#and the text and laughter during the hallucination…what if it’s not really a hallucination at all? and a certain flower is involved��

[rockium-z]

I kinda remember being so excited to write this chapter about four-or-so months back that I wrote the first three pages of it in my third notebook, got smacked with feels about halfway through and cried, so that was an enjoyable experience (/pos).

Aaaand now to figure out the next two chapters and the crack idea that may have spawned from chapter 24 for NaNoWriMo…

@entityneo (welcome back! Gotta admit, I missed you. Hope y’all doing alright!)

[cloudteawrites]

chapter: three ( 2.9k ) rating: mature (death, past abuse, eventual smut) genre: mystery | romance | hurt/comfort tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly summary: when an estranged uncle leaves you his massive fortune you wonder if the universe is playing a joke on you. when that fortune comes with seven hybrids, you know for sure that it is. << first < previous | next > last >>

You did what any sane person would do upon finding one of the world’s deadliest predators making itself at home in their living room: you made unbroken eye contact with it for a solid five seconds before backing out of the penthouse and quietly closing the door. You stand in the hallway, staring at your hand still wrapped around the handle, unable to move. “No,” you mutter softly. “That can’t be right...” You punch the code in again and peak your head inside. The tiger is still there, staring straight at you. It makes a noise and you slam the door shut. You weren’t hallucinating, you weren’t dreaming. There was definitely a tiger on your couch. “What the fuuuuuck… ” You mutter, pulling your phone from your jacket pocket and punching in Mr. Seo’s number as fast as your thumbs will let you. “What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-”

The phone rings once, three times, seven. There’s no answer. You groan and try not to think of this as the universe punishing you for being late. You hang up and send him a text instead, imploring him to call you back as soon as possible.

You press your back flat against the door and slide down it, sitting with your legs splayed out in front of you. There was a tiger in the penthouse. There was a tiger in the penthouse. You drag your hands down your face, replaying all your conversations with Mr. Seo and all the documents you’d read. There’d been nothing about pets in the asset manifest. You knew; you’d checked three times. You weren’t confident in your ability to take care of all of Oliver’s companies much less another living thing. You didn’t even really want to take care of the hybrids, but you’d appeased yourself with the knowledge that it was only temporary. So why there was a tiger in your living room you couldn’t say...Unless-

Your eyes widen. All the purchase order had said was three felines. It’d been you that’d made the assumption they’d be house cats. Not to mention, Mr. Park said the hybrids had been delivered already which meant the big cat sunning itself on the couch was-

Before you can draw the thought to its logical conclusion, the door swings open. You tilt backward, world going askew, but before your head can crack against the marble tile there’s a flurry of movement and someone’s holding it in soft hands.

You see azure eyes, soft lips, a crop of honey blonde hair. You blink up at the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life. His mouth melts into a close-lipped smile. “Hello,” His voice is soft and airy, almost musical. “You must be our new owner.”

You wince at the word owner. “Uh, I’m Y/N, yeah.”

He hums in acknowledgement then asks, “Would you like to stand up? The floor must be uncomfortable.”

“Oh!” You’d been so busy staring into his eyes that you’d forgotten he was crouched on the ground, holding your head in his hands. “Yeah, I would. Thanks for catching me.”

He gives you another smile. “Of course,” He purrs.

The man offers you a hand and helps you to your feet. Even when you’re standing, he doesn’t release it. You try to tug your own away, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but he holds you fast and laces your fingers together. You balk down at your conjoined hands and shoot him a look of concern, but if the prospect of holding hands with a virtual stranger bothers him, you certainly can’t tell from the serene expression on his face.

Now that you’re standing and you get a better look at him, you can tell that he’s really -almost disconcertingly- good looking. His hair is well groomed and, if the golden spotted ears poking out from it are any indication, naturally blonde. He’s dressed simply, in a loose-fitting cream sweatshirt and matching pants. The logo of breeding company he’d come from was embroidered neatly on the upper left side of it, just above his heart. He’s taller than you, but not overly so. You’re at eye-level with the elegant column of his throat. He’s slender, from what you could tell, and he smells nice, like soap and fresh linen. He notices you ogling him and tilts his head to the side, catching your gaze again.

“Is this your first time meeting a hybrid?” He’s still smiling at you calmly and you feel at ease despite the nervous heat you can feel creeping into your cheeks.

You offer him a wincing smile in return. “Is it that obvious?” Despite them being relatively common,  you’d only seen them from a distance or when they were standing silent beside their owners while they made a purchase. You’d never had an actual conversation with one. You feel something twine around your calf and you jump, startled. There, wrapped around your leg, was a long, fluffy tail, just as golden and spotted as his ear. Well that , certainly wasn’t a house cat’s tail.

The man laughs at your reaction and it sounds like bells. “It’s okay,” he assures you, tugging you out of the doorway and into the apartment. “I don’t mind the staring.”

You feel a little relieved knowing you hadn’t offended him. Your temporary relaxation evaporates when you catch sight of the tiger again over the hybrid’s right shoulder. In the haze of meeting this one, you’d completely forgotten the one stretched out over the couch. The spotted hybrid notices your gaze shift and squeezes your hand lightly.

“Don’t be afraid,” he soothes, tail tip twitching against your calf. That was right, you’d heard they could smell chemicals that signaled major shifts in emotion. “That’s Taehyung. He was born wild, so that body is a little more comfortable for him. There’s still a person in there, so you don’t need to worry, okay?”You nod mutely, only moderately comforted by the spotted hybrid’s reassurance. “-And I’m Jimin.”

Jimin. Taehyung. You repeat the names to yourself over and over again in your head.

“-And Yoongi-hyung is around here somewhere.” That was right; there were supposed to be three of them. “He’s probably sleeping; he doesn’t like to be awake during the day time. If you find a bobcat in a closet don’t be surprised, okay?”

You swallow dryly. “No promises.”

The man- Jimin, you remind yourself. His name was Jimin - let out another soft laugh and steps back, untangling his tail from you to turn and face the tiger. “Tae,” he calls. “Come say hello to Y/N.”

Your heart jumps into your throat and you hold your free hand up. “No!” You say, alarmed, as the tiger rises and stretches. It lets a long, barbed tongue loll out of its mouth as it yawns and you feel your blood go cold at the sight of three-inch long incisors. “I-It’s okay; he doesn’t have to get up if he doesn’t want to!” But the tiger has already hopped down from the couch and is sidling toward you. You make a noise of distress and try to tug away from Jimin, but he’s stronger than he looks. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand. It doesn’t help.

Taehyung stalks closer and closer until he’s right in front of you. You stand as still as you can manage, trying not to do anything that might set the predator off. Hybrid or not, he could still take a chunk out of you if the mood struck him.

Far away he was big, but up close he’s massive. On all fours, his shaggy head reaches your waist. If you bent forward to wrap your arms around his neck, you’re not sure if they’d even reach all the way. His paws are the width of dinner plates and from nose tip to tail, he has to be at least ten feet long. There’s no doubt that he’s a beautiful animal. Beautiful and terrifying.

For a moment the three of you stand there: Jimin holding your hand, you staring at the tiger and the tiger staring back. Suddenly he leans forward and presses his nose to your stomach, letting out a rumble that makes your whole body vibrate. Your eyes snap toward Jimin, wide. The other hybrid seems completely at ease. If anything, his smile’s gotten even wider.

“He wants you to pet him,” he says by means of explanation.

“Is that okay?” Before Jimin can give you answer, Taehyung presses his muzzle even further into your stomach and huffs. His breath is so warm you can feel it even through your jacket. You let out a puff of air. “Alright…”

You move slowly so you don’t startle him. You set a trembling hand atop the tiger’s head and gently run your fingers through his fur. It’s wirier than you thought it’d be, the hairs coarse against your skin. The tiger lets out another rumble, louder this time and much longer. You snatch your hand back for a moment, startled, and worried he was upset- but he sat back on his haunches, reached out with one massive paw and pressed your hand back against his head.

You let out a surprised bark of laughter.

Emboldened by his apparent approval, you risk scratching behind his ears. The big cat practically melts. If he could purr, you think he would. A hesitant smile creeps on to your lips. “You’re not so bad, huh?” He tilts his head forward to give you better access to his ears.

You feel Jimin’s tail curl around your ankle again, the hybrid apparently pleased to see you getting along so well with his friend. “None of us are,” he hums, taking advantage of your distracted state to brush your conjoined hands against his cheek. “Not when you get to know us.”

“What the hell are you two doing?” A gruff voice at the top of the glass staircase catches your attention. There on the landing is a man in a black sweatsuit identical to Jimin’s. His ash gray hair is a mess, mashed up on one side from sleep and his eyes are squinted against the light seeping in from the oversized windows. A pair of large, tufted ears are turned backward on top of his head and a short tail flicks behind him in irritation. The two other hybrids disentangle themselves from you immediately. “Didn’t I tell you to wake me up when the owner got here?”

There’s that word again: owner. You hate how final sounds. In the eyes of the law they may have been your property, but they were still people. You didn’t want them to think of themselves as something you possessed, however brief their stay with you would be.

The black-clad man slumps down the stairs, clearly displeased with the scene before him. Taehyung lowers his head between his shoulders and slinks back to his position on the couch, but Jimin stays by your side, slightly behind your shoulder. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to use you as a shield from his hyung.

Yoongi stops in front of the kitchen, tugs out a bar stool and drops his weight into it. He’s still a good twenty feet away, but Jimin doesn’t look appeased. “You were sleeping, Hyung…” he purrs. “I didn’t want to disturb you-”

“Bullshit,” the bobcat huffs . “You two just wanted to scent like a bunch of cubs and you knew I’d stop you.”

Jimin’s bottom lip pokes out into a pout but he doesn’t deny the accusation.

“...Is scenting bad?”

Yoongi cuts his eyes at you and his stare is so icy, you get the feeling you shouldn’t have spoken at all. His tail lashes behind him.

“It’s not bad,” Jimin soothes, his hand finding your lower back. He rubs circles into it, trying to relax you. “It’s just-”

“It’s rude.” Yoongi cuts him off. “And they know better.”

Jimin wilts and slowly retracts his hand.

Yoongi rakes a hand back through his hair and you catch your first good look at his face. It’s small, his features soft but well articulated. He’s boyishly handsome- or would be if he wasn't fixing you and his junior with a look that could freeze hell over. “Jimin, Taehyung, go upstairs.”

The spotted hybrid behind doesn’t argue, just lets his tail and ears droop as he slumps toward the staircase, the tiger on his heels.”

It’s only once they’ve disappeared around a corner and a door shuts that Yoongi speaks again.”What do you want us for?”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Why do you think I want you for something?”

“This isn’t our first time doing this,” he drawls. “You people think just because you can have something, you should . So, you go out and buy exotic hybrids that you can walk around on a gold leash to show off to all of your friends. Or you take us off suppressants so you can take advantage of us. Or you treat us like dolls. You don’t think we’re real. We’re just toys to you, and if you break us? Well, that’s okay because you can always buy another.”

Your mouth feels dry. Was that what his life had been like up until this point? A revolving door of people who only saw him as temporary entertainment and gave him back when he turned out to be more trouble than they thought he was worth? You knew that feeling; were more familiar with it than you’d care to admit or remember. “I’m not like that,” You insist, softly.

“I don’t know what you’re like,” Yoongi scoffs. “And if you’re just gonna send us back in a month, I don’t really care to find out.” An uncomfortable silence settles between the two of you. He doesn’t seem bothered by it, his gray gaze still focused to a sharp point in you. “Jimin, Taehyung, they’re young. They still have hope. You’re only Tae’s second owner. You’re Jimin’s third.” A pause, and then, “You’re my eighth. I know how this goes.” He pushes up from the bar stool and stalks back toward the stairs. “I don’t care how you treat me,” he calls back over his shoulder as he retreats back to the second floor. “But don’t get their hopes up by pretending to be something you’re not.”

A door slams and you flinch. You’re alone again

This day was not going how you thought it would. All the videos you’d watched online had shown bright eyes hybrids smiling as they were embraced by their new families, happy to be taken home. None of them had covered what to do if your hybrid didn’t want to be at home and certainly not how to handle an exotic one.

You shuffle over to the living room, toss your backpack onto the floor and step over the back of the couch into the sunken living room . You settle down, cross-legged and pull out your phone.You open up your web app and input your first query.

my hybrid hates me

3.5 million results.

You scroll down, article after article explaining how you should deal with dog hybrids challenging your authority, bunny hybrids thumping because they felt insecure, and cat hybrids knocking things over in a bid to get your attention. You suck your teeth. None of these were going to help you. You tap on the search bar and edit your request.

my exotic hybrid hates me

182 results. Most of them were for porn. You quickly hit the back button.

“Okay,” you mutter. “Let’s try something else.”

what is hybrid scenting

18.6 million results.

The top one is from the International Association of Hybrid Owners and you figure that’s as good a source as any. You tap it and scan the first paragraph.

Hybrids have a sense of smell that is thousands of times more powerful than a human’s. Scent is used to interpret emotions, track food in the wild and identify members of a family group. Juvenile hybrids often gravitate toward familiar smells in order to self-soothe if their parent is not available.

Upon welcoming a new hybrid into your home they may wish to mix their scent with yours in order to signify your new bond or let other hybrids know that you are a member of their family group. If there are multiple hybrids in the home, it is important that the dominant hybrid be allowed to scent you first, then the subordinate hybrid(s) in order of age. If this scenting order is not enforced, it can cause disharmony within the family group and tension between members.

You close the article and set your phone down. Was that why Yoongi was upset? Because Jimin and Taehyung had essentially marked you as a member of their family without his say so and undermined his authority? You flop back against the couch cushions. You were sure that wasn’t the only reason but it certainly didn’t help

You think about the cold look in Yoongi’s eyes, about how eager Jimin and Taehyung had been to get their scent on you, about how tightly Jimin had held onto your hands, like you were going to slip away into smoke at any moment. You drag your hands down over your eyes. Well, one thing was for certain. You certainly couldn’t send them back now.

[gyllenhaalstories]

BEST FRIEND!JAKE GYLLENHAAL HEADCANONS

notes: jake and you are bffs, that’s it, that’s the tweet! warnings: some mentions of sexual content, but it’s pretty clean and safe otherwise! the gifs were in a gif hunt so i don’t know who made them unfortunately! i suggest you listen to tongue tied by grouplove or dog days are over by florence + the machine!  i hope you guys enjoy! <3

Your friendship happened so out of the blue. You were at the grocery store with a friend and you picked some product up, reading the informations about it. You exclaimed “this comes from Canada”, you know, as one does while realizing Canada is a real country and not just a fantasy where everyone lives in igloos and chop wood and like wish Justin Trudeau good night. Your friend shrugged, very bored, but you heard a voice behind you. “Actually, I have some cool theory about Canada. Do you know the Ryans? Gosling and Reynolds? Well...”

“Canada had sex with America and they made the two of them and they’re twins and they tried to eat each other in the womb, but they didn’t, they survived...” You both spoke in sync. You turned around, only to realize that Jake Gyllenhaal was the one radiating even more chaotic energy than you.

It was signed, sealed and delivered.

You two were painful to be around. You would go on some random conspiracy theories of your own creation (you know Strawberry Shortcakes, like the toys and the shows for kids? Well they’re just Bratz dolls except for Bratz dolls, somebody confused the sugar with the salt and they ended up without feet and with some very large heads). You would argue about everything and nothing.

It was a 0 to 100 real quick.

You could be watching a movie at the cinema with a few friends, staying silent the whole time until you got back in the car and you just exploded with thoughts about the movie. You two were screaming so loud the driver of the car had to pull by the side of the road to try and keep you quiet like two angry children.

That’s what you two were: two very annoying children.

In Jake’s and yours opinion, you never argued. You just shared thoughts with a strong passion.

You could call each other names, but you never meant the insults you were saying.

“You can go suck a fuck”, “Tell me Y/N, how exactly does one suck a fuck? I’m all years”

Laughter. You guys laughed all the time together. No, wait, you laughed and Jake just wheezed. You took him to see a doctor once, you managed to convince him he might have a condition because no one ever wheezes THAT MUCH but it turns out you just both suffered from a great sense of humour.

For the first couple of months, your friendship was so filled with arguments and chaos that your mutuals thought you two actually hated each other.

But it could not be more wrong.

Jake and you were inseparable. You’d do everything and nothing together. You’d stop at the convenience store, share the newspaper, have a karaoke night (you were two Britney Spears stans), buy gifts for your respective relatives (you suspected that your own mother preferred your friend Jake to you). You spent the Holidays together. New Years, Valentine’s Day, even Halloween. You would host Halloween parties at your house. There would be only the two of you wearing matching costumes you made with clothes and craft supplies around the house. You both looked horrible, but you ate way too many candies to realize it.

You were attached by the hip. Wherever Jake went, you were there too.

At some point, you lost your job. It happens to the best of us. So Jake suggested you’d become his assistant.

In theory, it was a beautiful idea. You knew Jake’s schedule by heart and did everything together. Being paid for it? Sign me up.

But in practice...

It created some sort of tension between the two of you. It was one more reason to depend on Jake, and for Jake to depend on you. You were two peas in a pod but you had to manage the new pressure.

