stand a tad closer to Franklin please? I need you on the right, not in the middle."

Sally, with one arm still crossed, points at Eddie and wiggles her finger side to side. Eddie nods, stepping to the side and folding his hands neatly in front of himself.

"Juliet could you step forwards towards Franklin, darling?"

Julie skips over, a little farther away than Eddie but much closer to Frank than before. She folds her hands behind her back and rocks on her feet, back and forth, toes to heel to toes to heel.

"Hmmm... Mister Dear could you switch with Juliet for me?"

"I-I'm sorry, what?"

"Switch with Juliet, now."

"Okie dokie then."

Eddie looks at Julie, who looks as confused as he feels. They both shrug and switch places on the stage, both standing the way they had been previously.

"No, no, no, switch roles, Mr. Dear, do not make me repeat myself again! Juliet, give him your script."

Knowing exactly what Sally is doing, Julie hands her script to a confused, slightly nervous Eddie.

“Okay, let’s try this again. Mister Dear, if you will be so kind, start us from the start of Julie’s dialogue.”

“Wait a min’, she ain’t done nothin’ wrong, why are we switchin’?” Eddie squints at the script as if the ink will tell the truth the neighbors remain silent about.

“Oh, simply a change of pace.”

Suddenly, a loud crack of thunder rings through the auditorium, accompanied by a startled squawk from Poppy, a yelp from Eddie, and a “Woah!” From Howdy.

“Oh no, no, no!! Everyone, out, out, go home!!”

The frantic star ushers everyone out, keeping her girlfriend behind because she “cannot have a star so radiant be dulled by a storm”. Frank covers his head with his arms and is about to sprint before a darkness surrounds him and the rain stops above his head, raging around his body yet never reaching him. He glances up and sees a deep navy blue covering, two large arms around it.

“What in the— Eddie?!”

“C’mon, the Post Office is closer! Everyone’s already gone home!!”

Usually, Frank would argue that he could go alone. He is fully capable of doing so, he has even gardened in the rain because of the convenience of skipping the step of watering his plants.

Right now, all he wants is Eddie to be out of the rain, warm, safe, and dry. Frank just nods, letting Eddie guide him through the pouring rain, their feet splashing onto the ground and the wind roaring around them.

Eddie pulls open the door, welcoming both men into the pleasant, warm atmosphere of the Post Office. By this point, Eddie’s jacket has soaked through and did not provide any cover for Frank, so both men appear as if they had gone swimming.

“Heh, c’mere, I’m sure I’ve got somethin’ that you can change into.”

“Eddie, it’s really not that big of a—“

“Oh, please, you’ve got more water on ya than a fish! The least I can do fer ya is give you somethin’ dry ta have on.”

Eddie wanders off to the back room, Frank following close behind. The door opens with a slight creak, a click of the light switch revealing… darkness.

“My ‘pologies, lemme turn on those whatchamacallits.”

Eddie walks into the room unbothered, connecting two ends of fairy lights and bathing the room in a candle-like golden glow.

The room itself is moderately sized, enough to live in but not comfortable by any means. Eddie’s desk is a deep purple, a stack of construction paper stacked in the top left corner by the entrance. Little paper cranes, flowers, and butterflies are on the surface, specks of color like stars against a deep night sky.

Opening a few drawers, Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, and he puckers his lips slightly. His hair drips onto his broad shoulders, frames his face perfectly. His cheeks are tinted red, rosier than usual if you pay attention.

“That’s cute. What- no stop that. But he is really cute when he’s focused… no!”

Frank shakes his head, cheeks burning against the cold of his skin, clothes, and hair. He turns to the little origami projects and rests his hand on the desk next to a paper crane.

“Eddie, did you make these by yourself?”

“Hm?”

Eddie turns his attention towards Frank, noticing the origami he left out and blushing even more.

“Oh, that’s uh- heh that’s just somethin’ ta pass the time, ain’t half as interestin’ as yer butterflies.”

Eddie waves his hand, turning back to his drawers and sifting through some clothes.

“None o’ these are gonna fit ‘im.” Eddie sighs, pulling out a pajama set, long sleeved and collared top with a pair of pants, both white with blue vertical stripes, handing it to Frank.

“My ‘pologies in advance, these are gonna be pretty big on ya.”

Frank takes the set, the men’s fingers brushing together and setting their faces aflame.

“Thank you Eddie, I will be perfect- cough perfectly fine, thank you.”

“Oh no, you ain’t catchin’ a cold are ya?”

“No, no I’m fine. Where is your restroom?”

“Phew, alrighty then. Right over there, ‘s the door that don’t got a sign.”

“Thank you.”

Frank gives a polite smile before walking into the bathroom, closing the door and turning the lock with a gentle click. Glancing at the pile of clothes, his cheeks burn.

“Our hands just touched. That’s all. He was giving me clothes.”

Not just clothes, butterflies as well.

Frank chooses to ignore the flutter of his heart as he takes off his uncomfortable clothing, not soaking wet anymore, just slightly air dried.

Slipping on the warm, dry clothes, the soft smell of Eddie’s cologne wraps around Frank’s figure, a hug without a body to hold.

He smiles at the familiar scent, walking out of the bathroom and making his way back to Eddie’s room. He walks back in to see Eddie in a pair of matching pajamas, only his is short sleeved with shorts.

“Heh, sorry ‘bout that. I wish I had somethin’ more suited for ya.”

Frank chuckles slightly, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize, thank you for the clothes.”

The fairy lights click off, a loud crash of thunder following closely. Eddie goes to the lights and tries to click them together, exhaling through his nose when the lights would not turn on. Listening closely, he notices the lack of the hum from the heater and the florescent lights in the main part of the Post Office.

“Well, ain’t that lucky. We got no power.” Eddie turns to Frank, a shy smile on his face. Frank smiles back, glancing at the origami pieces on the desk as his eyes adjust to the sudden light change. He nervously picks up a butterfly, hands holding it like a real insect, tender and sweet, careful not to mess anything up.

“I could teach ya, if you’d like me to.” Eddie’s voice is low, hesitant, a slight quiver. “How? The power’s out.” Frank holds the butterfly to his chest, examining the delicate folds of the paper, a beautiful craft. Eddie walks over, shyly placing his hands out to take the butterfly. Frank carefully places the butterfly in Eddie’s hands, watching as he sets it down and gives Frank a piece of paper instead.

Eddie takes Frank’s hands in his own, gently moving the other man’s hands and fingers to fold the paper correctly, slow and smooth movements.

The rain and wind dance with a haunting melody of disarray, the clouds thick and allowing no light to shine through.

Usually, Frank would ignore the howling winds with a lamp, or if the lights went out, a nice candle, and a book to read. Thunderstorms never bother him unless he is overstimulated or about to be.

Eddie, on the other hand, usually hides during thunderstorms, curling up in his blanket with a flashlight and a nice, happy book to ignore the rain with. He tends to doze off sometimes, waking up tangled in a blanket, his flashlight on the floor with the beam pointing at a random spot in the room, and his book either on the floor or somewhere on the bed with no reasonable explanation for how.

Spending this time with each other, both sitting on chairs now, knees and hands together, feels right. A steady, pleasant rhythm both could get lost in for ages. The warm, firm guidance of Eddie’s hands against Frank’s, gentle verbal corrections and praises in between.

“And then, you fold it right here.”

With one last fold, the butterfly spread out, a small yellow paper butterfly.

“You did it, Frank!!”

“No, technically you did.”

“I helped you, that ain’t the same.”

Frank shakes his head with a soft chuckle, cradling the paper in his hands, the ghost of Eddie’s touch still around him.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence, the raindrops pattering on the glass of the Post Office entrance. Eddie stands up, walking over to the window and using what little light there is to check his watch.

“Goodness, look at the time!”

Eddie looks out of the window, glancing at the sign on the door. He sighs softly, flipping the sign around to say “Sorry! We’re closed ‘till (5:30 am)!” Instead of “Come on in!”.

“Well, Mister Frankly, looks like you’re stayin’ with me tonight.”

[ravenadottir]

ok, i understand why fusebox is taking down the old app from a financial perspective, and with it the first three seasons, but if that's not the biggest shot in the foot idk what is.

there are so many people that start playing the stupid games this shitty ass company puts out there because of said seasons, so like... no. it's by far the most commented seasons in any discussions on reddit and it's still a winner when it comes to fics and headcanon posts on tumblr, like ????

i get that it hasn't been lucrative for them probably (?) but it's a stamp of what fusebox used to be and how it could improve... and that empty promise of remastering the seasons to bring it back?

no thanks, i know y'all are gonna kill some storylines like you have been doing for 3 years now, so don't bother. just take down the only seasons that are worth playing so we can just get the fuck out of here and concentrate our attention on the fics.

now, i tried playing seasons 4 and 5, couldn't go pass a few chapters because everything seemed so stupid e pointless. i was determined to get through season 5 (don't ask me what dumb title it has, i can't be bothered to remember) but like, i couldn't ???

it was so disengaging i would rather do a jakub route and cheat so i can get dumped by returning!islander than going back and trying again. i guess this is it for me regarding fusebox.

and since i'm on the subject, i have been feeling like that for a while, just waiting around for a season that is worth my time, and it hasn't happened yet. i'm over this shitty company and whatever they released after season 2, that's just it.

if you like what they did, and has been doing, good for you, i can exist on this corner absolutely hating everything and you can love it all, my problem is with the company not the people that find joy with the work they put out here (which apparently there's a bunch of evidence of AI and it doesn't surprise me in the slightest). well, that's it. that's all i have to say on the matter.

i've barely been here due to several personal life issues, and i fucking guarantee my personal life and the gossip i've been digging up from my family would make a far more entertaining game than whatever the fuck they're doing now.

i'm still gonna continue updating the fics though, and maybe eventually turn my inbox on again ?

but for now, i'm still going through a lot and time has been wasted on multiple problems in my personal life, maybe i'll expand on those on a different post because i do need to shout into the void about everything that has been happening.

this post is not nearly as articulated as it could be, but that's just me venting. anyway, carry on with your day.

[traumadumpwriter]

Memory Games - 12

Newt x Female OC🐰

A dark Maze Runner romance between a very damaged girl and our soft boy Newt. With trigger warnings for self harm, abuse, assault, PTSD, mentions of suicide and general violence. Also written in the style of multiple POVs.

"All that was clear was that they were all boys - all of them - and it filled me with even more dread, instinctually defensive and fearful of the opposite sex. Even if I couldn't remember anything specific about where I'd come from, I knew that men were dangerous."

