#and i think what i will do is have the main story --side a-- be in Arle's pov

[dock57]

[If you haven’t already noticed, I just really like talking about how much I love this series.

I’m not sure what it is about this particular shot of the first episode, but this one is what really got me in.

We have a build up to the plot of the first episode, where we’re introduced to the continuing plot itself of the series, but a build up to the introduction of the main characters. We’re given a glimpse of who Shrike and Beebs are, not just based on their icon alone, but as who they are based on the information given along with them. As I have said many times, I really love MW and its details. Including this shot.

We’re told here the difference between Shrike and Beebs. We’re given a dose of who they are as well of how the two work together. Which is something I would really like to talk about another time.]

[I think EP 4 has pushed the understanding of Shrike’s and Beeb’s relationship and their character and well, the overall story. Shrike is considered a loser to well, majority of the people who know him. We also know that Shrike is quick to make decisions- usually not good ones and seems to “get by” by either luck or, having Beebs with him. Which is why Shrike’s description of being a low threat and easier target to take out before Beebs, makes sense. It just gives you an idea how little Shrike is considered to others, enemies or rivals. Even if Shrike did make Kara look like a fool at the end of the first EP- it was really by chance- luck really. I will say it is funny how it’s mentions he is awful with close range- despite doing a great job in EP 2 doing close range sword fighting- guess the only times cartoons did save him.]

[Then you have Beebs, or Bulldog Browns is the first name given. I always look back at this shot for Beebs. Because even before EP 4, we’re told he’s a threat- which is odd as before EP 4, we’re really only shown a more chill side of Beebs. I know in EP 3 though, we are given a taste of how Beebs could potentially be dangerous, or well, he has a limit. Even so, EP 4 is when we really start to get a taste of how much of a threat Beebs could be. Not just from what we saw from Ajax too and what Ricket said, how Beeb’s kinds can be “a lot,” but how Beebs can haul weight around with no problem. Opening closed doors with his own strength and like Ajax, has his eyes light up red as well when he is frustrated. So the 9/10 threat makes a lot of sense now. I remember when I first saw that, I was a bit surprised? He doesn’t seem like the type who would hurt a fly? Now seeing EP 4, makes you wonder how much he can handle before he loses it? Its clear though, that Beebs is seen as a threat, not just species alone, but also seems to taken more seriously compared to Shrike, he is set up in the team to be the “straight man,” the middle guy, really the one to well, solve all the problems. Even in his little description, it says that you might have an easier time with Beebs if you take out Shrike, who really is not. Taken seriously.

Also Shrike being 6”3’ and Beebs being 8”11’? I love ridiculous heights for characters. These two are tall, man- even Shrike who appears “short” compared to others.

I’m not much of a theorist or type to create headcanons, I just really like talking about what I love about a series. And what I love about this shot? The set up. We’re introduced to the characters, a glimpse about them and watch the development, and the overall plot itself.

I’m just a rambler, but hope you enjoy.]

[cripplecharacters]

Debated on whether I wanted to resend but here goes nothing.

This is Margo, my OC. She is currently being developed into a Stardew Valley mod. I don't wish to spoil too much, but she fought in The War and was injured. She now has facial + body scarring and a cane. I'm still writing the story, but so far, she has two plots: A, which is her learning to open up and accept the player. And B, which is her trying to find a hobby with the help of other NPC characters.

I'm mainly sending an ask in for feedback on her design. As of now, her torn lip has been edited to show her gums instead of all teeth. Otherwise, nothing has changed. Thank you!

Side question: How should her facial difference and cane be addressed, if at all?

[Image description: two pixel drawings. The first one shows the full body of the character; she has light tan skin, a burn scar on her face, and long red hair. She's holding a cane. The second drawing shows multiple versions of the character's portrait with various facial expressions.]

Hey!

She looks good! I especially like the top right one, very cute :)

I think my only concern would be re: her right eye - is she meant to have corneal scarring or a traumatic cataract? I'm asking since it looks like she has corneal blindness, but that's rarely caused by an injury like that (it's mostly a vitamin deficiency/parasitic thing). It's not impossible that she'd have it from a burn, but I want to make sure you're not confusing the two (since I see that a lot) and these two conditions do have different symptoms (outside of blindness).

If you're willing to address her disability then I think it would be a good idea. I'm not sure what kind of narration you're going for, but it wouldn't be ableist for the player character to simply Acknowledge that she has burns on her face (e.g., before the player learns her actual name, the placeholder could be "red-haired woman with a burn" since these are just her most visible characteristics). It also wouldn't be out of place if the player character wondered "what happened" - I know we (disabled people) all hate this question, but I don't think it's weird for someone to just think that in their head when they see someone (thought crime isn't real, etc.). As long as the player character isn't going around harassing her asking why she's disabled as the first thing they do (unless I guess it'd be to show that the player is ableist and has a lot to learn?) it should be ok.

If you want the characters to discuss "what happened" in the actual dialogue, it'd be preferably after they actually develop a relationship. I don't think it's weird to ask one's friend about their disability (as opposed to demand that information). Depending on Margo's personality and/or feelings toward the player she could either explain the whole story in great detail, leave it at "during the War, a building caught on fire, I was in it; it took them three months to put me back together but at least I'm finally back home, isn't modern medicine incredible?", or simply decline to answer that. All three are valid options; it's not like her character arc will fall apart if the player doesn't know what happened. She's visibly a burn survivor, there's hardly any mystery as to what's going on. Not everyone wants to talk about the origin of their disability, even (sometimes especially) to people they're close to - sometimes it's PTSD, sometimes it's the fact that they're tired of being asked that.

Her cane is more straightforward since in her case, her main "thing to address" are her burns and the cane would probably fall under that for most players. If you want you can have the player character compliment the design of her cane* or how well built it is, especially earlier on when it would be more awkward to just go straight to discussing her actual disability.

*Real life (not writing) tip: Not everyone likes that, please don't randomly compliment real strangers' mobility aids, especially if they're undecorated or without anything else that would imply they want to bring attention to it. A lot of people (myself included) will think you're being condescending.

Other than that, there's no reason to ignore her burns or cane; e.g. if the player visits her at home before going out she can mention that she needs to grab her cane, or put a pressure sleeve on before leaving, maybe on some days she's not available to talk to because she has physical therapy scheduled at that time, etc. As long as she has other character traits that have nothing to do with her disability (which it sounds like she already does) it should all be good.

I also like the plot B she's involved in - I wish this wasn't the case, but so many characters with facial differences don't have any damn hobbies ("obsessing over revenge for making them disabled" doesn't count) and almost never seem to have casual friends, so this is cool to see!

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[azriona]

A NAFTK Ficlet: Team Dinner

A one-shot from the Not a Fairy Tale Kiss 'verse. Gen, 5.3k words, takes place prior to the main story and can probably be read as a stand-alone.

Summary:

You have been low-key planning this moment for the last three months, and it’s finally here. You are finally in charge of cooking Team Dinner for the rest of the Avengers.

If only Bucky Barnes will stay out of the kitchen.

“Last order of business,” says Steve, and you have never been more grateful for a set of words in your life, because you’ve been dying for a pee for the last ten minutes. Except Steve turns to you. “Next Team Dinner is yours.” You sit up a bit straighter. “Uh, what?” “Dinner,” repeats Steve, whose gaze turns into that steely, determined Captain America look that you’ve long since realized means someone’s about to start regretting Life Decisions. Natasha and Clint are likely smirking on the other side of the conference table, but you can’t check because per usual, Steve’s Cap-face is pulling you in as surely as a tractor beam. “For the team. We’ll undoubtedly be pulled back out before you’re cleared for active duty again so this is a good time for you to take your turn. Doesn’t matter if it’s a five-course meal or cold cereal, you’re cooking.” “How do you cook cold cereal?” you ask, and someone snorts nearby. You think it’s probably Bucky. “For the record,” offers Clint. “I like beef wellington.” “Sushi,” says Natasha. “Hand-rolled to order.” “Nah, you guys are thinking too complicated,” says Sam. “I want ribs. Slow-cooked, maybe smoked. Homemade barbecue sauce.” In a few more months, you might be brave enough to call them assholes; for now, you just set your chin on your fist. “Maybe I will give you guys cereal. The cheap supermarket-brand stuff.” “And we’ll be happy to eat it,” says Steve.

Read the rest (and get super hungry) on AO3.

[thewalrusespublicist]

Hello,

can you tell more about which award it was that Yoko accepted and made a dig at Paul at? You mentioned it in your (very well founded imho) answer to the Yoko and Sean ask.

Thank you!

Hi anon,

It was from the Q awards in 2005. John won a special posthumous award given on his 65th birthday and that Yoko accepted. The audio and probably video of it is floating around somewhere but when accepting the award Yoko recounted a story of John waking her up in the middle of the night to ask her "Why do they cover Paul's songs but never mine?" According to Yoko she responded by telling him that "You're a good songwriter. It's not just June with spoon that you write. You're a good singer and most musicians are probably a little bit nervous about covering your songs," She would then make him a cup of tea and he’d go back to sleep. She apparently “missed moments like that”.

I’ve heard people saying that it wasn’t a dig at Paul but really come onnnn. Paul is the comparator she’s using here and it’s not like she’s not said similar shit before. Salieri anyone? Paul being the ‘practical’ leader who booked the studio whilst John was the magical leader on a much higher level? (I try to respect most peoples spiritual beliefs but fucckkk right off with that bollocks that John was residing on the spiritual plane in Get Back and not just high off his tits). This was intentional.

Ngl this is a moment that makes me properly angry. Really think about what she’s saying and doing. It’s taking this moment, this moment about John’s work on his 65th birthday to make a dig at Paul. I feel awful for Paul to find out something this sad and uncomfortable about John this way. Yoko knows Paul loved John and using John‘s vulnerability to hurt and dismisss him is wrong. More to the point though I’m more angry at her on John’s behalf. Do you think that John who despised showing this side of himself would have ever wanted this revealed in public? This intimate vulnerable moment broadcast to everyone so that Yoko can point score? On his mf birthday no less? It feels like a betrayal of his confidence. I could understand it if she had framed it at showing that we all feel insecure sometimes but putting Paul in it and framing it as a bonding moment between her and John this way shows that this was not her main motivation.

And is this what she missed? She missed him being vulnerable and insecure and her comforting him by feeding his superiority complex? I’m trying to think of all my dearest relationships and my favourite moments would be them happy or having a sweet moment, not their sadness and jealousy. This should have been a celebratory moment of John’s life but Yoko used it to feed her own power moves. It was deeply selfish and I find it tough to defend.

[minniebbang]

Photograph | L.Minho

pairing: idol!Minho x fem!reader summary: Just a date with Minho on his free days. word counts: 3k words genre/s: fluff & angst warning/s: a slight mention of illness and death. a/n: I presented to you, a story that have been sitting in my draft since the beginning of 2024. As always, please tell me what you think about it.

Oh, you can fit me

Inside the necklace, you got when you were sixteen

Next to your heartbeat where I should be

Keep it deep within your soul

A loud sneeze echoed throughout the dusty attic as the black-haired male pushed the boxes to the side of the crampy place, creating a path for him to descend deeper. The spider(which had been the permanent resident of the place) scurried away at the sound. He shook his head, arm covering his nose as he gazed around. The attic had been abandoned since they moved in, no wonder it had begun gathering dust. His dumb self forgot to wear a facemask before cleaning this place up, resulting in a never-ending saga of him sneezing like a cat. 

His face scrunched up and he stacked another box together. Pushing another box with his feet, he halted when he saw the title tape on the lid – a title that pulled his heartstrings and gave him a gust of memories he had considered nightmares. He sat on the floor, legs crossing each other as he removed the lid,  a wave of dust greeted him. He coughed as he threw the lid away. Printed pictures were scattered inside the box and he immediately recognized it was his pictures.  A tender smile made its way to his lips. He took out the camera, wiped the lens with his sleeve and positioned the camera toward a space. 

A flash blinded the area.

3 years ago

“Hey babe, look here”

Minho shut his eyes as a blinding light flashed toward him. He blinked before walking up to the culprit sitting on the couch. She smiled as she looked at the outcome.

“I swear you look perfect in every angle, min” She grumbled. Minho grinned cheekily and wrapped his arm around her waist. She took the opportunity to snap another picture of Minho and continued to grumble. Before she could remark another reply, Minho’s lips landed on hers. His hand found its way to her back, pulling her body closer to him. Her hands tangled themselves in his soft black hair as she held herself from letting the sound escape from the back of her throat but failed. His lip was hard to resist. He retreated and giggled as he saw her face flushed in a bright shade of red. 

“Stop grumbling or I will kiss you again” 

“If that’s my punishment, I won’t stop grumbling.” She pushed him off the couch and headed to the shared bedroom, ignoring Minho, who was wincing in pain on the floor. His hand reached for the camera and a chuckle stifled from his mouth as he pressed the button. The majority of the pictures were of him doing his daily routine. He admitted he wasn’t ready for any of the photos. Suddenly, something soft landed on his face, covering his view of the picture on display. He tore the material away from his vision, tilting his head as he glanced at the item on his lap. It was his hoodie.