During red carpets you were hiding behind the interviewer or by his sides, taping your wrist to remind him to go faster and cut the long analytical speeches nobody really cared about. Except for you, you loved how insightful he was and how he rarely showed this side of his personality.

He knew when you were tired to just sit and watch the same people win awards for similar roles they did in other movies before.

Jake would lean in and say “Actually, I think Meryl Streep is a wizard, like the nice type, and she hides magical potions in her purse that can make you fly and don’t even get me started on Julia Roberts...”. You were too far gone, laughing so loud during an emotional speech when a not very talented celebrity won over very talented celebrities that deserved it more or during a movie premiere.

You would hold hands. For funsies.

He’d give you his jacket. He’d feed you a spoon of his food at the restaurant. You’d give him a sip of your hot chocolate on a cold winter evening. You’d share your comfy slippers with him even if his feet were too big and barely fit in.

Life without Jake? You simply did not remember what it was like.

Your mutual friends stopped calling you two enemies. You were straight up a married couple.

You’d go grocery shopping together and Jake would push the caddy around while you guide him through the aisles. “Could make you this dish, I know you like it” he’d suggest. “The oreos are on sale? Must get six packs of them, double stuff only” you’d add.

You’d go on car rides. They lead nowhere: a dead end street, a bridge under construction, a small ghost town. You both just sat there and listened to music.

His hand would mysteriously fall on your thigh and just stay there the whole way back.

And you’d give each other shy looks.

And giggle. And chuckle. And drop your keys by the front door, oopsies you were all of a sudden clumsy.

And when the door was closed behind you, you stared into each other’s eyes and just shrugged before ripping each other’s clothes at the speed of light and fucking on the couch, on the kitchen table or even on the floor. The bed was too far away.

You both had seen each other naked so many times it was not intimidating. You knew he was handsome, he knew you were beautiful. That was all you guys needed to know. But there were new infos to take in consideration: in bed, you two were just powerful. So you slept together again.

Again and again and again...

It did not bother any of you. Your friends did not even find out about it. Everything was fine.

Everything was fine until you went on a date with someone else. Two times, three times... It was starting to get serious.

Jake felt so weird. He hid it from you.

He caressed your hair when you cried as your new fling just broke up with you over text messages. He fed you your favourite ice cream while you two cuddled on the couch, trying to heal the pain with a wholesome Disney movie. He helped you get in the shower when you were too sad or too tired. He supported you.

He cared for you.

He loved you.

And he told you.

That one time he helped you get in the bathtub after you insisted you could go to the gym with him and he literally crushed you not even five minutes in. You were sore and tired and you thought you hallucinated when you heard the words: I love you.

He thought he was having a fever dream when you replied: I love you too.

[sanjisock]

keep playing that song (hey mister dj)

ao3

Usopp isn’t scared.

The stranger might be a tall, burly dude with one eye, two large scars, and muscles that could rival a god’s, but Usopp is not scared. Nope. Sure, the guy could probably crush Usopp’s head if he does so much as flex , and the scars seem to indicate that he’s trained in some kind of deadly martial arts, and even without all those things he’s still big enough to be able to beat Usopp up into a pulp through sheer strength, and —

Okay, so Usopp might be a little scared.

But it’s not his fault, okay! Who can blame him for being scared when their usual hangout place-slash-music studio is suddenly occupied by such a scary-looking man! Scars, green hair (is that natural color ?), earrings…all signs seem to point to him being a delinquent, if not a yakuza . And on top of that — are those swords lying on top of him? Real swords? Three of them?

The only saving grace of it all is the fact that the man is sleeping soundly, so it’s unlikely that he could kill Usopp right now. Maybe. Usopp isn’t ruling out the possibility that the man could identify weaker life forces in his sleep and eliminate them accordingly, Drunken Master-style.

Usopp yelps when the door to the studio swings open.

“Yohoho, you’re here early, Usopp!” Brook greets with a wave and, completely unperturbed by the existence of the Scary Green Man, makes his way to his guitar. The others start filing in behind Brook one by one, chatting among themselves.

“All right, I’m going to get started over here,” Sanji announces to the group as he starts plugging things up onto his booth, before pointing at the keyboard. “Oi, Usopp, those keys aren’t going to play themselves.”

Okay, so they are not acknowledging this.

Okay. Usopp’s fine with that. Usopp’s good with that. He knows all the wise words like let sleeping dogs lie — or, in this case, let green-haired men with visible battle scars and three swords lie so nobody (read: Usopp) gets maimed and/or fatally injured. He can work with that, sure.

The session starts, and it does get easier to ignore the man when you’re enjoying the music. Before Usopp realizes, they’ve been playing for a couple of hours, made plans for the next jam sessions, and bid their goodbyes. He’s three blocks away on his bicycle before the whole thing dawns on him.

Who the hell was that man?

 -

 When Usopp opens the door to the studio, the green-haired man is still sleeping on the couch.

Usopp closes the door again.

All right. Back up. It’s been a week since their last jam session, but somehow the man is still there. Usopp is a smart, rational man — he can work this out.

Option one: the man is a homeless man who somehow has found his way to the studio and started living there. Possibly dangerous, but enough grounds to call the cops. This, however, doesn’t explain why no one seems to be aware of the man’s existence, which leads to the other possibility —

Option two: the man is actually a ghost haunting the studio and Usopp, being the amazing and attentive man that he is, is the only person who could see him, and now he has to find a way for the ghost to move on or he will drag Usopp down to hell with him.

Usopp laughs at his own idea, opens the door again, just as Sanji drops onto the sofa, right beside the man’s head, all-too-close and completely oblivious to the proximity.

Option two, it is.

Usopp is mentally chanting some exorcism spells in his head when Sanji suddenly calls out, “you’re just going to stand around there or what?”

“Ah, right, was just, checking some texts on my phone,” he replies, half-rambling, hoping Sanji would buy some of the lies he’s selling. He quickly scrambles towards the keyboard. “Just gonna practice some variations first before we start.”

“Okay, I’ll wait for the others to come in before setting up,” Sanji says, half-distracted by the book he’s currently reading. If he notices that Usopp is more on edge than usual, he doesn’t point it out, and simply returns to his book.

Usopp takes the opportunity to make some observations.

The situation is downright baffling , because Sanji, generally, is not a tactile person. That’s more of Luffy’s thing — throwing his limbs all over his friends and wrapping them in hugs like a monkey would to a tree. Sanji generally keeps his distance, even with friends, and especially male ones.

But right now, Sanji somehow looks completely comfortable beside the green-haired man, despite the closeness. His shoulders are slumped comfortably against the backrest, with only one hand holding the book — his other hand rests on the empty spot near the man’s head, and Usopp thinks he’s started hallucinating, because — are those fingers absentmindedly playing with the man’s hair?

Men-are-lowly-creatures Sanji? Playing with another man’s hair?

Usopp is beginning to question his own sanity.

 -

 Usopp swears he is cursed, because how else could he find himself in a room with the man. Again. With no one else around.

And because the universe hates him, the man suddenly snorts, yawns, and blinks awake.

Usopp has half the mind to run out of the room, and doesn’t do it only because he’s pretty sure the man is like a wild beast that can sense fear. Instead he stays rooted to his spot as the man blearily looks around before finally noticing Usopp’s presence.

Their eyes meet. The man blinks again, before frowning. “Who are you?”  

“That’s my question,” Usopp wants to yell at the top of his lungs, which he does, except it’s more of a whisper, and he’s also jumping behind the DJ table. Just in case. “Wait, you can see me?”

The man continues to frown at him. “Why can’t I?”

“You’re alive,” Usopp can’t help pointing out instead.

“...Yeah?” The man looks like he’s questioning Usopp’s mental health, but he also doesn’t look like he’s going to stab anyone anytime soon, so Usopp considers this a win. The man runs his hand through his hair. “Look, I assume you know the Cook.”

The Cook. There can only be one person in their group that fits the nickname. “Sanji. Yeah,” Usopp quickly says, “I’m Sanji’s friend. Also in the band. The name’s Usopp, by the way.”

“Heard ‘bout you. I’m Zoro,” the man — Zoro — introduces himself. And — doesn’t elaborate.

“Right,” Usopp responds, mostly to fill in the silence, “you, uh, you know Sanji?”

It seems like the natural direction for the conversation to take, but it earns him another look from Zoro. “Seriously? The Cook never…” he pauses, before groaning. “Of course he hasn’t. Bet he’s told you more about Nami than he does about me, huh.”

Usopp knows Nami — she’s a friend from Sanji’s university, and sometimes she’d drop by and help with the band’s finances. Zoro, on the other hand... “Look, I’m sorry, man, but all I know is that you’re this guy who started coming into our practice sessions and slept throughout the whole thing.”

“Because it’s boring as hell, that’s why,” Zoro says, before quickly adding, “no offense.”

“None taken, I know it’s not everyone’s thing. Although —” Usopp gulps, wonders if the question is appropriate, but curiosity got the best of him. “If it’s boring to you, why are you here?”

Zoro surprisingly blushes at that. He rubs the back of his neck in a shocking display of embarrassment. “Well, don’t tell him this, but —” he clears his throat, clearly flustered, before mumbling, “the Shit Cook said he’d be happy if I come and support and shit like that.”

“Come and support,” Usopp echoes, brain refusing to work. “Sanji wants you to... come and support him.”

“Yeah, you know,” Zoro says. “As his boyfriend.”

Usopp chokes on air at that. The ghost theory would’ve made so much more sense. Really .

 -

 “I wish I could’ve seen your face,” Sanji says in between peals of laughter, “you really thought this Mosshead was a ghost ?”

“It seems to be the most plausible explanation at the time, okay,” Usopp retorts, indignant. In his defense, it would be less surprising than this whole... boyfriend thing.

It’s not like Usopp has a problem with his male friend getting a boyfriend — god, no, not that. But this is Sanji . Woman-loving, romance-obsessed Sanji, who wouldn’t shut up about how it is a gentleman’s duty to take good care of ladies, or how women are so much more beautiful than gross, uncultured men.

That very same Sanji is currently sitting with Zoro’s arm around his back, his head resting comfortably on Zoro’s shoulder. Zoro’s hand is in Sanji’s hair, the gesture familiar, and Sanji clearly preens under the attention like a cat.

“Sorry, I forgot you weren’t there during Nami’s birthday,” Sanji says after he’s finally done laughing, “that’s when I first brought Zoro to meet the band.”

“Wait. Nami’s birthday?” The timeline doesn't add up — “Oh my god, Sanji, that was six months ago .”

Sanji shrugs, “yeah, my bad, I just kinda assumed everyone knew after that.”

Usopp is reeling from it all, because it’s just one revelation after another — not only Sanji started dating a man, Zoro isn’t even some random fling; they might even be going steady . Something he hasn’t seen Sanji do since he was fifteen and got his heart broken by a girl Usopp can’t even remember the name of anymore.

It’s turning Usopp’s world upside down, except when it’s — not. He never considered the possibility before, but looking back, it makes perfect sense. Sanji, with all his self-sabotaging insecurities, would find comfort in Zoro, who is clearly a man of actions. Sweet nothings would’ve done nothing to Sanji, but Zoro, who comes in to his boyfriend’s band practices despite his lack of interest, just because it’d make Sanji happy...Usopp can’t help but smile at the thought.

“Oi, what are you grinning for, Long Nose,” Sanji points out. “That’s creepy.”

“Nah, I was just thinking how sweet it is that Zoro would come to our band practices to support you,” Usopp answers without thinking. “He told me he got bored by it, but he still comes in because you want him to.”

Usopp watches the two men in front of him blush simultaneously at his words as Sanji disentangles himself from Zoro’s arm and sits up straighter. “What? The Marimo told you that?”

“I told you not to tell him!” Zoro growls, and looks away when Sanji turns to him with wide eyes. He buries his face in his hand, but even Usopp can see the blush reach the tips of Zoro’s ears. Sanji beams at the sight, and Usopp has never seen him so happy.

It’s sweet, and Usopp is happy for Sanji, but he still doesn’t want them to start making out here, ew, so he clears his throat.

Zoro and Sanji jump away from each other, clearly having forgotten about the only other person in the room. Sanji instantly scrambles to his feet and make his way to the DJ table, blabbering, “anyway, uh, I’m going to set things up, you just be a good boy and wait there as usual.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zoro says, plopping back into the sofa, but Usopp notices how Zoro doesn’t immediately go to sleep like usual. Instead, his gaze lands on Sanji.

Zoro doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who beams, but right now there’s one of those little smiles on his face, the kind that someone wears when they think no one is looking. It erases the hard lines on his face, and there’s a flash of something — soft , in the way his gaze clings onto Sanji’s back.

Zoro is not so scary after all.

[passable-talent]

within the world of markiplier lore... set during the events of A Heist with Markiplier.

this fic is based off the brilliant and fascinating comic by @iiipeashy​ , using his character insert for the canonical y/n. this will all make a little more sense if you’ve read the comic, so please do... good shit!!!

I got permission before I used it! and if you’re at all interested in the additional backstory (more than I go into here), DEFINITELY check it out. fascinating plot, FANTASTIC art, and FOOD for all of us damien lovers out there. all the love @iiipeashy !!

Griffin knew that making a deal with Mark was akin to making a deal with the devil, but he didn’t realize just how bad it would be. 

He should have known when Mark mentioned Damien that any reunion wouldn’t be the one he wanted, but he couldn’t help but take the deal anyway- if Mark could get him out of the mirror, wouldn’t the price be worth it?

Whatever the price may be?

Living in the van was annoying, and dealing with Mark even moreso, but ultimately, the job wasn’t so bad. He was out of the mirror, and he could walk again, live again. 

You wouldn’t think you’d miss the sound of footsteps. You do.

Being used as bait, though, wasn’t quite as appetizing. Griffin hadn’t known what Mark meant at the time, but he would come to. 

Thirty-one different endings for his little choose-your-own-adventure. One of them even involved Wil, which was quite a shock, but ended up being quite nice, to see an old friend again. Even if he wasn’t the same as when Griffin had seen him last. Thirty-one different endings, and it took weeks, agonizing weeks to film them all. Finally, though, Griffin was filming the last one- number thirty one. This time, he was going to be ‘murdered’ by the sewer cult, faceless figures that Mark conjured up, or roped into his game, just like Griffin. He knew the script, he knew the turns he had to make, he knew what he had to show to the camera strapped to his chest. 

But things started going off script. 

Immediately, Griffin’s head started pounding, and he looked down, shutting his eyes tightly to try to regain his balance. When he looked up, his surroundings had changed into a old hallway, one he swore he recognized, but he couldn’t place from where. 

It was obvious that this wasn’t something Mark planned. That wasn’t Mark’s style- confusing Griffin like this would just lead to more takes, which would lead to wasted time, and Mark didn’t care for wasted time. Whatever this was, it wasn’t Mark’s doing. 

A clank from his left made Griffin flinch, and turn, and the sight before him was something that rattled him to the core. On this bleary, colorless brick wall, an ornate frame, lit by a single light- with Mark’s personal chef pictured within it, his eyes scribbled out. Griffin’s head pounded, an echo punching through his skull, of the chef’s words, one of the last times Griffin had talked to him. 

“I thought I told you to stay out of my kitchen!”

The phone that Mark had given him as a prop vibrated in Griffin’s pocket, and he fished it out immediately- it wasn’t even supposed to be on. But from an unknown number, he read an unsettling text, his eyes straining to pick out the words on a bright screen against his pounding headache. 

Aren’t you tired of it?

Tired of what, Griffin begged to ask, but the dark hallway and the pounding headache made him drop the phone to the side, hoping to focus on one problem at a time. Another clank, this time from his right, forced him to turn, this time to see a photo of the butler, who disappeared from the mansion before Griffin was shot. 

“Master would be so displeased! If only he were still alive!”

Every word rocked its way through Griffin’s head, splitting it open with a headache like none he’d experienced since... since he was put in the mirror, actually, all those years ago. When Damien and Celine left him there. The forced expulsion from his own body as it was taken by the siblings had driven a nail between his two temporal lobes, and he hadn’t felt pain like it since. Until now, that is. What was going on?

Another text, and Griffin lifted the phone again, focusing on the words as quickly as he could through the blurriness of detail around him. He didn’t need his glasses anymore, not since he’d gone in the mirror, but with his headache, the pixels of the letters blended together. 

Don’t you feel like you’re running in circles?

Well, yeah, but wasn’t that Mark’s point? Who was texting him, anyway? How was this possible? The phone wasn’t even meant to be on.

A light to his left made Griffin look over, and he found a portrait this time of the detective- Abe, his one-time partner. He was an oddball, but Griffin wished him the best... didn’t Wil shoot him?

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted someone so god-damn gorgeous.”

Once again the phone vibrated, cutting through his splitting headache, which pounded through every echo of every word that Abe said, the sound swirling around him. It wasn’t from some speaker, but it wasn’t inside Griffin’s head, either. It was some combination of the two, hallucination, yet, experience. 

No one seems to question it. 

