#and they just stick with those bad impressions for whenever we interact

[dan-crimes]

The pain of writing a character intended to get misunderstood and then people misunderstand the character like Hey WTF! Ur not allowed to do that!

[a-write-for-soreeyes]

Making Bets | Seo-Joon [True Beauty] x Gender Neutral!Reader

summary: making bets with your boyfriend Seo-Joon was NEVER a good idea, but when a no kiss bet with a promise of a week of dates comes up, how could you refuse?

word count: 2280

a/n: sorry i’ve been so absent! it’s been really hard to finish writing anything i’ve started recently but i’ve got something in the works i hope you all enjoy! :D <3

———————————————-

Making bets with Han Seo-joon was never a good idea. But, when the prize was a full week where the winner gets to choose a week of dates… how could I say no.

“y/n I don’t get why you said yes to this bet, we all know you can’t even last through first period without a kiss from Seo-joon.” Soo-a said as she cuddled further into Tae-hoon’ side on the bench across the lunch table, “yah, we all know you guys are all over each other whenever possible,” Tae-hoon groaned out leaning his head on Soo-a’, “speak of the devil.” looking up from shuffling food around my tray I saw Seo-joon approaching the table trailing just behind Ju-kyung and Soo-ho’s linked arm forms looking a little more than disgruntled at the couple walking in front of him.

“Hello love birds, how nice of you to grace us with your presence on this fine monday morning.” Tae-hoon teased as the other couple sat next to me, Seo-joon taking the last spot to the right of Soo-a, across from me.

“What Seo-joon, not going to kiss your partner hello?” Soo-ho joked as he kissed Ju-Kyung’ cheek before picking food up from his plate and feeding her.

“Morning.” Seo-joon whispered, barely sparing me a glance before looking back at his tray. “Morning babe.” I whispered back.

“So y/n...I heard you and Seo-joon made a bet over the weekend. What’s up with that?” Ju-Kyung asked pushing her hair over her shoulder and turning my way, “oh,” clearing my throat, “Well, Seo-joon's friends were complaining over the weekend about how much we kiss each other in front of them, so we decided to make a bet on how long we could go without kissing each other, and whoever caves in first loses. But, the winner gets to decide a full week of dates the loser has to pay for.” I stated.

“OOO! That sounds fun! We both know you guys though, and we know you both wont last 3 days!” Soo-a joked, causing the rest of the table to laugh, “what plans do you have to win?” she continued.

“Well, I’m not sure to be honest,” I chuckled running a stressed hand through my hair, “I think I’m just going to try and focus on something else other than kissing him, even though that’s going to be hard.” I said laughing a little, sticking my tongue out at Seo-joon just to tease him.

“Well if you need any help y/n just let us know, Ju-kyung and I would be happy to help!” Soo-a said, as everyone returned to their lunches.

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“y/n it’s been 2 days and you’re already starting to annoy us with all your whining about missing your ‘sweet precious Seo-joon’” Soo-jin joked, making a silly whiny voice at the end causing the other girls around the table with us to laugh at her terrible impression of me.

“Ya Soo-ho has been telling me about how annoying Seon-joon has been about this whole bet thing and he’s just about ready to kill him.” Ju-kyung laughed.

Sighing I took a sip of my milkshake, “I know, we’re so annoying but I don’t know what to do, I really miss him, but I don’t want to have to pay for all the dates we’d be going on.”

“Well why don’t you try to seduce him?” Soo-jin started, “I mean you’re closing at your work tomorrow right? Why don’t you invite him over for a late night swim after you close? I mean your boss shouldn’t mind if you don’t tell them right?”

“That’s,,,that’s not a bad idea Soo-jin.”

“Ya! And you can ask him tomorrow at school in front of all his friends! He’d be crazy to say no in front of them! especially to a makeout session in a pool!” Ju-Kyung reasoned, Soo-a shaking her head in agreement at our master plan.

“Alright then! Tomorrow at school.” I stated, taking the last sip of my milkshake.

