#also why are his eyes so dull in this screenshot?

[0vergrowngraveyard]

boom tails really switches between being the smartest/sassiest guy in the room and:

[kalims]

Oh my goddess, orders are open! Ahem, ANYWAYS— I wonder if I could have an Idia with a fem or gn s/o who is introverted and generally closed-faced, being a sweetheart and even shy with him, pretty please?

• Remember to drink water and take care of yourself correctly, kisses <3

– Mel 🌙🩵✨

dress,

premise.

idia forever thought his cause of death would be the permanent termination of his end game account—which in theory, is now proven wrong at the existence of a brand new thing that just might obliterate his heart.

note. thank you mel <3 you too. i, for one will gladly accept kisses from u and idia (he's downbad here LOL)

idia is having a strangely, familiar sensation.

for example—the fact that his heart is palpitating so fast is making him afraid that he'll get the same sense of doom he frequently gets whenever this happens. like when he's the one that the professor chooses to answer a question up front. just his luck cause it absolutely sucks in real life just as much as his chances of winning that rare character.

but no, there isn't an impending sense of doom that sends him to the edge. no cold sweat forming on the skin of his neck, nor does it protrude from his clammy hands. it's weird, he feels warm rather than the cold it usually accompanies.

he needs to visit a doctor.

he gulps thickly. sending a lightning fast glance at your direction then averting it even faster. oh my god, your hand just brushed against his.. was it intentional? no, no—it mustn't be. you wouldn't waste your time doing that.

but you might even look more tenser than he is.

despite the attempt at flushing down the tightness in his throat, his words still break off into a croaky stammer that just sends his face into a grimace because, did he sound like that? "I'm.. I'm really sorry, you didn't have to do this," he says, looking away with those eyes that just screams a mixture of 'I hate it all.' and 'I'm so scared.'

his eyes in comparison to yours, dull significantly in terms of greatness. cause as rare as it is for your eyes to meet, he'll always marvel at the lush hue your eyes are colored with—and god, your lashes. so pretty, so, so pretty.

he sulks. he doesn't deserve this.

"it's alright," you answer in response, voice quiet but it's the only thing he ever hears despite the myriad of people quite nearly squishing the both of you. the crowd is large, and noisy. so he isn't sure why he's suddenly the greatest listener when you speak. "I'm glad you thought of... inviting me along, I know you're quite passionate about it."

passionate is not a strong enough word, it could be an incorrect word to use even. he supposes it's just a nice feeling to excel—be good at something.

but with how hot his heart is probably burning, maybe passionate really is the right word.

for you that is.

most likely idia's ideal type of player two <3 someone he can keep up with, not too fast and certainly not too slow. but either way, he’s probably having a heart attack at whatever you do. literally just sleeping? his heart… playing with him? please match avatars at once or he will combust. (and yes, he is hinting even though you already match everywhere else. had a house in a game, got married in a game.)

don’t even pull out the fact he buys you the currency to match and you feel bad cause he thinks it’s too cute. you need to stop or else he will buy you more.

speaking of more in game terms, he surprisingly garners a lot of attention online maybe because he’s endgame in every single account he’s made and many people like money so… there are many attempts at ‘rizzing’ him up but in the end he’s provoking them to screenshot it and report them as online daters.

^ says THE online dater.

still reports people if they flirt with you, but compared to his. not only is it a file for online dating he somehow dug up the dirt, the monstrous things they did like… 3 years ago and now they’re gonna get suspended. It’s concerning since he was talking with you animatedly during it and he somehow also exposed them all in 10 minutes.

did the see you again trend in secrecy cause he would rather leap down a hole to hell than let people see it. In any case… if it isn’t obvious he’s the lala, you the okok.

deluded himself, is convinced that he’s actually the nonchalant, ‘cool’ one but all he is, is a literal puddle. is still solid when standing but will be putty in your hands in SECONDS.

idia is secretly really proud of himself whilst being like: how did i even pull them. cause when he looks at your face when you’re talking to other people. he’s actually kind of scared cause it’s a really wondrous thing you never once looked at him like that… (please save his mind too. he’s trying to convince himself that you must be like this, soft person he knows to other people too and not just him because that’s just crazy right haha.. hahahaha…)

the type to tell you to stand back during raids, challenges, boss fights, etc…  that all you need to do is be there, and that he’ll solo it for you and you can claim your rewards even though he gave you the rarest, strongest equipment in respective games which won’t be much use at this point cause he insists he do it for you, and sulks all day if you don’t let him.

stay at home couple >>>

will order every single thing you crave during those times he’s too shy to consider date nights, and you too so it’s like an unspoken thing. he honestly plays better when you’re inside his room, even if it’s just laying on his messy bed scrolling on your phone or munching on something.

it’s just complete, comfortable silence.

except for the time one of you accidentally makes an indirect flirty comment and now the room could be considered a sauna from the literal steam only two people emitted. 

really, really, really, REALLY, likes it when your head is on his shoulder.

“─ean.. no one really asked for it, the nerf was completely unnecessary and─” the words poured out of his mouth, something uncontrollable that he couldn’t stop. there is something about you that just kicks down the layer of anxiety on him. comfortable might be the right word, even if you don’t talk that much (which is surprising cause he ends up being the talkative one and you always assure him that you like to listen.) somehow the thought: am i too annoying? doesn’t really pop up like usual.

in fact, he’s excited to ramble all about it. excited to hear your thoughtful hums, excited to see your attentive eyes on him since the first word he’s said─but it isn’t. because he looks up and you’re blinking haphazardly, thrice in a second and before he panics to shut his mouth he feels the soft slump of your head against the curve of his shoulder.

oh my god, oh my god, oh my g─

if idia had half of his mind he would scream instinctively at the weight he isn’t really accustomed to feel. actually, even if he did have his entire brain connected, and his thoughts coherent he still would. but he bites the inside of his cheek cause despite the chaos that just erupted in his mind which is somehow simultaneously blank, and swirling.

and he remembers midst his confusion that you are,

asleep.

you’re asleep on his shoulder

you’re asleep.

asleep on his shoulder.

on. his. shoulder.

he resorts to the screech in his head.

his shoulder─is so terribly stiff right now to the point where he thinks that sleeping on a hard, wooden surface would be surely more comfortable rather than where your head lays. he makes an effort to relax his muscles, tell himself that it’s only you and that there’s nothing wrong but there is something wrong because it’s you! idia dares to sneak a peek at you and your closed lids only confirm your unconscious state.

and careful with each nudge his movement makes sends to your head. idia can’t resist the hands that creep up his face and bury it, to hope all the embarrassment and whatever he’s feeling right now absorbs it right out of his face because god. he knows he looks like he just ate 10 bowls of lilia’s cooking.

he would scream, he really would. a second thought but you’re on his shoulder!

you, who rarely touches him too much.

on him.

him, who gets too flustered to be touched by you.

so he feels pretty obligated to just suck it up cause he’s enjoying the moment even if you aren’t conscious right now and he sure as hell is going to, for as long as he can.

idia releases a deep sigh, long and wistful because he’s gonna die before you even wake up.

[afreakingdork]

Soft Spot - Chapter 12

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Donnie has been gifted an incredible treat in this week's chapter art by @grumpytheunicorn 🤭

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it, Menstruation, There WILL NOT be any Miscarriages

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

“So then Jackie sends me a Slack screenshot of Tina asking if a blatant error on the file is wrong or not.”

“A mistake you made early on in your new position.”

“Exactly! So I immediately own up because why not and Jackie is like, ‘Why didn’t Tina fix it herself? It was obviously a mistake. Why even ask if it was wrong or not?’”

Donnie’s brows rose knowing what came next.

“So I get to say, ‘Tina has always been like that!’”

“The first to gossip in the new department.”

“We finally got one!” You lifted a commiserating fist and then tapped Donnie with it. “That dance to see who’s chill among my new team is so stressful. We’re all bound to hate upper management and each other so let’s just get it out of the way early.”

“Workplace politics I will never understand.” He covered your hand and then brought it down to his side to hold it.

“No, you just scare your work force into submission.”

Donnie gave a bare roll of his eye. “There’s respect as well.”

“Of the ones that haven’t shit themselves.” You snickered.

Donnie shrugged.

You let out a sigh. “Dang, lines really taking a bit.”

“Weather has finally improved.”

“Good point.” You looked up toward the sparsely dotted sky. “Winter never really let go of spring this year and it’s already almost summer…”

“What was the rodent’s prediction?”

You had to think for a moment and then laughed. “Punxsutawney Phil?!”

Donnie stared at you with a dull expression.

“Oh… What did he find out? I can’t remember now!”

You got your phone out to look it up.

“You ever wonder what it’d be like if he was a mutant? Like would Phil embrace it?”

Donnie chuffed.

“I bet he’d be more accurate. He’d be that region’s best meteorologist.” You shook your head at the answer. “’Punxsutawney Phil said we would have an early spring this year.’”

“Show me the table.” He leaned down over your shoulder.

You scrolled a bit. “Yellow is early and blue is six more weeks.”

Donnie hummed lightly. “Rarely early.”

“Right? I’m surprised.”

He reviewed the list a few seconds longer before flashing inward to nip at your ear.

You chomped down on a squeal and giggled away from him. “Hey!”

He churred where he was still bent over.

“Frisky with the weather…” You did a quick check to make sure no one was too annoyed before returning to him for a quick kiss.

He churred agreement.

“Your heat was delayed from the cold so are we thinking you’re gonna to start signaling soon?”

“Perhaps.” Donnie huffed. “Fickle season. A pain.”

“As fickle as the weather, that heat of yours.” You sang lightly.

He was amused enough and straightened to look out.

The line still hadn’t moved and you rolled your neck.

While you felt the pressure to come up with another topic, you were in no rush.

June’s weather was balmy and pleasant.

It felt like ages since you last enjoyed being outside.

After you got your food, you had already picked out a great place where you were going to lean against a wall and eat while bathed in the sun.

You could almost feel the warmth in your hand from the paper tray along with the rays caressing your cheeks.

You were drunk on a daydream when you heard a breathy, “Excuse me…”

You looked to see a heavily pregnant woman addressing the line and almost specifically you since she was right beside you.

“I’m fine.” She huffed out with irritation as if you were bothering her. “I’m just dizzy and I need a spotter.”

“Of course!” You blurted out before anyone else could.

The woman almost glared at you, but her gaze didn’t have enough focus. “Stay there.”

“S-sure…” You tried not to hover.

She took a deep breath that didn’t seem to make it into her body before she pivoted.

The woman in front of you hesitated to leap out to help.

The pregnant woman got her foot down hard and hoisted up against her belly before making a relatively safe line to the wall beside the door. There she stood for a single swaying second before she got her shoulders to the wall. With the tip of her body, she tucked her hands under her stomach for a little heft before she spread her legs out. It gave her a sturdy stance and she let her back press heavy into the brick to share the weight. “That’s the stuff…”

“We just keep an eye out?” You asked.

“Yeah, in case I pass out.” The pregnant woman groaned.

“You’ll pass out!?” A man behind Donnie piped up in horror.

“No!” She cracked one lid open. “I mean maybe, but don’t freak everyone out. I’m fine. It’s just hot.”

The woman in front of you shuffled.

“Stop it.” The pregnant woman zoned in on her. “I’m fine! Ugh, I hate this. I hate that it’s some delicacy thing. I’ll fuck you up, baby or not. I just need a second with this damn heat!”

“I thought the weather was nice.” The man behind Donnie tried to whisper to his companion.

“Hey, pal!” The pregnant woman shot upright with an enraged finger. “You wanna talk to my hormones?! Do you know how much more blood I got pumping through my veins right now!? Don’t fucking tell me it’s nice or not! I’m hot! I’m cold! I think I fucking know how much I-!”

For a single second she was dead silent.

You were in motion before the others.

Her pupils swam and she stumbled one step by the time you caught her shoulders.

“’M fine!” She slurred.

“You are.” You led her back to the wall.

“Pinched nerve. Still here. Dark.” She stunted out. “Walking sucks.”

“Yeah?” You followed along her arm to get her hand and press it to the cool brick.

She groped at it, garnering strength.

“Where were you walking to?” You tried.

She couldn’t snort, but she wheezed on a little breath. “Nunna business…”

“Not at all. Just making conversation. Helps you stay with us.” You moved away from where she had a grip on the wall and supported her other side.

She relented for a long moment before she leaned into you. “Hungry.”

“Cravings?”

Her skin looked pale and her bangs clung to her temple with latent sweat. “Is’hot…”

“What are you craving?”

“Ice cream…”

“What kind?”

“It’s hot.”

You signaled Donnie with a flick of your eye.

It was all it took for the line to move.

The woman who had been in front of you talked her way into the restaurant.

The man behind you turned to calm the others and talked of calling an emergency.

“No ambulance!” The pregnant woman barked.

The man relayed that.

Donnie met your side and produced a handkerchief.

“Got water?” You asked him and took the cloth to blot the pregnant woman’s brow.

“I do!” The woman from in front of you came out with that and a towel.

You fisted the cloth you had and together with the other woman from the queue got a wet towel prepared.

The moment it touched the pregnant woman’s skin, she came alive. “No, wait, this is the stuff.”

“Much cooler.” You agreed.

“Like ice cream!” The woman from the line confirmed.

“Ice cream…” The pregnant woman was wistful and pulled from you to lean against the wall again. “There’s that place…”

The woman from the line perked up. “Where?”

“Up the road with the… Can I have that?” The pregnant woman pinched at the towel pressed to her cheek.

“Of course.” You passed it off.

“Stuffed?” The woman from the line wondered.

The pregnant woman covered her whole face with the wet towel and spoke through it creating a comical bubble. “Yes!”

“Never been.” You added.

“Ugh!” The pregnant woman was sounding more coherent. “The smell makes me puke, but I’ve been eating their durian ice cream by the pound.”

“Durian?” The woman from the line was horrified.

“Cold dulls the smell! I need that nasty fruit and Stuffed delivers.” The pregnant woman tugged down her shroud. “I hate being wet, got a dry one?”

You unfurled the handkerchief from your palm.

She snatched it right up. “Hate needing help.”

“I bet. It drove my sister nuts when she was pregnant.” The woman from the line gave a lopsided grin. “Sometimes, you just need to-”

“I’m gonna stop you there.” The pregnant woman wiped her face. “Don’t give me that ‘sometimes you need to lean on others’ crap. My mom popped me and my brother out alone. My grandma did the same with her and her sisters. If I want ice cream at 2pm, I’m gonna get it. Teddy doesn’t know shit. I’m pregnant, not feeble.”

“Ted…dy?” The woman from the line blinked.

“Hey, is that a turtle with 3D glasses?” The pregnant woman pointed to Donnie with his own handkerchief. “What? Can’t you see in our dimension?”

Donnie’s lids lowered the slightest amount.

“That’s my husband.” You told her. “He is a turtle and the glasses are a style choice.”

“To what?” She scoffed at you. “The 1980s?”

You rolled your eyes in jest.

Donnie sent a minute amount of betrayal through your wedding band.

You brushed him off knowing full well you’d hear all about how the colors helped the many settings.

The pregnant woman got the cup of water from the woman from the line and gulped it down. “Alright…”

“You’re-?” The woman from the line went on high alert.

“I’m fine!” The pregnant woman hissed and tested standing as straight as she could.

You all watched to make sure she was stable. 

When she was satisfied, she gave a curt nod and looked at you. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The woman from the line looked betrayed.

“You need to chill, but thank you too.” The pregnant woman turned on her.

“Good luck with your ice cream.” You gave her space.

“I’m getting two pints now.” She gleamed a ferocious smile at you.

The woman from the line’s eyes darted.

“If you follow me, I swear to God.” The pregnant woman rose with ire and slammed the wet towel and empty cup in the woman from the line’s hands.

It dampened her shirt and she held the soak in dismay.

“Who’s is this?” The pregnant woman flapped the hanky.

Donnie held up a hand.

“It’s gross. Good luck…” She passed him the cloth and gestured over him. “... getting back to the future, McFly.”

Donnie’s beak scrunched up in confusion

She laughed and clapped him on the shoulder both to share the joke and to get herself in motion.

Donnie rotated to watch her go.

“She’s referencing a movie.” You offered from behind him.

He returned with the wrinkled hanky in his open palm.

“Wanna throw that out?” You nodded to it.

He didn’t say anything, but had a put out nature as he pocketed it.

You chuckled and walked back to the line where the woman in front of you had already reclaimed her spot.

She was still looking down at the dark spot on her torso in dismay.

“Two more!?” Someone from a distance growled.

“They were in line before they saved a lady! You got a problem!?” The man behind you snarled.