The end of the hallway was approaching fast as Griffin stumbled down it, and the last painting within the room was of Wil, his old friend. That weekend at the manor was all the time Griffin had ever gotten to know him, but he felt fondness for him, for all that he went through. Besides- he was the only one who was as willing to fight for Damien and Celine as Griffin was, when everyone else was ready to leave. He not only had his eyes crossed out, but also, the pink mustache was drawn large and curly over his face. Wilford Warfstache, as he had become. Griffin’s eyebrows turned up, his headache making him squint, but still feeling regret at the fate that Wil had suffered, descending into his madness. 

“I thought that it was about time that we got to know each other. Far from the prying eyes of...” 

The noise continued, but Griffin fought through it, reading the last text he received, this one making four. And he didn’t even know who’d sent them. 

But I thought you’d see through it. 

All that was left was a door at the end of the hall, and Griffin pushed through it, hoping to find an end, or at least a reprieve. He wasn’t so lucky. 

“...anyone else.”

He emerged into a black room, vast yet confining, the whole of it impressing a feeling of both claustrophobia and vulnerability onto Griffin. Spotlights clicked on, leading him forward to one final painting- of Mark himself. Now he was sure that Mark wasn’t behind this. 

“But it’s not about me... it’s about you! And who knows... I could be dead tomorrow.” 

The eerie laughter and crumbling of the portrait made Griffin cringe away, as though the words he was hearing was putting him back into the mindset he’d had, so long ago, when he didn’t understand Mark’s villainy, nor any of the supernatural forces pushing and pulling at both Griffin’s destiny, and everyone else that Mark surrounded himself with. Griffin hadn’t known, that night, that he was speaking the truth of his own future, through a plan he was acting out. He was always acting. 

“Same snake... different skin.” Griffin found that these words didn’t come with a headache, and shut his eyes tightly to push away what he felt, in that moment. Because he would recognize that voice anywhere. That voice, that he’d first heard when they were roommates in a university, and again when they were both trying to make a career in public service. That voice, that belonged to his husband, who chose him to be the district attorney shortly after being elected as mayor. 

Damien? 

“Always spinning his yarns, his webs... his lies.” Griffin whirled to his left, finding that familiar figure, but instead of the peaceful and honest expression he was so used to seeing on Damien’s face, instead he saw an eerie smile, and Griffin’s eyes fought against the red and blue shift of Damien’s figure in front of him. When a duplicate appeared, like a shadow, with it came a sound that slammed against Griffin’s ears, the force of it almost knocking him sideways. 

“I always thought that you were... t̵̮͊r̶̯͒ả̶̮p̴͚͠p̴̗̋e̶͚͐d̵̗͒ in his games.” The sounds continued, always accompanying some terrifying change in his appearance, like he wasn’t really supposed to exist in the three dimensional world. 

“Perpetually p̷̙͑l̵̠̋u̵̻̾ṇ̷̋ḡ̴̲i̸̠̍n̸͎̈́g̸̓ͅ down the rabbit holes of his stories.” There was something about this that seemed familiar to Griffin, the way that Damien’s words echoed around him, and back, but deeper, darker. 

I am, Griffin tried to say, but found that when he opened his mouth, no sound would come out, and Damien didn’t even react as though he’d tried. 

“Helpless,” Damien said, and Griffin tried again, trying to say the same words, I am, I am trapped, but nothing would leave his throat, as though someone had flipped the ‘off’ switch on his voice box. 

“Lost.” Damien’s words now seemed only to mock Griffin as he lifted one hand to his throat, and tried again, to force out any sound he could, but he just couldn’t. 

“I̸̠͛ ̵̦̏k̵̪̉n̵̩͌o̷͈̐ẅ̷͇ ̴̠͛t̷́ͅȟ̴͕e̶͑ͅ ̴̢̇f̶͎̌e̷͚̊e̸͔͘l̴̝̃i̵̻͗n̴͚̊ḡ̶͍,” Damien growled, his glitching and shifting intensifying, hammering more pain through Griffin’s skull, worsening his feelings of helplessness, because he couldn’t cry out in pain, like the pain itself was shifting between dimensions, just like Damien’s form, just like Selene’s voice. 

“Perhaps I̶̬͆'̴̹̉m̵̠̕ the crazy one,” Damien suggested, and finally Griffin realized where he had felt this particular pain before, where he had seen such shifting and glitching. 

When Selene brought him to that... shadow realm. 

“Perhaps we’ve met a hundred times already, and you simply don’t remember it.” Griffin gripped at his throat again, not moving and yet keeping pace with Damien as he walked, trying to just break through to him- this tortured being who he was once married to. 

Damien, he tried to say, but he couldn’t make a sound, and Damien continued on, apathetic, indifferent. 

“Perhaps you’re tired of me repeating myself, over, and over, and over, and over, a̸̡̓n̶̠͋d̶͓͌ ̸̭̀ō̵̪ṿ̸̊è̶̡r̷͋͜ ̵̱͗ă̸͕ğ̶̠ä̶̟́í̶̹n̵͚̑.” Every echo and screech and ringing in the massive and yet confining room felt like a needle into Griffin’s brain, and he gripped his throat tighter, his other hand trying to put pressure onto his head, as though it would help. 

Damien, please-

“Maybe you just miss my pretty face.” Damien’s eyes went dark, and Griffin found himself on the verge of tears, the powerlessness of his position breaking him down. Damien was in pain- and he didn’t even talk as though he knew who Griffin was. Didn’t he?

“It doesn’t matter. People like you only want one thing.” A red shift beside Damien let out a scream, making Griffin flinch backward, his chest feeling so heavy.

Damien!

“And it’s disgusting.” Damien zipped around, his form reappearing closer to the table he now stood behind, and reached down to pick up a wine glass full of something that didn’t really look like water. “You want answers.” He looked down, losing that eerie smile, and Griffin wondered briefly what such a break in his expression could mean. 

“Well,” Damien lifted the glass, and the higher he raised it, the more black the liquid inside became. “Games were always ẖ̷̎ḯ̸͜ș̴̈́ forte.” He paused to drink, and phased for a moment, his stance changing. 

“But allow me this one moment of self indulgence.”

Damien, please, fucking hear me-

Griffin was thrown backwards, smacking his spine against the wooden back of a chair, and he realized he was sitting in front of the warden’s desk from the prison set. His vision shot around, trying to pick up any sort of clue, but then it landed on the box, in Damien’s hand. That damn box.

“So much trouble, all for something so small.” He phased into the warden’s chair, sitting across from Griffin, and looked down at the box. 

Griffin tried to scream. But he couldn’t.

“Do you really want to know what’s inside this box?” And truthfully, Griffin couldn’t care less. He didn’t care for the silly little setpiece that Mark had conjured for his delusional, rabid fans. Maybe he would have been curious, once, but not with his tortured, lost husband in front of him. Not now. 

“The truth. Not the lies he’s told you. The truth.” Griffin ground his teeth together, the hand on his throat still clutching on as though if he squeezed hard enough he could hit the ‘on’ switch of his own voice box. 

“Well, I know how much you love good games, and all.” He shifted around, and Griffin’s eyes struggled to keep up with wherever he ended up, the movement throwing his headache against his temples. 

“Throughout this... heist, I’ve hidden codes. Several codes.” The symbols blinking behind Damien made a cold realization sink into Griffin’s skin. 

Damien wasn’t even talking to him. 

“Find them all, and...” 

Griffin wasn’t even there, to Damien. He was a vessel to speak to Mark’s audience. 

“You’ll get your truth.” 

Damien had no idea that he was so close to Griffin, so close, all of this was to talk to the audience, not Griffin. Did Damien even know that Griffin was alive?

“But that’s all I’m gonna give you.” 

Out of the void surrounding Griffin came sounds, like the room around him was falling down, crashing to the floor. Rumbling, and Damien was fading away, his expression no longer angry, but fading into quiet sorrow.

No! Griffin tried to yell, and he tried to hold on, but whatever or whoever was pulling him out or pushing him away was too strong for him. Damien faded from his vision with screeching and rumbling and creaking... 

And when he opened his eyes, he was on the steps of the museum, at the beginning of the ‘heist’ script.

“No,” He murmured, his voice hollow, and the triumph of hearing his voice again was trumped by Griffin’s soul-consuming anger, sadness, grief, that he’d seen Damien again, but didn’t get to speak with him, and now he was gone, and Griffin had no way back. He fell to his knees, letting the same word rise to a scream of anguish, of defeat, as he looked up at the colorful, happy windows of the closed museum. 

Damien had called out, and he’d reached Griffin. And he hadn’t even known it. 

Griffin’s resolve hardened, his heart hardened. Any fondness that he may have still been grasping on to for his old friend Mark was gone, and he vowed that he’d destroy Mark. 

For what he’d done, for using Griffin to lure in Damien, for everything. 

He was going to destroy Mark. 

-🦌 Roe

thank u, @iiipeashy , for singlehandedly restoring my motivation to write, if only for an afternoon

[lnarizakis]

hi, first time asking (i hate being shy) but fluff 18 with osamu (or anyone else really, i just saw it and thought it was kinda made for osamu) please 👉👈🥺

pairing: miya osamu x fem!reader

foreword: ofc ofc!!!!!! is okay being shy, theres always a first time for everything hehe. thank u for requesting! (&thank u for requesting osamu i love him sm; sorrie this took such a long time to post, school rlly sux and im constantly tired bc of school😓but thank u for being patient!

look out for: slight manga spoilers, aged up! characters, slight drinking, fluff

—

Today was, for lack of a better word, a crappy day. You woke up on the wrong side of bed, were so late to your job that you were reprimanded by your boss, and, to make matters worse, left your umbrella at home when you knew it was going to rain later today. Onigiri sounded really good for you right now, but stopping by your favorite Onigiri Miya’s tiny shop sounded impossible for someone without a car, as it was several miles from where you resided.

And so now you were stuck at home, sitting on the floor of the kitchen in your apartment, still not completely dried off from the heavy rain pouring outside. It also probably didn’t help that the sound of your stomach grumbling filled the empty silence every couple of minutes, along with the mindless noise that came from whatever you were doing on your phone. Some fifteen minutes ago you had texted the better twin Osamu Miya (you’d call him your boyfriend, but that’d be pushing it a little much; he and you were sort of teetering between the “talking phase” and the “dating phase”) about your troubles, but didn’t press the topic. At the time you had texted him, Osamu was responding back during his work hours, as he’d probably slipped out the door at the back of the kitchen despite it being the slow hour of the day.

Having nothing else to stare at the dim screen of your phone, you reviewed your conversation with him again:

y/n

>> :(((

>> i’m in the mood for onigiri!!!

>> but i only want ur onigiri

>> & ur v far from where i am

osamu miya

>> do u want me to do anything about it?

y/n

>> yes duh,

>> steal sum onigiri from yo kitchen!

osamu miya

>> no????

>> theyre for my customers???

y/n

>> am i not a customer??gimme

osamu miya

>> cant i just getchu sum pizza

>> Attachment: 1 Image

You opened up the image Osamu sent you and it was an extremely distorted image of his brother Atsumu holding a box of pizza. You stifled a laugh, then let it all out. You laughed, despite several tears escaping your eyes. Sure, you’ve had your share of bad days in the past, and this one could definitely compare to many, but the build-up of stress that led up to this day can really bring you down sometimes. You groaned, bringing your knees to your chest. There was no doubt that stress was one day going to be the end of you.

You stayed in that position for what felt like an hour, and it seemed to you that you had fallen asleep around twenty minutes into that hour, for you had woken up due to a startling knock that came from the door of your apartment. You paid some attention to it at first, thinking that it was most likely due to post-nap hallucination; however, a second knock, then a third knock came in. Getting up in fear, you speed-walked your way towards the door and looked through the peephole that would provide the fish-eye image of the figure who interrupted your nap. It was a sopping-wet Osamu, still clad in his attire from work, looking down at the puddle he was creating at the doorstep. You opened the door, and he looked into your eyes with a smirk that rested lazily on his face, holding up a plastic bag with his left hand. There was another in his right hand.

“Pizza?”

Selfishly, you whined out loud, “I wanted onigiri.”

“I didn’t get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in,” Osamu explained.

As you began to raise a hand to protest his explanation, Osamu held up the other bag, saying, “I also have onigiri. So now ya gotta let me in.”

Flustered from defeat, you stepped out of the way and opened the door wider for Osamu to walk in. He took off his soaked shoes, so he was standing in uncomfortably wet socks. You allowed him to take off his socks as well if it made him slightly more comfortable. You took the two plastic bags from him, and set them and yourself on the kitchen floor, where you previously were. Beckoning the man to come sit with you on the floor, the two of you sat in silence as you began eating.

“You know,” with food stuffed in his mouth, Osamu began, “they say that silence while eating means that the food’s really good.”

Finishing your first onigiri, you scoffed. “Nah, that’s probably wrong. That jus’ means everyone’s eating and they’re bein’ polite. Who ever said that?”

“I did,” Osamu stated. You smacked him on the arm as you rolled your eyes, and he chuckled at your aggression. “Anyways,” he continued, “tell me how your day went. I can tell you were pretty sad.”

You hummed, before taking a sip of your beer. Setting the can down, you explained how for the past several days you had been building up a lot of stress and that this day was your “breaking point.” Osamu listened on without interruption, though he nodded occasionally to show he’s listening. Once you’ve finished explaining, or, at this point, ranting, Osamu placed a hand over yours that’s resting on your thigh. You glanced at him, and he’s got his usual blank expression on his face.

“At least I got you your onigiri.”

Maybe it was the beer, or the fact that you’ve come to terms with the feelings you’ve begun to harbor for him, but the warmth in your cheeks started to show itself. Lacing your fingers between his, your other hand found its way to your can of beer, which you raised. Osamu raised his own, and the two of you clinked your cans together. Laughter rang in the air, as it would for several hours more that evening.

[sooave]

The Problem With Wanting: 2

It’s 2026, and an old celebrity crush comes to haunt your old and cynical heart. You’re doing great at pretending you were never obsessed with him, and finding things about him that you don’t like. Until you’re repeatedly forced to work with him. Until he decides that he’s in love with you.

Genre: I really don’t know what to call this, but it’s not an AU, Kyungsoo’s older and still a celebrity, and it’s friends-to-lovers.

Characters: Kyungsoo x Reader

Length: 1,484 words

Tags: Angst, Slow Burn

Part 1 | Part 2

The instant you got home, the first thing you did (after putting away your supplies and changing) was to sit down at your computer and do a quick Google search on Do Kyungsoo. It had been quite some time since you were actively following him (you could try to dig up your Twitter accounts but that wasn’t worth the time).

EXO as a band had not formally retired, and from time to time would release a song or two. And like their hyungs from Super Junior and SHINee, most of them remained relatively successful in the showbiz. This, you knew. But you had no idea what Kyungsoo specifically was doing.

You almost didn’t want to look. As if becoming informed would bring you one step closer to being obsessed. Guilt coursed through you when you saw the paparazzi shots that popped up from your search. It felt somehow… disrespectful, now that you’d actually “met” him.

A quick scan through the Career section on his Wikipedia page told you that he continued to act in various movies and dramas, but had also released a few solo albums. You raise your eyebrows when you see a few titles that you actually recognize as being critically-acclaimed, but you have never watched them yourself.

He was doing well for himself career-wise; that much was to be expected. Personally, the fangirl inside of you was happy that they all seemed to be doing well.

The Personal Life section remained minimized, and you stared at words on your monitor, debating whether or not to open that Pandora’s Box.

Your cursor hovered over it, and just as you were about to open it and take what you promised yourself to be a brief look, your phone on the table began to flash with an incoming call. A breath quickly escaped you and you immediately hit the shortcut to close the window.

Thanking the gods for the intervention, you snatch the phone up to pick up the call from one of your old-time clients. He was an owner of a Michelin Bib Gourmand traditional Korean restaurant, looking to open up a new location. Your gratefulness to him extended beyond the fact that he interrupted your unhealthy behaviour; he gave a chance on you when you first started looking for contract work in Korea, and it has opened up a lot of doors for you since.

“Hello?” You greeted automatically, even though you already know who called you.

“Ah! It’s me, Kim Yongsun.”

“Yongsun-ssi, how can I help you? It’s been a while.” The computer desk proves to be a dangerous place to be, so you quickly moved to the sofa and laid down, balancing the phone between your shoulder and head.

“Yes… thank’s for being patient, it’s been a little crazy here.” There were rambunctious shouts in the background and you heard Yongsun cover his mic to loudly scold them.

“Ya! Keep it down, I’m getting work done in here!” He hollers. The mic crackles as he returns.

“Sorry, new hires getting excited and all. Anyways… I’m ready to start talking about what you can do for the new location. What time are you free?”

This is one of your favourite parts of what you do. Sitting down with a client and getting to know their dream and understanding how you can help them achieve it.

“I have time tomorrow actually. I’m free anytime.”

“Okay…Hmm.” He seemed to contemplate something before continuing. “Come over to the restaurant at 3:30. I’ll have some food prepared for you,” Yongsun says proudly, as if he doesn’t always provide free lunch for you.

“Wow… you’re so generous,” you thanked sarcastically but couldn’t help but smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You both said your goodbyes and hang up.