--------------------------------------------------

“Hey baby.” I said walking right up to Seo-joon in the hallway, effectively stopping Seo-joon and his posse in their tracks.

“Oh, uhh, hey honey, how’s it going?” Seo-joon said, startled by my sudden appearance in front of him.

“Hey y/n!” one of Seo-joons friends said cheerfully. Paying his friend no mind I started to lean in closer to Seo-joon, causing him to lean his head back to avoid mine.

“So listen, I was thinking about going swimming at my work later? My boss is letting me close alone tonight since I’ve got the late shift?” I said leaning in closer with each sentence. Looking into Seo-joon's widened eyes at my statement.

Hearing his friends muffled laughing from behind him, he cleared his throat composing himself, “thanks for the offer baby but uh- i'm busy tonight.” he said hurriedly, before pushing past me and making his way into the classroom behind us, sitting at his desk hiding his flushed face and trying to ignore his friends teasing.

Looking over to Soo-a and Ju-Kyung I shook my head. Soo-a's expression turned to one of disappointment and Ju-Kyung letting out a hufft that our plan hadn’t worked.

--------------------------------------------------

“Soo-aaaaaa, our plan didn’t wooorrrrkk.” I whined, placing my head on my hand and leaning against the lunch table, “I don’t know what I'm supposed to do anymore, it’s been 6 days and I miss him.”

“y/n dude we know you miss him but you gotta stop talking about how much you miss him, it’s all you’ve been talking about since this whole bet started.” Tae-hoon complained.

“Listen, it’s not my fault that he’s so perfect and that every time I see him I just wanna kiss his perfect lips.” I whined my head slipping down my arm as I stared at Seo-joon from across the lunch room.

“Well if I were you and I wanted to avoid kissing my boyfriend I would just ignore him until he gives in.” Ju-kyung said between mouthfuls of rice and meat off of her lunch tray, “thanks babe.” Soo-ho said sarcastically as he looked at Ju-kyung blank faced, “no problem honey, only telling you the truth.” She joked before giving him a quick kiss on the lips, which he gladly accepted.

“I hate you guys and your cute-and-able-to-kiss-each-other, relationships.” I sighed, “well I guess ignoring him until he gives in isn’t such a bad idea.”

-------------------------------------------------

“Hey baby.” Seo-joon whispered as he placed his arm above me on the wall leaning in. “h-hey Seo-joon, how-how’s your day been?” I stuttered out trying to look him in the eyes, “My day’s better now that I've seen you.” He stated, gently lifting my face to properly look him in the eyes. “Listen honey, I have to get going to class but how about after school I take you to that book store you’ve been begging me to take you to”,

“Y-yeah, that would be nice thanks.”

“Good.” He leaned in to kiss me, feeling his warm breath fan across my face, causing me to flush. Closing my eyes I waited for the final push of his lips against mine, but instead felt the cold take the place of his warm breath as he suddenly pulled away his light laughter mixing with the small snickers of his friends watching the interaction, “see ya later baby.” he stated walking off down the hallway, his friends chasing after him, congratulation him on the little stunt he pulled on me. Seeing Ju-kyung, Soo-a and Soo-jin shaking their heads out of the corner of my eye, Soo-jin tutted “using your own tactic against you, that’s evil. but, man, you’ve got it bad for that boy. Good luck paying for all those dates.”

“I’m gonna have to try a lot harder to ignore him if he’s going to keep pulling stunts like that.” I sighed.

------------------------------------------------

It’s been 8 days since the bet had started, and it hadn’t gotten any easier to not kiss him. We’ve been effectively avoiding each other, this afternoon at school being the first time we’ve spoken since last thursday.

“Thanks for paying my bus fee. You didn’t have to do that” I thanked Seo-joon awkwardly as we took a seat at the very back of the bus.

“Of course, you’re my partner, you think I'd make you pay your own bus fee?” he laughed lightly, reaching out for my hand. Quickly yanking my hand away from his grasp I cleared my throat fixing my uniform shirt, looking away before I could get drawn back in by him.