All interaction is appreciated! Reblogging is allowed! I take requests! <3

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Masterlist

Chapter Twelve

*Angel’s POV*

As soon as I started to run, I felt like all of my worries slipped away. I was amazed by the gravity of the walls around me, the way the breeze felt against my skin, the suddenness of each turn. And Minho's playful personality definitely made my mood better.

"You're not as bad as I thought you'd be. I'm only going at two thirds of the speed I usually would. Maybe you should be a runner." He'd teased at one point and I laughed.

"I don't know, I'm already getting tired, it's been like what - two hours? Maybe three? I don't know how you do this everyday."

"Training and practice, Greenie. Probably good that you said no, Newt would kill me if I let you be a runner."

"I'm sure he wouldn't be that mad. He seemed fine about it this morning."

Minho just chuckled and said nothing else on the subject, instead saying "How you feeling about tonight? The gathering and banishment. You ready?"

"As ready as I can be."

"Ahh it won't be that bad. The gathering won't be anyway. You don't have to watch the banishment." He sounded relaxed.

"I don't really want to. But I feel like I should, I mean give him that at least." I confessed and he tutted.

"You don't have to give him anything. He tried to kill you. And yeah, you might've been a bitch, but he's a bitch for caring. Dude was just pissed off that you went with Newt instead of him."

I scoffed at that.

"I haven't gone with Newt. We're just friends." I said clearly. "But maybe you're right. I mean, I've heard some pretty bad stuff being said about me and I haven't tried to kill anyone."

"Exactly. We've all said some mean stuff to each other. Long time since someone's reacted like that."

"Long time?" I thought. "So it's happened before."

"Have there been many banishments then?" I asked.

"Back when we first got here it was definitely more common. Bad stuff happened before we properly established a system, not everyone survived. This is the first in a while.. Don't feel bad about it though Greenie, Nick's been weird for a while. Real weird."

We slowed to a jog, me evidently out of breath, and Minho continued to speak.

"Him and Gally are the only ones who survived a sting. Made them even stranger. The ones before, we didn't know to use the serum. They got all kinds of shucked up, had to kill them to put them out their misery. Shuckin' Grievers." He tutted and then stopped. "We'll have a water break here."

I nodded and put my backpack on the ground, pulling the bottle from the side and relishing in the cool refreshment. I stood panting for a few minutes, thinking on what he said, whilst Minho was breathing steadily, clearly unfazed by the running he'd done.

"Have you ever seen a griever?" I eventually asked and he shook his head no.

"Heard a lot about them. Supposed to be terrifying. Maybe it's that that really messed with the lads that got stung, not the memories. If they ain't so bad, as you say."

"I wouldn't call the memories good. They're confusing, kind of stressful. But so is being here so, not much difference." I chuckled dryly and he chuckled back.

"You'll get used to it. It's always stressful at first."

"Yeah. I just hope they send another girl up next month."

"So do I." Minho scoffed with a cheeky smile and I laughed at that.

"Am I not good enough?" I teased and he turned to me with a straight face.

"Angel, you're more than good enough. But it would be quite nice if we all got to have girlfriend's. Not just Newt."

"We're just friends!" I protested. "And besides, isn't there like a no touching rule?"

"I'm sure Alby would reverse that rule if a hot little Angel of his own came up in that box." Minho teased and I playfully hit his arm.

"You recon? I can't imagine it. He's so.. serious."

"He's not really, not when you get to know him. He's always harsh with Greenie's, wants them to get used to the system quickly."

"Makes sense." I said, sliding the bottle back into my bag. "What was it you said about a serum? Did he figure that out?"

"Clint did actually." He said, reaching into his own bag and pulling out something. "I wouldn't usually bring one with me, but Newt insisted."

He handed me a small glass vial, filled with blue liquid, and I instantly thought of one of my memories - an injection, sharp and dripping with blue liquid. I studied the object curiously for a moment, trying to search further in my memory for any clue of how the two things were related. I came up blank though. I then turned the vial around, noticing something on the other side, and felt the air escape my chest when a word became clear on it. "W.C.K.D"

"That's the word I have tattooed on me. 'Fuck WCKD'. They're the ones supplying the serums? They must be the creators. Why do I have 'fuck the creators' tattooed on my arm? Was I right? Am I here because I pissed them off?" My mind raced. "Or are they just really bad? Surely I can't be the bad one. Maybe other people have the tattoos too. Maybe I just need to ask."

"Minho, I- I need to show you something. A-And I need you to promise you won't tell anyone." I stuttered and his brows knotted.

"What? What are you talking about?" He asked, clearly confused by my sudden mood change.

"Promise!" I said and though he looked uncertain, he did.

"Okay, I promise."

I took a deep breath before I rolled my left sleeve down to my elbow, exposing the skin to the sun for the first time that I could remember. In the light the scars looked even worse, and I just mentally prayed that he somehow didn't notice them. I pointed a finger to the tattoo below my inner elbow and looked up at Minho anxiously.

"Does anyone else have one of these tattoos?"

He stared at my arm with an expression of horror and I realised that my prayer had not been heard.

"Angel. What happened? These scars are- really bad. Did you do this to yourself?" He gasped and I responded bluntly.

"I don't remember, Minho. That doesn't matter anyway. Does anyone-"

"Doesn't matter?" He cut me off, his hand moving to hold my arm, one of his fingers tracing across the scars. "This is from a suicide attempt. And it's hardly even healed.. Angel, does anyone else know about this?"

"No. But that doesn't matter. I need to know about the tattoo. Why would I have the same word from the serum tattooed on me? And why would I say fuck them?"

He stepped backwards and looked around aimlessly, his mind clearly racing.

"I don't know. The only other person with a tattoo is Gally, but it's of something dumb. I can't remember what." He answered quickly, his voice empty and melancholic. "Is this why you've only been wearing long sleeves? You know you don't need to hide this, right? You should probably get seen by Clint or Jeff, this one doesn't look like it's healing very well."

I regretted showing him my arm, rolling my sleeve back up to my wrist and letting out a huff. Why did he have to focus on the scars? Couldn't he see that there was a bigger mystery at hand?

"It's healing fine, Minho. It doesn't matter. I don't even remember doing it so it can't be that relevant, right?"

"I don't know about that." He said with a sharp intake of air.

"Well do you know any reason why I'd have that tattoo? I think I did it to myself, I have a few others too."

He didn't seem interested in what I was saying, looking around aimlessly again and awkwardly answering "I don't know, Angel. You're best off showing Alby."

He seemed annoyed now, and I cringed as I answered "I can't show him" knowing I had no real justification.

"Why not?" He quickly shot back, an unimpressed expression on his face.

"I don't know.. I just... He's gonna flip out at the scars, make it into a thing.”

Minho stepped back towards me, though not in a threatening way, more just in a way to get his point across. He looked stressed as he expressed with his hands whilst he spoke.

"Maybe a little bit, but only because you've been hiding them. That's what this whole meeting is about later, you hiding stuff! Now you've either got to continue the lie and make it even worse when it eventually comes out, or you've got to just confess and get it over with."

"Well can you blame me for wanting to hide stuff? Everyone's acted like I've set off a bomb by being here, I just don't want to make things weirder." I scoffed and he seemed to soften.

"I know. I know it's not been easy. But the best way to get everyone to calm down a bit is to be honest... And maybe don't fuck with Jackson again, I know the shank deserves it, but you're a greenie. This lot take that clunk seriously."

I groaned in annoyance, knowing he was right. And so for the rest of the day, I thought about how I could tell Newt and Alby, but no good idea came to mind.

*Minho’s POV*

"Well can you blame me for wanting to hide stuff? Everyone's acted like I've set off a bomb by being here, I just don't want to make things weirder." Angel scoffed, and I understood where she was coming from. Still, I couldn't quite believe the secret she'd just revealed to me, and I was shocked that no one else knew about it - not even Newt.

The scars and cuts were vicious and plentiful, though the most vicious was by far the dark, vertical one on her inner wrist. I'd had enough scars to know that it was a couple months old at most, and I'd seen enough darkness to know that it had been a self inflicted attempt at suicide. I wondered where on earth Angel could've been before she was here, and what would bring her to do something like that to herself. Then I thought of the tattoo, the clear defiance she'd had to those who put us here, and I suspected that they had something to do with it.

"I know. I know it's not been easy. But the best way to get everyone to calm down a bit is to be honest... And maybe don't fuck with Jackson again, I know the shank deserves it, but you're a greenie. People take that clunk seriously." I said softly.

She groaned in response, clearly annoyed, and so I patted her back with a light chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

"We'll get back a bit early so you have time to tell Alby before the meeting. I doubt he'll be angry."

"But what if he is? I mean; you're right. I've hidden so much already. I should've just told him as soon as I saw my arms for the first time, but I've been too ashamed." She confessed.

I felt bad for her. And then I felt bad for Newt. This truth would surely put him under even more stress than he'd already been and I worried that it might even be a trigger for him. It took a lot to make that boy snap, but when he snapped, he splintered. The memory of the day he jumped, along with the vivid fresh image of Angel's scars made me cringe. Why would either of them want to do that to themselves?

"It'll be alright. Just-Just promise me that you're never going to do that to yourself again." I said seriously, and she looked away uncertainly before sighing and saying "Okay. I'll keep my promise if you keep yours."

"What did that mean? Did she still want to hurt herself? Even without the memories of why she was doing it before? Was the urge somehow embedded into her?"

For the rest of the run I could tell that her mood had shifted into an anxious one, though I tried to keep her distracted with facts about the maze or general Glader gossip. It didn't seem to work.

When we got back to the Glade, I was going to walk her straight to Alby - knowing he would either be in the map room or the gathering room - but Newt spotted us immediately and quickly made his way over. Angel shot me a look which I knew meant to not say anything, and so I didn't.

"How was she?" Newt asked with a smile.

"Uh- good actually. Kind of good." I answered and Angel giggled.

"I learnt a lot. It was nice." She said to him, her face bearing none of the anxiety that it had held moments earlier. They gazed at each other so lovingly when they spoke that I felt as if I was interrupting something private.

"That's good. I'm glad you enjoyed it." Newt grinned at her. "I bet you're hungry."

"I am." She smiled. "What's on the menu today?"

I could see that she wasn't going to go to Alby any time soon, enamoured by Newt as soon as he was present, and so I just rolled my eyes and walked away.

It was a short while later that the other runners arrived back and I knew it was time to go get Nick from the slammer.