Riding on the high that was imagining the success of a client consultation, you scrolled through your phone and reopened the dating app that you haven’t touched in almost a year. It was a little tough to date in Korea, your age aside.

Relationships were successful if the two persons involved had mostly similar values. It was also a well-documented phenomenon that young adults in Korea are staying single longer, and weren’t prioritizing marriage. You certainly weren’t alone in that you were in your 30s and unmarried, but elders still held a strong bias against it.

Back to values. You were absolutely not interested in being a housewife, despite the fact that you keep an impeccably tidy house and enjoying doing so. Your art and career are important to you.

But whenever you happen to mention that you’re an artist and do most of your work from home, men seem to assume that you’d be a perfect for the role of a housewife. The men who were actually on these dating apps were usually looking for a woman willing sacrifice their career for the “home”.

In short, Korean men who grew up in Korea usually did not hold the same values as you.

Nevertheless, you swiped through a good number of men, excited by none of the prospects. And it ended the same, with you throwing your phone across the sofa and closing the app. But this time you didn’t delete the app, because you promised yourself you’d try.

—

“Hello?” You poked your head through the door of Youngsun’s restaurant and called out cautiously. It was 3:20, and the restaurant was eerily dark and empty. Usually, the lights would be on and there would be a couple of chefs mulling about during the service break. You pulled yourself out of the door and checked your phone for the third time, double checking that you’d gotten the date and time right. You had said tomorrow right? Maybe he forgot.

A minute or two, no one had responded, so you reluctantly slipped into the establishment, tiptoeing your way to the back. The kitchen had it’s lights on, to your relief. Humming of the industrial hood fans and the noises of a knife on a chopping board comforted you.

Still paranoid that you had gotten yourself into a mix-up with Yongsun, you silently slunk your way towards the kitchen. There was a large pass-through window but there was no one visible through it, and you guessed that whoever was in there was towards the back of the kitchen. You poked your head around the corner and quickly shrank back in shock.

The heart in your chest was threatening to jump out of your throat at the sight of what looked to be Do Kyungsoo in his standard baseball cap, thick rimmed glasses, and plain t-shirt, cooking in Yongsun’s kitchen.

You weren’t even 100% sure it was him. But you knew you weren’t hallucinating.

With a growing horror in your chest, you pressed your back against the wall, contemplating your next move. Your two options were to run out of the restaurant and never contact Yongsun again, or to text him and figure out what was going on.

With slightly shaking hands, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and frantically dialled Yongsun’s phone through FaceTime Audio.

His phone began to ring in the distance, and you squeezed your eyes shut. The fear churning in your stomach was telling you that you had completely gotten the time or date wrong. What were the odds that you’d run into your old celebrity crush? Zero. So maybe that wasn’t him in there, but you could recognize Kyungsoo anywhere.

“Ah, hold on, let me get this,” You hear Yongsun say.

The realization that Yongsun or Kyungsoo might be able to hear you speak from outside the kitchen dawned on you, and you practically dove around another corner to get as far as way as possible before he picked up.

Why did I not just text him??? You groaned internally.

“Hey, where are you?” Yongsun skipped the pleasantries, not bothering to say hello.

You cleared your throat and spoke as quietly as possible, heart thundering in your chest and ears.

“Oh… sorry… I just came to the restaurant and no one was there. So I assumed I might have gotten the time wrong.”

“Ahhh,” he let out a bark of laughter, “I forgot to tell you that we were closing early today. Going to have the night off. It’s my wedding anniversary tonight.”

“Wow, congratulations!” You chirped, and immediately slap your hand over your mouth. That was dangerously loud.

“Thanks… but again, where are you? Did you leave?”

You looked around awkwardly. It was pretty much out of the question to tell Yongsun that you were behind his restaurant bar, splayed out on the floor from tripping on your feet.

“Just waiting outside,” you said nonchalantly as you stared at a dustball on the floor.

“Okay well come on in. I’m in the kitchen.” He hung up and you were left with nothing but dread and a dustball.

A/N: I finally finished Ch2, and ch3 coming soon!! I finally have it all planned out. Also, credits to my Apple Pencil breaking down so I couldn’t do any artwork. Who else is staying up right now to watch the musical xiusoo are in??? (hi, @lapetitefangirlperdue)

[xoruffitup]

Adam Driver on SNL: 1/25 Dress Rehearsal Recap

I’m having dejavu of the best kind. I’m sitting here on the bus on my way back from NYC in hungover euphoria and overjoyed disbelief at everything I just experienced, texting new friends and old, recounting everything in my head and smiling so hard. The September 2018 weekend of Adam’s last SNL show lives in my memory in unmatched infamy, so my excitement was off the charts to do it all again. And because this show was absolutely fucking INCREDIBLE, this weekend delivered in every way all over again!! Seriously, my face aches from how I can’t stop smiling aksnksj HELP :’)

My friends and I were in the Dress Rehearsal, so below the cut are retellings of ALLLL the skits including those cut from the Live show - and no small amount of helpless emotional flailing.

I had an idea of what to expect after attending Adam’s 2018 show, but I nevertheless felt sky-high levels of anxiety when Sarah and we arrived at the NBC shop at 6:30. I knew rationally that our chances of getting into Dress were good with numbers #12 - 14, but every now and then there’s the occasional oddity of only a handful of Standby people getting in. Though even without any uncertainty in the equation, my entire being goes on Hyped/Anxious Overdrive anyway whenever I’m about to be in the same space as Adam sO really there’s nothing for it. :’)

They lined us up by numbers, I did a lot of emotional wobbling like “I can’t believe we’re here again together guys waaaah” (have I mentioned I met these girls at Adam’s last show? Full circle moment of the highest and most beautiful caliber and it had me hella verklempt), and thennnn - drumroll and hushed silence please - the main security guy comes up to the giant line and asks the first 20 people to come with him.

As they constantly remind you throughout this thoroughly nerve-wracking process, there is no guarantee you’ll actually get into the show until you’re physically in the seat. It’s a long, harrowing trip from the NBC store where the line gathers, up stairs, elevators, and through hallways to reach the studio, and you can still be cut even as far as the very last checkpoint if all seats fill up with the people ahead of you. So as you get closer, the excitement spikes higher and higher but so does the worry! We went through security, and then I clung to our new Standby line friend Catherine’s arm as they lined us up two-by-two on the first staircase, with Sarah and @reylonly right behind. I was likely extremely annoying as I couldn’t help being rambly and weird in my nerves and compulsively hugging my girls’ arms. @reylonly did her very best to calm my hot mess down, bless her.

About 45 minutes later (Maybe? I had no idea what time was, lbr) we reached the final point of the elevator and last hallway, and were held just outside the studio. THEN - the woman there instructed the next 4 to follow her in (thank GOD because we were terrified of being split up), WE WENT INTO THE STUDIO WHEW YAYAY OMFG WE WERE THERE!!! - but then oh no it happened so fast that she pointed @reylonly down to a single seat in the center and then the other 3 of us to seats towards the left side of the stage. They were all single seats, but thank GOSH they were all end seats of rows right next to each other. So Sarah was right in front of me and I could grab her shoulder (which I would do a lot in increasingly desperate excitement over the next 2 hours), and Catherine and I could reach across the aisle to cling to each other’s hands! @reylonly was on her own but in an incredible seat, and during commercial breaks we would lean forward to wave and blow kisses to each other and mime flailing or crying as one incredible sketch after another played out in front of us. I made sure to be friendly and talk to the people sitting next to me so they wouldn’t be too annoyed with me and Sarah always grabbing at each other, but LOL they probably thought I was at least a little insane. I mean, maybe for the moment alone when I saw a girl I’d made friends with in line but then lost track of in a seat not too far from me, and we started waving and dabbing at each other. Once we were seated there in the studio, all the anxiety gave way to surging excitement and I was practically bouncing in my seat, so overjoyed to be there and see my dear fandom friends there with me!

Michael Che warmed up the audience with some standup, the House band jammed, and Sarah and I momentarily got Extremely Excited when we saw them setting up the hell backdrop set for the cold open and thought at the time it was supposed to be Tattooine for a Star Wars skit, lolol. But then the actual show started, and with our Adam-eagle eyes Catherine reached out to whisper “there he is! In the blonde wig!” And, heart in my throat no matter how many times I see this man in person, I frantically squinted at all the people waiting just off to the side of the set until I saw that unmistakably Tol Broad back, and then he stepped onto the set and into the lighted camera’s view and I was cheering and clapping so hard for his first appearance that I couldn’t hear who he was supposed to be playing. xD I was just tapping Sarah’s shoulder in front of me, bouncing in my seat a little, and trying not to start levitating with the sheer force of my excitement and joy to be there.

OKAY from here I’ll break this up by skit! Anything that was different or missing from the Live show I put in bold font if you want to skip to that! Starting with...

Intro Monologue

WHAT A GOOD MONOLOGUE, ITS LIKE THEY JUST LET ADAM RUN WITH IT AND WRITE IT HIMSELF IT WAS SO HIM AND HILARIOUS AND WEIRD AND YET CHARMING IDEK I WILL NEVER COMPREHEND THE WONDER OF THIS MAN??

So when he dropped the bomb of “I’m a husband and a FATHER” I clapped Sarah’s shoulder SO HARD, then he made he joke “I’ve made it very clear to my son that he’s second in everything” and I could not bELIEVE the wonder of what I was hearing omfg. I heard the words “my son” come out of his mouth with my own ears WHO COULD HAVE PREDICTED, SURE AS HELL NOT ME????

Then he went into the audience to demonstrate how “approachable” he is and was so awk/weird/hilarious I was just losing it, then took his time meandering around the stage and making weird faces into the camera and I was just LOSING IT. And AKSKSJA after that he wandered over to another camera that was lower and kind of hummed as he lifted his shirt and put it over the camera so we got a full on belly button view for 2 unbelievable glorious seconds!! He looked up at the monitors as he was doing it and went “oh you can’t see anything” so that’s probably why he sadly didn’t flash his belly in the Live show.

“Cheer” with Adam as one of the team coaches

I’m going by the skit order in Dress, and this one was first after the monologue. Best part for me was the accent reminiscent of Clyde Logan. :3 But tbh, of the 6 skits they did for the Live show, I kind of wish this one had been swapped for the one performed last in Dress that was sO Wild and would have made fandom absolutely lose its shit aksnksal more to come on that.

UNDERCOVER BOSS AKA RANDY THE INTERN

THE BEST GIFT WE COULD HAVE RECEIVED!! BLESS YOU SNL AND ADAM FOR GIVING US KYLO CONTENT TO BE HAPPY OVER AND LOVE WHOLE HEARTEDLY. T___T

Honestly, I cannot even properly describe my reaction when the Undercover Boss intro logo appeared on all the monitors oHMYLoRDDD. I nearly leapt out of my seat, like my heart nearly jumped clear out of my chest oh my fuck and I was legit holding onto Sarah so much I almost slid out of my seat - I just couldn’t believe it and I cheered SO LOUD. The entire audience erupted with this “HOLY SHIT” vibe outburst and I was SO happy to be there in that moment - knowing that our entire fandom was only hours away from this!! I honestly didn’t expect it at all - after they didn’t do one of these the second time Adam was on, I thought there was no chance. But IT HAPPENED AND IT WAS SO QUALITY HILARIOUS WE ARE SO BLESSED - THANK YOU TO RANDY’S LIL BEANIE AND VEST AND HIPSTER PANTS.

Pretty sure I like half curled up on myself laughing so hard my feet left the floor at OK BOOMER. And at the part with “will Rey take his hand?” I swear MY SOUL NEAR LEFT MY BODY I MEAN IS THIS THE REAL LIFE IS THIS JUST FANTASYYYY

..... Can someone come promise me we really didn’t just collectively hallucinate that??

SAG Awards Fashion Red Carpet

I’m not too disappointed this one was cut. Of all the amazing skits performed, I would have ranked this one lower. Adam and Kenan Thompson were fashion critics talking about celebs’ looks on the SAG red carpet. A minute in Adam says, “We should be paying more attention to the kids!” Kenan: *nervous laugh* “uh, should we??” Adam starts talking about/admiring the outfits for like Finn Wolfhard etc, with hilarious but bordering creepy descriptions like “masculine but not quite fully grown,” until Kenan is like “umm maybe we shouldn’t be talking about kids this much?”

They interview a girl who’s supposed to be Jojo Siwa and Adam’s like “you should know I think you’re beautiful. Kids need to hear more often that they’re beautiful.” Kenan panics, going “alRIGHT we’re gonna cut back to the studio now!” The skit ended with Adam: “I got a ticket to the Nickelodeon afterparty and I’m gonna swipe one of those kids in my pocket!”

“Slow” Digital Short

HONESTLY, this competes with Undercover Boss for my favorite skit of the night. I can’t even tell you - I had literal tears running down my face I was laughing SO fucking hard during this entire thing. From the first moment we heard Adam’s deep-ass voice I absolutely and entirely lost my shit oh my GOD. We’d been so pumped for Adam in some kind of rap sketch when we saw the photos of him and Kenan filming the day before, but it was SO FUCKING GOOD. I will never ever in all my days not bust out laughing at “Bring that ass here” and “In a 65 hour lane going 2” aksnskns I’m on the bus struggling to fight back laughter just thinking about it SEND HELP!!!

It’s just brilliant. The turtle next to his expensive loafers. His cheesy sunglasses. That shot of his glorious bare arms. His deep voice “Baby” when they’re at the door and “But I brought ice cream” oh my god I love it so much BLESS YOU SNL BLESS YOU. I never in all my days thought I’d get Adam rapping but it’s every single thing I never knew I needed.

Del Taco Commercial / “Aw Man I’m All Outta Cash!”

ADAM’S SLEAZY LOOKING LONG WIG LMAO. This one was a wild and funny time once you got into it and just let it go. Once Kyle, Beck, and Adam were all yelling the line and Adam went “You don’t want to kill yourself, you just want a taco, Jesus” everyone was ROLLING. I think the only difference (is this even worth color coding lol) was that after Kyle took his pants off Adam kept slapping his thigh during Dress bahaha.

“Hot Dad” Adam dealing with a clogged toilet at a teenaged girls’ sleepover

Adam and Kate McKinnon comedy together YES PLEASE. This one was all the same as far as I can remember, but I will say that a woop/cheer rose from the people sitting near the set for this one at the line about Adam being a “hot Dad.” Yep sounds about right.

(Halsey’s first song, Weekend Update)

Medieval Renaissance Fair

You can’t have Adam host SNL without giving him some ridiculous character skit ala Oil Baron Parnassus. I absolutely loved how intense and deep he was for this kind of nonsense xD We can thank this skit for giving us footage of Adam yelling “Whore!” and spitting, lmao. Also.... I’ll just say in that outfit and wig he looked even Extra Big in comparison to everyone around him.

Courtroom Trial / Sinbad on Cameo

I’m also okay with this one being cut, but I was biased to enjoy the hell out of it live because the set was right in front of where I was sitting and I had such a perfect view of him. <3

Adam was supposed to be the defendant in a case where a female coworker claims he harassed her by sending “threatening” videos. Adam goes up on the stand and the prosecutor asks “are you familiar with these videos?” Cut over to Kenan Thompson, who’s pretending to be Sinbad on the app Cameo, making videos for the woman that are like “Hey you better give Mark a chance! Otherwise he might come after you!” Adam responds with disbelief: “I have no idea who this Sinbad person is and frankly, your honor, this is pissing me off.” Kenan acts a few more videos which keep getting funnier because he keeps eating things or being in crowded public places while filming them. But in the final video he references Adam’s character’s name so it’s clear he was the one requesting the videos. Adam gets all sad on the stand: “It doesn’t matter. No one likes me anyway!” It ends with Kenan as Sinbad crashing into the courtroom in person.

This was more Kenan’s skit as he really was hilarious, but someone had to explain to me afterwards who Sinbad is and how the Cameo app works so I didn’t quite ~get it while watching. BUT more importantly - Adam looked great despite the weird brown wig he had on. During the second of Kenan’s videos when the cameras were on Kenan instead, Adam’s face definitely started quivering with suppressed laughter until he visibly locked it down like NO FOCUS ADAM. Most of my attention stayed fixed on the buttons of his shirt because hOOo boy were they straining! Without me even saying anything, Catherine reached across the aisle for me immediately afterwards and whispered, “That shirt did /not/ fit well.” OH YES I NOTICED >:33

PBS Science Show

Another one which was performed right directly in front of us!! I already knew this was going to be a good one because Adam went right over to the skeleton mannequin when he came on set and started playing with it, like making the arm and wrist wiggle around. The biggest dork cutie you’ll ever see.