“How was your day? You know besides great because now you’re seeing me.” he joked trying to drag my gaze away from the window to my left, “it was fine thanks, boring but you know how it is, stressed for the test on friday though.” I tried to joke, switching my gaze from the window to my fingers, playing with the hem of my dressshirt.

Sitting in awkward silence for the rest of the bus ride, we finally arrived at the small corner bookstore Ju-kyung recommended I check out.

“You know I could have just driven us here on my motorcycle right?”

“Well yeah but you know how I feel about your motorcycle, you’re gonna get killed on that think Seo-joon.” I joked, knocking his shoulder lightly, trying to lighten the mood from the tense bus right here. “Here let me get that for you.” Seo-joon said softly as he grabbed the door handle pulling it open for me to enter the warmth of the small store.

“Ah welcome!” the man at the front desk said as he pulled his headphones up from his neck to cover his ears, “FEEL FREE TO LOOK AROUND.” he yelled over the blasting rock music coming from his headphones.

Seo-joon and I quickly thanked him before walking further into the winding stacks of manga, making sure to be well out of earshot before bursting into fits of giggles over the yelling of the man at the front desk, calming down slightly before hearing him knock over a drink and letting out a few loud curses, throwing us back into our fits of giggles, leaning in Seo-joon's warmth trying to calm down.

Pulling away from him I cleared my throat before making my way further into the store fixing my uniform sweater to try and calm my warming face. Hearing Seo-joon clear his own throat before following a few steps behind me.

Running my fingers softly over the spines of manga looking for a title that grabbed me, I scanned the bookshelf spotting a title I recognized. “Seo-joon look!” I spoke excitedly pointing to the book I recognized on the top shelf, “My sister and I used to read them when we were younger, we would fight over our single copy for hours trying to read it before the other was able to.” I laughed lightly at the memory, not noticing Seo-joon's soft gaze watching me ramble about my childhood. Reaching up to try and grab the book I switched to standing on my tiptoes stretching my arm up as far as possible mumbling to myself, cursing my parents for making me so short. Just as I felt my finger tips brush the cracked spine of the manga a large hand came out of my right field vision grabbing the book off the shelf for me. “Ah thank you baby.” I thanked Seo-joon turning to him, reaching out for the book he still held in his much larger hands, however being slightly startled at how close he was actually standing to me.

Standing still for a few moments just looking at each other I broke the silence, “thanks for grabbing that for me. Could I please have the book now?” my voice coming out in barely a whisper. Not getting any sort of response from Seo-joon I asked him, “Seo-joon? What’s wrong ba-” not being able to get through the full sentence before feeling the breath knocked out of me as Seo-joon pressed his lips against mine, effectively ending the bet in one, beautiful, breathtaking, sweet kiss.

Pulling back after a few moments to catch out breath I looked up at him, eyes slightly closed still relishing in the feeling of the kiss we shared, a soft warm light coming from the shop's eclectic lighting fixtures, haloing him making him look more ethereal than I have ever seen him. “Sorry I didn’t ask you if I could kiss you, but I just saw you rambling about the book you were passionate about, and you look so cute with your hair falling in front of your face like it is,” he whispered lovingly pushing a strand of hair out of my sight, “and I just realized. I love you.” he stated, taking a deep breath in waiting for my reaction to his first confession.

Looking at me worriedly waiting for my reaction. “I love you too Seo-joon” I whispered, standing on my tiptoes, burying my face in his neck embarrassed at the first proper confession of our love for each other. Feeling Seo-joon smile into my neck he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer into his warm body, standing back, flat on my feet he buried me further into his chest, the both of us relishing in the warmth the others love provided.

“You know, I think our first date this week should be the movies tomorrow.” I started to laugh, feeling his chest rumble beneath my head he sighed lightly,

“You’re going to drain my bank account dry this week with these dates aren’t you?”

“Hahaha! Maybe I am. It’s only because I love you though.”

“I love you too”

[sepublic]

The Astro Queue and Party Car!