Alby and Ben came with me, ignoring his pleas for mercy as we dragged him from the cage.

"Guys! Come on! You heard what she said! You've seen what she's turned this place back into! You can't be picking her over me - surely not!" He cried, kicking his legs against the ground.

"No one's picking anyone. You broke one of the rules. You know how it goes." Alby said bluntly.

"Ben! Minho! You're my best mates! Come on!" He turned to us and started to cry.

I had to swallow a lump in my throat, wishing with my whole being that last night hadn't happened. But there was nothing my wishing could do and so I gritted my teeth and continued on in silence, mentally distancing myself from the care I once had for the lad. It was one of the worst parts of being in the Glade, and it never got easier, but when someone was banished it was easiest to just forget that they'd ever existed. Mourning their absence would do no good.

I could see out the corner of my eye that Ben was struggling with this too, more than I was. He and Nick had always been super close and so I knew that he was devastated. I would be too if it was Newt or Alby I was dragging to the maze doors.

There stood waiting was a crowd of lads, weapons in hand and ready to go. Some of them looked more solemn than others, some enjoyed having something to do outside of the usual routine. On the edge of the crowd, looking sheepish, stood Angel with Chuck. It occurred to me that he hadn't seen a banishing either, and he looked just as nervous as her. Nick didn't seem to have noticed them though, frantically kicking and screaming. His eyes locked onto Newt instead, who was stood in the centre of the crowd.

"I won't ever touch her again! Newt! Please! I don't know what came over me!" He cried, but Newt just looked at him blankly, his nostrils flaring.

"Fuck this." Ben muttered and walked away. I couldn't blame him.

"Newt! Alby! Minho! Gally! I didn't kill her, did I? Please! It won't happen again!" He looked around at everyone desperately but no one spoke.

Then the doors started to close and everyone positioned their weapons towards him, slowly closing the circle around him. It was then that his demeanour changed and his eyes locked onto Angel, who had slowly stepped over, still remaining a couple of feet from the crowd.

"You bitch! I wish I'd fucking killed you! It's only a matter of time before someone else does, and I hope you know what they'll do to your body! Whore!" He shouted. I cringed at his words, my guilt evaporating, and then I looked back at her, expecting to see some emotion. She just looked blank though. Maybe she was in shock. But both Chuck and Newt looked more distressed than she did.

"Fucking slut! Your boyfriend won't be able to protect you forever! I hope you see my face every night before you sleep! I hope the boys have their way with you-"

"Someone shut him up." Newt hissed and Gally angrily shoved his spear against his stomach, forcing him backwards between the closing doors.

It was at this point that he knew he was out of time and he started to run into the maze. I watched him run until the doors closed entirely, then I turned to Angel. It seemed that everyone was looking at her now, and she looked uncomfortable. Chuck was whispering something to her, though she didn't seem to hear it, her gaze fixed numbly on the doors. Then Alby shouted "Let's go" and everyone started to disperse, the keepers heading to the gathering room and everyone else going to the kitchen.

[knifeturtlelives]

My Writing - Masterlist

making myself a new pinned post so you can find all my OFMD writing in one place 💜

Canon Era:

gotta see a man about a dinghy (G, 2k) - s1e09 missing scene. Ed mugs a guy for his dinghy and gets to enjoy 10 seconds of happiness before everything falls apart.

Ed. Oh, Ed. (T, 4k) - Takes place between s1e10 and s2e02. A few different glimpses of Stede's "Ed. Oh, Ed" dreams. Technically a WIP, but each chapter can be read as a standalone.

Of All the Gin Joints (T, 10K) - Diverges from canon sometime during Impossible Birds. Basically, what if Ed went for a drink at Jackie'z while Stede was still working there? Podfic available!

Honey, don't feed me, I will come back (M, 11k) - Takes place sometime between 2x05 and 2x06. Ed's hard at work trying to repair the ship, repair his relationships with the crew, but he's maybe not doing the best job taking care of himself. Luckily, Stede has the solution: a bubble bath. Hurt/comfort and nonsexual intimacy!

Picture Taken Moments Before Disaster (M, 4k) - s2e07 missing scene. Still living in the afterglow, Ed and Stede walk over to Jackie'z for that drink, and Stede is very smitten.

Post-Canon/Post Season 2:

can't keep my hands to myself (I mean I could, but why would I want to?) (E, 5k) - Ed and Stede retire from piracy and attempt to open an inn. Or they would, if they could stop fucking for long enough to get the place into shape. Podfic available!

Oh, be my once in a lifetime (E, 7k) - An extremely soft + emotional look at their first night in the inn together, with rimming.

The way I feel under your command ( E, 13k) - Ed develops something of a Blackbeard kink, but he's not sure how to broach the subject with Stede (or, an exploration of the Ed/Blackbeard duality, by way of porn)

choked up, face down, burnt out (E, 3.5k) - Ed asks Stede to play a sexy game with him, and he is unprepared for the consequences (fam it's just a straight forward orgasm delay/overstimulation fic)

I know what they're thinking, 'cause I'm thinking it too (E, 31k) - Some highly valuable stolen loot leads to a surprise encounter with one of Stede's childhood friends—who just so happens to be the (very hot) black sheep of the Badminton family (as played by Jonathan Bailey). At first, Ed is jealous, but soon they start to bond. Now Stede's feeling a bit green, so naturally Ed decides to have a little fun with it.

Modern AUs

Come What May (T, 9k) - After a break up, Stede goes over to his best buddy Ed's house for a movie night. Is tonight the night that Ed finally tells him how he feels? Maybe, but expect 9,000 words of panic attack first. Modern AU, mutual pining/oblivious friends-to-lovers. Podfic available!

I've got a blank space baby (and I'll write your name) (E, 7k) - Edward Teach is an expert at breakups—he should be, he's gone through enough of them over the years. He has a whole ritual for getting over someone. But when he goes out looking for a bit of meaningless rebound sex, he finds something else—something he never could have prepared for: Stede Bonnet.

Boys only want love if it's torture (E, 12K) - A follow-up to Blank Space, but it can be read alone. After 3 blissful months with Stede, Ed is suddenly ghosted without a word. Now, he's finally starting to feel like himself again, and he goes out in search of his usual rebound sex ritual. Only, Stede's at the bar tonight, and he wants Ed back. (Happy ending guaranteed!)

If y'all having a bad day... (E, 26k) - based on this post from bluesky. Ed is a doctor, Stede is his new patient, coming in for his first ever prostate exam. Things do not go as planned.

Off the Deep End (E, 37k, WIP) - my Reverse Big Bang collab with artist Sailor's Ruin! Ed is a retired professional surfer, struggling with burnout so bad, he hasn't been in the water for nearly two years. When he develops a crush on the DILF at his apartment complex pool, he panics and lies: tells Stede he can't swim, just so Stede will offer to teach him. What could go wrong?

[kettleworth]

Such Selfish Desires - A Deltarune Fanfiction

(Reuploading this from my AO3 just cuz I can and want attention muehehe c:< )

Description: Ralsei grapples with troublesome thoughts, all while wondering if he truly deserves nice things. Does a Darkner such as himself even deserve presents? Deserve friends? …and is it horrible to hope that you do?

Potential spoilers for Chapter 4 ahead! Read at your own risk!

Such Selfish Desires

Another day, another dark fountain sealed. The slew of new experiences and new friends were fresh on Ralsei's mind, even as he watched his two friends – Kris and Susie – leave his kingdom once more. A bright, happy smile adorned the prince's face, even as he watched his two closest companions disappear beyond the horizon. Back to the Light World. Back to their world.

“Today was fun..!” The Darkner thought to himself, feeling his shoulders slump downwards as he sighed. His smile was still obvious, though not as bright as it had been prior. He stood in place for a few minutes longer, reminiscing over today's events once more. It... was a lot. Perhaps too much to think about. Especially if the subject involved a certain strange... puppet... salesman guy? Ralsei shook his head, secretly feeling immense relief that he wouldn't have to accommodate for his – its? – presence in his town.

Instead, his thoughts returned to the 'Cyber Carnival' that Susie had dragged him to. Was it against his own volition? Perhaps, but there was no denying just how much fun he had! Cotton candy, fireworks, balloons, games? What wasn't there to like?! The fact that he could use the opportunity to teach Susie, of all people, something that didn't have anything to do with smashing or aggression only added to the enjoyment of their outing!

As he thought more about earlier events, he couldn't help but recall that he had felt... guilty about leaving Kris out of things. Naturally, it all turned out well – or at least well enough? – once they all managed to group up once more.

Before the dark prince could reminisce any further, however, a familiar haughty laughed echoed throughout the carved hallways of his 'kingdom'. “Oh right..! The Queen!” Ralsei thought to themselves, both hands gently caressing... something within his robe pockets. After a quick check to make sure it was safe and secure, the goat boy hurried back towards his home. After all, with so many new friends to settle in, he had a lot to do! Who else would rally them into place? Lancer? Probably, though his kingdom might have a few more extra... holes than he'd like. Asking Queen for a favor was like trying to clean your floors with a cotton swab: it'll do the job... sort of.

To say that Ralsei hated any of his 'subjects' – obviously, he preferred the term 'friends' – would be a statement so incorrect that it would actually make the boy feel quite cross that someone even thought it in the first place! He loved his friends, even the ones he knew very little about. It was the prince's duty, after all, to get to know each and every one of his subjects, no matter how seemingly insignificant.

Attempting to keep his mind off of the loneliness felt after Kris and Susie left, he hurried towards Castle Town's common area, where everyone often accumulated. As he expected, he was met with a wall of 'subjects', each one looking curiously towards the front. Even from the back, however, Ralsei knew who they were all paying attention to. It was hard to ignore such a sonorous, memorable laugh, after all. Even if he couldn't necessarily read the letters that scrolled along her visor – being near-sighted was no easy task – it was also difficult to see that as well. For a moment, he listened in, confused, albeit curious.

“So. Like. I'm So Glad To Be Here With My Subjects. And Also All Of You Other Losers. LMAO,” The Queen said. Even from the back, Ralsei was able to see her tall, royal stature, addressing everyone as if she owned the place. “Just So You Know. I Will Now Be Living Here.”

“With me!” Echoed the equally recognizable voice of Lancer, who was no doubt standing beside the Queen, wanting to be a part of any momentous occasion that occurred within the Dark World. “That's right! This third motherly father of mine will be treated as if she were one of us! So give her all of your Dollars so that she may buy me an Iced Creme Cone!”