He was standing right under me, which meant once he started handling the balloon I got mighty distracted watching his MASSIVE hands around that tiny-looking balloon. >:)) Then I cracked up so hard when he got exasperated and threw something back against the window. WE GOT TO SEE HIM SMASH SOMETHING IN PERSON YESSSS

Ketchup bottles

Oh my GOD EVERYTHING WAS AMAZING ABOUT THIS ONE FROM START TO FINISH. The best part though might have been the prep beforehand. Someone carried the giant Ketchup and hot sauce bottles onto the set before the actors came on and we were like wtf? (For a minute I was triggered remembering Kanye coming on in his Perrier bottle during the 2018 show) But THEN Adam and Cecily Strong came on in big red shirts and people started lifting the giant plastic bottles over them and LOL we realized where this was going. They definitely struggled for a minute getting Adam’s bottle up over his head because of his height xD People in the audience were already laughing just watching this costume set up, and once Adam got the bottle on a WOOT cheer rose which I later learned was none other than @reylonly aka my hero. It was followed by someone yelling “THATS HOT”, which akndosjan made Adam laugh and raise his arms with a hilarious little shimmy in the bottle. He really seemed to be enjoying himself during the whole show, but during this ridiculous and incredibly hilarious skit especially so.

Game Night / Movie Quote Competition

OKAY this is the skit it’s a real tragedy didn’t make it on air! There were lines in this I couldn’t beLiEvE my ears were hearing, and if we ever get a recording I’m pretty sure the fandom would basically implode. 

Three couples are sitting around a living room having a game night. Adam is sitting with Kate McKinnon with his arm around her. After they finish playing Settlers of Catan, Heidi Gardner suggests they play a movie quote game where one of them says a line from a movie and the rest have to guess the movie. She is clearly very into it, and the others reluctantly agree. It quickly becomes clear that Adam is just as good at the game as she is, and they immediately start becoming competitive. They reach the point where they quote three lines from Captain Phillips in a row, trying to trick each other. As the game gets more heated, they exchange aggressive flirty banter such as:

Heidi: You really know your movie quotes, huh? Adam: Yeah I do. Heidi: And with some BDE over there. Adam: Yeah, I got that too.

AND !!!!!!!!!!

Heidi: You’re quite the movie flick daddy. Adam: I’m the world’s biggest flick daddy.

!!!!!!!!! HE CALLED HIMSELF A DADDY HELP CALL 911 EMERGENCY !!!!!!!!!!

The game keeps escalating until Kate tries to calm Adam down and he brushes her off. Everyone else tries to tell Heidi to relax, and she responds “What?! I’m supposed to lie back and let (Kate’s character’s name)’s hot husband rail me??”

I WAS FLOATING ON THE CEILING BY THIS POINT, I literally couldn’t believe what my ears were hearing alsdfjsldafjlsdkfj!

It gets to the point where they’re both standing, shouting completely vague snippets of lines at each other while the other continues to guess correctly. Until finally Adam exclaims, “I got a good one!” He grabs her and fULL ON kisses her. 

(Pictures from The Adam Driver Files twitter.)

Immediately afterwards she goes, “I know! That was the kiss from (Movie X - I can’t remember the exact title).” Adam: “HOW DID YOU KNOW?!” Heidi: “From how you moved your tongue!”

I’m still reeling from this one. Adam calling himself a daddy, talk of “getting railed” by him, and intense kissing?! Oh my lORDDDD. I’m still trying to keep it playing on a loop in my ears. I’m not sure if we as a fandom could collectively survive a full video of this, but GOD I hope we get the chance to test ourselves. RELEASE THE UNAIRED VIDEO, YOU NBC COWARDS!!!

FLICK DADDY INDEED

...Aaaaaaand that was a wrap! After 10 skits and nearly 2.5 hours, it literally felt like I had run a marathon at a full sprint. I was just trying to process everything I’d just witnessed, while trying to focus on committing every single thing to memory. I just couldn’t believe the range of amazing and hilarious things I’d just seen Adam doing: Play a talking ketchup bottle, call himself a daddy, awkwardly talk about feminine products clogging his toilet, yell “WHORE” then spit and swing a medieval mace around, rap hilariously, and yell about umami?? It was all almost TOO MUCH. 

For full-circle and emotional fulfillment reasons, I wore my Save Ben Solo shirt to the show just like I did at the 2018 show. I had debated beforehand whether it would be too bittersweet to wear it after TROS, but now I’m so glad I did. All these hilarious and zany skits were just what we all needed to continue the cycle of fandom excitement and positivity despite the last month. I’m so incredibly grateful to SNL for such great material for Adam to work with and us to laugh at, and for giving us the perfect reminder that there’s still so much to whole-heartedly appreciate and love. Most of all, Adam himself. <3

THANK YOU SNL AND ADAM FOR ANOTHER LIFE-HIGHLIGHT WEEKEND! <3

[slasherscream]

yo, imagine, billy and Stu serenading you with creep by Radiohead with the whole boom box at the edge of your window type shit

just a short blurb -

They did something wrong of course. They do not only go big when they’ve pissed you off, as that would be a terrible relationship precedent to set         but they do happen to do something big every time they piss you off. Which is often. Apologies are a rarer commodity than you’d like them to be. Instead there are soft touches and gentle kisses. Hands bumping against yours, begging to be held and then sighs of relief whenever you give in. 

Well not this time! 

This time Billy went too far with that sharp tongue of his. He never knew when to close his mouth during a fight. Always wanting to get the last word in even if he was wrong. He was usually wrong. This time he was especially wrong. So wrong that you’d opted to walk home from his place instead of being driven because you didn’t want to be around him for even one second longer. Stu had stayed wisely quiet through most of the argument. Though his attempts to diffuse the tension between you and Billy with humor had gone … poorly, to say the least. 

Now they were both on your shit list. You’d even turned off your phone once the calls and texts had started. Majority of them from Stu but a few of them from Billy. Stu is nowhere near as stubborn as his lesser half and had heaped apologies onto you immediately. You’d almost softened. Stu had a gift for being sweet at just the right times. Then you’d gotten a few choice texts from Billy that wiped away that goodwill instantaneously.

So your phone was off and your window was locked. Just in case one (or both) of them tried to pull an “old school romantic” on you. You weren’t in the mood to see Billy and you certainly weren’t in the mood to have Stu hounding you to forgive Billy just because it’d be easier that way. Also the move isn’t as charming as they think it is in the first place. 

You’re trying to do a bit of homework, determined to not waste your entire night with being pissed off when         

          ~ When you were here before                     Couldn’t look you in the eye ~

You go tense, ears straining to make sure you’re hearing what you think you’re hearing. Once you’re sure you are not hallucinating radiohead your eyes roll back into your head. God forbid they let you be mad at them for one whole night. You let the first verse and chorus fade out before you stomp over to your window and take in the scene. 

To be fair they’re setting it very nicely. Stu holding the boombox over his head with a shit eating grin and Billy holding what looks like a bag or two. Probably full of your favorite snacks. He’s trying to look cool and aloof but mostly he looks guilty and nervous, one hand shoved into his pockets. 

“You’re right! You are total creeps.” You throw open the window and call down to them. You meant for the words to come out more angrily than they had but your mood had already settled into little more than exasperation. 

That was one of the good things about your fights. They might come on quickly and get nasty even quicker, but they were over fast. Like a storm at sea, fierce and then gone. You were ready to get to the gone part. Being mad at them isn’t fun for any of you. 

“Hey baby!” Stu calls back, unbothered by your snark. “We’re sorry.”

“I don’t need to hear it from you, babe. You weren’t the one being a jerk-“ 

“I wasn’t-” Billy opens his mouth and even from the distance of the second story window he can see the sharpness that overtakes your face as you go to slam it shut again, “I’m sorry! Fuck - ! Are you happy?" 

"Not really. I don’t actually like fighting with you, you know.” You lean against the windowsill and can see him deflate a little at the comment. You focus back on your other boyfriend. “This is awfully teen movie picturesque, Stu. Super corny. I love it.”

“Why do you think it was Stu’s idea?” At this both you and Stu burst into laughter. The “oh my stomach is going to hurt after this” kind and you’re faintly worried Stu will drop the boombox on his own head since he’s shaking so hard. Also - Billy looks like he’s going to hit him- which will definitely make him drop the boombox if the laughing doesn’t do the job. 

“You haven’t watched a movie outside the horror genre since you came out the womb.” you say, aware that you’re toeing the line of a Billy blow up. Which is why you hang out the window just a bit further so he can see your smile. Bright and happy, and usually enough to calm him down a little. It works. “Why don’t you guys come up already. You know - before my neighbors make another noise complaint?" 

”Awww but we made a whole playlist?” You hear Stu’s exaggerated pout more than you can see it. 

“Come play it inside my house you big baby.“ 

"Love you too-”

“Stu we can flirt inside. It’s cold as shit out here.” If he hurries them both inside a little quickly it is because he is feeling testy and cold. Not because he wants to hold you and Stu close and forget about the shitty day you all had. That’d be ridiculous of course.

[rosesanthology]

bb it's fine rlly! Then do you mind if I request no. 24 {the protection of laughter} with nishinoya..? angst w happy ending pls tysm! 💕

I-i dont think requests are for me with the way my anxiety and hyperfocus made me write this right away🤡 HOWEVER i present to you this text, hoping that you like it nevertheless even tho i can barely do angst (my heart is weak okay) (◡‿◡✿)

- Warning : not proofread sry

- Prompt : the protection of laughter

- Character : Nishinoya

- Songs : • Smile by Nat King Cole

                • Baby Hotline by Jack Stauber

- the sound of wind chimes always reminded you of your boyfriend

- carefree and somehow relaxing, his very being always synonymous with good windy days

- you had been in a relationship with Nishinoya for a few months now

- he was really sweet and he never failed to have you smiling on the gloomiest days

- though you'd want to be able to hug him more often

- the last time you did was 5 months ago before you had to go back to your city for school

- long distance relationships weren't easy but with Noya, you both were sure that you could make it work

- "i ASSURE YOU that i cannot smell your new cologne thru the screen Yuu" you said, trying your best not to choke from laughter at your boyfriend's antics while on the facetime call

- "but what if i....tried ? (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧"

- you : *SNORTS*

- he really loved to make you laugh, it made his heart warm in way that almost made it feel like you were with him in that moment

- almost

- he knew that you two were busy with school but that knowledge didnt make the sadness in his eyes disappear whenever he had to end the call to go to practice

- Nishinoya wanted you to be with him physically too

- one time you spent a good 3 hours convincing him not to drop out from Karasuno and apply to your school on an impulse

- he always looked forward to your texts and video calls, dropping everything for you (figuratively AND literally)

- his favorite thing to do was staying up late at night with you on the phone, muffled giggles and low voices, while you talked about the future together

- so why ?

- "Yuu....let's break up" you had just told him that one day over the phone

- he was so excited to tell you about how volleyball practice went in preparation for the big match he had in two weeks and yet you hit him with that

- "you're joking right ?"

- he was hoping you'd start laughing and wash away his anxiety but his blood ran cold the second he heard you trying to contain your sobs thru the phone

- "i think it's for the best"

- was every promise you made all for nothing ?

- all this time was he the only one who fell in love ? Yes he had heard about how there always was one clown in a relationship but he thought that maybe....

- he thought that with you it was different

- "i need some time sorry" he said, sounding more harsh than usual, almost regretting hanging up when he heard you jump at the sound of his tone

- it was the first time in months that he had fallen asleep feeling so let down

- you on the other hand were not doing so well either

- you had been going thru a hard period with school grades, your friends, your club and family

- you always made time for him but you didn't feel like being a burden to him by talking about this kind of things

- you didn't want  your wind chimes to somehow sound sad, and especially over you

- so you chose to make it quick

- breaking off what you had felt like the only way to keep him from dropping his whole life for you

- after all he had a bright future, even without you in it, he's find a way to shine as he always did

- a week passed by, and then another,

- Noya had been skipping class and picking fights again, snapping more often at his teammates even though he never really meant it

- he just felt frustrated that now he had to go on without your goodmorning texts or memes

- he couldn't get used to it

- it was so sudden

- as sudden as the date of the match

- it all came really fast and in no time, he was standing at the doors of the gymnasium, with the rest of the team, the noises of the crowd not even hyping him as they did

- "hey man are you alright ?" Tanaka asked, sensing that his best friend was out of it, as they made their way onto the big court

- sure he felt sad but he wasn't going to lose either, no way

- "Yeah !" He shot his taller friend a smile and with that they started warming up, hearing the cheers as the opposite team entered as well

- he couldn't help but look up into the crowd

- he wasn't really sure of what he expected

- but he almost threw up from shock at what he saw

- there you were, in the crowd, looking a little distressed but still as beautiful as you were typing away at your phone

- he couldn't believe it

- why were you there ? Didnt you not like him anymore ? Was he just hallucinating ?

- his heart almost jumped right out of his chest when you looked up and locked eyes with him

- and even with a hesitant smile and wave his rage to win came flooding thru his body, ready as ever

- the match went amazingly well

- Karasuno won and Nishinoya was pretty sure that he hadn't let any ball touch the floor during  the last set

- everytime they'd win a point he'd look up at your expression of admiration and all exhaustion left his body

- in the end he was still extasic to see you even after you technically broke up with him

- it was just 2 weeks he never stopped loving you

- and he was sure that he'd never do

- so he ran outside expecting to meet you somewhere on the stairs and as he predicted, there you were

- it was a mistery how you didn't hear him but he took it as his chance to tackle you into a hug

- you pulled away and looked at his smile, as radiant as ever, it made your heart hurt to see him like this after your attempt at cutting him off

- "Yuu i-"

- "before you say anything...how did i look on the court huh ? Better than the other team's setter right ? (◡‿◡✿)"

- and you laughed

- and once again his heart melted

- it was like he fell in love all over again

- you would talk about what was the reason for you wanting to break up with him and get thru whatever it was together

- he'd do anything to protect what you had and he was going to make sure of it

[ikesenlemonadestandstories]

Level 7

Is anyone still on winter break? Everyone I know that’s in school starts next week. I don’t miss those days. 

Tagging: @loudartanimeeclipse​

Master List here or search the tag Ikesen AFK

Warnings: None

Happy Reading, T~

Level 7

“Oh my gods, really?!?” You shrieked into your microphone. “How did none of you see the ad?”

“Are you sure you weren’t hallucinating or something after work?” Yukimura responded. 

“I’m more worried (YN) may have been hacked.” Sasuke replied over Yuki’s howling. “Did you give them any personal information.”

“No!” You yelled with a little more defiance. “I’m one hundred percent certain that the banner was legit. I’ll prove you both wrong when I win some money.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.” Yukimura’s voice shook with laughter as the three of you kept working through the hidden bounty map you were on. 

You had been honing your skills with the help of Yoshimoto, steadily working your way towards that coveted Pegasus Knight class. Your lance skill was high enough now that the potential to pass the upgrade was over sixty percent, and your speed stat was something to be feared, but your flying ability was lacking. Seeing as you couldn’t get the pegasus without at least a “C” rank in the skill, it was hard to build. Fortunately, a few of the items you had been awarded in battles, on top of picking flying for your targeted growth skill in the story mode seemed to help you towards your goal. 

“I still don’t understand how nothing seems to hit you.” Yukimura griped as he took another blow from one of the monster’s on the field.

“Speed stat.” Was all you responded with as you advanced forward out of the cover of trees. 

“Are you sure it’s not some crazy high luck stat?” Yuki asked.

“Very sure. You ever noticed that even if I’m the one being attacked, I still get the first blow.” You tried not to sound irritated as you were quickly surrounded. 

“Huh, I’d never realized that before.” he sounded impressed as he healed his unit and moved it in your direction. 

“Really?” Sasuke asked, a little bewilderment evident in his voice. “Have you not been paying attention during our training sessions?” 

“I thought I was. I’ve just never noticed that before.” Yukimura groaned as half the enemies originally surrounding you, made their way towards him. 

“Hey Sasuke, how’s that loot coming?” You asked, trying to fend off as many baddies as you could. “At this rate, we’re gonna lose Yukimura.”

“You are not!” He yelled into the mic, startling you as he quickly drew his character away from the front line.

“All the chest have been successfully raided. Please feel free to dismantle the remaining enemies.”

“You got it!” The two of you said in unison, placing both of your characters well within enemy range. 

You laughed. This should be quick, and it was. With only a single remaining monster after the enemy attack window, it was rapidly brought down with a swing of your lance. There was a jingle followed quickly by a buzz as a new text window popped up congratulating you on your stat growth, awarding Sasuke the title of MVP shortly after the growths disappeared. 

After rearranging your convoy and placing the Blessed Lance you had been gifted from the map into your item list you bid Yukimura and Sasuke farewell, heading off towards the town center where you were supposed to meet for the single-player tournament. 

“Hope you don’t get hacked!” Yukimura called to you through the mic before logging off his system.

“Seconded. Do have fun, though, if it’s legit.” Sasuke spoke up, giving you a moment to thank him before logging of himself. 

*ATTENTION: Tournament start, please head to the standby portal to be ranked and matched.*

Following the instructions provided to you by the game, you accepted the challenge again, holding your breath as your friends’ warnings ran through your brain. You really hoped this didn’t fry your system. Please don’t be a hack. The game went through a brief buffering period before the screen loaded, and a colossal bracket was presented, your own username and character highlighted on the screen. 

Whoa! There were so many people playing. Maybe that’s why Sasuke and Yukimura couldn’t find it? They hardly ever played single player, and this tournament was clearly at server capacity. From the looks of it, each region had two hundred and fifty entries, meaning one thousand total players were involved in this thing. It appeared to be tiered, which means you wouldn’t get creamed by a high-level player right off the bat. Though, it looked like the highest-ranked players got to sit out the first few rounds to give everyone else a fighting chance. 