“Can you take me to the photograph shop, please? I want to print this picture.” She spoke as she stuffed a cookie from the kitchen counter into her mouth and headed to the main door. Minho quickly put on the hoodie and rushed after her, not forgetting the camera. He turned off the camera but stopped; his ears turned red at the realisation of the picture. He quickly shook his head and closed the door. 

Minho unchained his bicycle and without any invitation, she settled on the back seat. 

“Come on! It's always me who rides this bicycle for you”

“Well, I did it last time and it didn’t go as you planned.”

He stared at the ground momentarily, gathering pieces of his memory of the said days. He looked back at her with an expression of agreement.

“Right, I don’t want to come back home with bruises. Let’s go then!” With a firm grip on the handlebar, he hoisted himself onto the bicycle seat.  His right foot stayed on the ground as he pulled her loosened hands together. The camera had exchanged hands.

“Hold on tight. I’m fine with returning home bruised but refuse to see you with any injury.”

She let out a light chuckle. Balancing the bicycle delicately, he swung his other leg over and set off from their house. The gentle breeze of the evening washed over them, hairs blew everywhere on their faces. The rustling from the leaves accompanies the ride. The crisp air filled her lungs as Minho picked up his speed; occasionally, she greeted the neighbour strolling around the small neighbourhood. He let go of one of his hands to hold her hand.

“We should do this often. It’s fun.” she rested her head on his broad back, eyes folding.

“Anything that makes you happy, baby.” 

He pulled over next to the photography shop. He placed both feet down and let her enter before parking the bicycle in front of the store. When he set foot inside, his eyes immediately trailed around the four-corner shop. The wall was plain white, and some black-and-white framed pictures of the same couple and similar children hung on one side of the shop. There was a blue door on the other side—it stood out due to its out-of-place colour in his eyes.

“Y/N, it’s nice to see you again!” The owner beamed at her with a small smile. The man was in his late years, with silver hair and rounded-shaped glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He always wore an attire that reminded her of those kindergarten kids. Minho stood by her side and bowed his head politely to the man. So, the pictures were of the owner and his wife.

“Oh, uncle, this is my boyfriend, Lee Minho.” 

“It’s good to see you, young man. You’re more handsome than in the pictures”

“Huh?” It came involuntarily from Minho’s lips, and she instantly threw her gaze to the side, cheeks feeling warmer, unlike the cold wind inside the store. 

“Uncle I want to print out a new set of pictures today if you don’t mind” She cleared her throat, blocking any questions from tumbling out of his lips. He glanced at her, cocking his brows as she handed the camera to the old man. Her eyes flickered momentarily toward him, lips pressing jointly as she ran her eyes over his face to look at his confused state. 

“Of course, darling. I’ll call you if they are ready” The man slowly shuffled to the wooden door beside him, the door softly thudding behind him as he disappeared from her vision. 

“What is that all about, Y/N?” 

She hummed, lazily shrugging her shoulders. Taking his hand into hers, she pulled him to the blue door. Behind that striking coloured door was the small cafe next door, the smell of fresh pastry and coffee wafted in the air. Contrasting from the shop they were in, beige dominated the wall and the cafe was bathed in the evening glow from the sun sipping through the large window beside the entrance. A couple of feet away from the window, a glass shelf displaying a variety of pastries was placed and connected to the cashier's table. 

Behind the shelves stood a familiar woman. Her lips turned into a wide smile that reached her eyes as she waved at them. Without Minho realising it, he had already met the woman eye-to-eye.

Ah, it was the man’s wife.

“Ah, Minho, right?” Was the first thing that escaped her lips once she saw his face. He nodded shyly and tucked her hand closer to his side, her head unconsciously was on his chest. A light giggle bubbled out of her noticing his rapid heartbeat.

 Why did the couple know him and he didn’t? 

“She always complains to me how perfect you are whenever she gets pictures from Mr Kim.” 

“Why is everybody trying to expose me today?” She whispered, her voice falling into an incoherent sound, regretting her decision to bring him along. The woman chuckled and left the counter, swiftly filling up the tray with the usual pastries she would order. She also sneaked a pudding for Minho, remembering the girl mentioning it was his favourite in one of her rambling sessions with the woman.

Minho glanced at her as she raised her chin, his black boba eyes staring back at her. 

“You have a lot to explain, baby” His voice carried a hint of teasing as the corner of his lips raised. Although he was smirking, the tenderness underneath his eyes betrayed his playfulness.

“I believe I don’t need to. You’ll find out about it later anyway” She undetached herself from him and handed the woman the money but he immediately grabbed her hand. Surprised, she turned her head around, finding him shaking his head as he snatched the money from her grip.

“Let me spoil you today”

“Does this have anything to do with my secret?” 

“Do I never spoil my baby?”  How typical of him to answer her question with another question. After a quick thank you, he dragged her to a vacant seat while his other hand carefully carried the tray with his other hand.

They sat across each other, plates of different pastries laid between them, its sweet aroma lingering around them. His eyes doubled in size as soon as he noticed the pudding cup along with the cream puff and cake, eliciting a fit of chuckle from his lover. 

“Why with that face?” 

“N-nothing! Just surprised they have pudding here”  He reached for the plate and took the spoon, scoping the jingling substance. He positioned the spoon toward her, gesturing for her to take the first bite but she held his hand and fed him instead. His delightful hum and small dance caused her heart to overflow with adoration. She watched him go for another bite before digging into the cake. 

They exchanged bites, hands intertwining as they shared stories from their previous days. It felt like their usual dates but Minho’s reassuring grip on her interpreted something else – something that neither of them dared to voice it. Later, their drink arrived along with a medium-sized envelope, her camera and a picture frame. She thanked the waitress and glanced at Minho with a tender smile.

She unsealed the envelope, placing its contents on the table and almost immediately her cheeks coloured red when Minho saw the printed film pictures. Sure, it was nothing to be embarrassed about since it was their pictures but the latter didn’t know this little hobby of hers.

“This is your secret?” 

She nodded meekly and a soft smile painted his features – the smile she always doted on. He pushed the desserts away and browsed through the other pictures.

“It’s cute! Why do you never tell me?”

“Because you might tease the hell out of me about it.” Her lips formed a pout and seconds later, she felt his lips collide softly with hers briefly. He pulled away and sat beside her, taking the frame out of her lap as she snapped out of her daze.

She punched his shoulder, mumbling something under her breath before snatching a roll small of tape from her bag.

“Anyway…what’s with this frame?”

“I’m making a memory frame so I can look at it when you’re far away from me.”

Tearing a bit of the tape, she stuck one of the pictures onto the canvas – a picture of them in the backstages after his concert, his hand playfully grabbing her head while she had her tongue stuck out. His mouth shaped an O and she placed the tape in front of him, silently directing him to take care of the tape.

Minutes passed and the frame slowly filled with their pictures, constant teasing and recounting of memories became their companion. The blossomed flowers – that was their love – flourished in the garden. Moments like these were what Minho cherished, away from the hectic idol life and closer to his lover.

“Why did you start taking an interest in photography, anyway?” He asked mindlessly as he passed the last tape to her. Her action halted momentarily, her heart hammered slightly louder against the wall of her ribcage.

“I realised I don’t have anything to keep my precious memories. Knowing how long I was going to live, life suddenly turned precious. Maybe I’m taking my health for granted that I think keeping the memories in my phone is enough.” 

Oh, he almost forgot about her illness. The very thing was consuming her alive while they spent time together. It stood as a barrier to their future.

Was it his fault to let that fact embedded in his mind and never resurface back?

“Minho?” She turned her head around and was met with his head burying into her chest, his arm hugging her waist loosely. 

“I’m sorry” was barely heard from him as his voice was muffled by her shirt. 

“It’s alright, baby” She rested her chin on top of his head, leaving kisses on his hair to comfort him. She knew how he hated hearing those truths, it pained him further when she said that without any sign of breaking down as if she had accepted that death would welcome her soon.

His arm vibrated, indicating an incoming call from her phone yet he didn’t move. With a hand wrapped around his head, she took the phone from her pocket and hastily answered it. All while Minho was fighting with the sting in his eyes. 

The call ended quickly.

“Hey, my parents are at our home. Let’s go back” She whispered and reluctantly he distanced himself, bottom lips chewed as he picked up the completed picture frame and her hand. She followed him and bid goodbye to the old woman.

“Please hold it for me, I can’t ride while holding this” He spoke, trying to hide his true emotions in his forced tone. The frame ended up squished between them as Minho paddled his way back home, the heavy atmosphere was crashing into their shoulder. It felt nothing like the ambience they were in while going to the shop. He paddled faster when he couldn’t bear the bleeding in his heart any longer.

Soon, a familiar silver car greeted Minho’s vision. He pressed the brake behind the car and the car’s door creaked open. Her dad emerged from it, and later her mother would too. Minho rested his bicycle on the roadside, offering a smile that he could force toward her dad.

She had gone into the house to fetch her things and returned to stuff them into the passenger's seat. Her dad observed Minho and watched how his eyes turned red and his chest rumbled as his daughter filled her last things into the car. She returned to Minho’s side afterwards, arm looping with his.

“Will I be able to follow her, sir?” He asked, a dry lump forming in his throat. Swallowing it would take his whole breath away.

“Don’t, Minho. You can’t risk your career because of her”

“I’ll risk my life for her if I need to, sir” 

“Minho, think about your future, please. I’ll take care of her.”

Y/N let go of his arm and hugged him. That was it, his final string.

He wrapped his arm around her figure, choked sobs escaping him as salty tears flowed down into her hair. He buried his face in her head, inhaling her scent, which reminded him of autumn days—crushed dry leaves and flowers—that would slowly fade from his home. He clenched her shirt tightly, afraid that if he loosened his grip, he would forget how she felt in his arms.

“Don’t worry, min. My dad will update you about the treatment. It’ll go well,” She had said to comfort him, but it seemed like she was soothing herself, too. The possibility of recovering from the sickness was almost impossible, but a thin hope remained underneath them.

He lifted her chin and pressed his lips into hers, probably for the last time. Cradling her cheeks, he poured the unspoken words through the kiss. His tears stained her cheeks but she didn’t bother.

“Take care of yourself for me, mhm?” He said after the kiss, staring deeply into her eyes, which seemed to reflect the light. 

“I will. Take care of yourself while I’m not here. Don’t you dare cheat on me!” She pointed an accusing finger toward him which succeeded in bringing out a short chuckle from him. She headed to the car, waving goodbye with a smile before disappearing into the car.

“Until we meet again, Y/N”

Current day

“It's still work?!” He exclaimed as he took a look at the picture. He hummed as he closed back the lid, the camera stayed in his hand.

“Min? Where are you? Dinner’s ready!” A woman’s voice broke through the quiet air of the attic, followed by footsteps approaching him. The footsteps stopped beside him, a hand rested on his shoulder as the figure kneeled.  

He averted his view toward the silhouette — the love of his life.

“The camera still works, baby. Why did you keep it?”

Her eyes widened, those eyes he will never get tired of staring at or complimented on. A pendant he had gifted her after she returned was resting on her collarbone.

“I thought I lost it! Minjun will love this!” 

“She would” He adjusted his body to face her, bending a bit far from her and snapped a picture — like how she would when they were younger.

“Thank you for coming back. I think I didn't get the chance to tell you that yet” His gentle gaze met hers as he reached for her hand to squeeze it. Although years had passed, his gaze still held the love she knew — it bloomed even more after Minju birth. The pictures scattered in the box were evidence of their eternal love.

“Thank you for waiting for me, min"

[harmonyrae]

A Sovereign is Born

Synopsis: A story he never thought he'd tell, his own. How did he become the Abysm Sovereign, a monster to so many? Who was he before?

My submission for the Where Drakeshadows Fall Fan Art Contest

Content Warnings: Spoilers for Sylus's Myth, Grief, Death of Loved One, Physical Pain (mentions of the horn/tail transformation), Sylus POV

Word Count: 5.9k

It’s not unusual for Sylus to sit up and read for an hour or so after waking up. He enjoyed waking up slowly and starting his day, or rather his night, challenging his mind. Leaning against his headboard, he propped his book up on his knee while he sipped his tea. However, the peace and quiet was short-lived. 

“That’s it! I can’t do it anymore!”

Her voice echoed down the hallway. A smirk spread across Sylus’s lips as he listened to her footsteps making their way to his bedroom door. The door swung open, but Sylus kept his eyes glued to the book before him. He felt the bed shift heavily beside him. He looked over to see she had face planted right into the plush black comforter. Her hair was tossed into a messy bun, her usual Hunters gear replaced with a pair of red sweatpants and a t-shirt three sizes too big. Sylus’s smirk turned into a full blown smile.

“Is that my shirt?” 

She lifted her head and blew a strand of hair away from her nose, completely ignoring his question. 

“I haven’t been able to sleep for the past 2 nights. I’m - I don’t know what to do…”

“So you came here?”

“I’ve tried everything - warm milk, ocean sounds, meditation, no caffeine or screen time after I get home from work, melatonin gummies. Nothing has worked. So yes, I came here.”

She dropped her face back onto the comforter. Sylus tilted his head, clearly enjoying seeing his kitten in such a desperate state that she came to him for help. As various ideas floated through his mind, one stuck with him.