“Maybe I do! I didn’t see that! I saw them cut!”

“Buddy!” The man behind you threatened and shoved his sleeves up.

A few other voices chorused for everyone to calm down.

The anger disengaged and the line finally took a step forward.

You sighed and shook your head.

“She really got so hot she almost passed out.” The man behind you started up to his companion. “My cousin, Gus, you know from the party, he once passed out from heat stroke, you think it’s like that?”

His companion didn’t seem to know.

Donnie looked up the line once before he turned his head. “It was as she said.”

“She did? When?” The man tilted his head.

“Increased blood flow.” Donnie noted.

“Oh yeah…” The man nodded with an oblivious tone.

Donnie reviewed him once before a spiteful air caught him and he launched into a dissertation.

The man, who you deemed to have a good heart, tried his best to keep up though the science that baffled him. Their conversation soon became a Q & A and you could tell the others in line were listening in. It helped pass the time as Donnie rattled off information you had once both rammed into your heads.

Getting pregnant was now a concept that was comfortably seated in the back of your mind. It didn’t nag you and instead tallied up with the usual daily thoughts. When your period came it did so as it had done prior to trying. When you were ovulating, your husband prompted you if he was so inclined, but it wasn’t a guarantee. You had both finally accepted conception’s fickle nature as much as anything else.

The idea of Donnie’s heat had been coming up in conversation since May. His starting window had never been exact and had a chance of occurring anywhere within his species’ season. Over the years, he had settled, just as you had now, into the concept of his heat and it was something of a normality. You both had become apt at dealing with it and you never minded the fuck fest of a vacation it granted you.

It was during one such conversation that you had wondered about Donnie’s birth control overdose. He had once theorized there was danger in impregnating you because his heat caused him to spout excess sperm. Now, however, he didn’t seem as convinced that there was a higher chance of you conceiving during the rut. All your newly gained knowledge about pregnancy had changed his perception. The only new conclusion you came to about his heat was a correlation. 

While the starting time frame appeared as random as the weather, there was a seemingly obvious kick-off point. The month of signaling that led up to his heat seemingly sunk up perfectly with your ovulation cycle. While you didn’t actually have the data of your menstruation from back then, you had it now and with it could give relatively accurate estimation of the past. Donnie felt comfortable enough in the data to say that one of your ovulations readied his body before the next started his heat proper. 

Donnie was more than a little miffed that his alter had figured out how to track your cycle before he consciously had.

The line moved you inside by the time your mate was listening to the man behind you’s companion talk about his wife’s pregnancy. They had gotten onto the topic of cravings and whether or not they correlated with vitamin deficiencies. The man behind you was staunch about it relating to the child’s personality and the other two men were furious each time he brought it up. You thought he might have been trolling them had you not been listening to the rest of his half baked ideas about mothers.

“Next!”

You had to tug Donnie’s elbow to get his attention.

The other men waved him off with especially good tidings.

“Did… you tell them we were trying…?” You asked right in front of the purveyor.

“I deemed it appropriate.” Donnie looked over at you coolly.

His wedding band gave away his giddiness.

“Ahem!” The employee’s head lolled.

“Sorry! The burrito and… the SPB?” You checked with your husband.

He nodded.

“Got it.”

You paid and were told to wait off to the side.

The woman who was in front of you had predictably run off to the restroom after ordering. She emerged just in time to get her food and the two men who had followed Donnie now gave him space as they were debating something new. You leaned against your mate and took in the smells trapped in the smaller building. You felt heightened to them when thinking of the pregnant woman and her durian. You wondered how you would deal with morning sickness when your order was called.

You grabbed it and headed out to that sunny spot.

As you stood facing the light like a flower, Donnie prepared your orders. He expertly swapped half of his wrap and your sandwich between boxes so you could try each other’s. You were an extra set of hands used as a table while he sorted the many condiments. He openly wondered about how to best dole out the four sauce cups and you didn’t particularly care what went with what. It was all going to mix into something delicious and eventually you were given a go ahead.

Your husband had opted to use lids to divvy up dressing and you scooped up your burrito with the intention of pouring some over it. It took some finagling with one hand while the other held the box. You were sure the innards of your dish would fall no matter how exact a bite you took. You dipped down and grabbed a mouthful for an explosion of flavor. You hummed deliciousness to your mate who was half way through his sandwich already. You smiled at him through a drip down your chin.

He chuffed lightly at your mess and juggled his box to pass you a napkin.

His own sauce cups flicked a drip out at his hand and he had to use another. You wiped your mouth clean to chide him, but you had a blowout from the bottom of your burrito. In a comical back and forth, there were just enough napkins to cover the course and you both leaned back in the light while digesting.

The sun was beaming.

You’d been in its direct clutches for a little too long as dampness followed your hair line. You reached up to test if the moisture there was real or imagined and came away with some shine to your fingertips. Donnie watched you and reviewed how he only had soiled napkins in an empty boat. On autopilot, he went for his pocket and produced the equally dirty handkerchief he had gotten back from the pregnant woman.

“We’ll wash it.” You urged him. “Don’t you have another?”

He nodded and handed you his trash. You stacked the mostly empty containers while he searched his coat. He got hold of a newly folded handkerchief and you blotted over your head with some imagery of southern gentlemen. You were just missing a linen suit and a cane, you mused to yourself. A boater hat might complete the look, but you wondered if that would only make you more sweaty. You came away having barely made a mark on the square of fabric.

“We are not built the same.” You joked.

Donnie made a curious noise.

You held your tidy handkerchief up in comparison with the wad of the other.

He made a noise of agreement. 

“Was that just the water?” You were close enough to smell it. “Oh… Eugh! Actually, wait…!”

He had probably smelled it the whole time. “She had especially active sweat glands.”

You held up your hanky as if to block your nose. “Is that just her or…?”

“A possibility, but pregnancy seems likelier. An attempt to keep her cool. Increased blood flow leads to higher basal temperature. Sweat is then produced in excess as balance.”

“But bacteria makes you stink, I thought.”

He juggled thoughts. “There’s some distinction with the hormone balance.”

“Can you smell that she’s pregnant?”

“I don’t make it a policy to sniff pregnant women.”

“That’s a good one to have.” You nodded.

You watched him stall for exactly three seconds before he lifted the dirty handkerchief up to obviously scent.

You pretended your hanky was a notepad. “What do you detect?”

He flicked you a rueful gaze. “I can’t correlate.”

“Name one thing.”

He looked at you expectantly as he had just explained he couldn’t.

“No.” You pursed your lips. “I meant name a hormone she could be producing. From what you know about pregnancy.”

“She was far enough along that corticotropin might be released.”

“Which is that?”

“For stress, aids in onset for labor.”

“Okay, so I definitely don’t have that.” You held your handkerchief out to him. “Mine’s the baseline, how are they different?”

The slight upturn of his smile scolded you. “The bacterial flora on your two skins widely differs.”

You shook the cloth in hand.

“I smell scallions.” He told you playfully.

“I’m trying to train your nose.” You joked in return.

He sighed as if it were a big effort and was particularly delicate in whiffing your handkerchief.

“And back to the tester.” You told him.

He was amused enough to turn his beak the other direction to take another sniff.

He snuffed a few extra times.

Your head tilted.

He went back to your handkerchief.

“Don…?”

“Just… just a moment.” He caught your cloth and pulled the two close for a back and forth comparison.

You cradled your trash in both hands and you watched him sniff the two handkerchiefs with increasing uncertainty.

He then stopped abruptly to glower down at both objects.

You dipped your head to catch his eye.

He looked at you with a staunched expression. “I would like to go home.”

You made a small sound of surprise and gave a tight nod.

“It’s not nothing. It’s not something.” He turned to leave.

You sensed he was about to set a fast pace and readied yourself.

He took a large step forward and you immediately had to jog to keep up.

He wove in and out of people and you were forced to draft behind him.

“It doesn’t make any sense.” He tossed both for himself and over his shoulder at you.

You didn’t bother prompting him.

“We’ve proved time and time again. Humans do not have pheromones. Scent does not dictate internal mechanisms. You can test its make-up! These factors do not have a smell!”

He turned a sharp corner and you stumbled after him.

“Are there some studies!? Yes!” His hand lifted in irritation. “As with all pregnancy literature there is asinine study. Human babies have excellent scent capability. Examinations have found they recognize how to breastfeed by picking up smell from their mother’s armpits. That is not pheromones. There’s no signal. They know the scent of their mother and armpits are repertoires of olfactory pungency!”

He continued at a certain speed before he suddenly stopped.

Instead of allowing you to crash into him, he caught you and steered you into a bodega. “An asinine comparison regardless.”

You were led straight to a cooler and he plucked out your preferred brand of bottled water.

“This?” He offered it to you.

“Sure…?” You looked on owlishly.

He nodded once and swept around an aisle to the register. “You wouldn’t be anywhere near producing prolactin.”

You didn’t dare let yourself think anything on that as you watched him pay for the bottle.

“Drink, please.” He handed it off to you the second the transaction was done.

“Walk a little slower.”

He looked for a moment like he might sob, but he relented with a nod.

“Keep going.” You opened the lid and took a swig.

He waited for you to gulp it down before moving again. “There’s mounting data. Contrarian data!”  

You were drinking the water as you moved.

“One’s forehead! There’s moisturizer! Sunscreen! Hair care products! Make-ups! That woman had mascara on!”

You were getting closer to your apartment as Donnie rattled off every single thing that could skew the smell. It took him into the territory of false positives in pregnancy tests which by proxy spooked him. You walked a few blocks in complete silence until he heard you finish the bottle.

“I could have given you too much… Excess liquid…!”

“We didn’t have drinks with the food or before that.” You reminded him.

“Salt content offset…” He rambled off what sounded like nonsensical math to you, but they were numbers you were sure made sense to him.

You got to your building and were the first through the door as Donnie was caught in a calculation storm. He sorted out what he could quantify and deemed your urine concentration okay before he reviewed the new options between stairs and elevator. He sent you one desperate gaze before you held your limbs out for him to take you. In one smooth rotation, you were hoisted into his arms and he took entire flights of stairs in single leaps.

You were gently set back on your feet at your door and Donnie’s hands shook as he reached for the knob. You resisted settling his wrist for him and he flexed angry fingers before he could get it open. He didn’t bother taking his coat off as he rushed straight through to the bedroom. You followed after, just barely kicked your shoes off, and found him already in the bathroom. He was washing his hands and you kept out of the entry for when he finished.

The moment his hands were dry he flew out the door and you took his spot at the sink. The water ran warm and you scrubbed into your palms with latent thoughts about how you once hadn’t cared about sauce. If you hadn’t  gotten any then you wouldn’t have spilled. If you hadn’t made a mess then you wouldn’t have used all the napkins. If you hadn’t used all the napkins then Donnie wouldn’t have gone for his handkerchief. If that woman hadn’t used it then you would have never thought to compare.

It was a million tiny chances that you could have missed and you were limply holding a washcloth when you felt Donnie appear behind you.

You turned to find his arms stuffed with pregnancy test boxes.

“The water…! Are you-!?” One slipped and he adjusted the load to keep it upright.

“I’m ready. You’ve got duplicates.” You pointed them out. “Lay them out on the counter.”

He nodded miserably as he sorted the boxes by brand.

When he had only one set of each test, you moved to pull your pants down. Donnie opened each box and methodically read through the instructions. You sat on the toilet and he passed you the first stick for you to start. It was a back and forth process of wetting each test, but you soon had them all piled up again amongst a myriad of phone timers.

“Three minutes to fifteen.” Donnie pointed down the line as he had also apparently organized them by time they would take.

“’It’s not nothing. It’s not something.’” You repeated. “But…?”

“You heard all I’ve said.”

You nodded.

“You and her had a similar scent marking. Could be anything.”

You nodded again.

“Could be nothing.”

“Could be something.” You added

He took a shaky breath and the first timer went off.

Donnie had also folded the instruction atop each box so their results key was visible.

Together, you both looked.

Two lines appeared.

You looked at the key.

You looked at Donnie.

Another timer went off.

You moved to the next in line.

Donnie pointed to the similar two lines.

You nodded.

Another beeping signaled.

One by one.

Two dark lines.

Two bold lines.

Mark after mark.

Ticks of a clock.

Comparisons to paper.

All seven tests were taken.

All seven results were read.

You leaned against the far wall in your bathroom.

Donnie had a grip on one half of the sink and the door jamb as he poured over the tests.

His head moved as the only indication he was reading them again and again.

“Morning sickness.” You whispered out from behind your hand.

“We don’t know the timeline.”

“It starts at four weeks.”

“We don’t know the timeline.”

“My ovulation.”

Donnie was silent.

“We don’t know the timeline of conception, but we do know my cycle.”

Donnie’s finger twitched against the counter.

“My last ovulation.”

“Just over two weeks ago.”

Your eyes widened. “My period?!”

Donnie’s head lifted.

A calendar appeared in your face.

He turned to look at it.

You saw his visage through the faint lines and numbers.

You both traced obviously to the projected timeline.

“I’m six days late…” You spoke it first.

He flipped back a month on the calendar.

You held up a haunted finger to where your last period was projected, but no actual dates were logged.

Donnie usually marked those.

He dotted each day you bled with an all too obvious correlating red dot.

The calendar was missing the marks. 

He hadn’t done it last month. 

Your mate appeared pale through a wall of purple neon.

“I’m… 30…? Something… days… late…”

His pupils shook.

“Donnie…”

“Blood test and evaluation.”

“Donnie.”

“I will get you scheduled tomorrow.”

“Don.”

He swiped the calendar away and searched obviously.

You knew he was looking for his phone and caught it from beside the sink before he could.

“Y/N.” He spoke with a voice that was both stuffed and empty.

He couldn’t chance that hope.

Even now.

Even as he stood in front of seven positive pregnancy tests.

Not yet.

He needed something more concrete.

You hugged him.

He stood stoic for one moment before his arms slipped around you.

You felt the fragility and squeezed him tighter.

His hands quaked as they pressed into you.

You crushed him with all your might.

He finally returned the hug.

First with a small hold then a turning coil.

His knees buckled and he went down with you squatting to keep him close.

You tumbled forward so he was on his back and you fell against his plastron. You shared one watery look where a split second smile crashed lightning on Donnie’s face before you kissed.

💜 NEXT 💜

Tomorrow is the last day of my endless eight vacation, but you know I'm always thanking my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83 You would think they'd get a more of a break from me but I'm out here plotting 50+ page outlines for a fae concept cause I stay silly. They are MVPs!

[autumnslance]

Year of the OTP - July 2023 - Stars

(More Shadowbringers timeline, have some yearning during a key early moment. Original prompt list Here. 2 sections, 2 screenshots, 850ish words nearly evenly split between 2 POVs.)

Thancred cooked over a small fire as Minfilia imbued his ammunition. There was a sudden pressure in his ears, on his shoulders. The sky rippled…

…and broke.

The oppressive Light evaporated like clouds of steam, plunging the world into darkness. Minfilia shrieked, the cartridges tumbling from her hands. “Thancred?!”

He couldn’t answer immediately, staring up, the stinging wetness in his eyes not from the campfire smoke.

The moon shone down, a gleaming disk of silver. Stars scattered across the velvety darkness, blinking and winking like old friends. And they were, he realized, recognizing constellations memorized to help comrades with their Astrology studies once upon a time.

“Thancred, is this…night?”

He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he managed hoarsely. “The night sky, the moon and stars.”

She hugged herself. “Then this means…”

“She’s here,” Thancred whispered. His heart tried to beat through his chestplate, his pulse in his ears, echoing: she’s here, she’s here, she’s here, she’s here!

“We have to find her,” Minfilia said, crystal-blue gaze turning from the sky to the shadowed woodline.

“We will,” Thancred replied. “But first we need to pick up those cartridges and eat.”

His mind spun while his heart continued to do backflips behind his sternum. Five years of dreaming, of longing, and Aeryn was here. Had much time passed for her as well? Or was it as the Exarch’s mirror showed, and she was the same as she had been their last night together in Ala Mhigo?

Aeryn’s hair falling in midnight waves down her back, her eyes shining silver in amusement at his jokes and teasing, the lilt of her accent followed by her laughter, the scent of the white violas she wore in her hair, the soft touch of her skin against his, the heat between them keeping the chill of the highland night at bay…

Thancred let out a sigh, hardly noticing his meal, vaguely aware of Minfilia watching him.

Five years in this harsh realm had changed him; would it be too much? Would Aeryn still recognize him? Still want him?

He ought to be sure of the answer; he knew her well enough. But that ever-present voice in the back of his head whispered warnings as always. One would think he’d be able to ignore his self-doubt by now.