“LMAO!” The Queen cooed, instantly smushing her right palm into Lancer's hand, ruffling his head in an overly-affectionate manner as she continued. “Isn't He A Treat? Oh I Love Him I Want To Eat Him Up Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum Yum.” As Queen stated this, her hand started to 'munch' on the young darkner's head, as if it were a snake trying to swallow its prey.

“Ho ho ho!” Lancer laughed, squirming around, not moving out of the way as he was toyed with by the taller figure. “This hurts in a fun way! I am being eaten... yet I remain!”

“Hm. Damn. So You Are,” The Queen hummed with a neutral frown, suddenly a lot quieter than before. It was as if she was... disappointed that she wasn't actually eating him? It only took a few more seconds before her other hand 'attacked' Lancer as well, aiming for his stomach this time around. “Guess We Will Have To Aim Low LOL.”

“H-HO HO HO-HOHAHA! Help me! I am being eaten!” Lancer laughed raucously, squirming around on the ground as he was helplessly tickled. “Oh, oh! Won't someone – anyone – help a poor boy from being eaten alive by his Mother-Father?”

At this point, Ralsei could hear curious, amused murmurings throughout the crowd before him. Not many knew if they should do or say anything, keeping their attention rapt on the new Darkner that towered over nearly everyone. He couldn't deny that he too was enjoying the sight, though without interference, this 'show' could continue on uselessly for... well, until Kris and Susie came back!

Realizing that he had a... 'title' to uphold, the fluffy Darkner cleared his throat. Softly. Quietly. He didn't want to disrupt anyone's fun, after all. “M-maybe if I'm polite about it, I won't make it obvious-”

“Oh Shoot. Fun's Over, Folks. Here Comes The Man Of The Hour,” Echoed Queen's voice, removing her hands from the giggling Lancer, looking directly at Ralsei, through the crowd of unknown Darkners that she didn't even know the names of. As she said this, the crowd of people parted down the middle, each and every one of them looking right at the bespectacled, confused goat, who was now frozen stiff where he stood. Without even meaning to, Ralsei found himself the center of attention. He was shocked, yet stiff, barely able to even make eye contact with anyone for more than a half-second.

“Oh f-f...fudge!” The goat boy thought, gulping thickly as they attempted to try and think of something to say. Or get his feet to move forwards. Or wave. Or... something!!!

He was thankful that Lancer was there to help assuage anxieties, who spend the past few seconds spinning in place obliviously. If anything, Ralsei was thankful that he was there to 'break the ice'.

“Ho ho! Time to brush our teeth... please welcome the Toothpaste Prince!”

...well, almost thankful.

Regardless, Ralsei put on a wide, brave – if doubtful – smile as he began to walk down the crowd's opening. All eyes were on him, now, and he... didn't really enjoy it. If anything, he would've preferred to sneak past the crowd while Queen was giving her 'speech'. Clearly, that wasn't an option for him at this point. Therefore...

“H-hello everyone..!” He greeted graciously, his soft voice attempting to be as loud as he could possibly get it. His smile painted his muzzle, as it usually did, almost drowning out the rest of his dubious body language. “Um... it's... so nice to meet all of you here! I...I hope all of us can... c-can become friends!”

“Oh gosh, they're going to hate that-” Was all his brain could formulate before being met with a huge – no, enormous – round of cheers and applause. “...ah! A-alright?” He thought to himself, his feet now doing most of the work as he moved towards the 'center' of town. Aside from the colorful variety of subjects that now patterned the kingdom, he felt the 'eyes' of Queen bore directly into his... SOUL? No, being! That was the accurate term for someone like him.

“Ha Ha Ha. Classic Ral Say. Always Wanting What's Best For Us,” Queen stated, raising a glass goblet that she had apparently stored... somewhere? Ralsei chose not to question it, watching as she raised the glowing green chalice of acid to her lips, gulping it down greedily. “Isn't He Just A Fluffy Little Sweetheart?”

Lancer filled in the silence, taking the center of the 'stage', looking directly at the flustered Ralsei as he walked closer and closer. “Hello, Prince! Is it time for us to brush our teeth yet?” He greeted earnestly, flashing a large, unabashed smile to the fluffy Darkner as he moved closer.

“...Um... n-not until bedtime, Lancer..!” Ralsei decided to answer, giggling with a sweet, if unsure, tone as he moved past the loud crowd.

“Oh, drat! I've already done that!” The small, bouncy boy responded, smacking his palm upon his forehead. His goofy smile did not remove itself from his face, looking towards the Queen as he continued. “Guess I'm ahead of schedule. Remind me to brush my teeth again in a few hours, Mother-Father!”

“Okay. Alarm Set,” Queen stated, her visual visor now glowing red numbers that read '8:00 PM'. “I Will Make Sure To Replace The Batteries Of The Singing Toothbrush You Love So Much.”

“Yes! Thank you!” Lancer giggled giddily, waving as Ralsei hurried his way into the castle entrance. “I didn't even know I had one of those!”

“Oh I Left That For You. I Hope You Like 'High School Musical. LMAO!'”

“I don't even know what that is, but I love it already!”

“G-great!” Ralsei interjected, already halfway into his homestead as he gave one last wave towards the crowd of Darkners. “I-I hope you all enjoy yourselves in your new homes! Just... please don't destroy one another...”

With his words, a lot of the crowd turned to look at each other, nodding in agreement with the young prince's words. Why would they destroy their new home, after all? It was nice, friendly, and spacious!

“Yes! Save that for the arena!” Lancer butted in, laughing heartily, leaving Ralsei to sigh and shake his head.

“N-no that's not-” He stopped himself, unable to control the crowd at this point. “...w-well... if you must fight... just leave it in the arena, okay?”

“Yes Sir, Mister Toothpaste Boy Sir, Sir!” Queen laughed teasingly, allowing many others (Lancer included) to laugh along.

“Yes sir, Mister Toothpaste Boy!” Lancer laughed along, his tone teasing, yet innocent. The prince could Ralsei took this moment of humility to slink back into his abode. His large... over-sized... lonely... abode. He gave an uncomfortable chuckle to everyone as the door closed behind him, leaving the prince to scurry upstairs, away from the crowd, the cauldron, and the hat-rack (which was still miraculously holding his over-sized, green hat). Brushing off whatever it had to say to him, Ralsei hurried inside of his home, taking a moment to catch his breath and regain control of his emotions.

Despite the smile that painted his face, there was no denying the fact that his whole body felt completely and utterly exhausted. “...time... for me to... rest,” He muttered under his breath, slowly making his way up the large flight of stairs that decorated his home. The first set was little issue, even if he did take awhile. It wasn't long before he made it to the second floor, continuing his way with a seemingly neutral, unbothered expression.

“...t-time to... g-go to bed. In my... bedroom.” He said to himself, slowing his graceful footfalls as he began to pass by two familiar rooms. One belonged to Susie, the other belonged to Kris. He hovered around them for a second or two, sighing wistfully as he wiped... something damp out of the corner of his eye. “...gosh, is it humid in here or is it just me..?” He joked aloud, speaking to himself. Right as the side of his paw met his left eye, a goofy, familiar voice instantly chimed in, causing the fluffy boy to freeze up once more.

“Nope, just you!” Lancer said, lounging casually on a pool-chair.

“I Was About To Say,” Queen continued, who was also lounging in a pool chair. How did that even wind up here?! Why the hell were they laying in the middle of the hallway out of nowhere? – “Fluffy-Buffy Two By Four, Speeches Make Me Want To Snore... It Is Awfully Hot. Do Turn The 'A. C.' Up, Would You? You Know How Computers Get When We Get Too Hot!”

“O-oh, uh...” Ralsei began, being met with the two figures of Queen and Lancer, who were now... somehow laying in the middle of his hallway. Right next to the stairwell. With a despondent Rudinn fanning the duo with a leaf (as well as a displeased expression).

“Yeah! Turn! It! Up!” Lancer started, beginning to chant the phrase on repeat. Queen wasn't far behind him, starting to join the young Darkner.

“Turn! It! Up! Turn! It! Up! Turn! It! Up!”

“Y-you guys..!” Ralsei started, one hand lifted up to try and appease the duo, the other tucked into his robe pocket. Despite his smile, he felt... uncomfortable. He shivered in place, unsure if he even should continue upstairs past the blocked off stairwell. “P-please..! J-just let me on through, o-o-okay? I...I have lots to do!”

“Turn! It! Up! Turn! It! Up! Turn! It! Up!” Continued the duo, unknowingly overwhelming the poor Prince. Even the Rudinn peered over to the fluffy boy with a tired expression, as if to say 'Dude... turn it up already. I can only fan so fast.'

But Ralsei wasn't thinking about the Rudinn. Nor was he thinking about Queen, nor Lancer. Before he even knew what was happening he shoved his floppy ears against his head, shaking his head violently. His face scrounged up in between shakes before he eventually bleated out...

“ENOUGH!!! P-PLEASE JUST... SHUT UP! I... I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!”

Within the second he shouted, Ralsei removed his hands from his ears and clasped them over his maw. He noticed everyone was dumbfounded by his outburst. However, none were so flabbergasted than him! The prince couldn't help but gulp silently, looking between the horrified expressions of the indifferent Rudinn, the dumbfounded Queen, and the shocked Lancer.

Before the Prince could even offer an apology, the young 'Jack of Spades' spoke up, his voice noticeably more... low-key. “...oh! Erm... sorry.”

“...Shutting Up Protocol: Engaged. For Whatever Reason,” Queen responded, her voice not as boisterous as it usually was. Ralsei tried to look her way, though she avoided 'eye contact' the best she could. He tried the Rudinn, though they only continued to fan, their expression becoming more... uncomfortable. As for Lancer... Ralsei couldn't help but see them facing the wall. He was... shaking.

...oh god. He made him cry, didn't he?

“...I-I-I-I...I...” The poor Prince began, unable to stifle his own sniffles, slowly attempting to move towards the duo. Lancer only ducked behind the equally uncomfortable Queen. “...I-”

“It's... Okay. Prince,” Queen attempted, putting on a heavily uncomfortable smile, tucking the shivering Lancer behind her lounging chair. “You... Did Not Mean It..?”

Ralsei wanted to believe the Queen, yet there was no denying the three red question marks that scrolled across her visor. Instead, the goat boy covered his face with his scarf, hurrying up to the third floor with stumbling footfalls.

“I-I-I'm suh-shorry! Puh-please fuh-fuhgive me..!” Whatever words Ralsei was calling out were soon forgotten by the echoes of the walls. To the three lounging Darkners, it sounded a lot like... sobbing.