“Do you know why I love reading so much?”

“Hmm?” She didn’t bother to lift her head to respond. Sylus could tell she was past her breaking point. He had already decided he would do everything he could to help her relax and fall asleep tonight.

“Stories take me to far away places or back in time. That escape, no matter how brief, eases my mind. Stories speak to the soul.”

She lifted her head and looked at Sylus with wide eyes.

“Tell me a story!”

Sylus chuckled. She sat up on her knees and clasped her hands in front of her.

“Sylus, I never beg. But… please? Please tell me a story?”

“On one condition.”

She scooted closer to him, seeming to agree without knowing the terms.

“You tuck yourself into this bed and call out of work tomorrow. You need more than just one night to recover from insomnia.”

“Sylus! I’m not- I’m…”

“Sweetie, I just woke up, remember? You’ll have the bed to yourself all night.”

“Oh… uhm…” She sighed heavily. “Deal.”

She rolled off the bed and kicked off her slippers. Peeling the comforter back, she slid between the sheets and let out a contented sigh as she settled in. Turning on her side to look at him, she smiled. “Story time!”

Sylus closed his book and set it on his nightstand. He pressed his lips thinking about the story he was going to tell. Would it be too much for her? Would it be too sad? He cleared his throat in an attempt to smother the anxiety.

“Are you sure my story will interest you? It’s not a happy story. Quite sad actually. And it involves dragons.”

“Ooh dragons! Yes, tell me, tell me!” 

Her excitement made his heart swell. His nerves, much less troublesome. 

“I just have to decide what to name the main character.”

“Sylus.”

“Yes?”

“No, name them Sylus!”

“You want me to name the main character after myself?”

“Why not? It’ll be like you’re talking in third person.”

Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose and forced a smile. The story he was about to tell just became infinitely more challenging. But he nodded.

“Okay, they’ll be named Sylus then.”

He crossed his arms and braced himself, prepared to tell a story he had long ago promised to never tell a soul.

“In a time before humans, dragons occupied the land. And before Sylus - well, dragon Sylus that is -  was born, a great war was being fought between clans. His father was fighting on the front lines, while his mother protected her egg. She never left her nest, even as news from the front took a turn, she focused on taking care of her unhatched child.”

She smiled and pulled the blankets up to her chin. Sinking deeper into the plush mattress.

“Sadly, Sylus never got to meet his father. When word reached his mother, she immediately flew to the front. Leaving her egg to search for her lover to say a final goodbye. The war had already ended and the spring flowers had started to bloom when she arrived. She couldn’t find him, all she could do was roar into the night sky, mourning her lost love. And as quickly as she flew to that datura covered field, she returned to her child. The egg showed the first signs of cracking during the days she was away. She was terrified that leaving the way she did would mean her child wouldn’t survive.”

“But they did.” She whispered.

“Yes, they did. When the egg broke open, she was shocked to see a creature unlike anything she’d ever seen before. It didn’t look like a dragon. Pale skin, tufts of white hair.”

He winked at her and she giggled in response. Her eyes softened as her imagination took over.

“She was shunned by many mothers in the clan. They believed she had been cursed for leaving the egg the way she did. But she didn’t believe that, not for a moment. She saw him as a blessing. Even if she didn’t understand why he was so different. She would make a pilgrimage to the field every spring to pay respect. Eventually, Sylus wanted to go with her. And here, kitten, is where the story really begins.”

Sylus clung to his mother as she flew. Her ebony scales shimmered in the sunlight. Her crimson wings outstretched, steady and fluttering gently in the wind. Spring had started early this year, the air was warm and the floral scent washed over her, bringing tears to her ruby eyes. 

“Will I ever be able to fly?”

His small voice broke as asked. He’d been asking the same question for years. The only dragon-like features that he had were his talons and scales, which had slowly started to spread across his arms in spare patches, chest and up his neck when he had turned 5. There’ve been no new developments in the past 5 years. He still had no horns or tail, and of course, no wings. 

“I hope so. But remember what I told you?”

Sylus collapsed onto his mother, his arms swayed against her neck as his face pressed into her back. She felt the chill of a tear run over her scales. She flapped her wings hard, pushing them higher into the sky above the clouds. Sylus squealed in response.

“Mother!”

She smiled, she could hear the excitement in his voice. She flew higher and higher until the clouds lay beneath them like a fluffy meadow. 

“Stand up.”

Sylus didn’t hesitate. He dug his claws into her scales, anchoring himself before he placed his feet firmly on her back. She leveled out and let her wings spread wide to allow them to glide. He removed his claws and eventually let go completely. She looked over her shoulder to see his arms outstretched and his face painted with a smile. The fabric of his tunic billowed in the breeze, the arms cut loose to imitate wings.

“Better?”

Sylus giggled and flapped his arms, feeling the fabric flutter.

“Better.”

“We’re almost there, you think you can hold on for a dive?”

He looked down at his mother with wide eyes, his sharp teeth on full display as he smiled. He nodded and dropped to his knees to cling to his mother ready for the descent. She tucked in her wings and angled her nose downward, diving through the clouds and straight for the ground. Sylus laughed and shouted as wind nearly deafened them and the ground grew closer. His mother finally flung her wings out and the updraft pushed them upwards before slowly descending to the field.

Sylus slid down his mothers wing and rolled onto the ground. He lay on his back, savoring the feeling of solid ground beneath him. As much as he loved flying, it made him appreciate the safety of the ground. He rolled over on his stomach and watched his mother walk into the field. She settled at the top of a hill and wrapped her wings around herself before lowering her head to the ground. Sylus frowned. The excitement of the flight momentarily made him forget the purpose of the trip.

Sylus jogged up the hill to his mother. He sat down next to her head, which was nearly three sizes larger than he was. If he was a normal dragon he might be half her size by now, but whatever “cursed” him made sure he would always be tiny in comparison to his kin. He shoved those thoughts away for now, leaning against his mother and using the ends of his tunic to dry her tears. It was always a hard trip, his mother mourned the loss of his father as if it was only yesterday she lost him. 

“Tell me the story.” Sylus nudged his mother. She let out a soft growl in response. 

“Sylus…”

“Come on, you know it helps. Tell me!”

She sighed, her breath blowing the petals off of hundreds of flowers that sat before her. 

“When I first met your father, he was just a young dragon learning how to fly. I was, of course, performing better than he was in class. He would antagonize me during class, but during the journey home he would stay close to me, telling me stories about far away cities he had heard of and wished to see. When we came of age, he never gave any indication he liked me in any way. But when our first mating season began, he approached me and I was rather shocked.”

“He had a crush on you and you didn’t even know it. Embarrassing.”

“For me or for him? Being direct is always better. Don’t be embarrassed about what you desire.”

Sylus scrunched his nose, but nodded before settling back against his mother.

“It was rather impressive at first, but I think he got too cocky. He tripped over his tail and rammed his nose into a boulder. Everyone laughed and my friends urged me to ignore him, a better mate would present themselves. But –”

“But you didn’t want another mate, you wanted him!’ Sylus finished for her.

“I did. I wanted your father. Everyone thought I was crazy and mocked me for choosing a weak mate. But in just a few months he –”

“He proved himself to be the fiercest warrior and became the commander of all warriors in our clan!”

“You know the story better than I do it seems.” She laughed. “He wasn’t just strong, he was brave. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him. I loved him dearly and miss him everyday.”

She nudged Sylus with her snout. 

“And you remind me of him.”

“But I’m not even a real dragon. And I’ll never be a warrior.”

“You are stronger than you know. Being different doesn't make you weak and it doesn’t mean you can’t be a warrior. You have a purpose Sylus. I know it.”

Sylus stared at her, tears filling his eyes. 

“I just want to be like you. Like father.” 

“And you are. You don’t have to look like us to share our heart. Our strength.” 

Sylus never stopped wanting to look like a normal dragon, but over the years he started embracing his natural strength. Stubborn like his mother and cunning like his father, he proved himself to be a respected and valued member of the clan.

Sylus was 16 when the humans came. Tension in the clans grew as new inhabitants moved closer to their valley. And then they invaded. Clan after clan fell, their weapons were strong enough to pierce scales and shred wings. His mother protected him, but she wasn’t able to keep them away forever.

The afternoon sun cast a red glow across the valley, Sylus clung to his mother as she flew. Her strength was dwindling, her wounds were deep. Sylus had tried to treat them, but she wanted to get away from their army as quickly as possible. 

“You have to stop, you’re hurt!”

He felt her drop several feet, her wings refusing to hold them up. She straightened her neck, pointing herself in the direction of the cave they had called home for the past few years. But when they finally approached the entrance, she couldn’t make it inside. Her claws scraped along the mountain side and Sylus could barely hold on. She came to a halt on a small ledge, her body collapsing, her wings draped over the edge of the cliff. Sylus crawled over her body, tugging off his tunic to press into her wounds.

“We have to get you inside, they’ll see you. Mother?”

Sylus couldn’t hide the fear in his voice. His hands shook as he treated her wounds. His mother let out a strangled roar. She was in too much pain to be quiet, Sylus knew they’d have heard her. They’d come for her and soon.

“I know it hurts, but you have to be quiet, you have to try, please.” 

Tears stung his eyes, his heart pounded in his chest. The headache he’d had for the past few days had become so much worse. His mother struggled to open her eyes, a haze muddying the usual red shimmer. 

“Be strong, my love. Always be strong.”

“Stop. Stop it! Don’t talk like that!” 

Pain washed over him as his scalp split open. His talons clawed at his head as he screamed. His mother shifted, with her remaining strength she wrapped her wing around him protectively. He fell to his side as his back arched, his tailbone transforming and his tail extending. His body calmed, but fear settled over him. He lifted his hands to feel the spiraling horns. He felt his body sway and he looked over his shoulder to see a tail sweep against the rock beneath him. 

“Mother?”

“I see them, my love. They’re beautiful.”

Sylus didn’t have time to process this sudden change. He’d waited 16 years to have horns and a tail, to be remotely similar to his kin, and now he would be hunted for having them. He resumed treating his mothers wounds, moving to the dagger stuck in her side. 

“I need to remove this, hold still okay?”

His mother let out a deep growl. He gripped the hilt and pulled with all his might. The blade shook as her scales scraped against it. He placed it on the ground and moved the cloth over the new wound. She wasn’t getting any better. With tears streaming down his face, he finally knelt next to his mother, trying to meet her eye.

“Mother?”

She looked at him through weary eyes, her breathing slow. 

“Please don’t leave me… I can’t… I don’t want to be alone.”

“You will never truly be alone. You are my beautiful warrior–”

Her chest shook as her eyes closed. Sylus collapsed beside her, his body shaking as he sobbed. He forced himself to sit up and run his hands along her face, her scales rough and shattered. He rested his forehead against her, the pain of his new horns and tail mingling with his heart breaking.

Then he heard it, shouts in the distance. He looked over the ledge and saw the humans. They were climbing the mountain towards him. They had seen his mothers body, he had to hide. He looked up at the cave entrance. He picked up the dagger before digging his claws into the rock and pulling himself up. 

“I see movement!”

Sylus swore under his breath, they’d seen him. He hauled himself up the mountain and rolled into the entrance to the cave. He stood and raced to the furthest corner, searching for a way out or a hole he could hide in. There was nothing. The shouts were getting closer now. He looked down at the blade in his hand. He looked down at his tail. It felt foreign to him, like it didn’t belong, like it wasn’t meant for him. Maybe it wasn’t….

He didn’t have time to talk himself out of it or think up another plan. He wanted to live. 

He pressed the dagger against the base of his horn, the cool metal made him shiver. He grit his teeth, a sob breaking free as he began to cut. The horn came loose and he held it in his hands. He threw it to the other side of the cave and began on the other horn. The pain was almost too much to bear. The horn fell away and blood trickled down his face. The stream poured into his eye and he blinked away the sting, but not before feeling a strange warmth spread through his mind.

He heard the sound of blades and more shouts. They’d reached his mother. He held his breath to stop himself from screaming in anger. 

He blinked back more tears as he placed the blade under his tail. Bracing himself against the wall of the cave he sank down. His tail fell away and Sylus collapsed. He crawled to the opposite corner of the cave, leaving a blood trail behind him. He pulled his legs to his chest, his heart aching, his skin stinging, his eyes burning. The shouts are right outside the cave now. He didn’t have any strength left, if this was it, he couldn’t stop it. He felt an inexplicable exhaustion take over and he slipped into darkness.

Her face. Bright, soft, sweet. The dress she wore. The dark fabric flowing and fluttering in the wind. She held red datura flowers. She reached out a hand, a flower held between her delicate fingers. Sylus felt a subtle touch, as if the flower was tucked into his hair. And then darkness, once again.

Sylus opened his eyes slowly, the room spinning around him as he woke. He stared at the blank ceiling above him, a faint scent of herbs wafting through the air. He turned his head to see a man crouched next to a small fire, mixing something in a cauldron. Sylus coughed. The man looked up and gave him a small smile. He scooped something into a wooden bowl before approaching Sylus.

Sylus tried to sit up, a combination of fear and curiosity settled over him. The man offered him the bowl with a wooden spoon. Sylus cautiously took it.