“Let’s clean up and break camp,” he said, dousing the fire. Minfilia whined at the loss of light. “Your eyes will adjust; it’s a lovely night, for the first this world’s seen in far too long.”

Thancred paused to look at the sky again. She’s here.

—

Aeryn looked up at the sky again, the familiar moon and constellations looking back, comforting after their absence.

She had only been in the First for a little over a fortnight, the lack of change each day disorienting and the constant press of Light wearisome. How much stranger it must be for the people of the First, who had never seen the night, never known the natural rhythmic shifts in time and weather and the beauty of the true sky!

Alphinaud also kept pausing to look up and smile, his relief and happiness palpable. So many other people as they walked by were staring up, talking to one another in excitement, unable to tear their eyes from the starscape above. There were many tears, prayers and songs of thanks even before they entered the city proper.

As they passed through the checkpoint, the Exarch quietly spoke to a guard. “Any word from Thancred?”

Are you seeing the stars too?

Was Thancred nearby? Had he seen the Light split away and wonder why, or did he know what this meant? Was he even in Lakeland, or in another part of the realm where Light still billowed and swirled above? Did he yet care, or had the years he had spent here—years!—dull his affections? What of this companion the Exarch had mentioned?

“Not yet, my lord.”

The moonlight had streamed in through the window of her room in Ala Mhigo, the stars twinkling, their light making Thancred’s fair hair practically glow as they had lounged in the bed, talking and joking, laughing and teasing. His hands had been warm on her skin as they cunningly explored her, his voice low and sending shivers down her spine. His mismatched eyes had glimmered in amusement, the line of his mouth crooking into a smile before leaning in to kiss her again, drawing her close to his warmth against the night’s chill.

The next day his body lay frighteningly still and silent, everything that made him Thancred…gone.

She could count the time in mere sennights and moons. But he had been here without the moon and stars, without her, for five entire years.

Do you know that I’m here? Do you still care? Do you see the stars?

“Aeryn,” Alphinaud called, pausing with the Exarch at the head of the bridge leading into the Crystarium.

She turned her face from the sky to smile at her companions as she rejoined them.

I’m here, her heart silently called. And I brought you the stars. Do you see them? Do you see me?

[somanyfuckedupiftruebooks]

Mag 59

You'd think so, wouldn't you? But no.

Given the Entities propensity for hiding in the fringes of reality, I'm betting a lot of statement-givers feel like this. It's probably a big part of the reason why so many of them come to the Institute (aside from being called there by the Eye). If there's no official record of what happened to them, then maybe the best thing to do is give a statement and get something in writing, with the potential for some independent verification by supposedly qualified researchers.

I've been trying to keep track of how different people describe the Web's influence, to better be able to spot when someone is being compelled. Here we've got a general dulling of destructive urges, dissociative states/out of body experiences, lack of decision-making capacity, and last but not least the strings.

I didn't save a screenshot of it for some reason, but it's also notable that apparently all the kids in the Web house are smokers.

Hilarious that the Web avatar who is powerful enough to constantly control an entire home full of children just makes them take care of themselves properly. Horrifying that he only does this so that they'll be healthy hosts for all his spider babies.

Web table web table web table.

There's still so much mystery surrounding this thing. Where did it come from? This is the earliest mention of it chronologically (as far as I remember) and the only time it's ever whole. Seems like at some point after this Agnes took the apple/spider box out of the middle and buried it in the yard outside (don't remember why, if we ever even learn), and at some point after that the table ended up with Adelard Dekker, who used it to bind the NotThem. There's so many holes in that story.

A bit spooky, but staggeringly normal for a living embodiment of dying in a fire. I also clocked this the first time she was mentioned, but Agnes has brown hair as a kid. Does she later dye her hair red, or has the entire fandom collectively just decided to ignore canon and exclusively depict her as a redhead?

The Lightless Flame sent Agnes to Raymond because they couldn't control her and they were hoping the Web could do a better job, but he was terrified of her. I was a little surprised she didn't immediately burn the entire house down, but honestly why would she? She basically runs this place from the moment she sets foot inside. It's probably such a relief to get away from her weird cult guardians that she's fine with just staying here forever. Plus she gets to mess with the Web's schemes as much as she wants.

This implies that Agnes isn't just scorching hot to the touch all the time, but she has some degree of choice over whether or not she burns someone. At least she did as a child, but it's possible her powers grow beyond her ability to control as she got older. Or she just chose to burn Jack on purpose I guess.

Again, Web compulsion manifesting as a simple absence of the ability to make choices, but this time with an awareness and undercurrent of fear.

[mono-rogue]

Throwup Thoughts: "More Than Anything" Poster

(If you want to see the time lapse, click here for the original post!)

So you know how my usual art has a sketchy (and sometimes fuzzy) feel to them?

I decided to return to full on line art for the More Than Anything poster, partially because of Sam Haft's tweet, and partially because of Sam Haft's tweet (looking for poster-style fanart of Hazbin songs)

I probably wouldn't be as miffed if I didn't slave away a straight 9 hours (For comparison, that Rosie/Charlie only took at most 3 hours!), and the fact that I did not like to do line art at all... But you know what? Creating and posting art that didn't rely too much on cleanliness and instead focusing just on rough sketches and colors unironically helped me here, and it's really hard to explain how. For example, I was originally going for this shot as is:

Then midway through the sketch phase, my intrusive thoughts intruded: Why not shift the perspective? It would both serve as camera practice and to not just be a screenshot redraw (though you could consider it to still be one, depending on what you think it means)

I did also consider fully drawing both Lucifer and Charlie so I could have their own standalone renders, but I really only ended up doing that for Charlie since Lucifer's missing his right arm (his right leg... it's a perspective thing), and even then the way I did the composition wouldn't have worked for Charlie...

Adding in all the effects was fun though, figuring out what color treatment worked best (mostly linear dodge)! It just ends up becoming one big piece of eye candy. A very orange piece of eye candy. If you get orange diabetes from this, I apologize.

Angular Sharpness

I think one of the main issues I had with line art before was figuring out how to make angles appear as sharp as they appear, especially when considering the style of Helluva/Hazbin. I looked up how to make sharp lineart, and ended up on this short guide!

(Original DeviantArt post here)

I'm mildly conflicted now because now I feel like combining sketching and composition was already fun enough, yet now line art is actually fun. We'll see where this goes I guess?

Colors Are Weird

I noticed also Krita was exporting pics out as dull as Alastor's time, so I looked into a solution and the solution arrived:

So now colors should work the way I want them to be. Nice!

Off Topic Topics

I've been going back and forth on my post schedules a fair bit, figuring out what works and what doesn't. A couple early morning posts feels the most fitting for my style, so I might roll with that going forward, at least for a while

Hopefully I'm going to start to embrace the multifandom part of this blog and start making more of whatever. UT/DR? Lackadaisy? Who knows

The state of the Vox Alastor comic... it's in hiatus as of now. It's honestly that since the show was releasing at such a quick schedule that my initial ideas for how the comic would play out kind of got jumbled around? I don't know honestly, so for now it's on hold for now.

However, I got struck with an idea for another one...

[motheatenscarf]

Beat Heavensward!

It's getting harder and harder to stop and post my thoughts as I come across them because... idk, I'm in a bit of a funk. And also because I find myself more and more just mentioning these thoughts to my friends who are also playing through the same story as I am and we all appear to be enjoying it differently and are having lengthier discussions there and I wind up not having the energy to post it here.

So, I'm gonna make a few posts in a row based on some screenshots I'm going through!

My most recent/immediate impressions are as follows;

I REALLY liked Ysayle and I was sorry to see her die but I saw that one coming a mile away. Also, god forbid they have any interesting women in this game. Sigh.

Lucia, all my hopes are on you, don't die, and Alisaie, maybe don't grow up anytime soon, I don't think they'll kill a little girl but all of the interesting women are doomed :T

But yeah, Ysayle did nothing wrong, she had nothing to atone for, her death makes sense from a character perspective, I understand why she FELT like she had to make up for her mistakes, but she did nothing wrong and I liked her a lot and am sad she's gone. I wish the narrative acknowledged her passing as sorrowfully as it acknowledged Haurchefant's, but I also get why it didn't do that.

At least Estinien commented on her passing favorably.

And uh, yeah, lol, the Estinien thing getting overtaken by Nidhogg's fury thing kinda came out of left field. I know it was something that had been telegraphed, but I was talking with my friends moments before I watched him turn into a dragon and saying, "Yeah, I really thought there would be more of a thing with him struggling to control his rage, but I guess they had other things they wanted to focus on." And uh... then he transformed out of no where once he had the second eye of Nidhogg.

And rather than taking it seriously, I just made.... .SO MANY jokes about Estinien and his balls because it was a deeply unearned dramatic moment.

But yeah, I was coming around on Estinien, we'll miss him, oh well lol.

Speaking of coming around on characters, I DID, grudgingly, come around on Aymeric and it makes me so angry lol.

I really wanted to hate him because he was a cop, but he's a good dude. It's a fantasy story, we can ride dragons and there can be ONE good cop who is actually tragically idealistic and morally upstanding. And we have to protect him or Isghard is gonna stay in the dark ages forever. I really wish we could have seen him confront his father in the final showdown, but that's an old issue I have is making the WoL face enemies alone.

I liked Y'shtola's mentor as well, but she was there for 5 seconds and my favorite thing about her was her enchanted broom that quoted Mr. Sparkle (there are A LOT of good classic simpsons references in this game, the Fates especially Jesus Christ), and also she uhhhhhh didn't matter apparently. I hated that whole time wasting detour and the fact that Y'shtola is here and she is as unflappable and emotive as a fucking rock despite essentially getting a terminal diagnosis for her time in the lifestream. Just not a single emotion behind those dead, dull eyes.

Which, to me at least, speaks to the VAST improvement in the quality of writing that Y'shtola, the best character from ARR's scions, is notably the weakest element here. Alphinaud's gone through some great character development, Tataru is utilized well as an endearing element, and the new characters from Isghard are all of them genuinely interesting and compelling, even the cop whom it took me forever to come around on, I like Aymeric, I liked Estinien and Ysayle and Haurchefant. I LOVED the Dark Knight class story. The Paladin class story sucked, but even just regional questlines like the hunters in Tailfeather and the Vath and the dragons and the soldiers in cloudtop or Falcon's Nest or even the moogles in Moghome were all interesting!

Which is I think why I get so frustrated by the pacing sometimes is because it has all these fantastic elements if it would just give them the attention they deserve and not bounce around like crazy or handwave things that deserve time and focus.

It's fun and it's pretty good but it could be AMAZING if it would just fully commit to itself.

[jjungkookislife]

Secret ||PJM || Pt. 5: I’ll Be Good (M)

pairing: sugar daddy!jimin x sugar baby!reader

genre: smut, angst, some fluff

wc: 5.1k

warnings: [not in order] cursing, mentions about mental health (depression and anxiety), loneliness, daddy!kink, pet names (baby, baby girl, babe, good girl, doll, love), alcohol use/mentions, spit kink, choking, nudes, oral sex, nipple play, marking (hickeys, bruising, biting), hair pulling, thigh riding mentions, unprotected sex, mention of birth control, jealousy, possessiveness, creampie

date: March 31, 2021

The last thing Jimin wanted to be was stuck in a meeting with men who still didn’t trust him with the company, despite his great efforts. He made sure to keep his demeanor hard— frigid— refusing to allow them to see him as weak. It took a toll on him, a large heavy weight on his mental health, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that now because he had you to help him carry the burden.

You.

You were wonderful in his eyes. Smart, beautiful, funny, but that mouth of yours often got you in trouble. You liked to push his buttons, liked to rile him up to see how far he’d go. You were a brat at heart, but a princess at any other time when it suited you. He lov—he liked that about you.

Ever since he had first met you, he’d been drawn to you. He wasn’t sure if it was your smile, your laugh, or the way your eyes caught his at the bar of some party he couldn’t even remember the occasion of. You smiled at him, excusing yourself from the man that had been chatting you up. Jimin paid him no mind as you strutted toward him, head held high and your drink clasped in your perfectly manicured hand.

You were stunning. A true vision in your red dress that hugged your body just right. Your makeup was spectacular and as he eyed you shamelessly, you giggled. He knew he was gone then, more so when you smiled brightly at him, hand held out for him to bring to his lips to kiss as you told him your name.

Jimin repeated it, as sweet as a lullaby. Your hand remained in his after introducing himself, not wanting to let you fall through his fingers. He was the envy of every man in attendance that night, but a quick romp in the sheets wasn’t what he was looking for, and frankly, neither were you.

After the night of the party, Jimin contacted you. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking of you, fantasizing about all the naughty things he’d like to do to you... if you’d let him. You were eager, a pawn in his hand, ready to bend at his whim… for compensation.

You were a sugar baby. And definitely not a new one. You knew your way around, knew your worth, and knew when someone just wasn’t going to pay up. But Jimin would. Of course he would. Companionship, sex, and a pretty face with a personality that drew him in, keeping him on his toes… what else could he want? 

Now, although Jimin didn’t date or had the time to, honestly. He got laid pretty often, if he so desired. He’d had his share of flings, some lasting longer than others, but they all took off when he wouldn’t commit. He had no desire to, not when he had first taken over the company and not in the present either.

Jimin liked his life easy. Liked to spend time with his friends, do his hobbies (tennis, skydiving, swimming, and fucking) whenever he damned well pleased. 

Loneliness did creep in. Lonely nights of tossing and turning in an empty penthouse with nobody to share it with. Those dark thoughts consuming him, calling him back to bed when there was work to be done.

He was tired of it. Tired of feeling lost and alone, carving a hole in him that his friends just couldn’t fill, despite their best efforts.

Easily, Jimin agreed to your terms. He’d spoil you rotten, absolutely rotten in exchange for your companionship and sex. He didn’t need a girlfriend, just someone who could act the part without the commitment; the jealousy. Someone to fill the hole in his chest.

Your affection and friendship came with a price tag and some other suitors, suitors Jimin paid you to disperse off. You had put a fight to keep them, but money talked and those other daddies walked.

Jimin had smirked, sitting beside you as you cut off all your other sugar daddies. Some confused, some enraged, and some asking if you were okay. 

When he was your only daddy left, you’d smiled smugly. You’d crossed one leg over the other, ignoring the way your dress rode up your thighs, a peek of your panties drawing Jimin’s eyes as you said, “I expect the same from you. No other babies, no other women, just me.”

“You can’t be serious?” Jimin had gasped, his pouty lips in a frown.

“How bad do you want me?” You’d asked, crossing your arms under your chest to draw his attention to your breasts. Jimin had gulped, eyes wide as he licked his lips. You were a temptress, a seductress who knew how to play the game, and Jimin was at your mercy. He was your pawn and with your hand reaching for his belt, he knew he was doomed.

And doomed he was from the very start. He fell into the role very easily, thrived in it and still did. You were wonderful. A ray of sunshine in his otherwise gloomy days. He wasn’t sure how he lived before you; he was sure he didn’t. You were everything he could have ever wanted in a person and so much more, and when his friends loved you as well, he was set.

His baby. 

You were his baby and he would take care of you in any way possible, not just financially. He had bought you cars, diamonds, vacations, clothes, iPads, cell phones. You named it; he bought it. All you had to do was send a link, a screenshot, or simply point to it before it was in your hands. The more he got to know you, the more he found caring about you, wanting nothing but your happiness. He didn’t understand what he was feeling, and he didn’t think he was ready to understand it, if he was honest. So, he suppressed his feelings and did what he did best; spoil you with materialistic items. If only he knew you wanted him, and not his gifts.

Jimin looked down at his shoes, concealing the smile that tugged on his lips at the thought of you. He carded a hand through his hair, forcing himself to pay attention as the dull voices wore on and on. Time couldn’t go fast enough as he daydreamed about you waiting in his bed when he eventually got home tonight. 

It was the weekend. Maybe he could have you stay the night without you rushing out the door tomorrow morning. He liked when you stayed over, liked having you in his arms all night and being buried between your thighs in the morning.

Why were you consuming his thoughts like this? What kind of spell did you have him under? Recently he’d begun feeling… different around you. 

Jimin hadn’t been jealous since you cut off your other sugar daddies. He wanted you for himself and only himself. Mostly because it would be safer (no condoms and you were on the pill), but also, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else. You felt the same way, although you’d never admit it to his face. You’d rather choke.

Lately, these feelings—whatever they were—had made his head spin. He didn’t want to feel more. The thought alone sent him into a panic. But… he also didn’t want to end things. Could he be lying to himself? Sure. Most definitely, as his friends constantly reminded him. 