For a while, none of the three said anything. Even the fanning Rudinn didn't do anything save for stare at the stairwell, their fan resting limply in their hand.

“...Oh,” The Queen sighed, gently petting the shivering Lancer.

“Is he... well?” The fanning Rudinn questioned curiously, yet genuinely. “I mean, I wasn't there, but...”

“I didn't know he could scream that loud,” Lancer whimpered, peering around the Queen's chair with a frightened expression.

“...Hm, Lancer,” Queen mused to herself, staring at the stairwell with a worried frown upon her face. After a few moments, she turned back to her 'son', her lips forming a sheepish smile. “Lancer Bancer Fo-Fancer,” She attempted, trying to comfort the young boy. “How About You. Find Me A Place To. Uh. Make-” The taller woman stopped, watching as the strung-out boy tore his attention up at her.

“...Dig Me A New Pool?”

Lancer sniffled a few moments, wiping his snotty nose with his left hand. “D-did you say... d-dig a pool..?”

“...Yes. I Did,” Queen answered, her smile returning with full force, her visor flashing 'TRUE' as she kicked herself up to her feet.

“...sniff... Y-yay!” Lancer laughed, immediately hopping up and joining the Queen's side. “I-I like to dig! Show me the way and I'll dig you the best pool you've ever drank from!”

“OMG,” Queen started, placing a hand on his head as the two walked out of the castle. “It Is Like You Can Read My Mind.”

“Well duh! Who doesn't like pool water?!” Lancer laughed uproariously, almost forgetting about Ralsei's outburst as the Queen hurried him outside.

“I Know Right?!” Was all she managed to exclaim before exiting the building as well, her long legs speed-walking as fast she could. The lone Rudinn remained, looking between each door frame with an uncomfortable expression.

“...Prince... Ralsei?” It muttered sadly, looking at the stairwell as it attempted to listen for more clues. Sadly, it was met with none, even after waiting for a good minute or two. The Rudinn shook its head, tossing the fanning leaf onto the ground as it squirmed its way downstairs. “...nuts to this..! I'm gonna take a break!”

Right before the Rudinn began to exit, ready to head to the Cafe, it looked to the stairwell once more, its facial expression incredibly downtrodden. “...I-I'm sorry, Prince Ralsei. Please forgive me, too.”

Without another word, it hurried outside.

Thus, the lonely Price of Darkness was lonely once more.

_______________________

“...stop it.”

Ralsei couldn't even hear his inner thoughts as he hurried up the stairs onto the third floor. If he could even call it that! There was literally zero reason to build or renovate anything at this point in his- no. No... their adventure. He made it the top of the stairs, collapsing to his hands and feet. One paw kept him steady while the other wiped his wet, weepy eyes from underneath his big, green, dumb glasses. He sniffled and whimpered unintelligibly, scooting away from the stairs with a whimpering, shivering body.

“Stop. It,” His mind commanded, forcing the goat boy to slowly, shakily stand upon his feet.

“...sniff!” Ralsei sniffed, wiping his wet snout with his left hand as he slowly continued through the hallway. His muzzle attempted to show off his seemingly unbothered smile, despite his shaking legs... and shaking hands. As well as his unfocused eyes. And brain. And goose-pimpled fur. “...H-huh. T-these seem like nuh-nuh-nice places to set up suh-some new rooms..!” He stammered to himself, attempting to put on a pleasantly optimistic voice. With no one around to hear him, however, Ralsei could only giggle to himself, his tone growing more and more unhinged.

“...huh-hah. HahahAHAHA! I...Huh-Who do you think we'll meet next, Kris? Susie?” He said, speaking to no one, since no one else was around. After a few steps, Ralsei stopped in his tracks, looking downwards at his feet with a saddened expression. “...yeah. Me too.”

As he looked at his feet, Ralsei continued forwards towards the end of the hallway. There was nothing there, obviously. Nothing except a... line of pink ribbon greeted his eyesight. Even then, whatever it was blocking off showed... nothing. Nothing was down this hallway. Nothing.

“...M-maybe I can-”

“Make things worse as usual?”

“...M-maybe I can muh-muh-make a cake for Lancer, t-to apologize for-”

“Be. Quiet.”

Ralsei froze in place, covering his ears as he winced his eyes shut, his thoughts soon becoming so powerful as to quiet him, nearly forcing the young prince into a catatonic state. As his heart raced even faster and harder than he ever expected it to, he clenched his eyes shut, hurrying forward. Jumping over the pink ribbon that acted as a boundary for the 'unfinished' corner of the castle, the goat boy hurried into a simple, green door, followed only by his thoughts.

“Stop simpering like a baby, wimp. No wonder no one actually likes you.”

“STOP IT..!!!” Ralsei cried, unleashing his pent up emotions the moment he slammed the door behind him. With short, stumbling legs, the goat whimpered aloud as he hurried forwards.

The room was... empty. No other words could describe it other than 'empty'. It was almost as if a troubled child was asked to draw a room in green crayon for the interior design. The only thing that could account for 'decoration' was an open window and a set of simple, useless curtains, which blew in the nonexistent wind.

For a moment, Ralsei forgot that the breeze was nonexistent. He rushed on wobbly legs to the window, shoving his head out of the window, gasping for fresh air that could never arrive. He stared outwards towards... nothing. Nothing at all.

As the prince hyperventilated, his thoughts continued to throttle his mind two-fold. It was unavoidable, considering that no other sound entered his room.

“You're worthless,” It began coldly.

“...th-that's not-”

“You're less than worthless,” It continued, acting as if Ralsei wasn't even attempting to combat it.

“P-please-”

“PLEASE?! Please whom? Susie? Kris? You act as if... pfft... as if they care about you.”

“Th-th-they d-d-d-” Ralsei began, his grip digging into the flimsy 'wood' paneling of the windowsill.

“THUH-THUH...BUH-BUH... H-HUH- SHUH-SHUT. UP.”

Ralsei stumbled a bit, his knees barely able to stay steady as he fell. His gaze turned down as well, with only his hands remaining on the plain, empty, windowsill. At this point, all Ralsei could do was the one thing he felt comfortable doing when he was alone.

...his muzzled winced as he began to snort and sniffle and whimper with despair. His eyes began to tear up and leak with unstoppable vigor. Even before his brain could reprimand him for even thinking about it, Ralsei started to cry again. He weeped. He sobbed. Hard.

His cries echoed within his empty 'room', outside of his empty window, which lead to nowhere but the darkness. No one could see him. No one would be able to hear him. It was just him. The lonely Prince of Darkness. Thoughts of the Prophecy only made him cry harder into the void. He was thankful no one was around to hear him act so... pathetic.

Regardless of his stinging, tearful eyes, his shaking, despondent body, and his mean, evil thoughts, the goat buried his forehead into the sill, his legs starting an attempt to do... something. His feet dug into the 'wall' of his worthless room as if attempting to climb outside. He didn't have much success, though his feet continued to clumsily scramble up the dark, nonexistent stone. “I-I'm, suh-sorry... I-I won't buh-bother them again. I won't... I won't!” Ralsei sobbed helplessly to himself, trying to keep a steady smile on his face. It was... less than effective. “I'll... I'll leave them cakes! So many cakes, haha..! Of... of all flavors! Th-then th-they'll never... l-l-l...”

“Then what? They'll just laugh. Like always. Stupid.”

Ralsei whimpered as he buried his head into the windowsill once more. Soon, he began to gently bang his head against it. His horns thumped dully against the 'wood'. The boy started to let out unhinged laughs, shaking and shivering uncontrollably. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he continued to reprimand himself for ever thinking he would be able to appease his friends. Appease... anyone.

“St-st-stupid... yeah. Ha...hahaha. Th-that's me.” Ralsei slowly stopping his attempt to clamber through the window. “I-I'm a Darkner. I exist to bring the Lightners... the Heroes... I-I'm here to make th-their lives easier.”

Ralsei laughed mirthlessly, his brain already attempting to overwhelm his sense with the sounds of cruel, mocking laughter. He heard Lancer. He heard Queen. The King. Seam. Sweet Cap'n Cakes, Hacker, Swatch, Tasque Manager, Nubert. Hell, even Rouxls Kaard of all people were laughing at his downfall. Hoping for it, even.

None were laughing louder nor more cruelly than Susie and Kris. In his despair-induced delusions, Ralsei was starting to see them through his window. It was as if... they were walking on nothing at all.

“Yo, Kris,” 'Susie' snickered, jabbing a thumb in his direction. “Check out the nerd,” She cackled, flipping her hair as she began to walk away from his dejected body. “Heh. What a weenie. Shame we won't bring him back home to do everything for us, huh?”

'Kris' merely shrugged, shaking their head as they flashed an evil smile to the dark prince.

“Right? C'mon, dude. We can get someone who's actually cool to help us. Screw this dweeb.”

Right as Ralsei reached out of the window for his 'friends', he could hear 'Kris' speak out. Their voice was... unnatural. To him, it didn't even sound like Kris.

“...worthless idiot.”

The despairing prince shut his eyes as tight as he possibly could, banging his fist hopelessly against his empty windowsill. “H-hey! C'mon guys I'm... I-I'm not that worthless... I-I can... I can help..!” He whined, unable to keep his composure as he crumpled under his own meager strength. A hopeless smile attempted to grace his muzzle before soon faltering. “...n-no. They... they're right. If... if they don't want me around anymore, then-”

B-bump!

For a second, Ralsei paused, attempting to control himself with sniffles as he felt something... different. It didn't feel like his body was nudging against anything. No, it was... an object. A familiar one at that. The prince's expression brightened up for a brief moment, starting to stand up once again.

“...o-oh!” He exclaimed, instantly digging the gift box from his pockets. He held it with both hands in front of him, gripping the cheap wrapping paper and velvety ribbon against his fingertips. For a moment, his hands started sharking again, his expression straining to keep an eager smile. “T-this is the present! From... earlier.” He mused, beginning to recall the very moment once again.

_______________________

“Oh, Kris..? What's that you have there? Is that a... gift for someone?” Ralsei asked bashfully, barely able to look the human in the eyes as he asked the question. Despite not knowing how or why they got the prize, the goat was still... curious. Without even looking in Susie's way, he knew that she was equally as curious, if not more so.

Before the monster or the Darkner could say anything, Kris shifted their face toward the fluffy goat boy, almost robotically. If it weren't for the fact that they immediately turned their attention to Ralsei and shoved the present box into their arms, he would've thought that Kris was making fun of him.