           Kez… my beloved… You’re so wonderfully expressive and cartoonish, and unusually flirty with anything that exists. Yet so charming and delightful, yet beneath it all you’ve got insecurities and I feel so BAD for her… But you know what, she didn’t need Paco, and the uh… Okay I kind of forgot their names, besides Hive and Spice-something, I have a general idea, and it doesn’t matter! Oh yeah, there’s also a rock from the Hey Ho Whoa Car, I appreciate that kind of retroactive return for an old car, that’s fun.

           Weird tangent incoming, but… Going back to what I said about Kez kind of reminding me of Ryan’s lifestyle, she also seems to have the insecurity of Min, and how they both have this thing of… Being afraid of how they’re perceived and letting that really get to them! And Kez… she looked SO at ease and relieved on Min’s shoulder at the end, my heart is MELTING…! Maybe Kez has traits that can make her relate to both Min AND Ryan as a mediator, as an example of the one they become (also foreshadowing One who inversely becomes One-One), and I like that her lack of understand of social cues (or knowing disregard) allows her to comment as an impartial third, outside party…

           But also- LORE! So it seems that those boots are meant to root passengers in place so they can’t muck about whenever the Steward is operating in the same car; I think we finally, FINALLY have an answer to what it meant when it told Tulip to stay in her seat- It’s likely a default line for a passenger who somehow manages to move from their place whenever the Steward is operating… Which, given all of Amelia’s mess and hijinx with the Infinity Train’s normal functions, that’s kind of her fault! Seeing Kez glitch also lends credence to the interpretation of denizens being spawned by orbs in a sense… Which, for Tuba-is-Alive conspiracy theorists, hope is there? Because her orb might still exist?

           Regardless… The Steward seems to really live up to its name, and it’s cool to see how it usually is meant to function- Not necessarily for maintenance, but for giving passengers anything they need, should there be a necessity! Which, that makes me wonder if the Steward and One keep track of passengers to rescue them if things get dangerous, which again, is ANOTHER problem Amelia caused, and contributes further to Grace and Simon forming the Apex! Yikes… Still, it’s fascinating to see how the Steward’s role plays in interacting with passengers more, and intriguingly, Amelia’s own dialogue there… It kind of sounds like she suggested to One that he give Min and Ryan their things back?

           So, maybe this is what Amelia had in mind; Maybe she wanted a more hands-on approach to the Infinity Train? Perhaps One invited her specifically as an actual human, second opinion as a passenger, someone who can provide input on how the Infinity Train is working, a review and feedback, constructive criticism! Oh god… Imagine if Amelia actually got her number down, and THEN One asked for feedback, and she decided to stick back because it’s not like she has anything waiting- But then realizing the opportunity to bring back Alrick made her number go back up!

           Still, if Amelia IS trying to convince One to be more proactive, then it’s interesting that she becomes even MORE hands-off than neglectful when she takes the role of Conductor! Did she just, like… Give up at some point? She mentions that Ryan and Min have to ‘individuate’, is One keeping a human passenger as suggestions on how to handle passengers more, as they directly watch over them? Is Amelia suggesting that Min and Ryan be more individual and separate, perhaps having their own numbers even, because she disagrees with One’s experiment? I can only guess, but I’m glad that, as I’d hoped, Book 4 indirectly gives us a look and context to Amelia’s backstory on the Infinity Train, as setup for her eventual arc… Also, just considered Kez and Amelia parallels as people called in as a second, outsider’s opinion on an issue, especially if you consider how One becomes a duo himself, too!

           Poor Ryan, he really does seem to have an issue of… Feeling belittled, being made to feel like he’s dumb and his ideas aren’t good, perhaps? While Min, he can get frustrated and I feel more angry at Ryan openly as a result, VS Ryan at Min… And I think that of course plays into his obvious anxiety; How Min and Ryan both feed into but can also bring one another up… Min is nervous, he’s overtly cautious, but Ryan can encourage him to put himself out there more! But also, Min can be the patience that Ryan needs, they really complete one another… But on the other hand, Ryan’s outbursting behavior can make Min even MORE anxious and resentful, and Min constantly being a dampener on his AND Ryan’s ideas can make Ryan chafe, it’s fascinating!