“Root soup, it’s not much, but it’s all we’ve had for the past few days. Should help with that cough too.”

The steam from the soup warmed his face. He took a spoonful and sipped, the warm broth soothed his throat. He dropped the spoon onto the blanket beneath him and tipped the bowl back taking large gulps. The man laughed.

“You’ve been asleep for two days, I figured you would be pretty hungry. There’s plenty left.”

Sylus finished the soup before looking over at the man properly for the first time. He shifted uncomfortably, his back still tender.

“Where am I?”

“You’re with Judicator’s finest - his dragon slaying army! We are a day's journey away from the city.”

“The city?”

“Ivory City! You must be from a neighboring village, taken by those beasts. It’s good we found you when we did. Seems you fought off the beast and kept yourself from being a meal! The Judicator was impressed.”

Sylus clenched his fist. They’re calling his mother a beast. They think he killed her? That he is human? He suddenly reached up to his head, but felt no horns, only fabric.

“Your head was bleeding pretty bad when we found you. A doctor in the city will get a better look at you tomorrow. For now, the bleeding stopped.” 

The man took the bowl from Sylus and returned to the cauldron to ladle in more soup. Sylus heard blades clash outside and the faint sounds of hooves against gravel in the distance. He realized they’re in a tent. He’s surrounded by humans. The humans that killed his kin. Who killed his mother. A heat rages beneath his skin, his chest heaving. Sylus closed his eyes to calm himself. 

“More soup?”

Sylus opened his eyes and took the bowl eagerly. He sipped slowly this time, still not bothering with the spoon. He took in the man’s features. Old, black hair speckled with white, a long beard, silver armor, a long sword hung at his hip. He wondered if all the men in this camp had weapons like that. Sylus straightened his back, becoming acutely aware of how defenseless he was. No weapons to defend himself. No wings to escape. 

“Thank you.”

The man nodded. 

“I must report to the Judicator, he wanted to know when you woke up. Get some more rest or explore the camp, but don’t go far.”

With that, the man left. Sylus set the bowl down and reached behind him to feel the base of his spine. The skin is tender, but no tail. He felt his head one more, the skin smooth where the horns once were. He sighed in relief. They thought he was human, maybe he had a chance. 

Sylus spotted a set of clothes in the corner of the room. He stood and held up the clothing before him. They appeared to be his size and made of quality fabric. Much better than what he could find to clothe himself in years past. He stripped off his dirty clothing and pulled on the black pants and sleeveless tunic. The pants were a few sizes too big, but the buckles on the waist secured them nicely. He stepped out of the tent and squinted against the setting sun. At least a hundred men are camped here. There are dozens of tents propped up across the field and horses grazed nearby.

He strolled through the camp, taking in the humans gathered around campfires. Like his kin, they varied in appearance greatly. Some tall, some short, some thin, some wide. Some with hair on their face or no hair at all. He rubbed a hand along his jaw, feeling no hair, only the ridge of the patch of scales that ran up his neck toward his ear. He covered the scales with his hand, panic settling over him as he wondered what the humans thought of his scales. 

Sylus quickly ran to a stream just on the outskirts of the camp. He crouched and looked for his reflection in the water. The moonlight lit up his face, making his silver hair glow. The water settled and he gasped at his reflection. He appeared… normal. He looked like all the other men in the camp. He ran a finger along the scales on his chest, feeling their rough texture, but seeing nothing but smooth skin. He lifted his hands, his talons appeared to be replaced by slender fingers. When his gaze returned to his face, he saw himself smiling. 

“I look like them?” Sylus whispered.

For the first time in his life, he wasn’t sad or angry about his appearance. He’d wanted horns, a tail and wings for as long as he could remember. But now, he was surrounded by creatures that looked like him. And his “curse” had, somehow, masked the remaining features that set him apart. He leaned back on his heels and looked up to the moon. 

“What do I do now?”

His heart ached. Could he really stay with these humans? The ones who killed his own mother? Learn to live like them? Embrace his appearance and suppress his draconic desires? He stood up and walked further from camp, toward the steep slope leading back into the valley he had called home his entire life. As he gazed out over the horizon, he saw a flicker of firelight, the faintest hint of smoke rising into the sky.

“We burned the bodies. We didn't want to risk some kind of filthy disease washing its way into the rivers and streams as they decayed.”

A deep voice rang out behind him. Sylus flinched.

“Didn’t mean to frighten you, young man. I was concerned when I didn’t find you in your tent.”

“I’m sorry, I just… I wanted to take a walk. I didn’t know…”

“It’s perfectly fine. I was surprised you strayed so far from camp. Given all that you’ve been through.”

Sylus nodded. He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly feeling cold and uncertain in the man's presence. 

“I’ve built my army to fight even the most foul of beasts. You’re safe now.”

Sylus looked back to the valley. This man must be the Judicator, the one who started all of this. Who started the war against his kind. Sylus had a thousand questions, questions he never thought he’d get the answer to, let alone ask. But one gnawed at him and he couldn’t stop himself. 

“Why?”

The man walked up beside Sylus, looking over at him with a brow raised in confusion.

“Why did you want the dragons gone?”

The man laughed, his voice deep and cruel. He slapped Sylus on the shoulder. Sylus bit his tongue to avoid saying something he would regret.

“Because those beasts only know one thing. Desire. And desire leads to corruption and greed. They were evil and it was my duty to rid these lands of their kind. I am proud of what I’ve accomplished.There are no dragons left to destroy the souls of my people.”

Sylus felt his chest tighten, his anger and disgust making it hard for him to breathe. His heart felt like it was breaking yet again. The pressure behind his eyes building as he pinched them closed. His eyes flew open when he felt a familiar twinge of pain tickle his scalp.

“Why do you ask boy? Did they fill your head with their lies?”

The pain was so intense Sylus couldn’t speak. Fear paralysed him. He silently prayed to the only one he ever believed in. 

Mother, please. Don’t let them come back. Please…

But it was too late. He felt the flesh of his scalp split open once again and his body shook. He fell to the ground with his head in his hands. The man beside him lurched backwards, watching in horror as Sylus transformed. Sylus heard the footsteps of several men run toward them. His spine extended, his tail sweeping across the ground, knocking the Judicator off his feet.

“He’s a beast!” “How can this be?” “Is he a dragon?” “He doesn’t look like one, but he has horns! And a tail!” “He’s a horror!”

The Judicator stood over Sylus, peering down at his slumped form. He unsheathed his blade and kicked Sylus over onto his back.

Sylus groaned in pain, his tail coiling around him in a weak attempt to protect himself. He held his hands out, tears stinging his eyes as he tried to steady his breathing to speak.

“Please… don’t…”

“You disguise yourself and lie your way into our camp?! You intended to destroy our city! You foul creature!”

Sylus tried to crawl away from the crowd now gathering around him. His elbows sunk into the mud and his heels scrambling to gain traction. Other men were retrieving their weapons. Sylus gathered his remaining strength to dig his heels in and straighten his back, his legs shook as he stood. His hands still in front of him, shaking his head as he backed away from the men.

“We will not be fooled by you! You are a fiend. An evil, vile creature! You will not corrupt our souls!”

The Judicator lunged forward, Sylus reached out to try to stop the blade, but the man was too fast. His blade pierced Sylus’s chest. Sylus held the blade, as he stared into the eyes of the Judicator, the man sneered, pleased to see the fear in Sylus’s eyes.

Sylus gasped, the tears in his eyes spilled over, mixing with the dirt and blood across his face. He placed a foot behind him, trying to steady himself, but his tail swiped at the crowd viciously. Men went flying and some tumbled over the edge of the cliff into the valley below. 

“Stop him!” The men shouted as they rushed towards Sylus.

In a flash, a dozen swords were thrust toward him. Sylus felt every jab, his body weakening with every blow. The Judicator stood before him, watching his men attack the dragon boy. A prideful smile plastered on his face. Sylus kept his eyes trained on the man, he became numb to the pain, only feeling his body being shoved. 

Sylus fell to his knees, his hands crashing to the ground before him. He looked down to see half a dozen blades pierced through his chest. A sob broke free from his ravaged chest. He saw boots before him, the Judicators booming voice louder than his men's victory chants.

“The final dragon has been slain.”

He bent down and took the hilt of his sword, placing a foot on Sylus’s chest to gain leverage, he yanked the sword free kicking Sylus backward. Sylus tumbled backwards, his foot caught the edge of the cliff. He didn’t try to stop himself from falling, he closed his eyes as the wind howled in his ears. He felt the rocks of the cliffside against his back, his legs, his arms, his face as he rolled. The blades dislodged themselves and clanged against the rocks as they fell with him. 

Sylus hit the rocky base of the valley with a brutal thud, the metallic clinks of the swords falling all around him. He had no strength left. He forced his eyes open when he heard the sound of shouts above him. Men poured over the side of the cliff, making their way down using rope, some swinging from rock to rock. Their quick descent stirred something in Sylus. 

He was familiar with rage, but this was different. The pain his body felt transformed into something white hot. His legs burned as he stood. He stared up at the men climbing down to him. His right eye watered, it stung with every blink. Sylus wiped at his eye, but felt no tears. His vision darkened as his chest shook with something akin to laughter. Then everything went dark.

Her face, once again. Framed with silky strands of white hair. Her hand. Clutched a weapon of some kind. A sword? A faint golden glow swirled around her fingers and arm as she lifted the blade. Sylus felt the same searing pain in his chest. Blood splattered across her skin. Tears fell from her eyes. 

“Sylus…” She whispered.

A gust of cold air swept across his face and he shivered in response. His eyes fluttered open, a blue sky filled with soft white clouds floating above him. Beams of sunlight broke through the clouds and shone down upon him. He felt the warmth and took a deep breath, that’s when he felt it, the pain. He lifted his head to see the wounds scattered across his body. He sat up, clutching his chest as he looked around. 

Bodies surround him, men he saw at the camp. Sylus crawled to a boulder and used it to help him stand. Did he do this? How? And why did he feel so free and happy at the sight? A laugh bubbled up through his throat, catching him by surprise. The memory of his mother teaching him about the ancient dragon curse flooded his mind. Rage. Anger. Hatred. Something stronger. It took over and now…

Sylus walked further into the valley. He looked down to see a black red mist swirling toward him from the corpses. The mist felt refreshing, like a burst of cool air on a hot summer day. The mist swirled around his tail, up his spine to his horns, across his face and down his arms before funneling into his chest. The wound the Judicators sword had created glowed. He felt the wound close, but what replaced the flesh is bright like a ruby. The other wounds closed and his strength slowly returned as the mist continued to swirl around him.

With his wounds healed he felt the tension in his back grow. He hunched over and lurched forward, bracing his hands against the cliffside. The skin of his back split open, the pressure finally released and Sylus threw his head back letting out a roar. Crimson wings burst forth from the wounds. They stretch outwards, the breeze dusting over the newly exposed flesh. Sylus' chest heaved as he looked over his shoulder at his wings. He has wings. Wings. 

He stood up straight. His tail swayed and his wings fluttered, eager to take flight. He hadn’t seen the Judicator among the bodies. He also hadn’t seen that girl. He didn’t know why he dreamt of her, but he’d seen her twice. She wasn’t there. Who was she? 

He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, shaking the image of her from his mind.

“If humans want a monster, they’ll get one.”

Sylus took a breath and flapped his wings hard, allowing instinct to take over.It was a foreign sensation, but as soon as his feet left the ground he sighed. Years of wishing to fly and here he is, flying over a valley filled with bodies. 

He soared over the valley and towards the fields he had visited so often as a child. Tears sting his eyes as he lowered himself to the ground. He sat among the datura flowers, most withering in the summer heat. He picked one up and held it between his claws, allowing the tears to finally fall as he mourned the loss of his kin, his mother and the person he was. Only the monster remained. 

“You were right. That is a sad story.”

Her words are slurred, fatigue finally winning the war. Sylus shifts slowly and leans towards her, lifting his hand to gently brush the hair out of her face. 

“Is that really the end? Who was the girl? Did he find that judi-ma-cator guy?”

Sylus chuckles under his breath. His thumb moves to her cheek, stroking her soft skin. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was slow and steady. She was nearly asleep.

“He did find the Judicator. And the girl… she was very important to him. The most important actually. But that’s a story for another time. Sleep. I’ll turn out the light.”

She lifts her hand to cover his, trapping it over her face. 

“Wait.”

She stares up at him, her tired eyes glistening.

“At least tell me if he had a happy ending?”

Sylus gently removes her hand from over his. He pulls the blanket up over her shoulders and leans over to press a kiss to her temple. She closes her eyes once more, finally letting sleep take her. He smiles as he takes in her delicate features. He carefully stands and turns off the lamp beside the bed. He strolls to the door, but turns back to look at her before leaving.

“His story isn’t over yet.” He whispers.

He opens the door and gently closes it behind him, leaving his beloved to sleep peacefully.

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22

AN: I have no idea if this will be allowed to compete because it is pretty intense, but I wanted to write this regardless. I always crave the boys POV so this was a must. I hope you guys like it - and cry with me... If you want to give the X post some love, it's linked below.