You scanned the list of names as quickly as you could and realized that you didn’t recognize anyone, which could be a good or a bad thing, you really weren’t sure yet. The game prompted you to organize your item bag, turning it into a timed event. Which you assumed was to keep people from holding the system up. In a minute flat, you were closed out of your bag, items equipped, and dropped into a colosseum.  

You wondered if people were actually able to watch this or if the stands were filled with colorful NPCs. Vaguely aware of the countdown, you were pulled out of your idle thoughts when your controller buzzed, and you were given the first strike. After one and a half turns, the damage had been done. You were victorious. They had never seen it coming, what with your speed and dexterity so high. Not only did you get multiple blows in a single turn, they only had a thirty-five percent chance of landing their own hit. A combination you rather enjoyed. 

With a smile on your face, you hunkered down in the corner of your couch. This was going to be fun. 

[livingmybestfakelife]

Title: A Man of Constant Sorrow

summary: Chadwick has a public breakdown after seeing you, the doppelganger of his late wife

A/N: Chadwick isn't a celebrity in this one

The pain in his chest and the lump in his throat felt as though it would never go away, it's been three weeks since he's buried you so no one expected him to bounce back so soon, but that didn't mean that they liked seeing him like that. He barely returns calls or texts, when he does eat it's usually one small meal a day every two days, it was truly a sad sight to see, this was once a man who was so full of life, laughter and smiles, now just a shell of a man who lost all joy in life, he's even contemplated suicide just so he can reunite with you quicker, so many thoughts swam through his mind and it overwhelmed him into a breakdown, smashing almost everything in his house then picking up a picture frame with his wedding picture in it and holding it to his chest, he slid down the wall repeating "oh god oh god oh god" it was a nightmare that didn't end. It wasn't until his wife’s brother, his brother-in-law finally stepped in to help the broken down man, practically forcing him to pack some clothes and to come to his and wife’s house who was more than happy to welcome her home to him, their kids were usually excited to see their favorite uncle Chad, but when he came to the house it felt as though an invisible dark cloud was hovering over him, it was depressing and it rubbed off on the eight and eleven year old who stayed out of his way, he clearly wasn't in the mood to play with them.

It wasn't until another couple of weeks went by when Chadwick begin to feel a little bit like himself again, he was eating regularly and even chuckled at a joke one of his nephews told, the light inside of him was lit again, he had also took up his sister-in-laws suggestion of seeing a grief counselor for a little while and it had seemed to help him tremendously. Everything was slowly coming back in order, Chadwick wasn't completely back to his old self but at least there was hope, because he himself knew that his wife wouldn't want him to be this way forever, that she would want him to move on one day and find love again, but she was his happily ever after and finding someone else wasn't even on the bottom of his list let alone on it, he would forever want her, no one could compare.

During one shopping trip while on a family outing, Chadwick didn't know it yet but a woman who was just as beautiful, graceful and charming as his wife was had walked into the same store he was in, not only did this woman have just about all of the characteristics as his Damita, but she was damn near her clone, same hair length, height, eyes, everything, it was frighting. He wouldn't run into this beautiful young woman until fifteen minutes into shopping, when he rounded a corner he stopped in his tracks when he laid eyes on you, you were too busy looking at a silk designer scarf that you thought your fiance would like to notice the man staring at you like you were a ghost. He looked terrified at what he saw, here you were, the spitting image of his late wife looking like an angel on Earth just like she was. You finally notice that he was there when you heard a few footsteps of him walking slowly towards you, you look to your right slightly startled at seeing him, you certainly didn't think anyone was there "Umm hello" you say in a shaky voice, your nerves are all over the place the more he looks at you not blinking for a little while, it was creeping you out, you didn't know him or knew what he wanted, when he didn't respond you go to put the scarf down and begin to back away while saying "Ahh, okay well-" and he cuts you off while taking some more steps closer to you "Damita?" he whispers, more to himself, you give him a confused look and step back some more "I'm sorry?" you ask and he speaks up a little louder "Demi...it's me baby", now you're beyond creeped out, you didn't know who he was talking about but he clearly was confusing you for someone else and that's what you suggested to him what was going on but he insisted that you were this woman who clearly meant a lot to him. "I'm sorry sir, but you're confusing me for someone else" he now started to look upset and annoyed and hurt, the more you denied that you were who he thought you were the more he got riled up "Demi, stop it, why are you doing this to me?" you shake your head, getting fed up yourself at this back and forth "Sir please, I don't know what you're talking about" "STOP IT DEMI!" he shouts, the whole store looked in the direction of the shouting, the manager even came over to see what was going on, the tall man came over to your side to see what was going on "Excuse me miss, is everything alright over here?" he asked you, assuming that Chadwick was the aggressor "Demi, please look at me" he pleaded when you looked up at the manager "Umm, no just a misunderstanding, I was just about to leave" you walk past the man and begin to head for the exit when Chadwick was making his way towards you shouting the name of the woman who he thought you were, but the manager was hot on his trail along with a few security guards that were signaled to get to him, Chadwick was yelling to be let go, that you were his wife, they had no way of knowing what was really going on, it's not like you confirmed to them that you weren't his wife, right now they all thought that you both were a married couple that might have gotten into a little disagreement, and Chadwick was showing signs of a aggressive husband in their eyes, you looked uncomfortable and he was yelling at you, they did their best to keep him far away from you as possible.

After a little while of going back and forth with security, Chadwick's sister and brother in law along with his nephews made their way into the store when they were coming back to check up on him, they didn't expect to run into him getting manhandled by two security guards who were now threatening to call the police if he didn't calm down, that's when his brother-in-law Jeremiah stepped in to end this madness "Woah woah woah what's going on? Can you let him go please?" he says and one of the guards asks what's his relation to him and when he tells them they let him go, once Jeremiah finally has him calmed down they all head out of the huge mall and back to the car where Chadwick breaks down crying and mumbling in a shaky voice about Demita, that he saw her and he swore it was one hundred percent her, but they all knew that their beloved Demita was long gone and that maybe he was having breakdown, well there was no maybe he was. It took a while to get him to cooled down and catch his breath,  Jeremiah's wife Ashley even said that he should probably schedule another appointment with his therapist, she didn't want him to fall back into this again. When they gotten back to the house Jeremiah and Chadwick had a heart to heart and he mentioned to Chad that he didn't see a woman who looked like his sister and asked if he was sure that the woman even was really there, with all of the lack of sleep he most likely was having hallucinations, and all of that mixed with his grieving could be a possibility but he was sure that it was his wife, Jeremiah didn't believe him but kept that to himself, not wanting to kick him while he was down and instead humored him "Everything will fall in order again brother, it just takes time" it was all that he could really say and with that he patted him on the back and let him be until it was time for dinner, once the door closed he plopped himself on the bed and exhaled deeply, it was her, he was positive, and he wasn't going to let anyone tell him any different.

[taocastleprincess]

inktober for writers // day 4 // spell

He only goes hunting at night. Jay has lived in the row houses across the street from DeLereon College since before they were even row houses, when they were just unconnected frat houses that had the entire block smelling like cheap beer and bad weed. It was such a long while ago that Jay really had no business still being in such close corners with college kids anymore. He had a career, a 401k, his mom just started hounding him about “settling down.” He discreetly pulled back the curtain of his front window and watched the college freshmen pour out of the school’s side gate, dressed in tube tops, mini skirts, and strappy heels, just to get drunk at the shitty bar down the street with the watery vodka and the bad DJ. Harry’s has always been shit, Jay recalls fondly. Its only saving grace is that it’s a DeLereon staple, a rite of passage. Jay huffs then, an unintentional puff of laughter. It also doesn’t hurt, Jay licks his lips and continues to watch pretty girls stream out of DeLereon’s side gate in pairs and trios that’ll disintegrate halfway through the night, that it functions as a candy store.

He’s been doing this for awhile. The first time he did it, it terrified him. What would he do if anyone found out? What if they found his DNA at the scene? Would anyone report her missing? Did anyone see them together? Would being the prematurely balding, middle-aged guy within creepy proximity to a junior college put him on the Suspects List? But days passed. Weeks. Months. And he found the answers to his questions. When they found the body he would keep doing what he had been doing; continuing his average, lackluster life as a mediocre accountant. They won’t find DNA at the scene, whatever the woodland creatures didn’t take care of, the elements would. Parents will report their daughters missing, distraught mothers and angry fathers will call morning, noon, and night once they realize their daughters’ phones have been dead for longer than 48 hours. The school will tell them to wait another two days, don’t worry, they always turn up. Maybe she ran off with some boy at the bar, eloped for a long weekend. She’ll be back. They’ll wait another week before filling out the Missing Persons Report. The University President will sweat bullets, nonstop, for weeks. He’ll have nightmares. He’ll take an official leave of absence. Indefinitely. No one will see Jay with the girl in question. Everyone’s drunk, belligerent, horny, self-absorbed. No one saw anything. And if they did? Well. The vodka shots’ll take care of that. And, no, you won’t ever be on the Suspects List if you steer clear of “those damned fucking millennials” during the day and complain about how much you want out of your shitty neighborhood to any credible person who will listen. Play the role of disgruntled old man with no interest at all in sloppy drunk teen girls with no friends who walk around with dead phones in the middle of the night. The police are incompetent. DeLereon is complicit. The parents are immobilized. The media is uninterested. He’s free to run wild. So he does. Jay continues to watch the girls parade down the street to Harry’s. He never knows exactly what he’s looking for each time. One night he might favor a blonde, another night a girl in a pink dress or one that looks a bit dull. That’s the fun in it all. He doesn’t know until he knows. The girls go by in a never ending cacophony of tipsy shouts, the click-clacking of stiletto heels, and phone ringers marking the arrival of another ‘wya????’ text. They go by and they go by and they go by and Jay hasn’t felt anything yet. Only irritation and the mild arousal hinted at by the tent in his pants. The parade starts slowing down. And then it stops completely. All the girls who are coming out tonight are already out. Jay sucks his teeth and kicks the wall so hard he knows, without looking, that he’s made a dent. Sometimes, rarely, but it happens, his special nights end exactly like this. Frustrated and horny, angry and alone. He punches the wall one good time before stuffing his hand down his pants, stroking himself. He pumps hard, angrily, conjuring an image of the perfect girl for tonight. He wants a girl who absolutely glows. From the inside-out. He’s pumping so hard it hurts. It hurts so good. He wants a bitch who glows with a little more light in her eyes than usual. A bitch with so much light inside her, he’ll be able to see it drain from her eyes, her nose, her pores, and from her neck. From the gash he’ll make with the knife when he slashes her carotid arteries. He wants a bitch who bleeds light and blood and terror. He wants to drown in it all. He sees her as soon as he comes. She’s tall, but skinny, small; he could easily take her out. She’s dark with braids, white-blond highlights complimenting the almost ethereal glow emanating from her skin. He thinks he’s dreaming her at first but she says something. He doesn’t know what. She says it in a different language; she’s on the phone. Maybe she’s an international student. It wouldn’t be the first time one of them got left behind in the hustle and bustle. He smiles. Jay wipes his sticky hands on the inside of his shirt and lets the curtain drop. He’s found Her. He opens his front door and stands in the darkness for awhile while the girl with the braids starts walking in the direction of Harry’s. He always lets them get a head start. He loves a chase. A build up. He can feel himself hardening again. He follows her after a couple minutes. He can’t lose her even if she wanted. The girl glows like a nightlight. Like a big star. A tiny sun. He wonders, again, if he might be hallucinating. He sees her take a left turn. The wrong turn if she’s going to Harry’s, Jay thinks gleefully. The wrong turn down a deserted street. Construction is heavy during the day, but the halfway renovated street is completely empty at night. Dumb bitch. He wonders how long it’ll take her to reali— “Are you going to attack me now?” Her back is still to him but he knows that she’s talking to him. Her voice is thick with an accent he can’t place. “You’re a sloppy piece of shit. I smelled you from a mile away. You fucking stink.” She turns then and he finally gets a good look at her face. She’s beautiful, high cheekbones, full lips, a strong nose, and her eyes... They glow. They’re dark brown and they glow so bright they illuminate the rest of her features in a soft light. He’s so stunned by her otherworldly appearance he doesn’t quite understand what she’s just accused him of. “Are yo— I— ....Excuse me?” She takes a step towards him and, instinctually, his stomach twists with dread. Jay takes a step back. She smiles, phosphorescent eyes menacing. “I said, ‘I’m going to kill you.’” She walks towards him, casually, as if she were only strolling to the restroom. Jay’s mouth runs dry, his stomach clenches. He has to shit. The girl, woman... Thing... Continues steadily walking towards him. She’s such a pretty creature. Perfect, almost. Physically unoffending. Yet... something in him, some evolutionary sixth sense, is telling him he is in danger. Real danger. The kind of danger you don’t escape alive. He dashes down the street the way they came, heart pounding, legs burning, breath stilted. This is the first time he can remember being ungrateful for the lack of working street-lights in the area. This is the first time he can remember feeling... Fear. He hasn’t felt anything like this since The First Time. He’s running. He looks back and he doesn’t see anyone or anything but he still feels eyes on him. He wills his feet to go even faster. All he needs to do is get to safety. A place populated by even one other person. A bar, a drug store, a hospital, maybe, if he’s lucky. He sees it just as his lungs start burning and his legs start wobbling and his adrenaline has decided it has done as much as it can. A bright light leers at him from a distance, just beyond the next block, probably from the high beams of someone’s car, and the promise of an ending to this night propels Jay the rest of the way. Quickly closing in, he realizes the light isn’t coming from any car. Or anything at all. It floats, wraithlike, above his head. Ghostly, soft white light touches everything in sight. Chills shudder through Jay’s body; he lets his bladder go. A long, nasty laugh echoes down the street. It goes on forever. A moment frozen in time. “Big, bad serial killer pissed his pants?” Jay hears the girl, but doesn’t see her. The only thing he can focus on is the spectral light pulsing above him slowly floating within his personal space. “You dish but can’t take?” Another laugh. Another painfully long intermission. “Don’t worry,” the ball of light says, now only inches away from the man’s face. “I’ll take you out of your misery.” The girl materializes, the phantom light slowly forming her human-like shape and filling out her finer features. Jay thinks about running again, making a final last ditch attempt but, as he looks into the eyes of the girl he sees that it would be pointless. In the glow of those beautifully wicked eyes he sees bloodlust. Desire. Hunger. He knows. He’s it, tonight. Obayifo slashes Jay’s throat open with her pinky nail. His body convulses as blood sprays from the gash in his neck. It splatters against her long, Black neck and her slender chest. She shivers with pleasure as she watches the man bleed out and crumple to the street. She wipes her hand against her neck, smearing her hand in all his gore, and licks it clean. He tastes absolutely fucking disgusting. An absolute waste of a meal. She looks down to watch the man’s now lifeless body twitch. His face is frozen in an expression of terror. Eyes wide and crazed and dead. Dead. Obayifo belts out another long, demonic laugh. She’s got to get out of here. The sun will be out soon and she has other humans to really feed on or she’ll starve all day. She only goes hunting at night.

____________

A/N: An ‘Obayifo’ is a vampire-witch of Ghanian (specifically Ashanti) origin. In Ashanti origin, obayifo are very common and inhabit the bodies of ordinary people by possessing them with the ghostly, unnatural light that they emit from their bodies. They have the ability to travel as balls of light, which is usually how they draw their victims in. They suck blood from their victims from the inside-out.

I’ve taken some liberties with the folklore, obviously, as Obayifo did not inhabit Jay’s body and elected to drink from him the more commonly known way. I also didn’t (outright) show her having any witchy abilities... but... it still meets the qualifications for me!! lol, thanks for reading!

[renjunvinates]

myself ; yourself

Hello! It’s currently spring break and I have an idea of a new series coming soon? Hopefully I'm able to write a lot this week but we’ll see cos I still have homework and dance practice to attend and get to. But here’s a new update

Charas: You x Optional Bias

Length: 1579

Genre: Angsty angst

I’m always hitting up with an Angst because fluff is to cringy

We went through difficult times during our relationship whether it was about our heated arguments or us breaking up either way both times were difficult. When it came down to our arguments they were so petty. You would get angry at me for the littlest things. When I dyed my hair you got angry, when I went to go hangout with my best friend you got angry. They were ridiculous arguments that were unnecessary, and it affected our relationship. But was I better? I would get angry at you for hanging out with your friends, I would be angry if you didn’t message me. We were both petty and immature in this relationship, but then again we were just teenagers. But then when we broke up it didn’t get better we tried being friends and we would still act like we were together and have countless petty arguments. Then we would distance each other and then comeback. It made no sense? The only thing that made sense was we both knew we really loved each other and didn’t want to let go. But after that huge argument with your words wishing we were never together, that was the day that broke us off officially. I’m sure you didn’t mean too, we were both heated in the moment but at the same time it doesn’t excuse what the both of us said to each other. But after our distance you found someone us. I was completely devastated and upset, but did that stop me from continuing to strive? Sort of? But along this journey of hardships I’ve become a better person and I’m sure you have too.