           It kind of fits the crossroads theme; How these two could use their opposite traits to propel one another, or instead drive each other crazy… And that could’ve played into the Infinity Train’s decision to appear to them at that moment; Do Ryan and Min collaborate and let their differences make up for one another, or drive each other crazy? How Ryan taking the keys, it could’ve led to Min taking cues from him and growing, or it could’ve led to Min being understandably frustrated and even MORE resentful with Ryan… And Ryan could learn to take into account Min setting his own boundaries, or instead disregard them recklessly! They go hand in hand together, it is a FASCINATING synergy!

           Also, I have to wonder what happened to Morgan, where they are… And I like the neat subversion of like, everyone already being gone; But it doesn’t matter, the party is still a ‘hit’ because our trio had fun together! And how they don’t need to impress anyone, just themselves; That’s some incredibly clever symbolism there, I like it! Also appreciate the return of Mr. Green and the theming of the Green Car in some capacity, I wonder what’s the story THERE, if the Green Room actually has a secret portal to the Green Car, etc.! Who’d have thunk that Green Car short didn’t just allude to Book 2, but also Book 4 as well!

           Onto the next destination, passengers! I can’t wait to see what awaits us…!

[inkweaver22-blr]

Welcome to chapter 14!

This one has been a long time coming, and I’m not just talking about how long it took me to write.

Fair warning: we see the return of why this fic is marked with an explicit violence tag.

Hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link

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Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Fourteen: Monkey Sees, Monkey Silenced

Tang is the Monkie Kid! Or should that be the Monkey Kid?

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Tang wondered why it had taken so long for a cycle like this one to happen. He tightened his grip on the Ruyi Jingu Bang as he solemnly watched the city shrink into the distance.

He and MK were swapped in this cycle. Tang was a young 24 year old delivery boy who lived above Pigsy’s Noodles and had a thirst for knowledge. MK, or Mr. Xiaotian, as Tang referred to him, was a 41 year old art professor at the local university who liked to tell Tang stories about the Monkey King.

That meant Tang was Wukong’s successor in this timeline. Or at least, he would be once he met the Monkey King at Flower Fruit Mountain. They were all currently on Sandy’s ship, sailing for the Flaming Mountains that surrounded the island paradise.

Tang took a breath as he felt the magic of the staff flow through him. He had noticed the transfer of the Monkey King’s powers into him the moment he had picked it up. It was very different to any other magics or powers he had in the past.

It was a raw, wild, and pure strength that dwarfed any of his previous skills in terms of power. Tang could feel it swirling inside him. The numerous different abilities all seemed to flow into each other and filled him to almost bursting with great destructive potential. He would have to learn how to properly control them to avoid causing too much collateral damage.

MK had managed to do so countless times before, and Tang himself had many experiences with learning new powers over the cycles. How hard could it be?

Tang turned his attention to the ring of volcanoes they were approaching. He wasn’t sure how closely he would have to stick to the original timeline, but decided not to push his luck with the more important events. That meant he would have to lose the staff when confronted by Princess Iron Fan.

That shouldn’t be too difficult. He may have trained with a long pole-type weapon, but it had been a long time since he had been able to practice. Not to mention how one wielded a staff was much different from how you would wield a guandao. Tang would have no problem losing this fight.

Now he only hoped he would be blasted in the right direction to land on Flower Fruit Mountain instead of into a pool of lava.

----------

Luckily for Tang, he was indeed launched in the proper direction. Landing on the beach would have hurt a lot more had it not been for his new power of invulnerability.

Tang watched as the waterfall curtain parted at his touch, making sure to appear suitably impressed. That wasn’t too hard considering he had always needed either Wukong or MK to open it for him in the past.

He entered the cave and looked around, calling out for the Monkey King. Tang approached the mural at the back of the cave, and felt magic flow into his eyes unbidden. The world around him turned into shining shades of gold as his True Sight activated.

Tang watched in awe as the figures on the mural seemed to come to life and began reenacting moments from the famous journey. He may have memories of actually living these events, but seeing them now was still something special.