X Post: (posting now)

[starst0nes]

Gojo x Reader "Bimbo Protected by a Powerful Obsession"

Warnings: [This story contains themes of Yandere behavior, obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, and intense emotional control. It includes adult themes, hate comments, toxic relationships, and moments of emotional distress.]

Materialist

In a world where fame is everything, Y/N, a bubbly "bimbo" with a hidden side, finds her life taking a dark turn as her obsessive, yandere lover, Satoru Gojo, will stop at nothing to protect her by eliminating anyone who dares to threaten their twisted bond.

Author's POV

Mitsui Y/N, a 20-year-old "it girl" celebrity, was the epitome of perfection. Her radiant smile adorned billboards, her flawless features graced the covers of the most coveted magazines, and her voice became a melody ingrained in commercials. She was the girl everyone aspired to be, a vision of unblemished grace with an untouchable reputation. Not a single whisper of scandal tarnished her name.

Yet behind the shimmering facade, Y/N was blissfully unaware of her own naivety a living, breathing bimbo hidden beneath the glitz and glam. How had the relentless media failed to uncover this side of her? How had her immaculate public image remained untarnished?

The answer was simple: Gojo Satoru.

Y/N perched herself on Gojo’s lap, her sparkling eyes brimming with excitement as she kicked her legs playfully. “Toru, did you miss me?” she cooed, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger in that adorably clueless way that drove him insane.

“Miss you?” Gojo drawled, his hands already sliding up her thighs, his touch possessive yet gentle. “Sweetheart, the real question is: how do you expect me to survive without you?”

She giggled, oblivious to the intensity in his tone, and held up a lipstick, her nails perfectly manicured. “Look at this new Chanel shade I got! Isn’t it just the cutest? It’s called Rouge Allure Velvet.”

Without waiting for his reply, she leaned in, pressing playful kisses against his lips, leaving faint pink marks on his impossibly perfect skin. “Do you like it? I think it totally makes my lips pop!”

Gojo smirked, his gaze fixed on her with an almost predatory edge. His hands roamed to her waist, pulling her closer. “Hmm, it’s nice, but you know what’s even better?” His voice dropped, his fingers brushing against her cheek. “You. Always you.”

Y/N giggled again, her eyes fluttering as she toyed with the lapels of his jacket. “Aww, Toru, you’re such a charmer!” She tilted her head, her lips forming a soft pout. “I actually wanted to ask you something important!”

“Anything, baby,” he murmured, his tone indulgent but his eyes sharp, already bracing himself for whatever bubble-headed request was about to tumble from her glossy lips.

Her cheeks flushed as she clapped her hands together. “So, I want to do this movie!” she began, her voice rising with excitement. “It’s, like, a romance—enemies to lovers. Isn’t that so cute? Imagine me being all dramatic and stuff!”

Gojo’s brows twitched, his signature smile still plastered across his face, though a dangerous glint sparked in his eyes. “Oh? What role are you taking, sweetheart? A side character, right?”

Y/N gasped, her hand lightly swatting his chest. “No, silly! I’m the main character, duh! I mean, I totally deserve it.” She leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And get this, the actor playing my love interest is so nice! Like, he even said I reminded him of someone special. Isn’t that sweet?”

Gojo’s grip on her waist tightened imperceptibly, his jaw clenching as a flicker of jealousy ignited into a wildfire. “That so?” he said, his tone smooth, though there was an unmistakable edge lurking beneath. “Sounds like you’re having... fun.”

“Oh, totally! We even did some test scenes,” she continued, utterly oblivious to the storm brewing in his eyes. “He’s, like, so talented! And honestly, Toru, he kind of reminds me of you!”

His smile widened, sharp enough to cut. “Reminds you of me, huh? That’s interesting.” His fingers slid under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. “But let’s be clear, sweetheart—there’s only one me, and I don’t like sharing.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Sharing? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said with a saccharine sweetness that didn’t match the darkness swirling in his eyes. “Just make sure you’re unforgettable, my love. Leave an impression he’ll never forget.”

As Y/N giggled and began rambling about her wardrobe for the film, Gojo’s mind was already working. A plan was forming, one that would ensure this actor learned his place and that Y/N, his darling, naive Y/N, never looked at anyone the way she looked at him.

After all, she was his. Completely. And anyone who thought otherwise wouldn’t just regret it. They’d disappear.

Secret

Two days into filming, Y/N’s normally radiant, carefree energy had begun to waver. The sparkle in her eyes seemed dimmer, her usual bubbly chatter quieter. On set, her lines were perfect, her presence magnetic, but behind the scenes, an uneasy restlessness had taken root.

It wasn’t hard to pinpoint the reason. Satoru, who would normally bend time and space to be by her side even if it meant flying across continents on a whim had been uncharacteristically absent. He hadn’t called, texted, or sent one of his usual teasing voice notes. For someone who practically lived in her shadow, Satoru’s silence was glaring.

Seated in her dressing room, Y/N fidgeted with her phone, scrolling through her texts for the hundredth time. Still nothing. She pouted dramatically, glancing up at Ijichi, her ever-anxious assistant, who stood nearby clutching a clipboard like his life depended on it.

“Ijichi,” she whined, stretching out his name “Where’s Satoru?” Her glossy lips jutted out, her voice dripping with need. “He hasn’t even called me! Doesn’t he miss me?”

Ijichi froze, his eyes darting to the floor. The room suddenly felt a lot smaller. “Uh... well, Miss Y/N,” he stammered, beads of sweat forming on his brow. “He’s… busy.”

“Busy?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “What could possibly be more important than me?” Her pout deepened as she tossed her phone onto the vanity with a huff, crossing her arms. “Toru always calls. This isn’t like him!”

Ijichi shifted uncomfortably, his grip on the clipboard tightening. He knew better than to tell her the truth. The truth being that Satoru wasn’t just busy he was furious.

Ever since Y/N had gushed about her charming co-star, Gojo had been in a silent spiral, his jealousy festering into something dark and consuming. He wasn’t the type to sulk or throw tantrums not outwardly. Instead, he schemed. The co-star’s face had been burned into his memory, every word Y/N had said about him replaying in his mind like a cruel taunt.

“Busy doing what?” Y/N pressed, tilting her head, her perfectly styled hair catching the light. “He’s not mad at me, is he? Did I do something wrong?” Her voice quivered slightly, and Ijichi’s heart clenched.

“Of course not, Miss Y/N!” he said quickly, forcing a smile. “He’s just… handling some things. You know how important you are to him.”

She seemed to consider this, her brows knitting together. “Well, he better hurry up and finish, because I need my Toru,” she said with a dramatic sigh, leaning back in her chair. “Everything’s so boring without him around.”

Ijichi nodded awkwardly, silently praying for divine intervention. He had no doubt Satoru would make an appearance soon but when he did, it wouldn’t just be to reassure Y/N. It would be to deal with anyone who had dared to get too close to what was his.

And Ijichi pitied the poor soul who’d unknowingly crossed that line.

Learning The Hard Way

On set, chaos unfolded, and Satoru Gojo watched it all unfold with a twisted sense of satisfaction. His crystalline eyes were fixed on the live feed displayed across the sleek monitors in his private suite. Hidden cameras ones only he had access to captured every humiliating second of Y/N’s unraveling.

She stumbled over her lines again, her usual carefree giggle now tinged with nervousness. “CUT!” the director’s voice boomed, his patience hanging by a thread.

“Are you even an actress?” he barked, his tone sharp enough to make the crew flinch.

Y/N blinked, tears threatening to spill, her lip trembling. “Um, excuse me?” she snapped, trying to salvage her pride. “Do you even know who I am?”

Satoru leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips as he swirled the whiskey in his glass. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his tone dripping with mockery. “Always so pretty, so clueless, so mine.”

The director didn’t dignify her outburst with a response, simply waving her off in exasperation. Y/N stormed off set, her heels clicking furiously against the floor as she muttered insults.

“She’s cracking,” Satoru mused, his smirk widening. He had planned this meticulously, orchestrating every detail. From ensuring her entourage was trimmed down to a mere two assistants to letting the media leak whispers of her “difficult behavior,” he had crafted this storm just for her.

The live feed cut to her dressing room, where Y/N was sobbing into her hands, her mascara streaking down her cheeks. “This is the worst day of my life!” she wailed, flinging her phone onto the vanity. “Where is Satoru? He always fixes everything!”

Satoru chuckled darkly, leaning forward to get a closer look at her tear-streaked face. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. “I’m right here, watching every pathetic second.”

She grabbed a tissue, blowing her nose loudly. “Ijichi!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Where is he?! Why isn’t he here?!”

Ijichi appeared on the screen, visibly sweating as he stammered, “He’s… unavailable, Miss Y/N.”

“Unavailable?!” she screeched, her voice shrill enough to make Ijichi flinch. “He’s never unavailable! What’s he doing that’s more important than me?!”

Satoru’s grin turned wolfish as he watched her descend further into despair. She looked so fragile, so utterly dependent on him, and he loved every second of it. This was her punishment for even considering a movie with another man as her love interest. The mere thought of her gazing at someone else the way she gazed at him had made his blood boil.

“No one touches what’s mine,” he murmured to himself, his voice low and possessive. “And now she’s learning the hard way.”

The camera feed shifted again, this time showing the headlines flashing across her phone screen.

“Is This the Real Y/N? Fans Shocked by Diva Behavior.”

“From ‘It Girl’ to Drama Queen: Y/N’s Tantrum Goes Viral.”

She sobbed harder, clutching a pillow as she screamed into it. “They’re all just jealous! I’m perfect! Right, Ijichi?” she demanded, her voice frantic.

Ijichi stammered something unintelligible, but Satoru barely heard him. His focus was entirely on her on the way she squirmed under the weight of her shattered confidence, on the way her glossy lips quivered as she whispered his name like a prayer.

“Oh, baby,” Satoru murmured, running a hand through his hair, his grin never faltering. “You’re so beautiful when you’re broken.”

For now, he would let her stew in her misery, let her feel the sting of his absence. And when he finally decided to appear, she’d cling to him, beg for his reassurance, and he’d remind her exactly why she belonged to him.

This wasn’t just control it was devotion, his own twisted way of keeping her tethered to him. And he relished every moment of it.

Gala

Despite her protests, Y/N’s manager, Nobara, had insisted she attend the prestigious gala to repair her image. "You need this," Nobara had said firmly. "Think of the headlines: ‘Y/N Bounces Back with Stunning Appearance.’ You’ll remind everyone why you’re the queen."

Reluctantly, Y/N agreed. But as she sat in the back of the luxury van, her arms crossed and her lips pressed into a pout, she couldn’t help but feel a sliver of hope. Scrolling through her phone, she found supportive comments that lifted her spirits.

"Y/N getting an invite to the gala while your faves are watching from home. Iconic."

She smiled to herself, murmuring, "One more car," as she prepared to step out and reclaim her spotlight.

Then, she saw it.

Through the tinted windows, her eyes locked on the car ahead as the door opened. Out stepped Utahime Iori, a veteran actress known for her elegance and poise. But what made Y/N’s heart drop was the man beside her—Satoru Gojo.

Her Satoru.

He looked devastatingly handsome in his tailored suit, his white hair perfectly styled. But what shattered Y/N was the way his hand rested so casually on Utahime’s bare back as the cameras flashed.

Y/N’s world crumbled in an instant.

“Why is Satoru with her?!” she shrieked, her voice cracking with hysteria. Her hands trembled as she clutched her phone, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Why is my Satoru with her?!”

Nobara reached out, trying to calm her down. “Y/N, relax. It’s probably nothing—”

“NOTHING?!” Y/N snapped, tears streaming down her face. “He’s touching her! He’s supposed to be here with me! I’m his everything! How could he do this to me?”

The driver, sensing the situation spiraling out of control, bypassed the red carpet entirely and headed straight to the hotel. Y/N refused to budge from her seat, curling up in a corner of the van like a wounded animal. She furiously dialed Satoru’s number over and over, but it went straight to voicemail each time.

Each unanswered call felt like another stab to her chest.

When the van door finally opened, Y/N didn’t bother looking up. She sniffled, her voice weak. “Ijichi, I told you to leave me alone. Just—go away.”

But the voice that responded wasn’t Ijichi’s.

“Still doubting my presence, Y/N?”

Her head shot up, and there he was. Satoru Gojo stood in the doorway, his trademark cocky smile firmly in place. His eyes glinted with something unreadable, a mix of amusement and something darker.

“Satoru!” she cried, her voice breaking as she launched herself into his arms. Tears streamed down her face, her sobs wracking her body as she clung to him like a lifeline.

“Shhh,” he cooed, his arms wrapping around her effortlessly. In one smooth motion, he carried her to the backseat and settled down with her on his lap. His hand stroked her back soothingly, but there was a possessive edge to his touch, a silent reminder of who held the reins.

“What was that, Satoru?” she hiccupped, her face buried in his chest. “Why were you with her? You’re supposed to be with me! Always with me!”

He tilted her chin up, wiping away her tears with a tenderness that made her heart ache. His expression was soft, but his gaze was sharp, watching every flicker of emotion on her face.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “Utahime is just a business partner. That’s all.”