I: That break up was one of the hardest things to overcome, we’ve spent so much time together it was hard to move past our memories. I was so unsure what I meant to you when you found someone else already. Was she a rebound? Did you not love me? Was I hallucinating? All these questions kept recurring. I was just always wondering what I even meant to you at this point. When I found out you were with someone else, I must admit. I was broken inside, and that ultimately led me to draft this hurtful and mean message to you. It was immature of me and it was under the influence of my emotions, but I will not use that as an excuse. I’m sorry, I sent that awful letter. Soon later we both tried talking it out, but we were still immature. You kept confusing me. Telling me you were going to wait for me, but you were with someone else? It hurt me, because yes, I still loved you at the time, but it was so wrong for you to tell me that and I felt so bad for the girl. She knew she was a rebound and you knew too, but she still wanted to be with you. Overtime, during this heartbreak I’ve met the best people in my life to help me overcome this obstacle and helped me shaped who I am today. Shout out to them for helping me out. I don’t think I would be here, or even be who I am today without them. But you got mad at me for hanging out with them, because they were slightly older, and they were boys. I understand you were just watching out for me but at the same time, you restricted me from hanging out with my friends in general. Even when we weren’t together. I wanted to break away from that and I did. I am my own person and I came to decision, I can’t let anyone control me anymore, I’m done being treated like trash. So, I cut you off and I hung out with them and to be honest this is a decision I never regretted making. I’m so thankful for them, for being there for me, for giving me real talk. Thanks to them, I’m more mature and I understand a little bit more of myself and I’ve gained my independence because of them. They’ve given me so much laughter and courage and they really have changed me for the better. Although there were times that they were harsh on me, but I knew they were joking around. Honestly, they were the best friends I could ever ask for. They were like my older brothers who watched out for me, cared for me, made me smile, and made fun of me. Everything was great. Myself. As someone who use to be broken and depressed over a boy and yearned for love and affection is now over and gone, I’m someone as now who realized I don’t need a relationship in my life, I’ve matured for the better and I’ve realized all I need is them. My friends, my supporters. People who have been there for me since day one. I’ve come to terms where there are days where I’m going feel like crap and shit but that’s just one day. I got plenty of more days ahead of me, for the love of god I’m still young! Every day is a new day, a new start. No matter what happens It’s just a reminder to myself, “good job, you lived another day”. But overall, you must learn how to love yourself, to take care of yourself physically and mentally, don’t let yourself drown. It’s not worth it. You are a number one priority to yourself and don’t ever forget that. We strive for happiness and success because we want to be happy and want to feel at ease knowing our life is stable and happy, don’t we?

You: I’ve heard many things about you, and they were both good and bad. I honestly never knew what went through your head with us or even with her but either way I’m not going to lie. I admit I worried about you every single day, but as a person. Not because I was still in love with you but because I genuinely do care about you. In the beginning when we had the huge argument, you already found yourself a new girl, I assumed you were happy with her I mean you were dating her and you guys did look happy. But as I noticed, and people spoke to me. You weren’t happy, she was a rebound, and you essentially hurt the three of us. She loved you and I knew she did because you were her first, but you on the other hand would always tell her how much you loved me, and always compared her to me. At this point I’m wondering why you were still dating her but even more wondering why she was still stuck to you. Either way what you did was wrong and not the best solution, but as time passed things got worse. You drunk called her telling her you loved me and drunk texted me telling me how much you missed me. How can I not be hurt? How can she not get hurt? You fucked up, but you apologized and realized your actions. Time kept passing and I assumed things got better and you guys were finally stable, and you finally loved her. I was wrong, you loved her in the wrong way. You abused her mentally and physically, BUT SHE STILL WAS WITH YOU. I wondered every single time why she went back to you even though she knew it was wrong. It was just absurd and ridiculous how could she still stay with you even though you treated her like shit, and she knew it too? Maybe she was blind by love? It never made sense. But for me to still worry about you felt so surreal. Why was I still worrying about someone like you who hurt me? Who hurt her? Either way I hoped you changed for the better, to ask for help when you’ve fallen to your darkest place. I would love to help you, trust me, but, how can I? It wasn’t my place anymore. I realized I pointed out your flaws, but I also remembered the good things I’ve heard. Where you treated her right and spoiled her and helped her, and made her stay on top of academics, you did everything for her. But I guess essentially, she couldn’t do everything for you. Not only that but with all seriousness I can’t say you have changed for the better. Yourself. It looked like you drove yourself in a ditch and sat there doing nothing but let it get worse and worse. You asked me to change for the better and I can finally say and feel confident that I have changed for the better, but I changed for myself not for you. I hope and wish you change for the better for yourself, and snap back into reality to get your life together and be happy and stress free, but after all this is all up to you.  

A letter to myself and yourself, a reminder for both you and me, to remind for the both of us of our actions and where it all went wrong. A reflection letter to realize who we were back then. Immature teenagers who didn’t know better but to think our first love was going to last forever and was going to last till the very end and it would be a fairytale ending we hoped for.

Myself; Yourself

[perahn]

Codex Entry #6

… the darkness roils, lightning forking within it and splitting it into pieces. They ring around me, amorphous save for the reaching tendrils. Lightning flashes through them again, slow-arcing light congealing into masks and ribbons. One shape holds out a rose to the Silent. My tongue is silver and heavy in my mouth; I cannot warn him. He takes it, and the darkness surges forward and swallows him. The darkness spirals closer. A shape holds out a pebble to the Erratic. My hands are golden and heavy at the ends of my wrists; I cannot stop her. She takes it, and the darkness wraps itself around her. She’s gone. One shape holds out a potion to the Thirsty. My eyes are stone and heavy in their sockets; I cannot see whether she takes it. I hear laughter in the thunder, the darkness curling icy around me. The book is taken from my hands –

I recognise the tome, the pebble and the potion, of course, and the silver masks. The conjunction of rose, darkness, and the Silent is familiar, but I can’t remember the details, which suggests a long-ago and infrequent dream. All in all, this dream was far clearer than most I’ve had recently, which is a pleasant change… but I hardly needed divination to tell me we’re deeply embroiled in drow affairs and that I feel powerless.

I hadn’t expected to make use of the spells I learned during my last visit to the Arcane Library so soon, or to quite so dramatic an end. I have always doubted that Jarnath would render any further payment for the death of his target, given that, in smaller matters, he has twice promised what he could not deliver. I do consider myself somewhat in his debt for guiding us to Philock, but such qualms could be easily ignored. In any case, Sending to him requesting assurance that he could pay gained only the answer ‘not now’. I attempted to scry him (classically the signature spell of the experienced diviner; casting it gave me a satisfying sensation of legitimacy), using the blood from the ship as a focus. Not Jarnath’s blood, as it proved; Dwynnej’s text described the effect of casting with a mismatch between target and focus very accurately. Fortunately both subjects were in close proximity. It appeared that our erstwhile guide was being hunted by the drow whose blood had been shed. I’ve rarely seen fear carved so plainly into a face.

I believe the entire race is insane. Even their half-breed children inherit the madness.

I am getting ahead of myself.

It was decided that we would return to Skullport as quickly as possible – which meant from the Arcane Library, via their teleportation services, to the Enclave circle. I expected to be delayed there, and indeed we were; the new mistress of the Enclave, one Eshmira Abbar, summoned us to her office. (Aside: possibly a conjuration specialist, given her affinity for teleportation and the efreet that initially greeted us.)

My mind has been fossilising ever since I left home; a few more months out here and there will be nothing left rattling between my ears but a small coprolite. When I explained the circumstances of Metoth Zurn’s death, Eshmira Abbar asked if I were completely certain of what I’d seen. I missed the screamingly obvious cue – she was much less interested in the involvement of the drow than in my discretion regarding the exact circumstances of her promotion. I was able to reassure her on that point, once I understood her concern. A reputation for inconvenient hallucinations is much easier to work with than what the Academy thought of me after Khaizri…

And she promoted me to nishkir (Both a Red Wizard rank and a job description. The exact duties of the nishkir are difficult to define, although both ‘monster-hunters’ and ‘elite field operatives’ have been suggested. It can be said with certainty that it is a position of some authority, and considerable danger. Nishkiri usually work outside Thay and with little support, with the curious corollary that they are perhaps the least likely of all Red Wizards to die at the hands of their fellows. If one encounters a Red Wizard in an abandoned ruin, or halfway up a mountain, or deep underwater, or in any such hostile environment, one can probably greet them as nishkir without great risk of error). I understand her move, of course. I am not yet so stupid. It is both a bribe and a leash. If I should behave, if I should survive, she has gained a useful asset. If she believes my knowledge of Zurn’s demise renders me a liability, it would be the simplest matter in the world to assign me elsewhere, or to a task I have no chance of completing – even simpler than disposing of me herself. Nobody would be surprised at the death of an ill-trained and unready nishkir.

And that is exactly what I am. I was released from my apprenticeship barely a week before I left Thay, and only because Mistress Kharzura was as intrigued as I by my dreams of Skullport. Under other conditions, I would have remained by her side for several years more, gathering knowledge and strength, until we were both ready. I am – I was – a somewhat slow-witted and quiet alakir (A novice, more or less: a Red Wizard who has completed her training but not yet achieved any particular rank). Nothing less like the intensive and comprehensive training of a proper nishkir could be imagined.

And I am a diviner, to boot! Field work really is better left to the evokers and the conjurers – I did not even contribute greatly to the death of my predecessor! I was drained by rendering us all nondetectable, and everyone else proved more useful in that battle. It was Harper’s arrow which split the nishkir’s skull (how many times have I dreamt that arrow? I can almost feel it now). Me, a nishkir? It’s one of the poorest jests I’ve ever heard.

But it’s been made, and the only thing to do is prepare to survive the punchline.

After leaving the Enclave, we ran into Aunrae, a half-drow friend of Harper’s – at least, that is what he said she was. I admit I have no idea of his network or contacts, but I’ve never seen her before, and much of the encounter that followed remains inexplicable – or, at any rate, unexplained. She was demanding entrance to the house of the illithid Grotana (who still apparently believes that Katy is a pirate sorceress queen and the rest of us are her slaves, despite the many details obviously wrong with this).

Using Katy’s invitation as a pretext, then, we got Aunrae into the illithid’s home, whereupon she started demanding the location of a third party. The illithid was almost grovelling in fear – not quite the fearsome devourer of brains most texts depict – when the drow who had warned us away from Jarnath appeared.

A most confusing scene ensued. Harper was there to assist Aunrae. The drow, Valas Daevin, is her father, which was why she intended to kill him. I’ve rarely heard such purpose or such hatred in a mind. The half-drow slave of the illithid’s – also sired by Valas – interposed himself. Harper argued Aunrae out of killing Valas, further demonstrating exactly how dangerous he becomes the moment he opens his mouth.

He was there ostensibly to help her achieve her goals, as he says he is for me. However, in the crucial instant, he prevented her from killing her quarry - no. That’s inaccurate. He prevented her from attempting it. I am not certain of the relative power levels involved – I’ve seen the Gladiator in action, but both Valas and Aunrae are complete unknowns – but it is quite possible that, even if Harper, Shay, Katy and I had assisted Aunrae, she would still have failed and we would be dead. It is also possible that Valas would have been slain. Perhaps Harper had relevant information. If so, he did not share it.

The way he persuaded her also requires thought. There appeared to be something about the situation that resonated with him – “you’re not the only one with an asshole father”, and the implication that family was a limited commodity. Linked, perhaps, with whatever the full version of his ‘family business’ might be. Well. I hope that one day, I find the right questions or magic to learn more of that matter.

Valas Daevin gave us a location where he believed we might find Jarnath. As it turned out, he was entirely correct. It also appears that when I had Scried Jarnath, we witnessed not a lethal hunt, but drow foreplay.

Lovely.

We briefly made the acquaintance of the paramour in question – one Rylfein by name – before another drow came crashing through the window to demand the location of some money. Both appeared to match the description of the drow who burned down the Pick and Lantern, which demonstrates exactly how well-spent all our effort on the subject was. The latter also had a small companion clinging to his back – quite one of the oddest creatures I’ve ever seen. We mostly left the matter there, and were ambushed on our way back to the house by hirelings of the Mandible.

Despite their spell-caster summoning a Fomorian (an unusual feat, and certainly not a conventional choice; giants are not easily bound, as I understand it, and neither as biddable or as predictable as undead or fiends), our assailants were quickly subdued. The spell-caster is down in the cellar at present. Harper’s bindings appear secure – even disturbingly so. He would not have made the same errors Khaseth did.  

-

An old dream returned again last night – the Erratic and the Silent. The thing which accompanies the Erratic was once again shaped like a toad of stone, with burning eyes. Her chest was a wet, scarlet ruin. The Silent seized the thing and tried to tear it free, but he didn’t see how it had wrapped its claws around her heart. She screamed for mercy, but the Silent was inexorable, and slowly he got the thing away from her. It laughed wildly as he threw it away, kissing her heart and lavishing endearments upon it, while the Silent knelt beside the dying Erratic, blood dripping from the hole in his chest to the hole in hers.

I would gladly sacrifice clear warnings for cryptic guidance. It is maddening, to be so lost, to dream nothing that I do not already know with a waking mind… to feel the storm coming and have no idea how to weather it.

Enough.

Harper and I interrogated the spell-caster separately. I am uncertain exactly what methods Harper might have used, but she apparently told Harper that her ambush had been the Mandible’s audition process. False, according to my detect thoughts; she had been hired by the Mandible to kill us. She was quite indignant about the whole process, which was not without its amusement value. She was also poorly educated; she had a description of me, and still failed recognise a Red Wizard of Thay.

…I am rambling, committing all kinds of useless minutiae to this journal, which was originally intended to record only what was important – another symptom of how sloppy and stupid I am becoming. It may very well be that I eventually fall into so many poor habits that I would not survive returning home… but that seems a distant concern at present. Survive the scorpion in your mouth before worrying about the serpent at your boot, as Master Xobek used to say in Combat Applications…

Szass Tam’s balls, I hope Mistress Kharzura has killed him by the time I return…

Rambling. Again. What is wrong with me?

In the marketplace, we encountered the individuals who crashed through Jarnath’s window. The drow male – one Adinaun by name – has a proposition to discuss with us. The female – Twinkle – is patently not human, judging by her slitted pupils and tail. She may be fiendish in heritage, given how she could apparently see ‘Bob’ when Katy had not summoned him into visibility.

 We met with Tansia Neverember – given her name, a member of the same House as the current Open Lord of Waterdeep, or at least posing as one – of the Mandible. She shrugged off the attack upon us as a trifling matter. As Harper had expressed an interest in working with or for the Mandible, she also gave us a missive to deliver to one Malakuth Tabuirr at the temple of Vhaeraun.

I checked it for magic, at Harper’s request, and found none, but I did not have clairvoyance prepared to actually ascertain its contents. I will tomorrow.

We found Adinaun and Twinkle at the High Tide. On closer observation, their manner is very much that of master and slave – a very possessive master, for he’d performed something like a fatal peotomy on an overly familiar halfling. I don’t have enough for a full threat assessment of either of them as yet, but in brief: he appears to be extremely dangerous, armed with a ridiculous amount of weapons and with sufficient scars to denote an experienced survivalist. She appears to have unusual modes of perception, an ingenuous manner, and is enough of a spell-caster to purify their food and drink. Given her demonstrated proficiency with the lyre, I shall tentatively class her as a bard.

Adinaun claims to have worked with Jarnath on a heist. Unsurprisingly, Jarnath orchestrated events that placed him in possession of the entire amount of gold and saw him leave Adinaun for dead. Obviously, Adinaun is now seeking both revenge and the treasure. If we discover its hiding place, he offers fifty percent of the remaining gold. It’s a prospect not without its attraction, not least because Jarnath is an irritant, and – at least here, I will confess it – because Adinaun seems relatively straightforward and pleasant to deal with. Nonetheless, I believe we will need to discuss this matter further.

Shay and Harper released our captive spell-caster that evening, while Katy and I sat down for our first lesson. Eventually. I must have misspoken to some degree when I first explained the exercise, for we were at cross-purposes for some time. Even once I made myself clear and we sat down, it took some time before we got anywhere at all. She remains easily distracted and lacking in discipline, and the fact that Harper joined in did not help (aside: why did he? Simply to guard his wastet-le and be certain of what I was teaching? Or did he expect to make some use of it himself? Simply because it amused him?). Still, we made some progress.

If we continue at this rate, she may be able to safely cast a cantrip about the time my eyebrows turn entirely white.

Later, Katy came up to my room to ask some questions. I think it’s safe to assume her intention was as transparent as it seemed – she wished to ascertain the ties that bind Shay to her order and how they could be broken. As I told her, I have already offered to turn my attention to this matter should Shay wish it, but she has never stated her desire to leave. She is my wastet-le, not my slave; these choices are for her to make.  Katy made the point – a surprisingly insightful one – that Shay has been trained to accept and obey, not to question or to hold preferences. It may no longer be possible for her to want to leave.

I will have to think more on this, although I maintain that a) I will not force Shay to any such action against her will, and b) I will not aid Katy to storm the Long Death Monastery. It is patently suicidal, and I will not be the Red Wizard who breaks our treaty with the monks.