Feelings were dangerous. Feelings—especially one-sided—could cause the beautiful relationship you both had to crumble into smithereens. And then what would he have? Nothing. Not a damn thing if you weren’t in his life. He’d be lonely again. Miserable. A shell of a man like he was before he met you. 

Jimin would not go back to that. Not ever. He refused! And so with that, he buried his feelings deep in his chest, under lock and key. And nobody, not even you, was going to let them out.

“Mr. Park? Are there any issues you’d like to address or perhaps some questions?” One of the board members asked. Jimin looked at his assistant, “did you get all that?”

At the nod of her head, Jimin responded, “No, we’re all done here. I’ll see you next week. Dismissed.”

Jimin rose from his seat at the head of the table, passing by everyone to go out the door before they even had a chance to blink. His assistant was hot on his heels, with barely an inch of distance between them.

“Marissa?” Jimin stopped, his assistant halting in her tracks just before an impact could occur.

“Yes, Mr. Park?”

“Is anything on my agenda time sensitive? I’m suddenly feeling ill and would like to go home.”

Marissa looks at her tablet, scrolling through the rest of the afternoon. The sun would set within the hour, and Jimin’s most pressing meetings and appointments had been conducted earlier in the day.

“You have a call scheduled with your father. He says it concerns your brother.” Marissa informs him. Jimin rolls his eyes.  He knew that phone call could drag on, and frankly, he didn’t care to know what his younger brother was up to.

“Reschedule for next week. I’m sure he can wait,” Jimin waves his hand, popping into his office to grab his belongings before announcing his departure. Marissa calls the driver, alerting him of Mr. Park’s departure, and Jimin smirks as the doors of his private elevator shut.

It felt good to be the boss.

Jimin sat back in his limo, growing more inpatient as the minutes ticked by. You’d already sent him some racy photos, each growing more and more risqué until you were down to just your panties, back arched and fingers dangerously close to slipping into your panties.

‘I’m waiting, daddy.’

Jimin cursed, biting his lip as his building finally came into view. He wanted to devour you in kisses, consume every bit of you until you were writhing beneath him, hands pinned above your head as your pretty eyes locked with his.

“We’ve arrived, sir.” The driver stares down at his boss, who is just staring down at his phone, finally noticing his door has been opened and his driver is waiting for him to get out. Jimin immediately locks his phone, stuffing it into the pocket of his jacket before getting out.

“Thank you,” he says as he walks past him and into his building, greeting the doorman as he gets into the elevator. He swears it’s dragging today, but it could be his eagerness to get to you, knowing you’re waiting for him in his bed in nothing but a pair of flimsy panties is torturous.

Jimin rushes inside his penthouse, “Baby, I’m home.”

“I’m in here,” you call back as Jimin heads down the hallway, a smirk on his lips as he opens his bedroom door.  

He bites his lip. You’re a vision. A true vision as you lie on his bed, a teasing smile on your lips.

“I missed you,” you say softly as Jimin walks further into his bedroom. His hand begins to loosen his tie as he kicks his shoes off, ignoring how they clatter on his bedroom floor.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, princess,” he apologizes as he climbs onto the bed and you get on your knees, crawling over to him.

“Really? Are you going to show me how sorry you are? I’ve been waiting such a long time, daddy. I almost had to take care of myself,” you pout, your hand tightening his tie, eyes hard. Jimin licks his lips, his hand wrapping around yours before he’s caressing your face.

“Is that so?” he asks, moving his hand to undo his tie. He holds the black silk in his hands, twining it as he looks at you, his eyes drawn to your bare breasts.

“Very. It’s not nice to keep me waiting,” you whisper as you inch closer, lips pressing a featherlight kiss to his neck. Jimin swallows thickly. You quickly work your way through the buttons of his shirt, untucking it from his black slacks. You push his jacket off his shoulders, letting it crumple on the floor.

Jimin raises a brow. You ignore it. Your lips are planting kisses on every inch of his neck, pushing his shirt down his arms. You feel his bicep, looking up at him with a grin before he’s pulling you to him. You gasp, your chest pressed against his as he threads his fingers in your hair to pull you into a deep passionate kiss that has you moaning into his lips.

“Jimin,” a sigh of his name has him grunting, eyes wild as he kisses you once again, pushing you onto your back. You giggle, loving how he sloppily kisses your face and neck.

“Jimin! Jimin!” you exclaim, giggles filling his bedroom as you look up at him. Jimin feels his heart skip a beat, cheeks tinted pink as he grins widely at you, “am I forgiven, princess?”

“If I say yes, will you stop slobbering on my face?” Jimin smirks, his hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing the sides. You gasp, moaning and melting under him. 

“Open,” you do as instructed, sticking your tongue out for him. So obedient. Such a good girl for him.

Jimin releases your throat, a mischievous gleam in his dark eyes as he squeezes your cheeks. He spits on your tongue, releasing you, “swallow.”

You do.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses, carding a hand through his hair. You stick your tongue out again for him, watching as he undoes his belt, tossing it to the floor carelessly. He straddles your hips, leaning in to kiss you, his tongue twining with yours. He grinds down on you, swallowing the dulcet moans that escape you as your hands weave in his hair, tugging at the locks. Your hips meet his, feeling his erection with every roll of your hips. Your panties are soaked, utterly ruined as you beg him to touch you… to fuck you.

Jimin smirks, pressing a kiss to your kiss-swollen lips to silence you. His lips trail downward to your jaw, down to your neck where he nips and suckles at the sensitive skin as his hands cup your breast, thumbs circling your pert nipples before it’s his tongue swirling around them. Teeth gently nipping your nipple, your back arched into him as he palms himself over his slacks.

“Tell me,” Jimin starts as he rises, one hand palming his dick, the other kneading your breast. “What did you do while I was gone, doll?”

“N-nothing,” you answer honestly. Your body is heated, sweat beading at your hairline, thighs pressed together as your panties stick to you obscenely.

Jimin looks into your eyes, his hand moving over your chest. He can tell when you’re lying, having figured it out right from the start. Simple little tells: lack of eye contact, biting your lip and a racing heart.

Grinning, Jimin brushes his lips against yours, “good baby.” You preen at the praise, smiling bashfully before his hand is unbuttoning his pants, tugging the zipper down as he climbs off of you to pull his pants down the rest of the way. He takes a second to remove his socks, knowing you don’t like them on during sex.

Jimin shoots you a knowing smile as you sit up on your elbow, hungrily admiring his body. He was sin incarnate. Perfectly sculpted from his strong shoulders and neck down to his thighs that you just loved to ride until you were nothing but a creamy mess. The thought makes you clench, licking your lips as you crawl toward him, getting off the bed. Jimin eyes you curiously, slightly amused when you drop to your knees in front of him.

You look up at him, resting your weight on your heels as you lean back. Jimin can’t resist you, running his thumb over your lips.

“So pretty,” he whispers, hand cupping your cheek. You lean into his touch, feeling soft and secure. Warmth overwhelms you as you maintain eye contact, swallowing thickly. “So, so pretty.”

“Jimin,” you whine, your hand resting on his. You look at his cock, licking your lips. It’s straining against his boxers, pre-cum staining the material; it makes your mouth water. “Please?”

Jimin knows he’s putty in your hands, that look alone is enough for him to buy you the world, hell maybe the universe. How can he ever say no to you, his princess?

“Sure, baby.” That’s all you need to hear as your tongue laps at his boxers. Jimin is surprised but his fingers thread in your hair regardless, tugging gently as a warning not to tease. He’s been hard since this afternoon and the last thing he wants to be is teased. He aches to feel the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him, your nose pressed to his pelvis. 

You tease the head of his cock through his boxers, earning a tug of your hair before you’re pulled back. Jimin’s heated gaze sends a tingle down your spine, “baby.”

A simple warning, one that has you pulsating as you lick your lips, hand reaching for the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down his muscular thighs before they pool at his feet and he kicks them away. 

A curse escapes him when your lips wrap around him, your tongue swirling around the head as your hand strokes him. Jimin groans at the feeling. He could never grow tired of you. 

Jimin caresses your face when you pause to look up at him, “so pretty.” You grow flustered, ignoring the way your cheek heat as you begin bobbing up and down instead, making him moan and groan instead of complimenting you. Your plan works, Jimin overcome by the pleasure your sweet lips provide as you suck harder, sloppier, gagging on his big thick cock, hoping your throat won’t get bruised once again. You didn’t want to go through that embarrassment at the dentist again.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck,” Jimin grunts, your name spilling from his lips as he tugs on your hair, guiding you and setting the pace. “You’re so pretty when you’re choking on my dick. So good for me.”

You deep throat him, loving the sinful sounds that tumble from his pretty lips. His head lolls back, eyes fluttering shut as utter bliss crosses his ethereal features. Moans of your name, curses, grunts, and praises escape his lips as he praises you to the high heavens as his cock sits heavy on your cock, lips sucking the soul out of him.

A whine falls from your lips when you’re tugged off his cock by your hair, your adorable confused gaze meeting his cocky one. 

“Up,” he commands as you rise to your feet. He kisses you, his tongue meeting yours as you grip his biceps to hold your balance as he kisses you passionately. Arousal pools deep in your abdomen, body fueled with lust.

“Daddy, please.” Jimin chuckles, kissing his way to the column of your throat, nipping at the skin. A moan of his name rolls off your tongue as he wraps your legs around his waist to take you to his bed. 

Jimin sets you down with care, having you lie back as he climbs over you. His lips brush against yours, a featherlight kiss that has butterflies fluttering in your tummy. His hand cups your face, saying nothing as he admires your body. You were aroused, panting and aching for him. Nobody else. Just Jimin. 

The soft look you give him is what sends him over the edge, kissing you roughly as he holds you tight. Maybe… just maybe, you could love him. Love him the way he’d deny loving you. You were everything for him, but was he to you? He didn’t want to think about it right now, not when you were wet, ready, and his cock was throbbing, leaking pre-cum.

“Jimin…” your hand cups his cheek, his dark eyes flitting to yours. 

God, he loved you.

“Please,” you whisper as your hand moves down to his neck and then his chest. Jimin swallows thickly, nodding as he takes your hand in his, fingers laced together as he pins it by your head, earning a gasp from your pretty lips.

With one last squeeze of your hand and fleeting kiss to your lips, he moves down your body. He wants to mark you as his, leave love-bites on your skin for the world to see but he resists if he wants to keep his plans for tomorrow.

Jimin’s fingers toy with the waistband of your panties, tugging them down to suck a tiny mark on your hip. You roll your eyes, but you love the slight possessiveness.

“I’m yours,” you assure him regardless. It works. Jimin presses a kiss on the mark, gently tugging your panties down your thighs, you lift your hips to aid him. He tosses them over his shoulder to be forgotten.

His hands immediately grab your thighs, spreading them.

“Fuck, so wet for me. All for me,” Jimin licks his lips, looking up at you. You resist the urge to cover your face as he kisses his way up your thigh until he’s pressing a gentle kiss to your clit. A sigh escapes you, making him smirk before he’s diving right in. Your hands seek purchase in his sheets, fisting them as he works wonders on your cunt.

“J-Jimin,” you stutter, hand embedded in his thick locks, hips rising from the bed to chase after his tongue. His hand pushes you back onto the mattress while he continues to feast on you, one leg thrown over his shoulder as his fingers slip right in, curling and scissoring inside you. His tongue flicks your clit, swirling in circles before his lips are suckling it. 

You arch, crying out for him over and over again. Sweat beads between your brows, a sheen of sweat appearing on your body as you writhe beneath Jimin, wanting to crush his head between your thighs. 

Jimin looks up at you, watching as pleasure overwhelms you, his fiery tongue the source of all your curses and pleas. Your hands cup your breasts, rolling your hard nipples between your fingertips as you cry out, “Jimin… Daddy… I can’t!”

Your body is overwhelmed with pleasure. Your skin is hot, flushed as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten before you cry out, “I’m coming! Fuck!”

Jimin doesn’t stop his ministrations, continuing as you fall over the edge. His name rolls off your tongue in a mantra, eyes squeezed shut and the sheets fisted in your hand once again as you arch your back. Jimin waits until you’ve fallen slack before he slips his fingers out of you, placing them in his mouth, tongue swirling around them as he sucks them clean.

“Feel good, princess?” Jimin asks, a smirk on his lips.

“Mmm,” you murmur, your eyes still closed as you try to regulate your breathing.

Jimin chuckles, “you good, love?”

“More than okay,” you answer, sitting up to crawl over to him until you’re straddling his lap. Jimin’s hands immediately grip your hips, your lips pressing against his. Your arms wrap around his neck, keeping him from going anywhere. 

Jimin buries his face into your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin as you line him up at your entrance, sinking on to him when he least expects it.

“Baby, fuck,” he grunts, his forehead falling onto your shoulder as you hold him close while he finally bottoms out. You bite your lip, groaning at the stretch that has your eyes fluttering shut, nails digging into his perfect muscular back.

Hesitantly, Jimin looks at you. Three words sit heavy on his tongue as you stroke his face, biting your lip as you roll your hips. Your eyes flutter shut, your hand falling to his shoulder, moans of his name filling the space between your bodies. 

“Y/n,” your name is a delicate whisper, his hold on you tightening, swallowing the heavy words instead. He kisses you, losing himself in you instead. Lust is easy, lust he can deal with. That’s all this is, he lies to himself once again as you ride him. 

You hold Jimin close, fingers threaded in his hair, tugging it to make him meet your gaze, “you always fuck me so good, baby. So, so good.”

“This tight cunt is all I can think about at work. You’re such a fucking distraction but coming home to you waiting on my bed wet and horny is so worth it,” Jimin kisses you, tongue pushing past your lips before he’s rolling you over so he’s on top.

“Jimin,” you moan, his thrusts hitting all the right spots. 

“On your knees, baby.” You do as you’re told, getting on your knees and arching perfectly for him. Jimin smacks your ass, mesmerized by the way it jiggles. He smacks it harder, your cry of his name making his cock throb in his hand as he strokes it before lining himself up at your entrance, grunting when the thick head of his cock is welcomed into your cunt.

“Fuck,” you curse, face in the pillow, turning your head to the side. Jimin grabs your arms, putting them behind your back, wrists crossed together as he holds them with one hand while he fucks into you. His head is thrown back, saccharine moans escaping him as you fuck back into him, moaning when his fingers rub at your clit.

“That’s it, baby girl. Fuck, you feel so good..” Jimin bites his bottom lip, a poor effort to try to muffle the moan that threatens to escape his pretty lips. His eyes roll back, overwhelmed by the warmth and wetness of your cunt. Your sweet moans fuel him, consume him as he pistons in and out of you to coax more of those dulcet moans from your lips. His hand moves to raise you, wrapping around your throat. Your eyes flutter shut, melting into his touch as he squeezes. 

“Jimin,” you rasp, overcome with pleasure as he continues to rub at your clit. You shutter, your hand wrapping around his wrist, nails digging into his skin. Jimin grunts, kissing your cheek as he grinds his hips into you, slamming them when you cry out that you’re close.

“Come for me, princess. Please,” his angelic voice has you pulsating, doing as he’s asked as you grip his wrist and come. Jimin moans, lips planting kisses on your shoulder before he’s biting down and coming with you.

“Jimin… Jimin!”

“Oh, fuck. That’s it, love. Come for daddy,” Jimin moans, eyes shut and lips parted as he moans your name repeatedly, filling you with cum until you’re unable to hold yourself up. Jimin chuckles, lying you on your back on his bed before he lies beside you.

“Fuck,” you giggle, pushing your hair out of your eyes as Jimin takes the chance to kiss your sweat beaded forehead. You grimace, “gross, I’m sweaty.”

“I don’t care, princess.” Jimin covers your face in kisses, making you laugh until you’re pressing your palms on his chest to push him away. 

“Jimin!” You squeal, kissing his cheek before cuddling up to his side. He kisses your temple, holding you for a few minutes before he’s pulling away from you to get you some water and lead you to the bathroom to help you get cleaned up.

You end up taking a quick shower, exchanging kisses and lingering touches before you’re wrapped up in a towel in his bedroom. You’ve brought your own clothes to sleep in, but you take one of Jimin’s baggy shirts instead, climbing into his bed while he puts on a pair of boxers.

“Go to sleep, baby. We’ve got plans tomorrow,” he tells you as you snuggle into your side of the bed, pulling the comforter up to your chest.

“Goodnight, Jimin.”

“Goodnight, princess.” Jimin whispers, caressing your cheek before you close your eyes. He watches you until he’s sure you’re asleep, hoping you can’t hear how loud his heart beats.