“Really?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Really,” he assured her, brushing a kiss against her forehead. “Sweetheart, you’re the only one for me. Always.”

“But—” she started, her insecurities bubbling to the surface.

“Always,” he repeated firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “Do you think I’d let anyone else take what’s mine?”

Her tears slowed, her sniffles softening as his words sank in. Satoru’s arms tightened around her, his smile turning predatory as he whispered against her ear, “You’re all I’ll ever need, Y/N. And I’ll make sure you never forget that.”

There was no doubt in her mind she was his. But what she didn’t see was the glint of satisfaction in his eyes, the dark pleasure he took in her jealousy and need for him. Because in Satoru’s mind, nothing was sweeter than reminding her, in his own twisted way, that she was utterly and irrevocably his.

Hero

The next morning, Y/N woke up to an eerily quiet internet. Her fingers automatically reached for her phone as she snuggled deeper into the silk sheets. What she saw left her blinking in confusion. Every negative comment, every viral video mocking her, every tabloid article dragging her name gone.

Vanished.

She scrolled furiously, her fingers trembling. "What...?" she muttered, her lips parting in disbelief. The posts that had kept her up all night crying, the ones that had painted her as a diva and a failure, had completely disappeared.

Curiosity spiked, she tapped on the actor’s profile the one she’d been working with. His bio had been wiped clean, his latest post a bland apology about “unforeseen circumstances.” Confused, she searched for the director, only to find his name plastered across trending hashtags. Not for praise, but for scandal.

#BlacklistDirector, #ToxicWorkplace, #UnfitForHollywood.

Her jaw dropped further. What shocked her most, however, was Utahime. The veteran actress had released a carefully worded statement overnight.

"My relationship with Satoru Gojo is strictly professional. I deeply respect his personal life and regret any misunderstandings caused by last night’s gala."

Y/N’s brows furrowed as she pieced it all together. The once-vicious online storm had been replaced by a sudden vacuum, as though someone had erased it all with a single command.

From the living room, she heard the faint clink of a coffee cup being set down. Satoru.

Wrapping a blanket around her, she padded out to find him lounging casually on the couch, one arm slung across the backrest, his legs crossed as though he hadn’t a care in the world. He looked up as she entered, his signature smirk already in place.

“Toru,” she began, holding up her phone, “everything’s gone…”

“Hmm?” he hummed nonchalantly, taking a sip of his coffee.

“All the videos, the comments… it’s like they never existed,” she whispered, confusion lacing her voice.

He set his cup down with a soft clink, his cerulean eyes gleaming with amusement. “Weird, huh?”

Her lips parted as the realization began to dawn. “You… you didn’t—”

“All you need to know,” he interrupted, his tone light but firm, “is that no one messes with my girl.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. A mix of gratitude and unease swirled in her stomach, but the overwhelming emotion was relief. She crossed the room, sinking onto the couch beside him. Her head rested on his chest, her fingers clutching the hem of his shirt.

“You’re my hero, Toru,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

His hand slid up to thread through her hair, his touch gentle, but the sharp edge in his gaze betrayed the dark possessiveness simmering beneath his calm exterior. He pressed a kiss to her temple, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

“Hero, huh?” he echoed softly, his voice carrying a dangerous undertone she was too blissfully unaware to catch. “Sweetheart, I’m not a hero. Heroes save the world.”

His fingers tightened slightly in her hair, tilting her head so she was looking up at him. His smile was still there, but his eyes were shadowed with something far more intense. “All I care about saving is you. Because you’re mine, Y/N. And you always will be.”

Y/N, oblivious to the weight of his words, giggled, snuggling closer to him. “I’m glad you’re here. Everything’s better when you’re with me.”

He hummed in agreement, his hand now tracing patterns down her back. But his gaze flicked to the window, his thoughts elsewhere.

The actor? He hadn’t just been fired Satoru had made sure he’d never work again. The director? His “toxicity” would keep him blacklisted for decades. And Utahime? Well, she had learned her place, quickly clarifying her “strictly professional” relationship with Satoru and making sure the press had the narrative they needed.

Satoru’s grip on Y/N tightened as a dark, possessive smile curled at his lips. She didn’t need to know the lengths he’d gone to for her. She didn’t need to know the strings he’d pulled or the threats he’d made.

All that mattered was that she was his. Always. And he’d ensure that anyone who dared to come between them learned the consequences.

For now, though, he was content to hold her close, basking in the warmth of her naive trust. Because Y/N might have seen him as her hero, but Satoru Gojo was far from it. He wasn’t a hero.

He was her everything and she was his obsession.

[grandhologrambanana]

Dandadan a manga and anime series that has sparked a lot of debate among fans. One of the main criticisms of the series is its repetitive formula, which can make it feel a bit predictable and stale at times. I mean, who doesn't love a good surprise every now and then, right? But, on the other hand, some fans argue that this formula is actually a strength, allowing the series to build a sense of familiarity and comfort with its audience.

Now, I know some of you might be thinking, "But what about the constant sexual harassment from creatures? Isn't that just, well, gross?" And, honestly, I get it. It can be pretty off-putting, especially if you're not expecting it. But, according to some fans, this is actually a deliberate choice by the creators to highlight the darker aspects of the world they're building. It's not meant to be titillating or exploitative, but rather a commentary on the harsh realities of the characters' lives.

It's also worth noting that Dandadan isn't the only series to use a formula to drive its plot forward. Many popular anime and manga series, like Monogatari and One Piece, rely on similar structures to keep their stories moving. So, what sets Dandadan apart? For some fans, it's the execution – the way the series brings its unique blend of humor, action, and drama to life. For others, it's the potential for depth and complexity that the series has, even if it doesn't always live up to it.

As someone who's followed the series, I can see both sides of the argument. On the one hand, the formula can feel a bit tired at times, and the constant barrage of creature attacks can get old. But, on the other hand, there are moments of real beauty and emotional resonance that make it all worth it. The characters, in particular, are well-developed and relatable, with rich backstories and motivations that add depth to the story.

Ultimately, whether or not Dandadan is a series you'll enjoy depends on your personal tastes and preferences. If you're looking for a show with a lot of action, humor, and heart, you might find yourself drawn into the world of Dandadan. But, if you're easily frustrated by repetitive formulas or sensitive to depictions of sexual harassment, you might want to approach with caution.

So, what do you think? Have you checked out Dandadan, or is it on your radar? Do you think the series has the potential to be great, or are you turned off by its formulaic approach? Let's discuss!

[miss0atae]

Random Thoughts about The Heart Killers (EP 1 – 6) : An interesting Rom-Com with morally grey characters.

The long awaited post I've wanted to make, but always failed to do properly. Since we are not getting an episode today (which is a damn crime because the wait is killing me!), I've decided to feed my poor soul with some writing about the series. I won't add anything that haven't already been said on here, so I won't feel sad if you don't pay attention to this post. It's just me screaming in the void of internet to try thinking about something else. I knew I would like this series (I like the actors, the directors, the plot… everything has been set according to my own taste), but I try to reason with me. You shouldn't put too many expectations on a series, otherwise you're at a risk of being disappointed. I also give better advice that I never really follow, so yes I had expectations and until now they have been fulfilled. I would be lying if I didn't say that at one point or another I was really annoyed by the characters' actions. I tend to forget that the series is 12 episodes and I'm looking forward to seeing the sweet scenes between the main couples (real ones with no lying). I was promised a rom-com, so don't be mad at me for being a little fool here. I'm a bit impatient as you can see. However, I know that I shouldn't react in the heat of the moment so I waited until now to write something about The Heart Killers.

Usually, in a rom-com you get characters that are archetypes usually found in this type of story. In the Heart Killers, most of the characters are neither good neither totally evil (except maybe Mother, but she may also have a good side, who knows). All characters have their strengths and weaknesses and they may appear on different sides, but they all have a strong, justifiable reason for doing what they are doing. I've making this grid for a while now. I may have forgotten some information, but it's just my own perception of the series so far. Things may change in the coming episodes.

So why was I annoyed by the characters at one point or another? I guess one part of the reason is that I forgot the structure of a rom-com because of the unique setting the screenwriters and the director put our main characters in. Any rom-com follows a certain structure in three times I would say.

• The first part is the presentation of the setting, the characters and their unfulfilled needs.

• The second part is when you have the meet-cute (or not so cute) between the characters. It is followed by the honeymoon stage until obstacles arise at the midpoint and the relationship is in jeopardy (that's where we are right now in the story). Usually, it's when the couple break up or start to have doubts.

• The third and final part is the moment of realization where the characters can view themselves outside the relationship and decide what are their new desire and goals. It leads everyone to the final of the story that usually ends on a happy note or at least give the viewers some hope for the characters if they don't end up together (my personal choice would be a happy ending for everyone, but I like to be surprised).

We've seen the first part already and have moved on the second part. I believe in the Heart Killers the break-up part could be different. Will the characters really break-up now that they think they have understood the needs of the others?! I don't think so. I believe they are all going to pretend to be together to try to outmatch the other ones and to learn the truth. They believe they are in opposite sides, but the truth is their main enemy who is working against their desire/happy ending remains Mother and to a lesser extent Keen (until Mother works against him and he may become an ally to the main leads). We could probably add the Captain too.

So, even knowing that, the question remains: why was I annoyed by the characters, despite loving everything else?! It's because I viewed them through my own sets of value while forgetting who they are and the setting of the series. To be fair, I'm used to rom-com characters who usually are not morally wrong. Here, in this story, none of them is really right or wrong. After all, they are on different standpoints and the perspectives they can reach are not the same. They represent different sides with different views (sorry I'm rambling here). I would say, Style may be the only characters who didn't have a criminal past and his worst fault is that he didn't flirt (at first) with Fadel for love, but for greed to possess Kant's car. The other characters, Kant, Bison and Fadel, all are or were a criminal at one point. Does it mean that criminals can't fall in love because what they are doing is morally wrong? The story doesn't agree with this point, as all of them were dragged to this because of something external. Kant needed money to take care of his brothers and Fadel and Bison were forced into this line of work by their “guardian” Mother who pretends to make them go after other “criminals” because the justice system isn't doing the right wrong. In some way, she isn't wrong, as the only “justice” figure we meet in the story is Captain Christ. He isn't a nice guy too as he is threatening Kant to force him to do his work in exchange for freedom from his past.

The idea of writing morally grey characters is interesting as it maintain the suspense, both in the relationship between the main leads, but also in the core structure of the story. The characters had needs at the beginning of the story, but their desire slowly changed by interacting with their lovers and other characters. It is also good for viewers as they have the opportunity to prefer one side over the other one. I changed my mind a lot during those six episodes. I was feeling terribly sorry for Bison when I saw Kant's playing with his heart, but in the last two episodes, I understood how hard it must be for him to keep pretending while also falling in love, despite knowing the truth. I was amused by Style's aggressive flirting with Fadel, but also felt annoyed on behalf of Fadel as I noticed how his "secret life" was putting a toll on his mental health. Choosing to have morally grey characters work better with the setting of the story. Otherwise, who would root for hitmen to fall in love? The fact we care so much about the actions of the main characters and what impact it will have on their romantic relationship, confuse us and make us anticipate the next move they may make. It also allows the true villains of the story to actively continue working against our main leads' happiness. The ones who really gain from the new feud between the main couples are the Captain and Mother. They may believe they are in their rights, but they use the main characters as chest pieces, without regard for the toll it can have on their well-being.

Mother is using the maternal figure she has set to control Fadel and Bison's action. She is pretending to care about them. She willfully taught them how to be hitmen to supposedly kill other criminals. The reason may appears good, but the actions are not valid. You can't Pay Evil unto Evil. She pushed our characters in this place by using the death of their parents as an example of failed justice. She knows much buttons to push to keep them in the place she wants them to be. Mother pretends to understand that they are tired of being hitmen and that this job will be the last one, but will it really be the last one? She also purposely and actively works against their happiness, by keeping them lonely. Bison and Fadel may think they are in controls, but the viewers can see, they don't really have a say in their actions or life. They never settled before and they don't really know how to. They find a different way to cope with this, but deep down they are still prisoners of what Mother has made of their life. As for Kant, he is also being controlled by the Captain who knows about his desire to protect and care about his younger brother. He uses his criminal past to make him an informant. Unlike Mother who pretends to act as a true mother to the brothers, he doesn't lie about his real view of Kant. However, just like her, he knows much buttons to push to keep Kant working for him.

As for me now, I can’t wait for Bison, Kant, Fadel and Style to overcome the lying part and the feeling of betrayal they will have regarding their relationship, so they can all be on the same side and fight against their real enemies.

[sairenharia]

Honestly for a show all about monster of the week being based on people having a bunch of emotions they don't know how to deal with, Miraculous is absolutely allergic to ACTUALLY dealing with any heavy emotions, which is rather necessary for doing a damnation arc.

Sure! Sometimes you can have side characters have their own character arcs without a lot of big emotions tied into them. Find out the wimpy kid decides to become a firefighter! The wallflower becomes an manipulative witch! You can do that with side characters.