In that moment, however, Ralsei was.. thankful. More than thankful, actually.

“...H-huh?! You're giving to... me..?” There was no denying the blush that started to glow through his snowy white fur, barely able to even hold the gift within his hands. “Kris... I...I...” He stammered, unable to find his words, ready to fumble the wrapped box. “...I've never gotten a gift like this before..!”

He felt the eyes of Susie and Kris bore into him as he stood there, dumbly staring at the box with shaky hands. Susie looked... quite impatient, as if expecting him to open the gift immediately, though Kris remained stoic as usual. Almost as stoic as Noelle... who had been standing with a box over her head, for one reason or another.

Feeling pressured, the boy couldn't help but turn away, starting to tuck the box into his robe's pockets. “Uh-ummmm... I'm sorry...” He apologized, turning away to hide his flustered face. He also took the time to wipe his weepy eyes with a free hand, muttering the rest of his thoughts. “I'm so happy, I don't really know what to say..!”

Feeling awkward and... unworthy, just standing in place, Ralsei turned back to Kris, a renewed vigor brightening up his face. “I... I'll win something for you too, okay?!” He promised the human Lightner, eagerly scurrying to the nearest stand to collect a baseball of his own. Even in his moment of gratitude, he wanted to let Kris know how thankful he was to receive a gift! He didn't even wait a second before attempting to win a prize for the heroic human... even if it was for naught, revealing yet another Lightner friend of theirs...

_______________________

“...yeah. T-thanks, Kris,” Ralsei sighed, his smile dropping as he stared with a forlorn frown. His hands shook even harder, his claws digging into the paper somewhat as he stared. One side of him wanted to shred open the paper, or at least neatly tear open the sides so that he could fold it up and save it for later. Perhaps to wrap a gift for his friends?

Right as he was considering what to even give his pals, the other side of his mental state quickly butted in. It's voice was not as thoughtful nor kind.

“They were doing it out of obligation. Out of pity.”

The prince remained in place, his eyes staring upon the box, feeling his hands shake even harder. A discomforting silence permeated the empty room as Ralsei continued to stare at the gift, unsure if he was even allowed to open it. Heck, part of him thought it was a cruel practical joke. Even with these doubtful thoughts buzzing around his mind, he began to shake his head in a defiant manner. “...n-no!” He stated aloud. “T-this is a gift from Kris! T-they wouldn't be so mean! Would they..?” He asked himself, feeling more and more unsure of his own thoughts. With one hand, the prince held the parcel, placing his other on top of the box. “...w-well, whatever is inside then... m-maybe I... I deserve whatever is in this box!”

With only minor hesitation, Ralsei closed his eyes, instantly beginning to shred apart the wrapping paper haphazardly. Naturally, his logic dictated that the box was, in fact, not empty. Not that it helped deter his anxieties as he began to open the box itself. “Probably a... a rotten cake... or some garbage! W-why did I ever think that there would be-”

Ralsei opened his eyes as he opened the box, slowly peeking inside. His inner musings halted, eyes widening as he fully recognized what was inside. He let out a soft gasp, slowly reaching in with his free hand.

“...oh my gosh is... is th-that... this...?”

Forgetting about any plan to save the box for later, the goat boy gently gripped the prize within, letting the box tumble uselessly to the ground. As it did so, he gently held onto his new prize with both hands. His eyes were wide, and were starting to grow itchy with emotion. A lump in his throat formed, barely able to express his current thoughts.

“...is this me..?”

Sure enough, the prize within the box was a small, cuddly plush toy of the dark prince himself. Obviously, it was far smaller and stouter than the goat himself, though much of the features were the same. Its green robe was baggy and large, covering up most of its body, though impossibly soft, white fur covered the exposed hands and head. A small, silky smooth pink scarf was wrapped around the neck as well, adding to its similarities. Cute, red horns were adorned at the top, as well. A set of green felt-covered wire formed into the shape similar to his round glasses, which rested atop the plush's snout (without lenses, naturally). The plush expressed a simple, adorable smile upon its maw, with two black, beady eyes sewn on, and two, cute pink blush stickers on the cheeks to complete the toy.

For a moment, Ralsei didn't know how to express-

“I LOVE it!” He cried out instantly, hugging the plush toy of himself against his chest. He began to dance around cutely, giggling as he snuggled his newfound present. “Its... its so soft! Is this how my fur feels? Oh, a-and the clothes are the same material as mine!” He exclaimed excitedly, playing around with its adorable little limbs. “Ahaha! O-oh my gosh, oh my gosh! Thank you thank you thank you, Kris! I can even start a whole collection! I..! I...”

Ralsei stopped dancing, his eager smile soon drooping as his grip began to tremble once again. Feeling his mood drop, his arms did the same, falling at his side, with one hand holding onto the plush toy loosely. The prince looked down at his floor with a sad, numb expression.

“...I don't deserve this.”

He sniffled a couple of times, feeling his eyes sting with tears once again. He attempted to wipe his eyes with his free hand, trying to ignore the pangs of sorrow that racked his body. It was difficult. Next to impossible, even. Regardless, he attempted to flash a smile to no one in particular. Even without a mirror, the pain that it took him to do so let him know that his 'happiness' was anything but.

“...w-why would a... a Darkner like... like me...” He began, looking towards his open window. His mind lingered on his 'role' in the prophecy, knowing that without it, he was good for practically nothing. “...need s-such a w-w-wonderful toy like this, anyways..?”

Ralsei couldn't help but let out a few sobs, burying his face into his arm. With a quick turn, the prince thoughtlessly tossed the plush of himself into the corner of his room, turning towards the window once more. He couldn't see anything through his green, tear-stained sleeves, now using both arms to try and hide himself.

“Af-after all... w-we should b-b-be happy k-knowing that the Luh-Lightners are happy..!” He sniffled, attempting to comfort himself. “I-I'd be a... a bad friend if I a-allowed myself to think that anything else could replace that feeling..!”

For a few seconds, Ralsei remained silent, attempting to pull his hands away from his weepy eyes. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling gently as he tried to get his mind off of the entire event. It worked... for a moment. Suddenly, the poor boy fell onto his backside, burying his face into his hands once again. This time, he openly wailed. Loudly. Any words he attempted to blubber out were completely unintelligible.

“Ralsei, y-you selfish selfish fool..!” He thought. “W-why did you say that to them, anyways?! I-it's like you were begging them to give it to you! Y-you should've kept your b-b-big dumb mouth shut! You tricked Kris into giving you a gift..! Susie deserves this present, not you!” The prince's sorrowful howls soon lowered to gasps and gulps as he attempted to steady his breathing, his cheeks stained with tears.

As the prince grappled with his heavily conflicted emotions, he pulled his teary eyes away from his palms to look back in the corner of his empty room. The only object that met his vision was the plush toy, which was still laying limply on its side. In an instant, the Darkner felt a fresh wave of guilt, quickly scrambling to his feet and hurrying over to the discarded toy. Even if his wailing fits of crying had sapped most of his energy away, he still moved as quickly as possible, barely able to keep himself from stumbling somewhat as he ran.

“O-oh dear... I'm sorry..!” He said with a sad whisper. Ralsei carefully picked up the plush, using one hand to dust off it's little robe. Naturally, it said nothing. The plush toy looked up at the prince with it's simple eyes, its bright, oblivious smile still pleasantly welcoming.

It was as if it were saying, 'It's okay, Ralsei! I forgive you!'

The goat boy couldn't help but notice how smudged and dirty his glasses lens had gotten from his constant crying. As he stared into the plush's face he couldn't help but attempt to mimic its smile. Tears continued to fall down his cheeks, though the only noises Ralsei was able to make were sniffles and gentle hiccups.

“...gosh... I... I really am selfish, huh?” He sighed, speaking to his new – and only – possession. His thumbs gently felt through the cute tuft of white hair atop the plush's head as he let out a few soft, mirthless laughs. “I... I know that I shouldn't want this. I certainly don't need it...” The Prince mused aloud, unable to keep himself from squishing the tiny, red horns that adorned the toy. He then gently pushed the toy into his neck, nuzzling it with his chin. “...but it does make me feel good...” He thought, sighing sadly as he sat down once again.

Ralsei cuddled with the toy, his face still wet from all of the tears he had been shedding. Slowly, Ralsei closed his eyes, gently humming a quiet lullaby – the one he often used in battles – as his horrible, self-loathing thoughts began to dissipate. Not entirely, but at least he wasn't completely bogged down by negativity.

“...if mini-me can keep smiling... then so can I.” Ralsei didn't want to open his eyes, growing more and more sleepy with each passing second. “I...I'll never give up on my friends... I'll make them proud..! Then... then I'll finally deserve this...” Slowly the prince laid on his side, curling into the plushie as he started to drift off to sleep.

“...thank you, Kris. I'm sorry for being so selfish.”

[owlobservation]

Interview with Itoshi Rin (Blaze Battle)

Taken from Blue Lock mobile game "Blaze Battle". Currently, the game is only available in Japan. I haven't played the game yet but thankfully a fan is kind enough to upload Rin's interview on youtube. You can check them here!

There are 10 Q&As in total, most of them are information that has been revealed in Egoist Bible and canon sources.

1. Where are you from?

Up until junior high school I played for Kamakura United Junior Youth. If you play soccer, you've probably heard of it.

2. What is your favorite food?

Ochazuke. I won't even complain if it's sea bream ochazuke.

3. What is your favorite animal?

Owls. They have good eyes. They're cute I guess.

4. What is your favorite subject

Physical Education and Art. English? That's a must for a soccer player.

5. What subjects are you weak at?

Calligraphy is so damn pointless. If you want to copy something, just use a copier.

6. What is your motto?

"The field is a battlefield." That's what soccer is to me.

7. What do you do on your days off?

Immerse myself in horror. Whether by playing games or watching movies. Back in the day it was only soccer...

8. What is your favorite movie?

I've only watched horror movies in these past few years.

9. Who is the person you admire?

Are we talking about soccer players? or....

Sae? ...Bastard, do you want to get killed?

10. What made you start playing soccer?

...Listen up. Don't ever ask me stupid questions again. Ask again and I'll seriously crush you. I'm dead serious.

===================================================

My Notes.

Q1. Rin played for the junior youth (U-15) division of Kamakura United. Sae used to be the ace of this team, winning Japan Club Youth Championship (U-15) when he was only a first-year junior high school student. He was scouted by Re Al because of this. (Light Novel). On his last year of junior high school, Rin also lead his team and won the U-15 Championship. I think that's why Rin answered the question with a bit of sarcasm. His club was pretty famous.