The morning sunlight streams in through the cracks between the curtains, the light stirring Jimin awake. He sits up, rubbing at his eyes with his hands until all he can see is black dots before his eyesight settles once again. 

Beside him, you’re still sleeping, clutching the pillow to your chest. He sits up, admiring the serene look on your face as you snooze away beside him, so comfortable, stress free. 

Jimin’s heart thunders in his chest when you stir, rolling over and seeking out his hand with yours. He easily gives it to you, squeezing softly when you settle soundly. 

As the world outside begins to wake, he can’t help but want to stay in this bubble the two of you have created in his home. Nobody to bother you, nobody hounding you to do this or that. Nobody to disturb your utopia. 

Jimin caresses your face, his delicate touch makes you moan softly as his fingers push your hair out of your eyes. He stares at you freely, admiring your features. You were beautiful. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and it still baffled him how you’d agreed to this arrangement. He knew he couldn’t give you more, and on days like today, he desperately wished he could. But what would that get him? Get you? A broken heart and the loss of his best friend? He couldn’t risk it. Wouldn’t risk it. Money was easy. Money came and went, but you stayed regardless if money appeared in your account at the end of the day. That scared him.  Why would you stay?

“If we’re having a staring contest, you gotta wake me up first, Minie.” Your voice startles him, his hand hastily pulling away from your face as you sit up. He hopes you can’t see the pinkness in his cheeks or the embarrassed smile on his lips. 

“Way to ruin the moment,” he laughs, shaking his head, and your heart skips a beat when he gives you his radiant smile. 

“I didn’t know there was a moment to ruin, baby. I’ll close my eyes and you can keep staring at me,” you giggle, rolling over and shutting your eyes. Jimin settles behind you, draping his arm over your waist before you wiggle into him. 

“I hate you,” he jokes, kissing your temple. 

“Mhm, your cock is way too hard for you to lie about that,” you smirk, wiggling further into him. 

“Shh,” he chuckles deeply, kissing your cheek, moving your hair out of the way to kiss your neck. 

“Show me how much you hate me, Min,” you goad him, turning to face him. Your eyes lock on his and Jimin can’t help but fall for you even more. He wonders if it’s obvious to you like everyone else? He wouldn’t dare admit it out loud, not to himself and certainly not to you. You were destined to fail, and who was he to stand in the way of destiny?

“Lie back, princess. Let me get a taste of you.”

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© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube.

[thehomothings]

Analysis of Kite's conflicting moralities, relationship with death, and the toll reincarnation may take on one's psyche

So, today I decided to compile all the thoughts I have had about Kite's interesting worldview since the first time I saw him into one post, mostly for my own sake, really. If you're familiar with the few posts I've made, you know it's gonna be a mess, but hopefully a comprehensible mess.

A heads up, this is going to be spoiler-heavy, and very much deal with subjects of death and dying as a whole. Also, some of these conclusions are drawn from my own experiences and close brushes with death, I'm not going to go into much detail but it might get personal and definitely dark. I'm not even sure if I can call this a meta-analysis, and I'm obviously no expert, so mayhaps take all of this with a grain of salt.

Been getting into drawing lately, and during the more simple and mindless part of the painstaking process of dotting every single star in this, I let my thoughts wander through the latest part of the fic I'm writing, and I got a better grasp on what exactly made Kite such an elusive character to me.

I'm not quite sure why I got so attached to Kite. Perhaps it was the air of tragedy surrounding him, how despite his sordid past he remained still open and gentle even if outlined by a healthy dose of cynicism.

But sometimes, I think it's the fact that he is so paradoxical. He's brave, yet fears death to such a degree that creates a whole Nen ability around it, is a pacifist yet will not hesitate to spill blood for his own sake or someone else's. Despite the many ultimatums and warnings of 'I will not protect you', he gave his arm and then his life to save Gon and Killua. He approaches each hunt and battle with a clear plan of action in mind, but his Hatsu takes the form of a roulette that gives him random weapons which are never what he wants, but what he seems to need for that exact situation, which he cannot dispel without using. When he draws a weapon, the decision is locked in and his or his opponent's fate is sealed. That's why each time he dubbs his weapon a bad roll. Every time he has to gamble, he sees himself as having run out of luck. When it comes to having to choose between himself and somebody else...well, there had never been a choice. In fact his aversion to using it may feed into its sheer power that we, unfortunately, saw too little of.

Let's go over his very first appearance when he saves Gon from the mother Foxbear.

It's not hard to see the strain searching for Ging has put on him; he's rash, prone to anger and punching a child for daring to get into trouble. In his mind, he's failing at his most important task, has not yet earned the right to call himself a hunter despite being in possession of his very own hunter license.

After killing the mother Foxbear and raging about having done so, he says this interesting line:

So yes, he finds killing for any reason rather irksome as most would do, yet I think something deeper caused him to absolutely lose it in this scene:

He had not been aware of Gon's identity, and despite being an animal lover and a naturalist, he made a choice to save the human instead of allowing nature to run its course. In fact, he says: 'No beast that harms a human must be allowed to live.'

How does one weight one life against another? How is the worth of it determined? The value of life... an impossible choice he's faced with and a choice which he seems to regret to some degree.

The Foxbear cub.

Here, he's speaking from experience, a tangible loss he has felt himself, and a hard and bitter life he does not want to impose on the cub.

His backstory is exclusive to the 2011 anime adaptation but there are hints alluding to it in the manga, for example, the fact that he does not seem to know his birthplace, or:

The choice of words is chilling.

Reading between the lines, one could draw the conclusion that he is an orphan. Something supporting this hypothesis is how he visibly deflates after Gon tells him his parents have (presumably) died.

So we see he is willing to go against his own moral code of not killing as to not doom another living being to the life he led, a lonely, hopeless existence that could barely be called one. He saw it best to put down the cub rather than leave it to die a painful, slow death.

The reason Kite himself isn't as cynical and cold-hearted as one would be after witnessing cruelty in its rawest form is those small crumbs of human kindness which he may have found in Ging.

It was not only a chance at an honorable life being Ging's apprentice gave him, but it also 'saved' him from being broken and twisted into what he hated and worst of all, death.

If we take that one minute of backstory as canon to his character-which I find myself inclined to do- these quirks of his make much more sense. He lived on the run. He lived on the knife's edge between giving up or pushing forwards. He lived as so a wrong move could be the difference between survival and the end.

Between rock and a hard place creates a mentality of black and white, absolute good or extreme evil, this or that. Except in reality, it's much harder than that. Deciding who to save and who to strike down is a heavy burden to bear.

It's almost easy to see how struggling to keep surviving could lend itself to a crippling fear of death and subsequently developing a Nen ability which once more goes against his own moral code in order to give himself a second chance...yet something about it strikes me as unlikely when I look at it this way.

Living life knowing it could end at any moment has the opposite effect, at least for me it did. One comes to accept that it is fleeting and while not eager to let it go, when death eventually and inevitably does come, there is no fighting it.

Especially when there is no hope that tomorrow will be a better day than this one.

Frequent near-death experiences numb one's fear in a way, even if it drives them to take precautions that render it unlikely to happen again and results in c-PTSD, but still, it does. It sparks a certain nihilistic view of 'if it all can end so easily, then what's the point of it all?'

Unless there are things to live for, a sure promise of a better future, and Ging gave Kite that. When he faced the threat of losing his second chance at life:

Really, what else could lead someone to develop the ability of 'the hell I'm going to die like this'?

I think a separate event, an even more brutal near-death experience that almost cost him his life as the hunter he so strived to be set him off to develop the secret roll of Crazy Slots, what I call Roll No.0, Ars moriendi. Unlike other weapons, it cannot come up in random and is directly summoned by him, or better said, summon by his overwhelming will to keep going and hopelessness of fighting a losing battle. I don't believe roll No.3 was the weapon that allowed him to reincarnate. I've named that one Wand of Fortune, a sort of armor instead of an offensive weapon since I find it hard to believe Kite, a Conjurer, would not focus on defences as well, and I will go into both mechanisms of these weapons hopefully in his backstory.

Despite knowing this battle to be a pointless one and being acutely aware of his soon to be demise, he did not immediately draw Ars moriendi, no, he stayed back and fought for the sake of the boys, kept Neferpitou occupied until they could reach safety. We can see evidence of this in the aftermath of the battle that seemed to have gone on until dawn, a torn apart landscape only signaling a fraction of the devastation that was Kite's power unleashed. It still wasn't enough.

In the anime sub I watched, when Gon apologizes to Ging about Kite's death, Ging said a sentence that infuriated me, because it belittled the utter suffering of the NGL trio.

"He would not die in your place." (No screenshot, sorry)

And I remember practically shouting at the screen, screaming 'how could you possibly say that? Of course he did. He absolutely did die in their place. How could you not know your own apprentice? Why-'

It was only last night that it hit me why Ging would say that.

Once upon a time, maybe Kite would not have given his life for anybody under any circumstances, even if he had a way out of it all. He would still need to die to come back to life.

His Thanatophobia could be attributed to the (possibly untreated) PTSD of the near-death experience in his later life, being so certain of dying that finding himself alive afterwards drove him to never want to go through that again. He quieted his fear by creating a sort of a loophole, that even if he lost the battle he would remain. Ging remembered that, but as evidence shows, something changed. Maybe he healed a bit, perhaps growing up dulled his fear to a certain degree, but eventually when it came down to his life or another's, he didn't choose himself.

Now, I can hear you saying 'but he didn't die, so what are you going on about??' And so I reply: Yes, he is alive, but he did die. He experienced that painful, horrible moment of staring death in the eyes and thinking 'This is it, this is the end', went through the actual process of having his soul removed from his body. And that moment stretches into infinity, ten lifetimes condensed into the mere seconds before oblivion.

Dying isn't so hard if one stays dead.

It's not so easy to open one's eyes and find oneself alive again after that, no matter how much that is the heart's desire. It's difficult, nigh-impossible to reconcile with life and walk amongst the living when everything had been so final, when death had been accepted to its fullest.

So Kite awakens, the twin of Meruem and back from the dead, his mind and identity both intact and fractured. In that he is Kite is no mistaking, yet he is not the same gentle pacifist whose first reaction upon sensing a monster's aura was to shield two kids from it at the cost of his arm.

I don't think many of you are familiar with Zoroastrian ideology, but Togashi is known for loving his religious imagery, and it's not only Christianism he derives inspiration from (evidence of which can be seen all over Kite's character and resurrection).

In Zurvanism-a branch of Zoroastrianism- there is talk of the twin spirits: Ahura Mazda -epitome of all that is good- and Ahriman -epitome of all that is evil-, the parent god Zurvin decides that the firstborn may rule in order to bring "heaven, hell, and everything in between."

Upon becoming aware of this fact, Ahriman forcibly tears through the womb to emerge first. Sounding familiar yet?

Zurvan relents to this turn of events only on one condition: Ahriman is given kingship for 9000 years, and then Ahura Mazda may rule for eternity.

Meruem ruled for 40 days, his death leaving the throne vacant for ant Kite, wearing a dead girl's face and seeming to be brewing some nefarious plan. No more is there any sign of that unrelenting pacifism and the sanctity of life he held so high, losing his own may have only served to show him how meaningless the pain and suffering he went through had been, dying only to be reborn as a member of the species that killed him. It may be that he has no desire to rule over the remaining Chimera ants or create an army of his own-

Yet I dread to think what a broken mind possessing limitless power might do to the world.

And that's it. If you made it this far, thank you for reading! If you found it interesting, stay tuned, as I think a lot and I will make it your problem.

[shingia]

heya how are you? could i request some oikawa angst based off of the song “already gone” by kelly clarkson? that song has so much incredible angst potential and idk when i try to link a character to it i can only think of fanon tooru🏃‍♀️

already gone

↳ timeskip! oikawa x gn!reader | angst | word count : 1.4K

↳ summary: oikawa loves you... but he also knows that the true love of his life would have followed him to argentina

↳ heyy! ty for requesting, i hope you’ll like it! (the song really has potential!<3)

-remember all the things we wanted-

oikawa’s camera roll could be divided in three categories, all very dear to his heart. videos of his nephew, screenshots of volleyball matches and - his favorite of all - countless pictures of things he absolutely wanted to see in the house that he’d buy with you one day. a teal bathroom, black couches ‘because it looks fancy’, a shelf for the plants in your bedroom - just the sight of these was enough to make his heart throb with happiness.

-now all our memories, they're haunted-

but as the sun was setting through the window of the plane, the teal bathroom, the black couches and the shelf were only blurry color patches smudged by the tears on his screen.

everybody else around him was busy admiring the sunset, and many people probably wished to have his seat by the window. but the prettiest view in the world wouldn’t have been enough to make him stop looking at the things he had left behind.

he remembered how you had teased him for days after seeing his album which was very seriously named ‘ideas for very soon’. but it was alright, because he had teased you just as much when you had created one named ‘better ideas for very soon’.

-we were always meant to say goodbye-

maybe he had always known that his life with you would be double or nothing. which is probably why it had taken him so long before telling you that he was planning on moving to argentina. because if you couldn’t follow him, then he couldn’t keep pretending that you were the one. but oh did he want you to be…

-it doesn't matter where we take this road, someone’s gotta go-

from the moment you had given him your answer - a dreaded ‘no’ that was still echoing in his head -  it was only a countdown to the ineluctable end that was doomed to break you apart. sure, he had always thought you would be by his side until the very end, but you had your own dreams to follow, and that he understood more than anyone. 

so oikawa took it upon himself to put an end to the wonderful journey you had shared together.

six months. it took him six months to gather the courage to do so - but he simply couldn’t keep postponing the moment that you both knew would happen.

one of you had to do it anyways, and he refused to let you endure the pain of looking him in the eyes and telling him that he was no longer part of your life.

-i want you to know, you couldn't have loved me better-

it seemed like the only thing that kept him grounded was the pride. not the pride of being the one to have taken the decision - but the pride of knowing that he was once worthy of your love. and probably still was.

his new life in argentina was a leap into the unknown. and it would have been much less frightening if he could have held your hand all along the journey. your touch, your words, your eyes, every aspect of your love in general had become inherent to him.

like a children left at school for the first time, he was jumping in at the deep end, and you weren’t here to keep him afloat.

his own hands could never wipe his tears like yours did. because your fingers did not just dry his cheeks, they absorbed every doubt, every worry, everything that made him feel like he was not good enough.

you loved him more than he thought he could ever be loved. and for that he would always be grateful to you, even across the biggest ocean.

-looking at you makes it harder-

his finger kept scrolling on the wet screen, making multicolored pixels dance on pictures that looked dull to his eyes. around him, the exclamations of surprise of the other passengers had ceased, and he thanked himself for being a quiet cryer. one knee scrunched up on his chest, his body shaken by an irrepressible sob every once in a while, he knew he looked pathetic.

but how could he not look like that when his eyes refused to stop staring at the picture that used to be his wallpaper for an entire year ?

he had vivid memories of that day. you were in the bathroom, getting ready for your date and he had decided to take a picture of himself in the mirror. but just as he was about to take it, you leaped on him from the side, arms outstretched to wrap around his shoulders. you still remembered the screech he let out when he felt himself lose his balance, arm immediately wrapping around your waist so that you would fall on him and not on the floor. and by some miracle, his finger touched the screen at the perfect moment, resulting in the best picture ever taken.

you looked so happy. your biggest concern at that moment was that you didn’t know which shoes would go best with your outfit. 

he would have given many things to go back to that day. but at the same time, his dream life was just about to start, even if he could have gone back to that memory, he knew deep down that he would have stayed on that plane.

-but i know that you'll find another that doesn't always make you wanna cry-

oikawa had spent many nights wondering about how his life would be like with you by his side. and obviously, he had already thought about the eventuality of a breakup, because he feared it more than anything.

but in every scenario he had played in his head, you were always the one putting an end to your idyll. he could not bring himself to think that he might ever be the one to break up. how ironic… he thought bitterly, head resting on the cloudy window.

however, he knew that he would eventually forgive himself for breaking up with the person that made him the happiest he had ever been. what he knew he could never forgive himself for was the wait. the six painful months he had made you go through, during which you had feared that every kiss you shared could be the very last.

but you had never looked sadder than in the last two months. although he had never told you about it, he was always wide awake in the middle of the night when you sobbed in his neck with your hands desperately grasping the cloth of his t-shirt.

seeing you in such pain should have made him react. he should have ripped the band-aid off much sooner, so that you would have been able to move on with your life instead of clinging to the dead end that this relationship was leading you to.

but he had been too weak for that, or too selfish.

he was leaving one dream for another, and he wanted both of them to last for as long as possible.

but there was one thought that made his heart bleed and heal at the same time : the thought that someone as incredible as you would obviously find another person to give your heart to. that was actually the last thing he had told you before leaving you in tears at your front door. 