In front of him was Wukong becoming Tripitaka’s disciple. Over there was Zhu Bajie and Sha Wujing fighting with some demons. Off in the corner was MK, Mei, Pigsy, Sandy, and Wukong standing over his unconscious body. Then there was Macaque, the gold and silver twins, and Spider Queen. Bai Long Ma trotted past with Tripitaka on his back.

Wait, what?

Tang whirled back around to the forms of his family and himself.

No, he had not imagined it. Laying on the ground was the sleeping form of his normal 41 year old self. Projections of the five people he considered his closest family were standing nearby. Sandy and Pigsy seemed to be having a conversation, Wukong was lounging on his tail, and Mei and MK, who was in his normal young form, were looking around the cave.

MK’s and Tang’s eyes met.

The young man seemed to explode into motion as he grabbed the attention of the others and began excitedly pointing at the scholar. The five began waving frantically at him, and Tang, at a complete loss as to what was happening, gave a halfhearted wave back.

Their reaction to that was much more extreme.

MK and Mei were jumping in place as they hugged in joy. Sandy was grinning as he waved both arms even harder. Wukong performed a back flip before pumping his fist in the air. Pigsy looked like he was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down his face.

Tang was absolutely baffled.

Wary of some kind of trick, he looked around the cave once more. With his True Sight active, he saw no signs of anything that could potentially be a trap. He did spot one of the projections of Wukong smirk at him before turning to run out of the cave, however.

Squinting in suspicion at the still celebrating group, Tang decided he would deal with it later. Letting the magic fade from his eyes, he chased after the Monkey King. He did his best to push the strange encounter out of his mind so he could focus on the task at hand.

----------

Fighting Demon Bull King using the full strength of the Monkey King’s power had been quite the rush. Tang felt a little bad about all the extra damage he had caused, but most of it had already been dealt by DBK so he supposed it was worth it to take him down.

Sighing in exhaustion, Tang prepared for bed. As he moved around his small apartment, his eyes caught the glow of the street lamps reflecting off his window, making it shine gold.

Oh right. Those projections of his family from earlier.

With a groan, Tang decided sleep would have to wait. He took a seat in his desk chair and took a deep breath. It took a bit of focus, but he was able to push magic into his eyes and activate his True Sight.

The world turned gold and the group appeared to his left near the kitchenette. Tang swiveled his chair around and watched as they noticed him studying them and began to wave excitedly once more. It looked like they were all saying something, yet no sound emanated from them.

Well that complicated a few things. Getting answers from them would be a lot harder without them being able to properly answer.

“You know I can’t hear anything you’re saying, right?”

The group froze at that, before quickly turning to each other and discussing amongst themselves.

“To be honest, I’m not sure if I trust what I’m seeing,” Tang said, catching their attention once more. “You all certainly look like my family, and Wukong’s True Sight can’t be fooled. But I’ve been through quite a bit of cosmic bullshit to know to be wary of what appears to be people I care about standing over what looks like my unresponsive body.”

The group glanced down at said body and began to shuffle around in awkward embarrassment.

“So here’s what we’re going to do.” Tang pointed at the projection of MK. “You, MK, are going to do your best to act out what’s going on. The rest of you,” he turned to the others, “are not to offer any help or instruction in any way, understand?”

They all reluctantly nodded, looking confused.

“Good. Begin whenever you’re ready.”

Tang watched as the young man did his best to act something out. As the performance continued, Tang felt the suspicion slowly ease and a smile grew on his face.

“Well I know for certain now,” he said once MK had finished. “No matter the timeline, you will always be terrible at charades, MK. No one could ever pretend to do that poorly.”

MK exploded with indignity as the others laughed at him. He crossed his arms in a huff and only turned back to the group once Wukong ruffled his hair playfully.

Tang smiled again as he watched the interaction. Being a good actor came with the ability to tell when others were acting as well. The reactions he was seeing were much too genuine to be faked.

“Okay, I believe you aren’t here for any malicious purposes. But now that I know I can trust you all, how can we go about figuring this out?” Tang drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “I could ask you yes or no questions, but without the right ones we could go in circles for hours. Writing out the alphabet and pointing to each letter until we spell out a word would take just as long.”