Katy’s motivation in this matter is less clear. It’s long been clear that she is emotionally driven (as is Harper, although it manifests differently), that she attaches primary importance to how she feels about people. It’s entirely reasonable that she should be attached to Shay – I am, and I am not controlled by emotions – and should wish to remove her from a situation that is both painful and not of her choosing. Nevertheless, she was quite insistent on the point. There is a significant difference between ‘Why don’t you just leave the Red Wizards, Khem?’ and ‘How can we get Shay free?’, which may or not be entirely attributable to Shay’s more personable demeanour… but I am speculating without sufficient evidence.

… I dreamed the Thirsty, carved from clouded blue ice. She bent her head to mine, frost to skin, and her thoughts flowed with the bitter cold that radiated from her. I saw her in the arena, small and fragile, a spider-webbing of cracks over her surface. She screamed defiance, both within her thoughts and in the voice of wind from the mountains. Deep under her ice, she began to fill with black smoke, boiling out from the cracks between her fingers, pouring from her eyes and her mouth. The ice could not hold it, and she burst apart. I bled from a thousand cuts, and she was gone – leaving only black smoke and ice, flesh and blood.

This, again. As if I didn’t already know.

Yesterday was an… interesting day. Productive, I hope, but it is so difficult to tell.

Shay was practising her alchemy. I gave her the recipe for hair and iris dye I found in the Arcane Library, and briefly apprised her of the questions Katy had asked. She seemed mildly surprised that Katy had brought it to me instead of her – which is fair, it’s never pleasant to be the subject of furtive discussion (which is, of course, why I informed her) – but she confirmed that Katy has brought this up with her as well. It is another reason I need to watch my student very carefully.

I cast clairvoyance for Harper to ascertain the contents of the letter we were to deliver to Malakuth Tabuirr. It read only ‘I know’. Not as informative as I could have hoped, but suggestive. On one hand, we have Tansia, who intimated her role as leader of the Mandible was to prevent severe upsets of the balance of power in Skullport. On the other, we have a known associate – probably worshipper, certainly patron – of the temple of Vhaeraun, as well as a quantity of Vhaeraunite drow crawling out of the mushrooms, who could support whatever ploy he might have in mind. Certainly at least one drow is plotting a move that will have repercussions for the powerscape of Waterdeep, to which Skullport is linked. At the moment, there is nothing to suggest that Jarnath has support among the other followers of his god, but it’s not impossible.

There are so many unknown quantities as to make me long for home, where I knew all my peers and how they thought, and the resources at their command, and their potential allies and enemies. Still, my initial training must be some help here, and it is… reassuring to have a better idea of our positioning. We are deeply entangled with others’ schemes, of course, but these players have always been on the field, their plans and the currents of their powers already in motion. Now that we are aware of them, we have a much better chance of negotiating them successfully.

We delivered the letter as instructed. I saw the drow who killed Metoth Zurn speaking with the priest there – after sufficient bribery, the priest stated his name was Ahmryr Yhauntyr (I am uncertain of the correct Common spelling), a courier and caravanner. Not particularly informative, but I wasn’t expecting to see him again at all. Nor did I wish to appear too curious; I have no desire to be destroyed as Zurn was. More of this shortly.

The priest to whom we gave the letter did not share his name – I consider it quite likely that he was Tabuirr himself, but I have no real evidence – and was pleased to share information about his deity to potential converts. So, despite being primarily a drow god, it seems Vhaeraun has no particular dislike for the worship of other races (but is that about preference, or only about power?). He would appear to have some agenda beyond the acquisition of wealth and patronage of thieves (freedom? From Lloth? They would appear to exist in opposition, if Jarnath’s hatred of spiders is indicative). He has been silent in the past, but has recently begun to speak to his priests again. I wonder about the time involved - whether Jarnath is a recent convert or lasted through the interregnum... if he deserted while the god was silent, and Valas did not, it might possibly explain the latter’s description of the former’s faith as ‘impure’...

Adinaun and Twinkle were also at the temple. That makes three Vhaearaunite drow in our immediate acquaintance – and one of whatever she might be.

When it appeared we would not gain anything further, we left the temple. Shay and Katy returned to the house, while Harper and I continued on to the Mandible. Tansia appeared reasonably content with the letter’s delivery, if somewhat less so with Harper’s insinuation that the death of the Tyrran high priestess might be a boon to the Mandible’s interests as well, and therefore Tansia should pay him for the assassination. Not so different to my desire to speak with Eshmira Abbar or Anishta Daraam about the matter, save that I am already a Red Wizard, and he is (as far as I know) still proving himself to the Mandible. In any case, she agreed – provided the matter was discreetly handled, and that she was given the priestess’s holy symbol as proof of death.

I suspect Harper has taken this approach because he believes, as I do, that trying to collect payment from Jarnath is unlikely to go smoothly. It’s a shrewd play, assuming Katy’s scruples on the proposed activity can be overcome. If they cannot, I doubt Harper will proceed at all. Where that might leave me – and Shay, for that matter – is another question entirely.

Well. I cast tongues on Harper, so he could understand the conversation at the Enclave – for the first time in his three visits there – and I made Mistress Eshmira aware that I had seen the drow who slew her predecessor at the temple of Vhaeraun, and of the meagre details I had gained. It’s hers to pursue, if she is interested in the involvement of the drow in Red Wizard affairs. If, on the other hand, she hired him herself… well, I might have been less than tactful, but I believe I made my position clear enough. I don’t intend to investigate this further myself, and I hardly care if she did have outside help; I don’t aspire to the Skullport Enclave.

She declined to discuss any Waterdhavian matters; it seems I must seek out Anishta Daraam.

After leaving the Enclave, Harper and I had the usual wrangle. He doesn’t understand why I would remain with my order ‘to be shat upon’; I didn’t understand why he would use that term to describe what had been a perfectly courteous conversation. I admit that the Red Wizard’s path is demanding, and my superiors rarely have my best interests at heart – but that’s as it has to be. The disagreement expanded onto other, only semi-related topics: why he insists on offering me his arm, and why I dislike touching others and resist being touched… which culminated in him insisting on walking three steps behind me the entire way back to the house.

I hated it, of course. There are few things more uncomfortable than someone at your back, where you can’t see them or what they’re doing – and every time I try to stress his position, or to pay him due respect as ahk-veleth, he does something like this… I was sorely tempted to polymorph myself into some winged creature and leave him behind entirely. But Skullport isn’t really safe, and if these unpleasant little games truly amuse him so much, I can let him mock me.

I have had considerable practice in the matter, after all, and he isn’t as vicious as most.

Shay had made a Thayan dessert when we returned. It’s almost disconcerting, how something so little can summon up all that I miss most of home. It’s a weakness, I suppose, to be longing so deeply for a place and time, instead of focusing on what I must do here, but the memories keep returning. The library, warm and cosy on a winter’s day, with the grey rain falling into the lake. The aromatic soups in the refectories, the chatter of my peers, the fierce pleasure of competition… Certainty. Sense. Knowing where I belonged, and seeing a clear path before me.

We discussed our options and choices for a time without reaching a conclusion, partially because we were distracted by the matter of Bob. I believe Katy sees, now, some of the ways in which it seeks to manipulate her, and that it has not always been honest with her. She was quite alarmed when she understood that it was always with her, listening, whether or not she has summoned or can see it, and she retired to bed so that we could discuss more freely. I appreciate the sentiment, although I doubt the creature’s so closely tethered to her that it cannot eavesdrop on a conversation happening downstairs. On the other hand, I’m not sure just how interested it is in anything beyond Katy. If I could identify it properly, perhaps I could get a better idea. Next time I’m in Waterdeep, perhaps…

After she left, I made Harper aware of the possibility that Katy had made a warlock pact with Bob, or whatever entity Bob answers to, and what that might entail. He seemed concerned, if somewhat overloaded with information. He also threatened me: he will not tolerate any attempt on my part to harm Katy, whatever might be asked of her by her putative patron. I was rather taken off-guard. She is not only one of the recurring, but my wastet-le, my student, and I take those responsibilities seriously. Even if I did not, I have clearly stated I do not wish to make an enemy of him: anyone with eyes can see how he values her, and I have never meddled with another’s wastet-le in any case.

It was not an auspicious start to the evening, and it got worse. Between that threat and the accusation of discourtesy, and the earlier irritants – including that Harper had received my letter, but didn’t know what to do about it, and apparently he didn’t comprehend that I was willing to answer his question but did not want to, which is not that fine a distinction! – my patience and defences were worn a great deal thinner than I had realised. When he made some remark about me loving him – quite mild fare, really – I lost control. I let him see exactly how much I disliked his innuendo, and I fled. Thankfully, I retained enough self-discipline to attempt to give the impression of an offended retreat, rather than a defeated rout, but I doubt he was fooled.

My peers would have laughed themselves sick at such a display, and then attempted to goad me further, into rash, self-destructive action. Harper… apologised, and promised to attempt to restrain himself (at which he was not entirely successful, but as I told him, I am reasonably convinced he doesn’t mean anything by it, and I have heard worse). I am certain he does not have the full tale – anyone from my Academy would be delighted to share it, of course, but I doubt he can reach so far as Thay, and we haven’t met anyone out here from home – which is some small comfort. What he will do with the information he does have, however, remains to be seen.

Well. After Harper had done with that subject, he poured me a drink, and he asked for the answer my letter had promised him. Mindful both of the way alcohol affects me, and of the fact he has indicated he finds me more agreeable when I’m drinking, I made judicious use of it while I explained to him exactly what an oneiric diviner is, how my dreams guide and alter my life, exactly who the recurring are – in short, exactly why he matters to me. There were several aspects of his reaction that I note here, in no particular order, for further thought/investigation.

- He never expressed doubt or mockery. The concept was unfamiliar to him – as most aspects of magical theory seem to be – but he has queried other things that I have told him I could do, and this is a more unusual and rarer manifestation of magic.

- He recognised the dream I related to him. I was not carefully monitoring his reaction while I was describing it – an oversight – but I did retain the impression it shook him profoundly. By that I can conclude, I think, that it relates to some aspect of the past he guards so well. I wonder if the other figures represented forces, abstractions, or people, and whether I dare ask him about it. The Silent has so often appeared with a hole or wound, and he has spoken of unpleasant memories…

- “It seems like a cruel thing to do to yourself.” Cruel? That’s not a usual reaction at all. Counter-productive, useless or insane, according to the non-oneiric diviners; impossible or insane, according to the ill-educated. But cruel? I assume he’s judging by his own measure – that is, such dreams are something he would not want for himself. Why would he not want additional warnings, knowledge, insight and guidance? I admit I have dreamed death or torment frequently – but it’s not real (unless and until it is) and it’s a small price to pay. Surely he wouldn’t be scared of that? Possibly linked: does he struggle with common nightmares? Is that why he sleeps so poorly? (If so, is it possible that some of the exercises Mistress Kharzura first set me would help him? I believe this may be worth pursuing.)

- He seemed to understand just how momentous – and staggering – it was to find the recurring in reality. I don’t know what to make of this, except that he has shown flashes of insight on other occasions. I just hadn’t anticipated just how disconcerting it would be to have him understand me that easily, particularly when we seem so often to be completely alien to each other.

- “How much did you see?” That, at least, was unmistakeable and completely understandable. He reacted almost exactly as I would have, if someone had told me they had witnessed some of my more difficult or painful moments. I tried to offer him some reassurance without speaking falsely – most of my dreams are highly allegorical, and difficult to comprehend without more context than I usually possess. I have seen a great deal… but I don’t necessarily know what it means, or where it fits. However, given that he recognised that dream, it seems logical that it referred to something in the past, and, probably, so do most of the other dreams in which the Silent was the masked ash-rabbit, or where the crowned vulture or the ocean-eyed serpent appeared.

- He disliked the idea of dreams in which he’d harmed me, saying that he felt at fault. He also asked how much control I had over my dreams, whether I could just stop them, or some of them, and expressed his wish that I did not dream of him that night. Perhaps I failed to make clear the precise ways that the dreams and reality interact – that it isn’t an exact correlation. There are warnings, there are allegories, there are possibilities. The number of dreams that directly portended something that later occurred is relatively small… In any case, why should he feel responsible for what the Silent does in my dreams? One could make an argument that he would prefer I was not experiencing oneiric fore-echoes of the moment when he does strike against me, but that doesn’t ring true. Mistress Kharzura would fault that conclusion – I have no strong evident or reasoning to support it – but I do not have to defend my reasoning at present, and as long as I don’t allow it to pull me off-guard, I may entertain it if I wish. 

- He asked if we could begin again, and held out his hand for me to take. The angle was exactly the same as when I dreamed it, but if that was truly the moment it presaged, everything else was different. I was terrified. Almost anything else would have been easier than giving him my hand - after all my training and so many dreams... but I conquered my fear, and no ill came out of it.

There is more I should write, I believe, but even the small amount of alcohol I consumed has rendered some aspects of the conversation unclear in my recollection. I will record that Harper began to offer me his assistance in reaching my bed – as far as I can tell – but stopped himself before he reached the end of the sentence, and offered to wake Shay instead. Perhaps he will genuinely try to avoid the innuendo. What a relief it would be, to let those memories rest…

Alcohol disordered my dreams, again, blurring ordinary memory and nightmare with divinatory dreaming, so that the Silent was Khaseth, and I was myself and that elven spell-caster. He did as Khaseth did and as he would have, and I did not escape him.

My hand is cramping, and I have been forced to resort to simpler ciphers in order to complete this entry more quickly. I can hear Katy’s voice from downstairs, enthusing over breakfast as usual; it is more than time I descended.

I am… somewhat anxious at the prospect of facing Harper again, having shared so much. I suspect, from elements of last night, that he may be equally ill-at-ease. It’s not a particularly comforting thought – but why should I expect or desire comfort?

[concentricdestinies]

[Journal Entry #78]

(A text transcript of a journal entry by Subject [REDACTED] Jenkins during [DATA EXPUNGED]. Notes are indicated by parentheses)

[Audio recording begining in 3..2...1-]

The camera fucking broke 'gain, so this is all yer getting future me. No bitching about it, and I'll uh...draw some of this. Not gon' be the best though, but it'll do.

(Subjects have reported complex electrionic devices requiring repair frequently when inside [DATA EXPUNGED]. This is the last known mention of the camera originally brought inside with Jenkins, it likely having been unrepairable and abandoned.)

'Nyways, I've gone down a...couple miles more? Dunno...the uh GPS stopped working too, and it's not easy to get yer bearings in a place like this...

[Cloth rustling]

(Indication, alongside lack of general movement, that the recorder has made camp before making an entry, unusual behavior, which may be linked to the Subject's doubts about the mission.]

It's hot. Like really damn hot. And it's only getting hotter. Tha' would be fine if I werent so damn close to the surface, I'm only in the early hundreds. It shouldnt be this hot already, right?

(All reported temperatures by Subject Jenkins and other Subjects were incredibly unusual for the areas climate, location, and depth. However, due to the lack of basic thermometers, and the more complex machines nonfunctional state, these answers cannot be trusted. Later testing gave incredibly variable results, with no Subject giving a matching answer on temerature and humidity, pointing to the experienced temperature being linked to a non-physical cause. Subject Jenkins is most likely hallucinating the sensations of heat.)

Cant get comfy in my sleeping bag now, though it's still better than sleeping on rock.

The roofs all shelly now too. Got layers, they overlap each other. Kinda like scales, but all warped at the edges. Uniform, smooth too....

Whatever came down through here came down fast, hot, and weird. And it's prolly still burning too. That aint no normal asteriod.

It's so uniform, thats whats been buggin' me so much.....No branching tunnels, no scars in the earth. Jus' a long, smooth tunnel, that bends and twists more like a worm dug it than a crash site. Musta been a mighty big worm, 'cause there aint any signs of erosion I can spot, 'n astroids leave craters. They dont burrow.

(All samples taken back for testing showed signs of melting, with no other types of erosion.)

Speakin' of how fuckin' weird this place is, I think the stone is changing color. It's gotten deeper, purple-y or somethin' like that. It's strange, not like any normal rock I've seen. Now I'm wishin' I liked geology a lil' more in school!

(Subject Jenkins was correct in his guess that the rock was not native to this area. Tests on samples have shown it to be not native to any location on Earth.)

[Horse laughter, then silence]

Y'know...

[Another long pause]

I'm starting to get uneasy about this whole thing, with the GPS and electronics not working right. The whole cave is unearthly. I know, I know it'll be the find of a lifetime, and probably safe 'n all, 'n I'm prolly watching these tapes back 'n laughin' right about now...

I jus' can't get the thought out of my head that whatever is down there is more trouble than it's worth.

(First direct vocalization of doubts about the mission by Subject Jenkins, incredibly late for most Subjects.]

[A third pause]

It's just the lack of sleep, lettin' what Ross said get to me... I'll travel some more in the morning.

[Movement. Audio crackles for a brief moment.]

(Recording device is likely being moved well Subject Jenkins attempts to turn it off.)

Jus' hope this thing keeps kickin down there too...

[Recording End. Play next recording?]