“but i don’t want someone else”

these words kept spiraling in his head, that sweet voice of yours speaking such painful words.he did not want to find someone else either. but life was leaving you no choice.

-i love you enough to let you go-

leaving you was a carefully considered choice. and after many months of reflexion, oikawa had come to the conclusion that it had been a selfless decision. you were both heading towards better lives, free from the constraints of the other’s dreams.

everything he had ever done for you had always been in the name of love. this was no exception.

and no matter how many tears he was going to shed on this plane, he had to keep in mind that you were not the one. 

-there's no moving on, so i'm already gone-

@toworuu @catwithangerissues

[saffron-nova21]

X. Waking Up

Remember Me Masterlist

< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >

Warnings: Strong language, angst, Suna is an asshole. It’s gonna hurt. :)

The first Light Mode is Shinsuke and call/second Light Mode screenshot is Y/N

Dark Mode is the twins.

It had been two really long weeks. And in that short span of time, you’d lost your best friend and most everyone at school’s support. Everyone loved the volleyball team, and by extension, Atsumu Miya. After coming up with their own assumptions about how you’d hurt the twin, they turned their back on you.

Even the volleyball club had.

The only person you had backing you up, currently, was Shinsuke. And even then, sometimes you wondered if he wasn’t beginning to waver as well.

That didn’t matter right now, though. Losing most every friend you had didn’t matter, at all, right now. Because Rintarō was waking up. And he’d know what to do. Suna Rin always knew what to do, when it came to making you feel better.

That didn’t matter right now, though. Losing most every friend you had didn’t matter, at all, right now. Because Rintarō was waking up. And he’d know what to do. Suna Rin always knew what to do, when it came to making you feel better.

In a few moments, you’d find all that hope that swelled up in your chest absolutely crushed.

   Though currently, all you were concerned with was the elated feeling of knowing that your boyfriend was awake and he was okay. You’d finally get to hug him again, to take naps with him, and to sit on his lap after a long, hard day. You’d finally get him back. And after two long weeks of feeling shunned by pretty much everyone within your school, you desperately needed him.

   After you’d been allowed into the room, you looked around, noticing Rintarō was sitting on the edge of his bed, talking to Rei, who brightened immediately as she pointed towards you in excitement. Everyone missed the look of confusion on Rintarō’s face. His father was talking to the doctor, while his mother was standing near, listening to the conversation. But after seeing you, she just smiles, a few happy tears trailing down her cheeks. It had been two weeks, a short amount of time, seemingly. But every one of those days had dragged by like and eternity, everyone hopeful, as each day came and passed, that this would be the day he woke up.

   Nodding at you and waving you on, the older woman shoos you toward your boyfriend. With that encouragement, you take a few steps forward, moving in front of him to wrap your arms around his neck, being wary of his injuries. “I missed you so fucking much.” You whisper into the crook of his neck, so caught up in your emotions that you hadn’t noticed the way he tensed up, until it was too late.

   “I’m so glad you’re awake, I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you, Rin. The team misses you, as well. The twins have been driving Shinsuke cra -”

   His reaction is delayed, but as soon as he’s able to regain himself, he’s shoving you off of him and giving you a look of clear annoyance, effectively silencing you. “Don’t fucking touch me.” He spits, brushing himself off lazily, as if you’d soiled his clothes just by touching them. “Excuse me, do I fucking know you?”

   You furrow your brows, looking at him for a moment in confusion. Was he joking? Your eyes flicker to his mother, who looks just as surprised by his hostility towards you as you do. Your eyes shift back to him hesitantly, to which he responds with a scoff. “Are you brainless? When asked a question, you’re usually supposed to answer, you know?” His tone was one you hadn’t ever heard from him. It was condescending.

   All of the hope that Suna could make things right, with how dull your life had gotten, recently, dissipated. Instead, the weight on your shoulders grew and it felt like it was going to crush you at any given moment. You can’t find it in you to speak for a moment, finding it hard to even breath. Though with a tug on your sleeve from the eight year old beside you, you shake your head and respond... Well, as well as you can, at least.

   “Rintarō, I’m... We’re... We’ve...” You can’t quite manage to speak through your distress and confusion.

   So, Rei speaks for you. “Rinny, this is Y/N, don’t be silly! You two have been dating for like a whole... Two years!” She grins happily, not quite reading the room. Though she was eight, that was to be expected. “You’re gonna marry them, remember?” The little girl takes your hand and shows off the dark promise ring on your finger. 

   Rintarō’s eyes soften as he looks down at his little sister, a smile crossing his lips. “Hey, kid, why don’t you take mom and dad and go get us some sodas? I’m parched.” 

   Rei watches him suspiciously for a moment, before smiling and turning to you, grinning. “You want a drink, Y/N-chan?”

   Swallowing the lump in your throat, you can’t look away from Suna as he locks you in an intense gaze. “No, I’m good, Rei. You go ahead...”

   His parents frown a bit at the thought of leaving you both alone, with Rintarō’s hostility, but they both cave, when Rei starts tugging on their arms, dragging them out of the room, the doctor quickly following behind.

   Suna stands slowly, making you shrink and take a step back from him, still trying to process - why couldn’t he remember you?

   “Doctor mentioned some shit about amnesia. Roughly four or five years of lost memories.” He states, eyeing you and raising an eyebrow. “You’re attractive, I’ll give you that. So what was it? A bet? Friends with benefits?” Rintarō crosses his arms as he eyes you over, watching your confusion further.

   You finally manage to speak. Though it’s hard with the way your heart has dropped to the floor and with the lump in your throat, just barely containing more tears shed. Why, on top of everything else? “What? What do you mean?”

   He scoffs and runs a hand through his dark hair. “Come on. I wouldn’t actually date anyone for so long, without some benefit.” He laughs a bit in amusement, shaking his head as he looks at you. “Wait... You’re serious? I actually gave you that shit?” His pointed gaze shifts to your hand.

   You nod and let out a shaky breath. “There was no bet, Rintarō... I... I can show you pictures of our dates and all of our texts, if you want, but... We... We’re a couple... We’re happy.”

   Rintarō continues to watch you through lazy eyes. “Were. We were a couple. We were happy. Past tense, darling. I don’t even know your name.”

   “Y/N... Y/N Kita.” You respond quickly. “Look, it’s - it’s fine that you don’t remember me, but... Will the amnesia wear off?” 

   “Doctor says probably so. Could take a while. He also said hearing people talk about memories we had might help.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Hurry up and get out your phone, I want to see that supposed proof.” He holds his hand out for you, no room for question resting in his tone.

   Gingerly handing your phone over, Rintarō lets out a sigh, noticing you’d forgotten to unlock your phone. Though to both of your surprise, he opens it, typing in the code with ease. Then, he scrolls through your phones, spotting the familiar screen and apps, finally finding your photos. “You have me as your background? Really?” He spares you a short glance, before looking through your photos, most of them with him. “If I’m your boyfriend, who’s this? With the piss colored hair.” 

   “Atsumu. He’s got a twin named Osamu. We’re all second years at Inarizaki. We play volleyball with them. He’s... He was my best friend.” You rub your arm uncomfortably as you stand there.

   Rintarō nods, letting out a hum of acknowledgment, before going to your texts and finding his contact, tapping on it. “Clingy thing, aren’t you?” He notes, before beginning to read through.

   It’s a long few moments before he speaks again, shutting off your phone and handing it to you. “Do you remember anything?” You ask, attentively monitoring his expression.

   Shrugging, his lips quirk up a bit in a lazy smirk, “No, but like I said. Doc said it might come back. So, let’s hear more about this relationship of ours.”

   As much relief washed over you at his words, you were completely unaware that this wasn’t the Suna you had met three years ago, who had matured enough to allow himself to get close to you and eventually fall in love with you. This wasn’t the Suna Rintarō who you’d fallen in love with. This was a very different person, in every sense of those words. 

Rintarō doesn’t curse at you, or around you, really. Anyone who knows him, knows he can have a foul mouth. But, he tries to be better for you.

Rintarō matured a lot, over the course of the two years that you both dated, and even the year that you both new one another, before you started dating.

Yeah, that follow from Kuroo, a couple of chapters ago? That’ll be coming into play soon 😊

Well, I hope you guys are enjoying! Sorry I didn’t post yesterday or today. It honestly slipped my mind! So I hope you’re ready for a multitude of chapters, soon! 😅

You guys better be getting something to eat, drinking some water, and taking care of yourselves mentally and physically! Remember, I’m proud of you, no matter what, and I love you! You’re doing great, love! Keep it up! 🤍

Taglist:

@kookie-doughs @halesandy @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @kac-chowsballs @saltylettuce @its-the-aerieljeane @javj @ash-levi @babyshoyo @hiraeth-z @random-fandom-girl-24 @kodzuklutz @tsukkiswifeey

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Top 5 Most Hated Characters

As y’all can see, this week’s T5F is a request sent in by anon. I picked it because I guess at the time I thought it would be fun to explore some of TWDG’s least popular, and most hated, characters while also taking into account characters that I can’t stand. 

These are characters that the vast majority of us don’t like or downright despise for many different reasons. None of us are going out of our ways to defend most of these bastards, and anyone who is I get the impression they’re doing so for the sake of being Different™... though while looking around for info about these characters and what people were saying about them, I did find myself in some odd places.... come across, eh... odd fanart. 

But I guess this is the part where I say this is all in good fun and if you happen to be a legit stan of any of these people, that’s cool. Maybe you can answer some of my questions as to why??

5. Nate 

Okay, when I said that I found myself in odd places, it turns out that Nate actually has a bit of a fanbase. It’s not big or anything, from what I can tell, but big enough for me to question why because I was under the impression that we all agreed that this dude sucks.

Seriously, I would’ve put him higher on this list if I hadn’t discovered this handful of people making fanart for him and claiming him as a comfort character. While I find that an odd choice, you do whatever makes you feel comforted, y’know? Just would like to understand why. 

As for the rest of us, he’s terrible. Every time I go back to 400 days, he’s someone I never look forward to seeing. I’ve even tried not getting in the truck with him while playing Russell’s story, but in true Telltale fashion, you’re forced to drive along with this creep. 

Red flags start going off when Russell’s sharing his story about his previous group, something you can tell left some trauma with him, and Nate is just weirdly fixated on the girl Russell liked. Like yeah okay dude, I get it, it’s the apocalypse and you haven’t had any action for a while but oh my god. 

Then the whole walker thing that almost gets Russell chomped is annoying. Oh, and how could I forget about how it’s implied that he attacked the old couple before and was there to finish them off, which he does no matter what and it’s not great. 

Hell, he even uses the line Russell gave him but it’s worse because crazy eyes. And if you don’t say anything, Nate murders them right there without a thought and then continues to be a real creep. Fuck this guy. 

As the wise Eddie once said, “I don’t what that guy in my life, man!” 

4. The Stranger

Hey, have I ever mentioned how much this dude sucks? 

I don’t even have to tell you why he’s on this list. We all know the obvious reasons-- manipulated and kidnapped Clementine, which caused Lee to get bit by a walker and fucking die. No one here is white-knighting for this dipshit. 

Sure, it sucks what the Stranger went through. He lost his family and that would be enough to drive anyone up the wall. I mean, just look at Kenny. But this dude, okay. Look. Listen. I can only feel so bad for you when you lost your son on a hunting trip that your wife told you not to go on, then when you went looking for him, you literally left the car unlocked and running for anyone to come across. Then you come back and gasp. So your wife leaves you for being a moron... then when you find her dead, you cut off her head and keep it like a damn bowling ball because...??

At least that’s what I get from it. The writers probably should’ve done a better job with explaining what the hell happened but y’know. 

That’s not the only reason no one likes this guy. Oh no, you also add to the pile that the Stranger himself is dull. As a character, the dude is just.... boring. And I get that’s probably what they were going for with the whole “I’m just a guy, but you ruined my life and made me this way.” 

However, when you set him up the way you did with the talks over the walkie and the stalking, I was expecting a bit more personality outta this loaf of soggy bread. But no... boring yet crazy. Interesting combo and I’m afraid it doesn’t work. 

3. Larry

Larry?? On a list of most hated characters?? Nooo...

Yeah, surprise. Larry also sucks. Stop the presses. 

Larry is a pain in the ass to deal with for two episodes, constantly belittling the people around him and treating his daughter like shit. Oh, and don’t forget how he behaves towards Lee even if you try to be as nice as possible. Nope, he doesn’t care, he still thinks Lee is garbage and will continue threatening to reveal Lee’s secret to the group. Who cares if that could fuck up the dynamic and endanger the group? Larry sure doesn’t. 

Until the very end, this dude is just a splinter in the foot. By the time you get to the meat locker and he has a heart attack, you’re not gonna save him because you think he’ll be better if he survives. No, you’re attempting to save him for Lilly and Clementine’s sake, and if you don’t even care about that, you siding with Mr. Family Man to smash his head in. 

Not only is he a soiled diaper, he also don’t have much personality outside of asshole. He has maybe two moments where he’s shown to be just a bit chill? I mean, Lilly tells us that he has a lot of pain and that’s why he’s like this.... but that doesn’t excuse his behavior. 

Oh, and can’t forget that apparently he was obsessed with Lilly leaving the lights on so he let the power get cut, so Lilly couldn’t eat ice cream and had to let her hair air dry like a heathen. Unforgivable. 

So yeah, fuck Larry. 

2. Troy

Ugh, Troy. Fuck this guy. 

No really, out of all TWDG characters, this dude and my #1 pick are my most hated. Can’t stand Troy and the only reason I didn’t do a tie for #1 is because for a split second, Troy does show a tiny bit of humanity when Carver is beating down Carver, but blink and you’ll miss it.

Which had me a little concerned to find a handful of posts about having crushes on Troy and drawing fanart but.... again, I guess you do you? And if you can, please explain why because I honestly don’t understand. 

Just looking at the screenshot of him annoys him. He’s got one of those punchable faces, y’know? 

Anyway, when playing as Clementine, I’m always worried that he’s gonna pop up outta no where and grab her by the neck like he does later in ep3, even though I’ve played s2 a bunch to know that he’s not going to. 

But hell, he doesn’t need any excuse to smack anyone around, and there are a handful of times he can really hurt Clem depending on her choices. 

Not great, dude. 

Can’t say I’m too sorry that Jane shot your dick off. 

1. Badger

Yeah, you guys remember Badger. Y’know.... the man who murdered Mariana then laughed about it, claiming that he enjoyed watching her head explode and would do it again and again if he could? 

That’s what puts him at #1. He may not have the most screen time like Larry or Troy, but when he is around, he’s fucking awful.

He gets joy from killing Mariana, like it’s some sort of sick thrill for him to go around murdering children and other innocent people. 

Remember Francine? Caught her and used her as bait to try and get Javi to come down, and even went as far as to have some fingers cut off. Like, he gets off on destroying people, entire communities.

Shit, he seems to even get off to his own beat down. 

He’s fucking gross and outta everyone on this list, I haven’t found a single person being like “Yeah, he’s garbage but I like him kinda?” like no, you’re such garbage that even the Different™ crowd don’t want you. 

Fuck Badger. 

By the way, if you’ve never had Conrad kill him in your game, I suggest looking it up. It’s pretty good. Gives Conrad a little bit of closure after what happened to Francine, as well as give Javi some closure for Mari’s murder. 

Not a single soul wept for you, Badger. 

---

Dishonorable Mentions

-Joan. She’s boring, forgettable, and no one is out here gushing over her because most of the time, we can’t even remember her name. -Danny from Vince’s story in 400 Days. Y’know, the dude going to prison because he was convicted of SA. I’ll never understand why people go with him over Justin. Justin sucks, too, but not the same level Danny does.  -Lilly in S4. Ugh. That’s a whole other topic for another day. -Arvo, though I guess he has a bit of a following, too

---

Well there ya go. Do you agree or disagree with any of my choices for this list? Or have anything to add? I’m always down to chat.

Have any suggestions for future T5F’s? Feel free to send ‘em in! :D

---

Next week’s T5F Top 5 BROTPs

[delfts-purple]

Saints Row Reboot Thoughts

So originally I had a massive ass post of my SR5 wish list sitting in my drafts but since that's now useless, gonna do this. For some context I have been playing since 06, when I was way to young and I fucking hated 4. Now lets go!