Tang stood and tried to approach the group. As he did, their projections moved with him, staying a set distance away and phasing through the wall out into the open air. He moved back and turned in place. The group did not move with him this time, remaining in the spot they had appeared.

“Well so much for seeing if we could physically interact,” he said once he sat back down in his chair.

His family seemed just as stumped as he was. They all were talking back and forth before Wukong suddenly jumped up, waving for attention.

“You have an idea, Wukong?”

The monkey nodded before sitting in a meditative pose. After remaining still for a few moments, he took his hands and placed them on his chest. He pulled them away and cupped them before him and began to inspect them closely. It took a couple repetitions before Tang understood what he was trying to say.

“You want me to manifest my soul?”

Wukong nodded as Mei said something to MK, causing him to pout.

“Don’t tease MK, Mei,” Tang said as he got into his own meditative position. “There’s nothing wrong with not being able to act out complex ideas.”

The group all just stared at him in surprise.

“I may not be able to read bad acting, but body language is easy enough to understand,” he said as he began to focus. “Now give me a moment.”

Manifesting his soul while keeping the True Sight active was a bit tricky. He had learned this ability back during the cycle with the copy of Tripitaka sealed into a statue, but never had to use it at the same time as another power. It took him longer than usual, but he was eventually able to bring his soul forward.

It looked the same as it always did. Many strands of light loosely wrapped into the vague shape of a sphere and plenty of empty space in the center. The strand that pointed off into infinity was leading out the window above Tang’s bed. It had taken him a few cycles to realize it always pointed to the West.

“Okay, so what am I looking-” Tang trailed off when he spotted something new.

A second strand was leading off from his soul. It pointed in the exact opposite direction of the first, heading East. It ended at one of the little knots that represented the larger pieces of his soul.

It was positioned directly above the form of his unconscious body.

The others seemed to be able to see the strands as Wukong pointed at the knot floating above his body and began to mouth out a word.

“Start?”

Wukong nodded and pointed towards the strand leading out the window and said another word.

“End.”

Grinning enthusiastically, he finally pointed at the soul in Tang’s hands and said one last word.

“Now.”

Tang’s breath caught.

He knew the strand leading into the West was connected to all the remaining pieces of his soul and would eventually have an end once he reached the last one. He knew his soul looked the way it did to represent how much of it he had managed to gather currently.

That left the start.

Several pieces began to fall into place.

“You’re- You’re the voices I hear calling out my name at the start of each cycle.” Tang absently returned his soul and he stood and stared at the smiling group.

They nodded in affirmation.

Tang’s breath became shallow.

“Are you- Are you from my original timeline?”

The group burst into joyous celebration, nodding and giving each other high fives.

Tang sat back onto his chair in shock.

His family, his first family, were standing only a few feet away.

He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry.

A sharp pain flashed behind his eyes before he could do either, and he grasped his head as it began to throb.

“Gah!”

He glanced up to see the group now watching him with concern. Wukong was gesturing at his own eyes, closing them slowly in exaggeration. Despite the pain, Tang was able to understand the message.

“Turn off the True Sight?”

Wukong nodded.

“But- ack!” The pain grew sharper. “But I have so many questions!”

Pigsy glared sternly at him and pointed to his bed. Sandy gave a comforting smile and pointed at the ground they were standing on.

Go to sleep and we’ll be here when you come back.

“Fine. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Wukong shook his head sadly and held up three figures.

“Three days?!” Tang gasped as the pain continued to build. “Shit! Okay, fine. Three days.” Tang gave them all one last look over. “I’ll see you then.”

They all gave him a thumbs up and Tang released his hold on the True Sight. He sighed in relief as the pain lessened slightly. His apartment looked much darker without the golden light filling everything.

Tang made his way into bed, physically and emotionally tired. He hated that he would have to wait for his answers. None of this made any sense.

His head throbbed painfully as he tried to think about what had just happened. Resigning himself to not being able to come to any sort of conclusion on his own, he settled down to sleep.