But Chloe is not just any side character even if they want to pretend she is. Outside of Marinette, Adrien, Gabriel, and Nathalie in later seasons, Chloe is THE character we know the most about and experience the most emotions with. We go through more hardships and developments with her than Alya, Nino, any of the alternative love interests. We see Chloe actually try to change and grow and struggle to figure out how to be nice. We see her try.

And then Miracle Queen rolls around and this is supposed to be the moment Chloe falls. She is irredeemable now! She worked with Hawk Moth and everything! Never mind Chloe wouldn't even work with him without her parents freed FIRST. That despite how angry and spiteful she was with Ladybug, she would not work with a man who was using her parents. You know, those self same parents who agreed with her when she said she didn't feel any love by saying she could only love herself. Her parents sensed love in her and said it couldn't be for anyone else.

Never mind we know Chloe doesn't really love herself much by her own admission of being useless.

A damnation arc could have WORKED with Chloe, but the only way to do that is to get into the heavy emotions. Get into the fact Chloe wasn't actually getting a lot of help in changing. How any attempts, even if humored, were still treated with suspicion. How no one ever took her attempts to be helpful seriously.

For a damnation arc to work with Chloe, they have to acknowledge that everyone around her FAILED her because the only way to damn someone is to believe they could have been better.

And the fact was, Chloe was working to be better, and only broke because she felt like no one believed in her.

And you know what? That could have been a great story! It could have been a powerful story! But that means saying Chloe isn't solely to blame.

Because the story as the show is TRYING to tell us it is (even if that's not what they're SHOWING by a long shot) is that once a bully, always a bully. Which wouldn't be a such a bad thing.

If Chloe wasn't literally the character outside the main duo and main villains we have invested the most time into. You give Dash Baxter from Danny Phantom superpowers, and he does some heroics, and then he does bully things the next day, and that's fine because we haven't spent literal episodes watching him having moral conflicts and trying to get better! You can tell that story!

But you can't do that with a character the audience has invested in. You have to give emotional payoff. Trying to tell the once a bully, always a bully story with Chloe doesn't work because we know why she's a bully, and we have seen her able to improve with a little help.

Now you could say 'she tried to be better, but found she couldn't get the will to do it' (which I think is bullshit because Chloe is arguably the most strong willed character in the whole series), but you have to EARN IT. And to do that, you need the heavy emotions. And you could have even done it in Miracle Queen.

It wouldn't have been great writing, but it was doable with a little more effort.

By actually having Chloe and Ladybug having a WHOLE ARGUMENT right there. Having Ladybug just go 'wtf, Hawk Moth is our enemy?' and then listened to Chloe go off and just did the narrative version of a SHRUG about it. Let Ladybug try to appeal to her and have Chloe so caught up in her own issues that she just utterly refuses to be reasoned with. It would be in character and show there was some belief in her so she COULD be damned.

But no. Ladybug is just 'yeah, okay, I guess Chloe can just be like this, I just want my jewelry back.'

And worse when Adrien does the same AND CHLOE IS HIS FRIEND.

And then the narrative just...not acknowledge Chloe was willing to work with Hawk Moth. Adrien doesn't rethink his friendship with Chloe after this, but because she was being a bully over a movie?! Adrien, you almost got thrown into the SUN, that's your breaking point?

Chloe can't have a damnation arc, because no one is even disappointed in Chloe having failed.

Because with the way the narrative treated it, no one was surprised she failed. Like they all EXPECTED it to happen, that's how much they straight up did not care she did it.

And what kind of satisfaction is someone supposed to get from a story like that?

The sad part about post-S4 Chloè is that it can make narrative sense: first there's the Miracle Queen screw up that, once she realizes what she did, makes her want to just leave the city and go to New York where nobody knows her, then her way out is snuffed out as a side effect of the same event that triggered Miracle Queen, then, while she's still reeling, her mom has her sister come in as an apparent replacement... Her life got completely upended, her lashing out at everyone and acting like a stupider version of her old bullying self while Hawk Moth and Lila manipulate her is actually good writing.

It's so close to being good writing if this was treated as intentional and tragic but no they hammer in how she's just dumb and evil

[storyshift-sk]

PART 1/2 - Storytime!

Once Upon A Time… Things were great! Until they weren’t. dun, dun, dun

Every great fictional world starts with a history lesson!

[lazycranberrydoodles]

its prosecutor jiang wanyin!!!! oh fuck!!! / gifs + au rambling below the cut / follow for more mdzs x aa crossover stuff :3

all the gifs i made (poses traced off franziska):

hes so similar to franziska when you think about it. theyre both deeply insecure tsundere adoptive younger sibling of successful main characters. who carry whips. something something edgeworth choosing death and wwx actually dying also

his share code is HWFEFF if you wanna use him in a trial! you can't share backgrounds but heres the scenery from the donghua i used.

the easiest way to put custom stuff into objection.lol is to send it in discord and then use the link from opening it in your browser :)

a whole lot of AU stuff

the art im making is for if mdzs was an ace attorney game, playing from WWX's POV to solve various mysteries/cases over the course of the plot. so this scene would be from turnabout goddess, which would loosely cover the dafan mountain mystery.

cases include:

Turnabout Revenge (Mo Manor, quick introductory first case)

Turnabout Goddess (Dafan mountain, the good times flashback)

Turnabout Saber (the man-eating castle (omg hiii nhs))

The Blind Turnabout (Yi City arc)

Turnabout Deviation (the Koi Tower conference, Empathy on NMJ ala turnabout memories or beginnings. opening cutscene is his qi deviation)

The Blood-Soaked Turnabout (second Burial Mounds siege, flashbacks: Xuanwu, Sunshot, YLLZ, Nightless City massacre)

Turnabout Lotus Seeds (testimony about JGY, tree scene, golden core reveal, bathtub scene. opening cutscene could be JGS' death but that would make it canon rather than ambiguous)

Turnabout Confession (Guanyin temple)

the problem with splitting novel!mdzs into turnabouts is that flashbacks are a huge chunk of the book but they don't have mysteries/ cases to solve so they've gotta be lumped together with present day stuff. imo? many of the flashbacks would likely have to be abridged so they could be retold ala DL-6, SL-9, or the fourth grade incident, where characters talk about it over some pieces of art. this is really difficult when theres a metric ton of unspoken, complex, and signifcant history between every character lmao

there's not as much of a problem with the cql timeline but i have not finished it. so.

the opening cutscenes in ace attorney always show the murder and/or the murderer plotting. the first cutscene of the game would be MXY summoning WWX, muttering about getting revenge on his family (it would also be good for him to mention the yllz being dead because that's how the novel starts.) cut to WWX's POV as he wakes up covered in blood and the investigation segment begins.

for investigations of monsters (goddess, saber, etc) the cutscene would be a scene of some poor throwaway cultivator getting their shit wrecked.

it would be cool to make a breakdown for JGY but again I need to review that scene cause I don't know who I'd base him on. maybe Vasquez or Dahlia.

tell me your thoughts!! i'm working off of a mdzs summary/ skimming the novel because i don't remember it too well so if i get anything wrong please yell at me

Jin Ling's sprites & Nie Huaisang's sprites / masterpost

[slymanner]

Look all I'm saying is if that a shadow game can work THAT well and be so well designed story wise and gameplay wise

HE can work

[malt-rants-and-stuff]

HEHEHE SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED IT<333 LOVED THESE NOTES SO MUCH I JUST KEEP REREADING THEM AND GIGGLING

I have some note of my own to share!! which is why this response took a bit (sorry about the dark screenshots I'm writing this in the dark at 3 am)

first off, yes I indeed reached into your mind to channel the vibes I put into this fic.

no fr though this was such a fun fic to write from my perspective as someone who has moved about 10-ish times in my life and who will surely move again. I dug into my own memories of moving out of the places I lived the longest just for this. that whole first section was inspired by the time I moved from living in my grandparents big house with tons of cousins and family, to suddenly being basically alone with my mom who was barely home. tashiro really dragged out those feelings I had and made them his own lol.

haha. yeah. to add onto this: there was a version of the draft with hanzawa haunting the narrative like this in like half the scenes. little tid-bits and mentions of his activities. but in the end that concept didn't stick bc I wanted the main focus to be on shirashiro

i wrote this while hanging out with a friend and she said they sounded quote "really funking married" so it's nice to see that wasn't just her saying things lmao

this whole section was a fun one. the scrunchie is a bit I added after a very heated debate with myself over whether I wanted longer haired tashiro or if I wanted to have a scene of them cutting his hair. as you could probably tell I chose the longer hair

the gag gifts are in tashiro's room. while they didn't decorate much of the main sections of the apartment, their rooms are basically full of all the stuff from their old houses. he keeps the pots on his window sill and later down the line adopts some lovely little fake plants from a guy on the side of the road that turn out to be real plants. he lets shirahama name them.

the soup is a silly story. if I'm ever inclined to do a follow up to this I'd write it out fully. basically it's from ogasawara to tashiro, but he gave it to shirahama in a really awkward interaction and then sasaki mocked him for it. not pictured in that part is that miyano brought sasaki to help lift the couch, who brought oga because free labor, who brought soup because hid family said to bring a housewarming gift and he thought 'soup is warm'. some other shenanigans occur including hanzawa that we wont get into. its a fun time.

and on another personal note, the soup is inspired by my first meal in my current apartment. ive posted about it before, but my current move was an absolute disaster of legal bullshit and ridiculous time crunches that almost left me homeless. and during that time, there wasn't really a chance to think about food. it was a mad dash to move apartments in 12 hours that by some miracle worked out. so when I finally had the chance to breath, I realized I A: had no food and B: was too tired to go get some. thankfully, my aunt stopped by during the chaos and left some surprise soup for me, and i warmed it up and ate it out of a pot with a ladle bc I couldn't find bowls or spoons. it was vegan soup and it tasted like freedom

thank you for drawing my vision and adding to it. this is so wonderful... fun fact: the headband is tashiro's. there's a deleted scene of him taking it and giving that explanation and some other things happened but it didn't feel right so it didn't make the cut. that face mask is so fun tho I love it

[rubbing my hands together] muahahaha yessss!!! the implications!!!!!

my exact feelings writing that scene

hilarious that you spotted that, it was in fact a sunnnfish reference! it actually said sunfish before but it felt too on the nose lol

this bit haunted me for a while because I couldn't figure out an animal that fully captured my vision of him. then I visited a museum and saw a hare and went "oh shit. shirahama."

Yeagh.....

i know what I wrote and it was on purpose but also in my heart they are always seated at a circular table that wobbles every time one of them leans on it and they take turns standing dramatically from it and watching it teeter

yeahhh he's grown so much!!! he's older and not much wiser and he still!! plays!!! ping pong!!!!!

another deleted scene included them playing a game that they got married in for tax (loot) benefits but I sadly let it go because it was focused around a plot line I abandoned for atmosphere purposes

here lies sunny, died from a lethal dosage of shirashiro jajsjsj

no but seriously this part was especially fun to write. I want to note in that second to lst paragraph that the way he did that was on purpose very odd. he could've used just his hand to clean it off, or a paper towel, or just told shirahama and had him wash it off. but he didn't. it was also a very sudden full body turn. why did he do all that <-knows why

and the ponytail tashiro drawing!!!! cups him in my palms

if there were ever a b-side to this from shirahama's pov, it would mostly just be composed of a million "oh. oh." moments on loop

this whole project was a lot of fun for me mostly just from an editing standpoint. i had so much time to change and adjust scenes to make them work how i wanted. and all that left me with tons of deleted scenes and ideas i can reuse later which is awesome. thank you so much for the awesome prompt and lovely notes<333

@sunnfish okay Take Two!!! hello sunny sunnfish you wonderful sea creature! I was your secret santa for the @ssmygiftexchange! so sorry for the delay on this, my scheduled post was taken by the tumblr void and I wasn't home with my laptop to remake this post haha.

Your prompt was shirashiro college roommates au and prev pres, hanzawa, and tashiro hang out!! hope i was able to do this justice, this is officially the longest oneshot ive posted :)

Now with an Ao3 version, i would recommend reading there because Tumblr messed up some of my formatting and I can't fix it right now ^_^

Summary:

Tashiro and Shirahama are college roommates. It's a relatively peaceful life.

A non-linear story written for the sasamiya & hirakagi winter gift exchange!

As it turns out, moving in with a guy that you’ve known for almost half your life is pretty unremarkable.

Maybe it has something to do with being too familiar with each other. There have been too many sleepovers for the sound of snores to phase him, too many gym classes for the sight of skin to fluster him, too much time for anything to feel awkward between them. And yet…

And yet.

Packing your whole life into boxes is pretty hard, as it turns out. Looking around his room now it seems hard to imagine how it’ll feel to see the whole place emptied out. Cleared of every reminder of himself.

Tashiro tries not to think about it so hard as he turns back towards the closet. He’s never felt the need to go through everything he had stuffed in there until now, remnants of the past mixing with comforts of the present.

He reaches out to grab one of the hangers, pulling it free. His ping-pong jacket, he thinks despairingly, is slowly becoming small on him. His name spelled across the back in white lettering brings him back to when he first noticed. The growth spurts he’s been having refuse to slow even for a moment, and though he likes that some days, it mainly makes him face annoying things like this.