Btw, here's the club name in Japanese: 鎌倉ユナイテッド・ジュニアユース

Q2. Ochazuke (or Chazuke) is a Japanese dish made by pouring green tea, dashi, or hot water over cooked rice. Rin loves the one with sea bream. In Episode Omotesando oneshot, Rin said Ochazuke with sea bream is his tranquilizer* (精神安定剤）and he needs to eat it at least twice a month.

*Tranquilizer/sedative: something used to reduce anxiety, fear, tension, and stress.

Q3. "Owls. I'm fascinated by them. I think it's their eyes." (Egoist Bible)

Q4. He's already fluent in English.

Q5. "I hate having to write exactly as I'm taught." (Egoist Bible)

Q6. 「フィールドは戦場」 "The field is a battlefield" is what Sae told him. (Ch. 124). His other motto mentioned in Egoist Bible 「ぬるい」 "tepid/lukewarm" , is also what Sae told him from the same chapter. and night.

Q7. His hobby: Feeling the "chills" from playing horror games and watching horror movies. (Egoist Bible).

Q8. The Shining is his favorite horror movie (Egoist Bible). They didn't state that in the game for a reason I think lol.

Q9. The interviewer guessed that the person he admired is Sae which pissed him off. He didn't even answer the question. Anyway, the soccer player he admires is David Beckham. Rin said "I respect his kick". (Egoist Bible).

Q10. The question is harmless but Rin refused to answer again. The person who introduced him to soccer was Sae and it seemed like Rin didn't want to mention him at all...

[forever-will-last]

Welcome to the Psych Ward! Fic Masterpost

A collection of one-shots set in a college AU featuring the insane polycule of Regina/Cady/Janis/Karen/Gretchen aka The Psych Ward.

(Each time a new chapter is uploaded, I edit this post and reblog it!)

Newest Chapter (All other chapters under the cut):

Chapter 24: Uptown Dunk - Rated T - Psych Ward (Regina/Cady/Janis/Karen/Gretchen): The girls go to a big game for their women’s basketball team, which is actually one of the best in the country. They discover the wonders of basketball lesbians together.

Chapter 1: Regina George and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day - Rated T - Psych Ward (Regina/Cady/Janis/Karen/Gretchen): Pure crack of Regina getting hit by progressively weirder things throughout the course of the day. Chapter 2: Late Night, Double Feature, Picture Show - Rated M - Psych Ward (Regina/Cady/Janis/Karen/Gretchen): Scary movie night, but only Regina and Janis actually enjoy scary movies. Things get a little spicy.

Chapter 3: (Ac)Counting on You - Rated T - Cadina: Regina’s struggling with accounting and goes to Cady for help.

Chapter 4: Red vs. Blue - Rated M - Nightmare Blunt Rotation (Cady/Regina/Janis): Janis mixes up two batches of brownies and accidentally gives the wrong ones to her girlfriends.

Chapter 5: Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me - Rated E - Regina/Janis/Gretchen: Gretchen suffers the consequences of being a brat during Halloween movie night. Sequel to Chapter 2.

Chapter 6: A+ in Pretty - Rated T - Fetchen: Gretchen and Karen come home from the bar after a few too many shots and get a little sappy.

Chapter 7: Paint Me Like One of Your Girlfriends - Rated E - Rejanis: Janis and Regina get heated with some rough and angry sex.

Chapter 8: Crunchy Tuna Surprise - Rated T - Regret: Gretchen isn't feeling well, so it's Regina’s time to shine in the kitchen. Only problem is, Regina’s recipes are… more slimy than shiny.

Chapter 9: Not Quite the Savannah - Rated T - Cadnis: Janis takes Cady on a surprise date after a tough exam. Part 1 of 3.

Chapter 10: I'M GONNA FIGHT THE SUN! - Rated M - Psych Ward (Regina/Cady/Janis/Karen/Gretchen): Janis is acting really weird, and no one knows why. 

Chapter 11: Clouds and Stars - Rated T - Dream Blunt Rotation (Cady/Gretchen/Karen): It’s Gretchen and Karen’s turn to help Cady relax after her big exam. Part 2 of 3.

Chapter 12: Meet the In-Laws - Rated T - Psych Ward (Regina/Cady/Janis/Karen/Gretchen): It's the first family weekend since the polycule became a full group of five, and it's time for everyone's parents to meet. Well, almost everyone's.

Chapter 13: Apex Predator - Rated E - Cadina: Regina’s got big plans for the grand finale of Cady’s pampering. Part 3 of 3.

Chapter 14: Tiny, Ineffectual Fists - Rated M - Jaren: Janis overhears someone insulting Karen.

Chapter 15: Whistle Janis - Rated E - Jatchen: Janis buys a new toy and wants to try it out with Gretchen.

Chapter 16: At Your Mercy - Rated E - Fetchen: Gretchen’s really pent up on campus, and in desperate need of relief.

Chapter 17: Torrential Downpour - Rated M - Psych Ward (Regina/Cady/Janis/Karen/Gretchen): When it rains like this, there’s no getting away from the past. For Regina, that means a painful reminder of what happened to her back.

Chapter 18: The Circle of Cake - Rated T - Kady: Karen’s latest baking endeavor leads her to make a special gift for Cady.

Chapter 19: Kiss the Cook - Rated M - Cadchen: Cady’s in a frustrating video call, but Gretchen is there to "help."

Chapter 20: Plushie Pandemonium - Rated M - Psych Ward (Regina/Cady/Janis/Karen/Gretchen): Cady’s bummed because she won’t be able to get a limited edition plushie. Her girls decide that simply won’t do.

Chapter 21: Five Nights at Cady's - Rated E - Cadchen: Cady wants to do some research, and Gretchen is always willing to be her subject.

Chapter 22: An Otherworldly Blizzard - Rated M - Psych Ward (Regina/Cady/Janis/Karen/Gretchen): Regina has a new drinking game for her girls to go with a show she wants to binge.

Chapter 23: Of Breakfast, Bathrooms, and Bears - Rated T - Kady: Karen’s having a really, really rough day. Cady’s there to cheer her up with one of campus’s best resources.

Chapter 24: Uptown Dunk - Rated T - Psych Ward (Regina/Cady/Janis/Karen/Gretchen): The girls go to a big game for their women’s basketball team, which is actually one of the best in the country. They discover the wonders of basketball lesbians together.

[grimalkinmessor]

Fic Rec time because why not: Death Note Edition ✨

These are some of my favorite DN fanfics and I figured I'd share them with you :3 Even if you've probably already seen some of them.

I am also a multishipper so this going to LONG. Buckle in 🚀

Gen

Five Days by Shadow_of_Quill

Rated M. Noncon Warning. Several instances throughout the week where people don't keep their hands to themselves around Light.

Despite the serious subject matter Light deals with it in a very Light™ way. This is the origin of a few of my angstier Light headcanons.

.

This Is How I Disappear by TzviaAriella

Rated T. MCD Warning. After an international tribunal condemns nineteen-year-old Light Yagami to death, the Kira Task Force must come to terms with the fallout of the case–and with Light’s surprising last request.

I'm pretty sure everyone's read this one at some point. It's a classic. Everybody's GOTTA read this one at least once. Angsty but it's hhhhhhHHHHHH 🙏 So good.

.

And This Is All There Ever Was by Min Daae

Rated T. MCD Warning. In which Light has confessed, in order to win.

This one is technically lawlight, but it feels very gen to me so I put it NEAR the lawlight list. I love Light being a spiteful shit and this is him being spiteful to the very end. This man will do anything to win.

.

Lawlight

Polarity by Writeous

Rated T. Some people are born with soulmarks: small, colorful images tattooed onto your skin that represent the people who would prove most important in your life. By all accounts, soulbonds are supposed to be beautiful, something to be cherished and revered over the course of your life. Light Yagami grows up with a bold, typeface L on his hand and a soulmate that hates him.

I'm obsessed with this fic. OB. SESSED. It only has one chapter so far but I love the dynamic on this one. I love soulmate aus but specifically the grittier ones. It has a MCD warning but as of now it's not applicable yet. Highly recommend.

.

Time Speaks by aSmallMoon333

Rated E. In his first life, L died in the arms of his greatest enemy.

In his brief second one, he died alone.

And in his third, too-long life, L died anticipating finally getting even with the man who'd won their game one too many times.

And Light Yagami? If he'd known this is what picking up the Death Note would bring....well, he'd probably still have done it anyway.

This fic? Superb. Spectacular. I reread it at LEAST once a month. It has lodged in my brain and rots everything else around it I am so obsessed. L and Light are so unhinged and in love and petty and I love them. MCD warning, obviously, but it doesn't stick. This was my first fic back into the DN fandom and honestly I think it should be everyone else's too 🙏 My friends tell me they're getting back into DN and I immediately recc them this fic.

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louder then bells by relic_crown

Rated M. No one has ever seen Light’s soul, but it haunts his dreams as a monster: eyes bloody as sunrise, feathers tasting of citrus and sharpie fumes, breath hot as summer and twice as brutal. At first, he thinks the notebook itself is his soulmate. Then he tells himself Misa can be enough.

L ruins everything. For the first time, someone sees Light’s soul, and through his eyes Light knows it must look monstrous – why else would L be hunting him over it?

A soulmate/His Dark Materials AU—can you tell I have a thing for soulmate AUs? I adore the vibes of this fic, from the mystery of Light's soul, to L's distinct creepiness, to how Light views Kira :) I cannot explain that last bit to you, you're just gonna have to read it.

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Slow to Boil by TrashKing

Rated E. L has loved Kira since he knew there was a Kira to love. Unfortunately for him Light Yagami doesn’t quite understand the whole process of being seduced so L will have to take the frog in the pot approach to taming this beast.

I have a kink for L having a Kira kink, and this is one of my favorites to read when I have my 'I Need L To Be Obsessed With Kira' cravings. Very fun read, highly recommend ✨

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The Many Forms of Blessings by TrashKing

Rated E. Light was taken in by Wammy House after he lost his family in the accident. Now eighteen he finds it’s a tradition at the house that the best of every generation meet the mysterious creature who lives in the catacombs under the estate; L. Light is reluctant and that unease proves well placed when it’s revealed the graduates L likes never leave the underground.

And THIS fic is the one I circle back to when I get my 'I Need L To Be Obsessed With Light' cravings :3 Dark and beautiful in that Beauty & The Beast/Leda & The Swan way. I really love Light's characterization in this fic, as well as the darker take on the Light Grows Up In Wammy's trope.