My Wants and not wants:

Reboot after SR2 or SRTT. No hate, SRTT was alright but it may be easier and better to reboot from SR2. I seriously do not want you to redo 1 and 2. They are very good games that can stand the test of time and deserve their place. I may be more pissed if you retcon 1 and 2 than I was at 4. Like I guess I could live with a remaster if it was a graphical and control scheme overhaul only. I do hear you young fans, we did have clunky controls back then but they were normal so I don't get put off by it.

It looks to be the case we are going back to the roots and my god are we overdue.

Lets talk clothing. Basically the entire clothing system from SR2, that is what I want pray for. It was peak customization that I have not had another game match.

BIG PHAT GOLD CHAINS PLEZ. I know its probably not fashionable anymore but hot damn it looks so good.

Body slider/Gender slider (idk what to call it) from SR2. Not only is it great for our Trans homies. It was just a great, nah, amazing tool. Really before its time.

Please, make it so I don't have to be a body builder. Like skinny Bosses need more love. My boy Ty was always skinny till 3 and 4 forced him to be bulky. Skinny boys need love tooo!!!!

Honestly like a hybrid of the character builder from 2 and 3 would work. The color, make up and feature diversity of SR3. Paired with the fine tuning of SR2. Its just like chefs kiss.

Custom walking styles, I always loved that my and my friends boss not walk alike.

Two tone hair again maybe? I just think its neat.

Honestly just all the fucking activities from SR2 and SR1. I loved them all, well except Heli assault but people liked that to so let them have it.

Tagging, please, I love tagging.

GOLD/PLATNUIM WEPON UNLOCKS! So gangster like hot damn.

BOOZE AND DRUGS! Like I have had 100s of hours of fun fucking about with that. Like if we had the variety of SR1 in booze and drugs, I would die and got to heaven.

I mean if you can find a way to not make romancing a bastardization I guess you can keep it.

JUST DON'T! Don't bastardize that charaters.

Can we maybe have back some of that grit? Like SR2 was a prefect balance of grit and humour. SRTT felt like I was a toddler been mollycoddled by shallow humour. Not enough grit and felt like it was wrote by a 10th grader tbh.

Make the Boss... them again. Like non of this 'he hu puckish rouge' shit. I don't play a gang game to be a fucking hero. I know, shock, horror. I play it to be a sociopathic bastard. I got 100 fucking games where I am the good guy, sometimes ya boi needs a break. A evil, going to hell for this, I do question my mental status when I laugh at this, break.

Mission and cut scene replay. One of the reason SR1 and 2 save files can rack up into the 1000s of hours for me is this feature. If I want to play one mission, I don't have to replay the whole game. I can give in to whims. I do not have a word for it in English but it is maximum happiness with fun.

More cut scenes. Like there felt like there was less of them in 3 and 4.

Idle animations. My Boss just been like 'yep, Delfts gone, time to go fishing or drinking or smoking' was just great.

Look Gat was never some weird immortal, unbeatable guy until you made him that way in 4 onwards. He was the kinda hot headed, asshole, who got him self into trouble over it, guy who we adored. Bring my boi back.

A photo mode. I mean I got very, very good at cropping screenshots and clipping my camera of walls but, my Boss deserves better! He his my handsome little killer and people need to know that.

MKUltra elevator nightmare shopping/wardrobe/garage screens, you know the ones, fucking scrap them. Go back to how it was in 1 and 2. I do not need to be subjected to CIA brutality while playing SR. I got enough of that thanks.

Keep the phone menu, that shit was tight. Real immersed me and I love seeing the Bosses phone. I mean I have bought and made replicas of them ffs.

Make hazel eyes behave like the did in the remaster. Like damn. Just. I have a whole post on this shit thats how good it was.

I know you guys are good for it but keep them fun af cheats. I spent to long as a massive af beating up super small people as it rained corpses. Oh and the gravity was gone.

Don't have dual wielding as a fucking upgrade. My Boss just dual wields, let him, like you did in 2.

Weapon skins, like in SR4, that was alright. I wouldn't mind that one.

Keep the Bosses back story vague still. I haven't wrote and perfected his back story over the last decade or more so you can piss on it.

Jackets and hoodie, stop the putting my hair in a ponytail. Last time I put on a fucking track jacket I didn't have to tie my hair back, It didn't happen in 2 so why 3 and 4?

Respect and Missions. Can we either have a return to the old style respect system to make people play the side missions or just not make people play them by force. I fucking hate Heli assault and all that flying shit, so been forced to do it made me want rip my hair out. Like if they are there people will play the ones they want, I do not want to be made to do it by the main story. THX

Bring back the day/night cycle. I could play for much longer when it wasn't so monotone. Also it made me think about what I was doing when. Like I wouldn't got to the night club at 10am.

Bring back Nightclubs. Tyde want's to party and so does Delfts.

Stop making the character hollow 2D’s of their former selves.

A varied city, like Stilwater. Seriously, feels like a real city and I have lived or worked in over 6 in my life so I know. Steelport felt like what some Vatnik Babushka (Boomer Grandma) in rural Siberia would describe the city, dull and unrealistic.

Have the gangs act like actual gangs. You know, go around doing crime and harassing NPCs like they did in 1 and 2.

NPCs, make them like you did in SR2. They acted like real people, did the most random and weird shit. Felt real. They also all look different or their was such a wide variety in base models I didn’t notice repetition. SRTT and SRIV they were like 5 NPCs. I had occasions where there was 10 of the same model and I was like, two or three is okay but fucking 10?

Make them drive the way they did in 1 and 2 too. I have drove in a city for a long time and that shit was so real. People are dumb sometimes.

Bring back Freckle Bitches!!!!!!

If I think of anything else I will add it but feel free to add your own and disagree with me. I kinda want to here how all you others be feeling about this. I feel fear and happy. Also can you tell I blasted this out at like 4am.

[saphyhowl]

Chapter one: Encounter

Here it is. I know it’s not very long but I will continue tomorrow for part two. The fic I asked your thoughts about. Hope you like it. Again sorry for the long wait.

Edit: I added part two

“And on your right, you may admire the work of Jacques-Louis David, “the Coronation of Napoleon” painted in 1807. It took the artist two years to finish the painting. It is not only imposing because of its size but also by the…”

A young woman in a formal suit guided a group of visitors through the gallery in the Denon part of the Louvre museum. While the visitors admired the painting, the guide waved discreetly at a young man standing on the sidelines. He looked visibly bored but managed a timid smile as the woman waved at him. He strode towards her, his boredom noticeable even in the way he walked.

“I’ll be done in a few hours, why don’t you grab something to eat or maybe take a stroll outside. I know museums are not the funniest thing to see for a 19-year-old,” the woman said with a chuckle.

“No worries sis, I’ll grab something to eat at the “Paul” bakery. Text me when you’re done?” the young man answered.

The sister nodded and went on to describe the other paintings to her group. She glanced one last time at her brother’s figure among the visitors. The young man put his headphones on as he strode towards the exit. He scrolled through his phone to find the playlist that would suit his mood and nearly bumped into an elegant-looking man.

“Sorry,” he mouthed at the elegant man and continued walking.

A moment later he sat on a bench munching on a sandwich. Someone sat next to him but he paid them no mind. A tap on his arm. He looked up. It was the elegant man from before.

“Well, we meet again,” said the elegant man.

The brother smiled politely and took another bite from his sandwich.

“You can call me Comte,” the gentleman added as he stretched out his hand.

“Louis,” answered the young man as he stared at Comte’s outstretched hand, visibly refusing to shake it.

“What is your favorite painting in the Louvre museum?” Comte asked.

“None. I don’t like museums,” Louis answered as he immediately took another bite from his sandwich. Hopefully, that way the weird man would stop talking to him.

“I thought so. A pity. Paintings are a heritage, they have many stories to tell us,” Comte commented.

“I am sure they do sir,” Louis said as he looked away in annoyance.

“Le Sacre de Napoleon is a masterpiece. However, you must visit the Musée d’Orsay as well. The paintings there are filled with life,”

“I will,” Louis said with a loud sigh.

“Make sure to go with a knowledgeable guide, otherwise you might miss a few gems,” Comte added.

Louis nodded and continued to munch on his sandwich.

“Well, then Louis. I bid you farewell. Take in my beautiful city of Paris, she has yet to offer you plenty of treasures,” Comte nodded his head and walked away.

“What a freak,” Louis mumbled to himself.

He was about to reach for his soda bottle as he noticed a leather wallet next to him. Louis cursed under his breath as he knew what he was about to do.

A few hours later.

“Are you sure he never left the Denon area?” a young woman asked the security guard as he replayed the security footage.

“No Mademoiselle Sophie,” the security guard answered.

Sophie saw the footage for the fifth time. There was her brother passing through the gates leading to the Denon area at 1:32 pm. She held her head in her hand.

“This cannot be happening,” she whispered.

“It’s been past closing time Mademoiselle. Have you tried his cellphone again?” the security guard inquired.

She nodded and took out her phone. She tapped on her brother’s contact and held her phone to her ear.

“Come on. Come on. Answer idiot…”

She heard the familiar beeping that announced her call had gone straight to voicemail.

“Maybe he went already home Sophie?” suggested someone behind her. It was Alicia, one of Sophie’s colleagues.

“Maybe you are right Alicia. I will go check and if not then I will go straight to the police. He knows nothing about Paris and it’s getting late,” Sophie decided as she went to grab her bag and coat.

Sophie watched the city lights pass by the window as she sat in the subway. The closer she got to her stop the more nervously her knees jumped up and down. She practically ran towards her tiny apartment. She dropped her keys a few times because her hands trembled with anticipation. She opened the door and shouted her brother’s name. She shouted again as she entered her apartment. The apartment was dark and was exactly as she had left it before heading to work this morning. She shouted her brother’s name again storming into each room. No one.

Sophie crouched down and called her brother’s phone one more time. Voicemail. She looked at her phone and selected another contact. The sharp light from her phone hurt her eyes or maybe the tears she held back started to sting her eyes.

“Hello?” a voice came out of the speaker.

“Mom? I-I lost Louis,” Sophie managed to say before bursting into tears.

A few hours later, Sophie sat in front of a police officer, telling the middle-aged officer what had occurred. Sophie tried her best to recall any detail that could be decisive for the investigation. Another officer handed her a paper cup with what seemed to be coffee. She gave them a faint smile. The middle-aged officer spoke with Sophie it took her a moment to understand their explanations. All of this seemed surreal. The busy police station even at night, the neon lights. The office was busy with people doing paperwork. Sophie was sitting there filing a missing person report for her younger brother just like in any trailer movie. However, the heavy truth was nowhere comparable to what any series could transmit. She had lost her brother for whom she had always looked out for. Sophie felt as if part of herself went missing for good that day as well.

The police officer gave her a business card with a number on it.

“If you need to talk, we have a few people here who are specialized in helping families cope with the situation,” the officer explained.

Sophie took the business card and thanked the police officer.

“We will be at the Louvre tomorrow to investigate possible leads. We will let you know if we find something,” the other officer added.

Sophie managed to blurt out a few words of gratitude and exited the station. She caught sight of a familiar man leaning against a car.

“Antoine,” Sophie whispered and smiled.

The man named Antoine held out his hands to take hers. She rested her forehead against his shoulder.

“This is a nightmare,” she said as series of sobs took over.

Antoine held her in his arms until she had calmed down a little.

“It is not your fault. He will show up again, ok? Let’s go back to your place and get some rest,” Antoine suggested as he opened the door of his car.

The next day, at the police station.

“Our colleagues have scanned every profile of the visitors and staff on that day and none of them match with the man we see here,” explained the policewoman to his lieutenant as she circled the zoomed face of an elegant-looking man.

The lieutenant gazed at the different screenshots from the security footage showing the missing Louis with an unidentified man.

“How could anyone pass the heavy security of the Museum?” the lieutenant wondered.

“We found something else,” the policewoman showed him another screenshot.

The lieutenant looked closer and recognized Louis. The young man was following the suspect through a door.

“Where does that door lead?”

The policewoman turned pale.

“Now now Marie, it cannot be that bad,” the lieutenant encouraged the policewoman.

“Nothing,” she answered.

“What do you mean exactly with nothing?” the lieutenant asked.

“A storage room for flyers and whatnot. There are no windows, no shafts, nothing that could lead them out, except the same door they went through,” Marie explained.

The lieutenant sat back in his chair. He had seen a lot of cases in his lengthy career. However, this one was fairly new and slightly worrying.

“I’ll make a call. This, dear Marie, is bigger than I anticipated,” the lieutenant added before getting up to make a call. This case was out of his hands.

 #Trouverlouis

Paris was on fire. At least the social network was. The social media of every Parisian was showing and sharing one hashtag, a plea for help from a desperate sister. Sophie was in the kitchen, her phone on the table could not stop buzzing ever since she had followed her friends' advice. She had placed her faith in the algorithms of Instagram and every other network that might help to obtain hints on her brother’s whereabouts. However, after a month, the shares and posts resulted in lots of public empathy but few leads.

Sophie sat on a chair and stared at a picture hanging on her fridge door. The unidentified man who took away her brother Louis. She remembered the day she went to the police station with her mother this time. After they had told them another unit had taken over the case because of the lack of leads, her mother had thrown a tantrum. She insulted every policeman with every imaginable name. However, all the commotion dulled out as she saw the portrait one police officer had handed to her, explaining that she was allowed to use it to see if anyone in her circle could identify him. Ironically, no one recognized him.

Sophie looked at the portrait, eyes filled with pure hate. The pure-hearted, art and history passionate Sophie had made a vow to personally strangle the life out of this man. She grabbed her purse and went to the Louvre as she did every day for work. However, this time she went to stand for the umpteenth time in front of the door through which her brother never came back.

The door looked insignificant as usual, noted Sophie. She was alone in the area, it was yet too early for the storm of visitors to invade the halls of the Louvre Museum. Sophie sighed. The police had explained that it was a mere storage room of two square feet. She had looked at it many times during the past weeks. She lazily put her hand on the doorknob and opened the door, she knew what to expect.

Sophie let out a scream. The stack of cardboard from yesterday was gone, the pile of flyers and maps as well. The storage room looked more like an old corridor from the Louvre with a velvet rug, old paintings on each side of the walls.

“Mademoiselle Sophie,” a voice whispered. It came from the far end of the corridor.

Sophie fumbled with her purse and took out her phone to take a picture.

“Mademoiselle Sophie,” the voice repeated.

Sophie searched through her phone and was about to leave a voice message to her boyfriend Antoine.

“Sophie” another voice whispered.

Sophie shuddered; she knew that voice very well. It belonged to Louis.

“Antoine, I think I found a lead. I’ll send you a picture,” Sophie whispered on her phone, her voice a mix of fear and joy.

She released her finger from the recording button. She was about to tap onto the picture she had just taken to send it to Antoine. Something or someone pushed her into the corridor causing her to drop her phone. The door slammed behind her and Sophie was drawn towards the other end.

“No no no no. Let me out! Let me go! Please let me go! Alicia! Anyone! Get me out of here, please!”

On the other side of the storage door, Sophie’s phone rested on the floor. The screen shifted as a call entered, the name “ANTOINE” appeared on the screen. The phone buzzed in the still empty museum.

[hk-plus-you]

Hello! Just found your blog so I'm not sure if you're still active but, this fucking bitch Quirrel had the audacity to vanish die. (saw him sitting by the water and I went "oh that's pretty *screenshot and leave* wait I forgot *comes back* *instantly craving ✨death✨*)

So I wondered if you could write something where Tiso finds reader all sad and defeated and bastard bug he tries to comfort him ? (I said try. Because well. It's Tiso, he'd probably talk about some warrior shit)

I honestly thought Quirrel would leave once the three dreamers gone. (did one as a test and another one by accident??? I walked around and then it was done???). So I was UNPREPARED and I am DEVASTATED ;-;

“So I just learned Tiso dies too. And I am absolutely losing my shit wheezing in pain like damn. Recently all the characters that I love are dead. Maybe I'm just into death udjdjdj” 

“:) Was just trying to find secret places. And I found Tiso's body. :))))))Also the fact that there ain't Quirrel's body, BUT Tiso's. Like, his body will be there forever. Pain. Just pain.“

Really glad I didn’t have to be the one to break it to ya. though this fic will probably hurt you even more because I just kinda went off. have you tried dream nailing Tiso’s body? he is also in god home at one point so you’ll at least be able to see him one more time if you haven’t :)

Quirrel was gone. You had tried to find him again, looking all over the kingdom hoping he just settled somewhere else but found nothing of him. All that was that reminded you of him was his nail. 

It was still stuck in the ground across the lake. If you squinted you could just barely see it, a little fuzzy silver line jutting out from the ground where you had last seen him.