If he leaves the jacket, it will probably be packed up and put away somewhere to be forgotten. He can picture it now, sitting in a box stuffed away as it slowly fades from his memory. It makes him feel sort of heavy. But, if he takes it with him, he’s not sure it would be much better in the long run. Just holding it in his hands reminds him of how much time has passed. Of how fast it will keep passing.

He stands there, gears turning haphazardly in his mind, as he tries to breathe it all in.

Then, a knock.

His eyes dart to his doorway in surprise– knowing none of his family was home right now– only to remember that he’d invited the others to help him out.

Shirahama stands in front of him, knuckles resting against the already ajar door. His slightly bored face and tellingly awkward posture show that he hadn’t expected to be the first to arrive.

“Is your doorbell broken?” He asks as his socked feet pad their way into the room. “I tried using it, for once, but from that look I guess you didn’t hear.”

Tashiro finds himself a little amused by this, as he knows for a fact Shirahama has his own key. Perks of coming over to play games most weekends out of the year. He remembers them making jokes about going into each other's fridges while no one was home when they traded keys.

“Nah, guess I was just distracted,” He says with a casual shrug, placing the jacket back in the closet.

Shirahama gives him a questioning look. “I thought you were moving out, not back in.” His friend jokes as he passes Tashiro, grabbing a couple of shirts from the closet alongside the jacket.

He feels his eyebrow twitch in a way that reminds him a little of Hanzawa; and what a scary thought that is.

“I’m feeling indecisive.” He says, his mouth twisting to match how the word makes him feel. All twisted up and confused.

Shirahama turns to the side to face him, having stacked more clothes into his arms that look to be on the verge of falling to the floor. “About what? If you should take your whole house with you?”

That jacket. If I should re-dye my hair. Growing up. You. The future.

“What if we paint all the walls yellow?” He says instead of the hundreds of things his racing mind pushes forward.

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Shirahama responds resolutely, his eyes showing no room for argument. Not that Tashiro will let that stop him.

“Or maybe green? Something bright.” He continues on, stepping away from his thoughts to grab the jacket out of the teetering pile and place it to the side. “Actually, scratch that, blue would be great too.”

Shirahama gives him a withering look that has no effect on his enthusiasm. Now that he’s thinking about it, the fact that he isn’t going to make these kinds of decisions on his own anymore is pretty fun. He’ll have a roommate, a friend to work through his troubles with. The thought makes him feel lighter.

“Hey, d’you still want this?” Shirahama asks some time later, long after Kuresawa and Miyano have come and gone. Tashiro looks up from the stack of boxes he’d just finished labeling.

“Oh, yeah I almost forgot!” He says as he takes his jacket, tying it around his waist for safekeeping. He really hopes he didn’t overestimate how much closet space he has.

It’s only a few hours after the final box has been unloaded and the moving van is hauled off when Tashiro makes a chilling discovery.

“Dude, we have no food.” He says, eyes staring at the bleak emptiness of their new fridge.

“Yup,” Shirahama responds as he walks up beside him, handing Tashiro a scrunchie in a sort of placating manner.

Tashiro’s shoulders droop with the weight of his exhaustion. Moving was one of the most tiring things he’s ever done, and coming from him that’s saying something.

Turning away from the depressing artificial fridge lighting, Tashiro turns toward the kitchen counter behind him and grabs his keys. As wrecked as he might feel, the growls of his stomach refuse to be ignored. “I’ll go buy something quick,” He says.

“Ah- wait, I have an idea,” Shirahama says suddenly. Back straightening, he moves away from the fridge of doom over to a bag of housewarming gifts the others had left. It was mostly a small array of gag gifts, little plant pots shaped like ping pong balls and a lampshade shaped like a pudding cup, but in a small container alongside the rest was something else. A saving grace for the hungry:

A tub of butter.

Tashiro looks at it in confusion, asking if his friend was really that hungry.

Shirahama smirks, “With food, no container is ever as it seems.”

He opens the tub’s lid, revealing its contents. Inside is not butter, but a large frozen serving of chicken soup. Tashiro feels his jaw drop as he gasps in disbelief.

Quickly shaking himself of his shock, Tashiro grins brightly. He takes the soup and stuffs it into the microwave, but Shirahama stops him from starting the timer.

“Y’know it would taste better if you put it in a pot instead.” Shirahama says, his hand gently clasped around Tashiro’s wrist in a way that he chooses not to internalize. His fingers are a little cold.

“But it’s already cooked.”

“So? You can still warm it up in the pot. Plus it’ll make it taste closer to how it’s supposed to.” Shirahama retorts, opening the microwave and placing the tub on the counter as he goes to try and find a pot in the sea of boxes.

Tashiro stays behind as he thinks. He hadn’t ever had a reason to go so far out of his way to warm up food before. He feels himself smile a bit, the first change he’ll have to get used to in this new life.

As it turns out, keeping a relatively small apartment clean is a little difficult when you’re living on your own as two messy 18 year olds.

They tried the whole chore chart thing at first, Shirahama said he used to have one at his parent’s house and it worked fine. But, well, it’s a little different when it’s just them.

The dishes are stood in a precarious stack, plates and glasses towering in ways gravity should never allow. Tashiro faces his task with a body radiating reluctance.

He’s been busy the entire week. Classes and work keep him out of the house, and even when he is home he prefers to spend time relaxing or hanging out with Shirahama. He had forgotten about his chore, and now it’s become a problem.

Carefully reaching towards the tower, he grabs the cups first and goes for the sponge right as Shirahama walks out from his room.

He has his hair held back by a headband, because my bangs are a nightmare right now, he’d explained the other day.

He walks towards the kitchen and looks at Tashiro, who has begun to work through the dishes.

“…Need any help?” He asks as he reaches toward the kitchen cabinet, pulling out the chips he’d come for.

“Oh, no I’m good,” Tashiro responds, though the overwhelmed look in his eyes doesn’t match his words.

Hm. Shirahama puts his chips down on the counter, turning towards the sink and stepping up beside his friend. “I’ll dry and you wash, okay?” He says with a smile.

Tashiro blinks at him for a moment, lips parted in an ‘o’, before he nods and sends back a smile of his own.

They make it through everything eventually, though not without some effort and accidental water sprays. They decide afterwards to just do the dishes together, just to save them time.

There's this strange sensation that comes for him one day. The apartment is dark, the steady hum of the aircon welcoming him home, and immediately something feels amiss.

Tashiro kicks off his shoes, only to turn back around and place them carefully on the shoe rack. He always forgets that it’s something he should worry about now. Keeping his home in order was never really a big deal before, it was usually only him spending time there anyways.

Passing through the short hallway, his eyes catch on a small black and red container. He looks around suspiciously, but finds no sign of Shirahama. Crossing the creaky floorboards, he inspects the tupperware and finds a green sticky note pressed onto the lid.

Went to a mixer.

Put this in a pot and try eating real food for once

Tashiro blinks away his shock. His eyes trace over the words on the note. Again, then again.

Thump

Thump

Thump

His hands warm the plastic as he goes to hold it, and a smile breaks out across his face. He’ll have to say thanks later.

Placing his food back onto the counter, he turns to go change. He feels anticipation swirl around inside of him, and even without tasting the soup, Tashiro feels warm.

Tashiro finds out in the second month of living with his best friend that they’re maybe not the best at making their place livable.

“How have you guys been living like this?” Miyano asks, part judging and part concerned. They’re standing in the living room, which consists of a couch, a tv, and a shelf balanced on two boxes that they use as a coffee table. The tv sits on the floor with a console, video game cases stacked beside it.

It’s not like they haven’t talked about decorating. They joked about it before moving, and made plans about what they wanted to do. The plans just… didn’t end up happening.

At some point between the exhausting move-in and the rush of classes starting up, decorating didn’t feel like that urgent of a thing.

But now classes have been in session for a while, and they still haven’t bothered with it.

The click of Kuresawa’s camera bounces off the empty walls. “A total bachelor pad,” he says, sounding just to the left of impressed. “My girlfriend was wondering what it looks like when two college guys live together.”

Tashiro groans at that, knowing that another classing girlfriend ramble is on its way.

“We live just fine,” Shirahama says, and as if on cue the boxes fold into themselves, sending the shelf clattering to the floor. Right.

They decide to go furniture shopping, just to make sure that they don’t have to deal with any more Looks from Miyano or paparazzi from Kuresawa.

Tashiro suppresses a laugh, pointing towards a table with odd looking fish for legs, “We need that.” Shirahama laughs along with him, but shakes his head.

“We have a budget, we’re only getting what we absolutely need.” He reminds Tashiro. His eyes turn towards a yellow and white coffee table that is practically calling for him. He turns away.

Tashiro salutes him, and doesn’t retaliate when Shirahama gives him a playful shove in response. He turns around and walks towards a different part of the store, twisting strands of his hair between his fingers as he goes. He really needs to touch up his roots.

Spotting something on a shelf, he picks it up. It’s a decorative statue, a silver painted hare taking a nap. He smirks and turns around, walking back to Shirahama. “Hey, look, I found you…” he starts to say before trailing off, eyes focusing on Shirahama’s side profile.

His eyes look focused in the way they always do when he’s overthinking something simple. His brows are pinched and his thumb is pressed flat on the side of his lip. Tashiro breathes in the expression, and decides he can show him later.

Laughter reverberates through the restaurant, one table in particular shining with rays of excitement and teasing.

“No, but seriously, how many more piercings can you get?” Tashiro questions dramatically, standing from his seat to stretch across the table and investigate. Hanzawa only laughs behind his hands and turns his head, showing off another new hole in his ear.

“If you ask that every time you’ll keep giving yourself a headache,” says the eldest one at the table, the previous ping pong president in all his red haired glory smirks mischievously and pats Tashiro’s back.

Crossing his arms and dropping back into his seat, Tashiro tries to keep up an air of frustration. It lasts about a second before he breaks out into a smile of his own.

These little meet-ups are a lot of fun for him. It’s not every day that all three of them are in one place. Especially not with their current schedules. It’s a nice break from the busy life he’s been settling into.

He feels his heart warm as he sits with his friends, ready to bring up his latest win in his college ping pong club, when his phone vibrates. Flipping it over, he sees that Shirahama texted him.

Divorce Soon: hey r you home

I left my jacket and this place is freezing

He pauses to consider. He’s not very far from the apartment, he could run there, grab it, and drop it off pretty quickly. But… he glances up from his phone to the two in front of him. He doesn’t want to leave yet. But… looking back at his phone he sees the spam of crying emoji’s Shirahama has begun sending. 

“Hey guys, sorry but my roommate needs me to get him something,” he says with an awkward expression. The conversation pauses as the two process what he said. “Oh sure, you need a ride?” His absolutely genius red haired friend offers, pulling his keys out as he says it.

“Yes!” Tashiro replies as his expression lights up. He tells Shirahama he’s on the way, and they head out towards the parking lot.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Tashiro fiddles with the edge of his shirt. He tries not to move too much, looking back and forth from his hands to Shirahama. His friend has that same look in his eyes that he did back in middle school art class. Focused, determined, trying and failing to keep paint off of his face. Only this time the paint is a bright yellow dye.

They’ve been like this for a while. He hums along to the music playing from his phone. His butt feels a little numb and he has counted and recounted the tiny floor tiles at least a million times, all 173- no, 175 of them. He tries to focus his attention on anything but the gloved hands in his hair.

He carefully reaches over for his phone, switching the playlist to a random one he saw in his recommendations.

It’s not as if he couldn’t survive in silence for a little while. He usually doesn’t have anyone else to do this for him, so silence is kind of a given.

But as he taps the beat into his leg and opens his mouth, no words come out. He lets the silence linger even as Shirahama begins humming the words to a song he remembers coming out in their first year. He thinks about laying on the floor of his bedroom, phone conversations bouncing off his poster-lined walls and music blasting.

He remembers the telltale clicks and clacks from the other end of the call, the curses against ridiculous route mechanics spilling into his ears.

Tashiro feels like this is sort of like those moments, just a little bit more. His legs are longer, his hair can go into a ponytail now, and his world feels so much bigger. His eyes turn towards the boy-technically-man in front of him. His eyes look sharper and his face is more angular.

But, in a lot of ways he feels the same as he always has. The same Shirahama who cried during their graduation, and sat next to him on their first day of middle school. The same Shirahama who bullies him for counting on his fingers, but forgets what comes after 3 when he’s drunk enough. 

The same yet different Shirahama. They match in that way, at least. Both the same, but not fully.

“I… think I’m done?” Shirahama says, breaking their steady silence. Tashiro stands to go look in the mirror. He giggles at the sight of his foil-wrapped hair sticking out at odd angles.

Shirahama laughs along with him, and it really isn’t that funny, but they still stand there giggling like idiots. Tashiro pulls at the corner of his shirt again, turning around and raising it up to Shirahama’s face and wiping away some of the dye.

He drops his shirt and turns back to the mirror, looking at the two of them in the reflection. He watches the way Shirahama’s face stays frozen, and how his whole face flushes like it always has. It’s nice to see some things will never change.

[puppppppppy]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[askfallenroyalty]

Not that I needed a NEW project to work on but... Here's my Underfell take. Let's see where this goes.