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Rabbit Holes by TrashKing

Rated M. L Lawliet, head programmer and engineer for W&W Cybernetics, arrives at Tokyo-3 to fix a malfunction that killed eight people. The problem is that 'malfunction' turns out to be a newly sentient super computer called Kira. L disconnects him from the rest of the installation to begin a historic interrogation, but Kira might not be as defanged as L believes.

If you can't tell by now I am trash for TrashKing's fics—I can't help it I'm straight up in love with their Light. I would recc literally all of their fics but we don't got time for that, there's over fifty. This fic is fluffy and funny and really interesting, and it was a super fun read! I liked the inclusion of Ryuk and Light's very wholesome and yet still very Light™ reactions to human experiences :)

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Into The Grey by Kratos_Aurion

Rated E. Light is a young, hot, reclusive Omega who follows all the rules and does it all right. Except when he's sneaking out to capture criminals as the vigilante only known as Kira. L will always and forever be the world's greatest detective, but the Alpha might have a little competition in the Kanto region of Japan.

In a world just barely free of Omega oppression, these two geniuses find themselves in a race against the clock and each other.

VIGILANTE 👏 LIGHT 👏 I love this little scheming bastard. I love the twists and turns this fic takes and the persistent aura of dread and danger. I also just like it when L and Light bicker and fight and they do that a lot in this fic. A lot. It's great. I can't explain what else I particularly like about this fic without spoiling it, so you're just gonna have to read it.

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Extrajudicial by Boo_Yeah

Rated M. L knows that Light Yagami is guilty. And he is forced to accept that he will never be able to prove it.

So, just this once, he decides to break his principles and go above the law. He kidnaps Light and takes him to Wammy's house.

He's sure that having the kids interact with a real-life mass murderer will be a very educational experience indeed.

Or: Light is Kira, L is sick of how easily manipulated the police are, and he secretly wants to see what will happen if he forces Light into a domestic situation with children just as intelligent as he is.

I am a person who really enjoys L Wins AU, so L yoinking Light from Japan just to hide him away in Wammy's to try and redeem (?) him all while Light kicks and screams is something that just speaks to me personally 🙏 L just wants to not kill his friend and Light just wants to continue to commit crimes, top tier story on God.

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Animal Games by tsukinoyagi

Rated T. Gone Girl AU. L has moved his lovely, vile, entirely batshit husband out of their beautiful Brooklyn brownstone into a Missouri suburb, then left him to his own devices. He is under the impression that this is going to end well.

This fic is beautifully written and it scratches that itch I have for malicious antagonism between established lawlight. These bitches are SO toxic and I love them. I really enjoyed the different perspectives just so you can see that both of them are unreliable narrators.

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Terraito

The Gods of The Godless by foreskinsmoothie

Rated E. Noncon Warning. Light was perfect. And now that he’s not, there’s just nothing left for him here, in this life.

After a night that ruined his life, left him crippled and spurred forth multiple failed suicide attempts, Light decides his best course of action is putting himself in the most dangerous situation he can think of and making grotesque gangsters do his dirty work. He slips into the sight of Ryuk, infamous for fucking male escorts, then killing them in a brutal blur. Or so those dark web message boards say.

Light’s fate is in Gods hands… or maybe a creature far crueler has plans for him.

I LOVE THIS FIC. I ADORE IT. It's dark and gritty, but as someone deranged about human (?) Ryuk and his and Light's dynamic, this fic is wonderful. The noncon is not between Ryuk and Light, but the descriptions are explicit so be aware of that. Both Light and Ryuk have my entire heart here no lie.

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Toes, Knuckles, Teeth by TrashKing

Rated E. Ryuk's always been good at bending rules. Shinigami aren't supposed to have sex with humans but, well, by his estimation Light is also a Shinigami.

This fic revolves in my brain at 3x microwave speeds, okay? I am studying this fic like it is the scrolls of old, alright? I hold unhinged amounts of feralness for this fic. It's a smutty little character study, and it has imprinted itself onto the back of my eyelids forever. This fic addresses every reason that I'm so obsessed with Ryuk and Light's relationship. SO GOOD 🔥

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Meronia

what doesn't kill me makes me want you more by neallo

Rated M. “Poor Near,” Mello says, stepping closer and pulling Near’s head back further, tilting her face up as Mello cages her against the wall. “How long have you liked me?”

Near’s heart is kicking against her ribcage so hard it almost hurts, and her ears are burning with embarrassment. She squeezes her eyes shut, unable to hold the blonde’s gaze. “Mello, I...” she tries to speak, hoarse.

“Has it been months?” Mello asks, her voice getting closer as Near feels her lean down. She braves a glimpse through her lashes and watches as Mello bends her head to brush her cheek against Near’s, putting her lips next to Near’s ear. “Years, maybe?” The older girl teases.

Near finds it in herself to squeak out a “yes,” and almost jumps at Mello’s sharp intake of breath.

“Years,” Mello marvels.

A Fem Meronia fic set in Wammy's era where Mello finds out that Near enjoys getting bullied by her—because Near has a MASSIVE crush on her. What more could you possibly want out of life? Amazing fic.

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The Archer Ensnared by jabbernatty

Rated E. Near has two goals: the first, to celebrate Mello’s birthday. The second- a secret. His methods for achieving these? Questionable.

THIS. FIC. THIS ONE. Near is my favorite levels of unhinged and this is so in character for me. I enjoy it a lot. If you haven't figured it out by now I enjoy romantic antagonism and problematic relationships and this fic has both 😍

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we will be better than i was by sahwen

Rated M. AU in which Mello swallows their pride and works alongside Near. Things aren't as different as one might expect.

Nonbinary Mello, domestic-edging meronia, and tragedy mixed in with funny shenanigans. The way this written is just,,,so pretty?? I'm in love with it. 10/10 it has everything.

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Matsulight

metempsychosis by palant1r

Rated M. MCD Warning. After the warehouse — it will always be "the warehouse" to him, a vague noun as a substitute for years of betrayal — Matsuda wakes up the next morning faced with a second chance. One day to fix everything, one day to build the January 28 he wants. And that day will repeat for as long as it takes to get things right.

He knows that he can't save everyone. But it would be nice if he could just save someone.

OR

Matsuda gets stuck in a time loop and the situation quickly gets worse.

This fic is a TRIP I tell you, but a very good one. Matsuda's characterization in this is so much fun. This fic is about the journey of grief and all the madness and moral contemplation that comes along with shooting the greatest mass murderer of all time who was also your best friend that you're in love with. Very good read.

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Alive by still_lycoris

Rated M. Light Yagami is a Shinigami. And Matsuda has found the Notebook ...

This is such an interesting idea, I really enjoyed it. Matsuda's moral struggle seems to be a persistent theme in matsulight fics but honestly that's half the fun. Good fic 👌

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Birthdaymassacre

A Secret Note by KeehlingOver

Rated E. What Mello left out of his writings on the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases.

Or, these edibles ain't shi--

This fic is so fucking funny holy shit. Whenever I need a pick-me-up I reread this fic. It's T4T bdaymassacre, what more could you want?

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Aggressive Top by ThePunkRanger

Rated E. Naomi Misora isn’t about to admit that the mysterious detective Ryuzaki sparked something in her, but when he insists that he’s an “aggressive top” she just can’t let it slide. So she does something entirely unprecedented, and invites him over to prove it.

What has she gotten herself into?

Naomi is sick of Ryuzaki's shit, and Beyond has reverse-psychology-ed his head between Naomi's legs 🙏 This one is unfinished but it left off on a cliffhanger that drives me FUCKIN' NUTS BRO. FIRE.

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Playing The Part by ThePunkRanger

Rated E. Someone is kidnapping members of Southern California’s BDSM community, and the world’s greatest detective is in the market for a reliable team to go undercover on his behalf.

It’s been two years since the arrest of Rue Ryuzaki, the serial killer behind the Los Angeles BB murder case, and Naomi Misora has been happy to live her life under the assumption that she’ll never have to see him again. Unfortunately, L has other ideas; ones that involve her pretending to be in a Pup/Handler relationship with the murderer she put behind bars.

I'll be real and say that I wasn't sure about this fic at first, but it's actually very wholesome?? And respectful of the kink community! There's some extra angst in the background with L's controlling tendencies (there are cameras in that hotel room. I feel it in my bones.) and his and B's rough history, but honestly I think that makes it even more interesting. Top tier fic. 👌

[ashe-stxr]

a little over a month ago, i posted this video on tiktok and im very happy to bring it over here to tell yall: IM MAKING A NYGMOBBLEPOT VISUAL NOVEL !!! :]

its set in season 3, right after episode 5, and the first chapter is about oswald struggling to confess his feelings to ed. its mostly just set-up for the storylines that will be explored in chapter 2 (so far im planning on there only being two chapters, but that could be subject to change if the second chapter becomes too long).

i have been very slowly teaching myself renpy and developing the first chapter since the beginning of the year, and its been such a fun experience !! for quite a few years ive wanted to make a visual novel, but i could never find the motivation or the right story to tell (of course my autistic ass would end up making my first visual novel be about my special interest,,😭).

currently, chapter 1 is fully written and mostly coded, and all of the sprites are done, unless i want to make adjustments to them. as for the bgs and cgs, ive done the lineart for 16/23 of the backgrounds and ive yet to start the cgs. the gui and music/sound effects dont matter quite yet, as im planning on "releasing" chapter 1 for playtesting once ive finished all the lineart.

i really hope other people find this as exciting as i do, cause im uh. planning on talking about this a LOT,, (im gonna be using the tag "Riddlebird VN" for everything related to it if you want to filter out my yapping LMAO) i have a sneak peak of the second scene of chapter 1 that im gonna be posting tomorrow, so keep an eye out for that ! :]

but until then, thats all !! thank you for reading and i hope you will stick around to watch this crazy journey of game development !! <3

also heres a transcript of the text in the video cause its kinda hard to read:

["lmao what kind of person would learn renpy JUST to make a visual novel about their special interest??? that sounds so stupid-"

I dont know how I did this. I'm not a writer and I'm barely an artist.

most of the writing projects I've started, I gave up on at around a thousand words… this is 27k words. (and it's only the 1st chapter)

I haven't even started the background images yet and there's already 500+ images omfg.. apparently my superpower is that as long as I'm making something nygmobblepot related, I'll finish it no matter what.

BUT ALSO !!!

it's been 8 months and they still live in a grey void and the cgs are just stick figures …this is going to take YEARS to complete.

help me]