You hadn’t known Quirrel particularly well. He was a traveler you had always ended up bumping into from time to time. Originally you two had met in a different set of ruins. An old religious temple in the middle of nowhere; it had practically called out to you, begging for you to uncover the secrets hidden in those ancient halls. You two bonded over a shared love to explore the uncharted and unknown. It was simple but friendly faces were few and far between in the wilds.

When you had found him again in Hallownest you had been ecstatic. So ecstatic in fact you accidentally fumbled over your own attempt to greet him, the words jumbling in your mouth into indiscernible gibberish.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again my friend,” He had said with a chuckle.

Friend. You really liked that word, liked that he had called you his friend. You didn’t have many of those anymore and the thought of such a sweet bug like Quirrel being your friend was enough to have you beaming.

You two had bumped into each other a lot in Hallownest. Often exchanging a comforting word or two, giving advice or warning about how to handle tricky enemies that wandered around in nearby areas, even wistful thoughts about places Quirrel took a particular shining to.

When you saw him sitting at the Blue Lake without his mask… He was practically hunched over, hands rubbing at his joints. A weariness you had never seen in his eyes had overtaken his cheerful, almost coy, look he often held. The bleary stare he gave to the lake made him feel so much older than you had ever seen him. He felt… Ancient.

When you sat and talked to him he talked about finally feeling at peace. Quirrel had seen the whole kingdom and all its beauties again; all while being able to share all he saw with you, his friend.

He almost looked pained as you attempted to thank him. It all just felt so final the way he spoke. You refused to acknowledge that, you’d see him again, you had to.

As you sat on the opposite side of the lake you had seen him last you tried to figure out why this one bug was affecting you so much. You couldn’t even sit where he had, grief twisting your stomach into painful knots just at the thought.

You jumped slightly when someone behind you scoffed. Whirling around you saw a bug you had never seen before. They wore thick metal armor with large pauldrons on their shoulders, their face was completely obscured beneath their hood so you could only just see where their eyes were from the reflection of light. 

“How can you stand a place so dull?” The ‘s’ sounds were drawn out enough it almost sounded like he was hissing in disdain, voice high pitched and almost nasally.

“What?” 

“It’s serene, peaceful, boring. How one could just sit and waste time baffles me,” you couldn’t see his face but you could practically hear the scowl dripping from his voice.

“If you hate it so much why are you wasting your time here?” You spat back.

“The coliseum is near. That is why I came to this decaying burrow, to test my skills as a warrior in vicious combat in that arena.”

Now you’re scoffing at him. You had seen the arena, no mortal bug could make it through that. Everything reeked of infection there, the creatures were bred to not just maim but kill for the twisted minds of those that watched.

“And how do you expect to survive such a place? I’ve seen what you seek, you’ll be slaughtered within seconds.”

“Oh, you think this shell a defensive arm,” He raises his shield and practical presents it to you with a smug tone in his weaselly voice, “It contains a deadly surprise that you should pray to never find out,” He straightens again as he continues, “A warrior such as I shall crush all those who think themselves foolish enough to face me.”

“Your overconfidence is going to get you slaughtered.”

He practically squawks at you in anger. “And how could you know that. You’re clearly not a fighter, just a random bug moping at the edge of some stupid lake!”

“I’m not moping!”

“Then what are you doing looking like a pathetic tiktik about throwing themself into the water?”

“I’m mourning you lubberwort!”

He seemed to pause for a moment to think but before he could say something else you snapped again.

“My one friend is gone, the only proof he ever existed is across this blasted lake!” You pointed at the distant nail, not caring if he could even see it, “And now I have to deal with your foolish thorax talking as if you were an immortal no one could touch!” you were practically shouting now, “If you want to go to the infested coliseum then by all fucking means go! I hope you get crushed to death and flung to the pits below to never be seen again!”

You turned away from him, angrily rubbing away tears that threatened to spill. He started to say something but you ignored his angry voice. You didn’t care about him, about anything he had to say ever again. 

[sweetestlamb]

It Will Rain

Summary: Gang-tae is finally honest and has a realization about his relationship with Mun-yeong. 

Author’s note: This story is coming to an end and honestly I’m very happy it has been very hard to tap into these emotions for both of them, their self-deprecation just wraps around me even after I’m done writing. But this was also very cathartic and I am happy that I wrote it, this was one of my only issues with the show and I know a lot of people excuse and accept GT’s behavior and that’s your right but I couldn’t do the same and I finished the series still yearning for a real apology so this story has done that for me. Provided more closure. Anyway, there is only one chapter left hope you all enjoyed! 

She's gone.

He goes through the ceaseless motions of life, robotic and mechanical, going to work and coming home like he's living in a washing machine; spinning around and around in violent circles.

But endlessly his mind spasms every second as he remembers that she's gone and he has no idea where exactly she might be.

Sang-in refuses to speak to him, exiting any space that he enters and his frustration melts away as he realizes that her disappearance is not solely impacting him, the manager looks haggard as well, dark circles sunken deep like craters on a surface.

His thumbs twinge with malignant pain from his extensive messages to her, 109 messages sent since the day he went to her empty castle, pleas and apologies easily coming now as he recognizes how badly he needs her in his life. Life without her has been colorless and dull, a black and white façade that he longs to escape from. He wants the vibrant hues that being around her splashes into his life.

All his life he's been a blank canvas and meeting her poured colors onto his skin that he never knew he needed, life was meant to be lived and up until the moment she crashed into his life, he'd merely been existing.

He's taken to eating alone, punishing himself for his hapless mistakes, he doesn't deserve to be surrounded by warmth or have a full belly when Mun-yeong is out there with no one, thinking that he doesn't care for her. That couldn't be further from the truth but he has nobody but himself to blame for that, she'd given him too many chances and each time he'd been a fool; why had he done that? Why couldn't be accept love while it was the one thing he yearned for the most?

You don't deserve to be happy. This is what you deserve. Regret and despair.

His thoughts assault him viciously poking holes through his paper thin sheet of confidence. Each day without her and unread messages breaking him down into unrecognizable pieces, his walls crumbling like a sandcastle under the lightest pressure.

"Gang-tae, why are you so sad?" His older brother's voice draws him back from the depths of his melancholy, breaking the shackles of his self deprecation.

He sits from his starfished position on the ground, meeting his brother's warm questioning eyes. Immediately a smile spreads across his face, instinct kicking in.

Sang-tae looks at him, expressionless before he sits down beside him, reaching out a hand and catching his smile before slowly pulling down the sides of his mouth.

"It's fake. It's not real, you're not happy Moon Gang-tae, that's a fake smile. Why are you smiling when you're not happy?"

He feels the dam holding in his emotions start to burst before his eyes are swimming with emotions, twin lines scorch down the smooth skin of his cheeks.

"Hyung, I made a mistake." His voice squeaks from his worn lungs, sobs now wrecking his body until he's shaking apart. "I hurt Mun-yeong and I don't know if she's going to forgive me."

Sang-tae lifts a hand hesitating minutely before laying it on his head, air soft caresses on his thick hair. He almost melts into the brotherly brush, unable to recall another instance where his brother has touched him in this manner.

"It's because you're the little brother, you're just a kid still. You have to say sorry when you hurt someone , you have to say sorry and make them happy. Mun-yeong smiles when she's with you, a smile is better than a fight."

I have fun with you. I keep smiling.

He'd been so focused on his own newfound happiness he hadn't stopped to think about her, how much they'd both smiled when they were together. Her smile had been especially gorgeous, brighter than the sun moments after their first kiss. Her lips tasted as beautiful as they looked, her joy palatable on his taste buds.

He'd crushed that happiness under his feet that day on the beach, callously throwing sharp daggers at her chest, the vision of her clutching her bruised heart forever stamped in his mind.

I might not deserve happiness but she does and I....make her happy.

With a hiccup he smiles at Sang-tae, so young at heart but wise beyond his years. His wonderful older brother.

"Thank you hyung. You're right I need to make her happy."

"Yes she's my best friend, don't make her sad anymore or I'll scold you."

He laughs for the first time in days, happiness growing in his chest like a mustard seed.

Gathering his courage he meets his brothers eyes, finally prepared to be honest about his feelings for Mun-yeong, he's tired of hiding himself from the people he cares about.

"Hyung, I...like Mun-yeong. I want to be with her and I want to make her happy all the time." His confession eases the fear and concern that has been weighing him down, his shoulders loosening as the words escape his lips.

Sang-tae sinks into himself, scratching at the raw skin between his fingers.

He reaches out to hold his hands, rendering them still. He smiles at his brother, a smile that finally reaches his eyes.

"Don't be scared hyung please, I'm still your brother and I still love you. I just care about Mun-yeong too, my heart is big enough to hold both of you. Is your heart big enough big brother? Can you let Mun-yeong in too? She needs us."

Waiting with abated breath he watches the thoughts as they run across Sang-tae's face, shifting from one emotion to the next before he can properly decipher then until his brother finally responds.

"Yes. Mun-yeong needs us. She needs a family, we can let her into our family."

His heart ripples from his brother's generosity, he never imagined this conversation going this well. He'd ruminated about talking to Sang-tae always thinking his brother wouldn't understand and once again seeing that he underestimates his brother, she'd been right he just needed to be honest.

"You need to eat Gang-tae, I came to get you. Come on let's go eat, I'm your big brother it's just job to take care of you."

He lets himself he pulled away, leaving weightless. That night sleep finds him easily, his dreams are full of her.

Helpless is the only way to describe his circumstance, for once he knows exactly what he wants and is willing to fight for it but she remains elusive, not responding to any of his messages or calls, her voicemail now filled from his persistence.

The patients are the first to notice the change in him, their watchful eyes following his very move as he does his rounds.

"Your pretty smile, it's gone."

She's right, as his days without Mun-yeong pile on he finds it impossible to even force a fake smile, for once letting his true emotion show.

It's accidental that he runs into Sang-in, literally. Colliding chest to chest on the stairs to the rooftop, the manager teeters on the edge of the step arms flailing as he tries to regain his balance. The scene is all too familiar to him as he wastes no time to reach out and grab the man by his bicep, righting him before he can tumble down the stairs.

They both look at each other with trepidation before Sang-in pulls his arm free of his hold, mouth opening before his eyes harden and he spins around, intentions clear.

Hastily he calls out, "Wait."

Sang-in halts, the lines of his shoulder sharp and unfriendly.

"Please."

That simple word loosens the tension, he watches as the shoulders lower and after two beats Sang-in pivots around.

Dark eyes look at him imploringly, his expression saying more than words ever could.

What do you want?

Latching onto the opportunity he rushes to say his peace, "I care about her. I know you think I'm selfish and all I do is hurt her."

Steel wraps around Sang-in's eyes as if he's preparing to rebuke his excuses. Ready for a fight.

"You're right. I am selfish and I've hurt her a lot. It doesn't matter what my intentions were I still hurt her and I'll never forgive myself for that."

After a pregnant pause, a sneer glides across Sang-in's smooth shaven face, "So what? You're going to leave her alone and stop making her cry? Is this you telling me that you're giving up on her so she can be happy?"

His eyes dart all over that manager's face, before he finds what he's looking for. That's not Sang-in's secret desire, beneath the sneer his lips quiver as he awaits Gang-tae's response.

It's the easiest test he's ever been given.

"No. I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to make her happy, I won't push her away." He promises with his heart in his throat.

Their eyes lock in a staring match, he hides nothing letting his emotions pour through his eyes, taking down his walls. Sang-in takes a deep breath before answering.

"Okay."

It's such a simple answer but with it he feels Sang-in's reluctant acceptance, their happiness was connected and despite his anger Sang-in couldn't deny that. The answer boosts his confidence.

He has to find her.

He's at work when he gets the message from Sang-tae, Mun-yeong text me. She sent me a picture.

He races to the staff lounge, phone precariously clutched in his hands as he looks at the message. Disbelief and relief wash over him in submerging waves, before he can maneuver his trembling hands to type out a response he gets another message.

Her face fills his phone screen and his heart as Sang-tae sends him a screenshot of her message.

I'm okay Sang-tae. Don't worry I'll be back.

Pushing aside his jealousy he devours her picture, the downward tilt of her lips doing nothing to lessen her beauty, those black orbs shining through the luminance of his phone.

Once his heartbeat slows down to a manageable rhythm he looks at the picture once more, scouring for clues and immediately his memory whorls as he takes in the door in the background.

She's gone back to where he'd finally let go.

Maybe he still has a chance.

With that though fueling his movement he runs through the door, stomping to the director's office.

Director Oh smirks at his stuttered excuse before chuckling and nodding in acquiesce, letting him leave his shift early.

He stands still in shock before confirming, "Really? I can go..?"

With a shrug the director waves him away, "Go, go I did worst things when I was young for a girl. Love makes us all a little crazy."

Blushing at how easily he's been found out, he bows low thanking the director before running out of the hospital.

As he bursts through the entrance door, a car horn catches his attention and he twists around until he finds the source.

Sang-in climbs out of the driver's seat of his rental car, walking closer until they are within arm's reach, wordlessly he tosses the keys into Gang-tae's hands, snatching the metal out of the air he looks at the manager surprise etched in very pore of his skin.

"Why?" He asks, taken a back by everyone's willingness to help him.

"Because I want her to be happy. You promised to spend your life doing that. You better keep that promise."

He hears the threat for what it is, impulsively he leaps forward wrapping the older man in a bear hug before releasing him and rushing to the car.

Sang-in's wide eyed stare causes his laughter to fill the car's small space as he pulls out of the parking lot and drives off to keep his promise.

The woman who owns the guest house grumbles when he arrives but shows him to Mun-Yeong's room and tells him that she's currently out taking one of her "soul searching walks". He waits outside, not wanting to invade too much of her space. He wants her to let him in.

Hours crawl by before the heavens open out releasing wet retribution that drowns the ground. Worry washes over him as he glances out at the road, willing her to appear and to his utmost surprise she does, materializing before him like a vision in a dream.

Her movements are unhurried despite the harsh downpour that has already soaked her, her clothes plastered to the soft curves of her body.

He watches her entranced, eyes feasting. She's here, his heart gallops giddy from her mere presence. He savors this moment of pure exuberance, knowing her well enough to acknowledge that she will not be as happy to see him. 

He's right.

Her words cut him as she rages, cursing his presence and demanding that he leave her alone. She sugar-coats nothing as she rips him apart the worst part of all is that she only speaks the truth. She's not vicious or malicious, he thinks he might have preferred that, instead of this piercing honesty.

She slams the door in his face and he's reminded of him slamming the door on their relationship on the beach. He deserves this.

He slides to the ground, placing one hand on the door that separates them.

It's my turn to wait.

"I'm here for you. I need you Mun-yeong."

She stares at him blankly, vastly different from the anger she'd just exhibited at finding him slumbering on her doorstep.

Without a word she spins around, slamming the door shut in his face once more.

Eventually he goes to find the bathroom, a warm bathe soothes the chill in his bones before he's forced to put back on his still damp clothes.

When he finds his way back to her, she's standing stock still where he once was.

A closer look reveals that she is not completely still, her small shoulders are rapidly moving up and down and after a moment's pause he rushes to her, spinning her around to face him.

Her face is crumpled in wet anguish, tears gushing from her eyes as she bites her lips to contain the sobs that are aching to escape.

"Mun-yeong." He breathes out before she tumbles to the ground.

Instantly he falls with her, gathering her in his arms, she pushes him away fighting to break his barricade. He lets her go. Arms falling helplessly to his sides. His heart breaks as he watches the woman he loves fall apart, helpless again to do anything to comfort her.

"I thought you were gone. Why did you come back? I accepted that you left me, why do you keep coming back damn it!"

Her cry breaks as her body continues to shake and he can't watch this anymore, his arms and heart empty without her weight.

Mustering his last remnants of strength, he pleads, "Mun-yeong please, can I hold you? I can't stand to see you like this, please. I'm yours. I'm here for as long as you want me. I'm never going anywhere."

Her moist eyes peer into his soul, searching. Before her eyes slide shut, slowly she reaches out her arms and he bolts into the space, a space just for him. He fits perfectly.

He wraps his arms around her slight figure, engulfing her in a deep embrace, her tears soaking through the collar of his uniform.

Time slows down as she shakes in his arms, her sobs quieting down until the sounds of nature fill his ears instead. He rocks her back and forth, patting her back as she clutches on his shirt.

When the last of her cries falter off he draws away from her, her beautiful wet face blessing his eyes.

Gently he reaches out to brush the tears from her cheeks.

She blinks back at him, sniffling before sighing and looking up at the skies.

"Okay. Let's talk."