At least he had three days to come up with the proper questions he would need to ask. Hopefully the rest of the cycle would continue as normal so he could get some answers.

----------

The Wukong from his own time had been right when he had told him to wait three days before activating the True Sight again. The massive headache Tang had from overusing it lasted the entire time. It had distracted him during the incident with the weather station on the second day, making him quickly lose control of his abilities.

The seal this timeline’s Wukong had placed on his powers so he could control them helped a bit. The sharp pounding had only receded to a dull throb, but Tang found it to be a drastic improvement. He was able to take down Red Son and rescue his family fairly quickly afterwards.

It was currently the evening of the third day and Tang was making his way back to Pigsy’s Noodles after making his final delivery for the night. He drummed the steering wheel impatiently as he waited in traffic. His headache was completely gone so he could finally get some answers tonight once he was alone in his apartment.

The nerves and excitement eventually got to him and Tang began to take shortcuts down less used side streets to get back quicker. A few blocks away from the shop, he turned down one final alley that was shrouded in darkness, not thinking much of it.

He really should have expected being forcibly pulled from the vehicle and slammed up against the wall.

Before Tang could react, something was slapped against his chest and he felt the access to his powers cut off entirely while his body became paralyzed.

“So this is the Golden Boy’s so-called successor,” said a familiar voice. “Can’t say I’m too impressed.”

Tang’s blood ran cold as he stared up into the sneering face of the Six Eared Macaque. He did his best to struggle but whatever the shadow demon had done had left him completely immobilized.

“Don’t know why he would pick a weak little human like you. Your kind has such terrible senses. You didn’t even notice my presence until it was too late.” Macaque eyed Tang up and down, frowning in disapproval.

“He could have at least found another monkey like us. Would have been way more thematic.” Macaque smirked as he held up a small purple gem with a spiked point. “Luckily I have a way to fix that.”

Sweat rolled down the side of Tang’s face as he watched in fear while Macaque positioned the spiked end of the gem against the base of his throat.

“You can thank me for this later,” Macaque said with a manic and sinister grin.

Macaque stabbed the gem into his neck.

The paralyzing effect holding Tang in place broke and he convulsed on the ground as purple electricity raced across his body.

The last thing he was aware of was the sound of Macaque’s laughter mixing with his own screams before he mercifully blacked out.

----------

Tang slowly regained consciousness.

He didn’t have the dream about the cave so that meant it was still the same cycle. Whatever Macaque had done hadn’t killed him this time.

Although Tang wasn’t sure if the full body ache and fire in his throat was a better outcome.

He was in a bed he realized, and there were faint voices he could just pick up.

Not having the energy to move, he did his best to focus on what was being said.

“-managed to remove the second seal blocking his powers, but left the one that allows him to control them,” said a voice Tang didn’t recognize.

“What about the choker? Were you able to remove it?” Tang recognized Wukong’s worried tone right away.

“That is one nasty piece of jewelry,” said the first voice with a sigh. Tang assumed it was a healer of some kind. “One of its effects is that should anyone other than the one who put it on the victim remove it, the victim would immediately die.”

There were several sharp intakes of breath.

“That’s only one of the effects?” Mr. Xiaotian was here as well it seemed. Were they all waiting for him? “What all does this thing do?”

“There’s only three curses I detected,” said the healer. “You’ve seen the physical changes of the first, and know the dangers of the second. The third is perhaps the most cruel however.

“Your young friend is no longer capable of physically communicating complex thoughts or ideas.”

What?

“What does that mean?!” Pigsy sounded angry, but Tang could notice the undercurrent of fear. “Are you saying he’s lost his intelligence?”

“Not at all. His thoughts will just be trapped in his own mind and he will be unable to share them.”

Tang felt fear begin to gnaw at him.

The healer sighed once more, this time sounding saddened.

“It is truly an insidious curse.

“He’s been rendered completely mute, so he can’t talk. If he were to attempt using sign language, he would temporarily lose the coordination of his hands and fingers. Anything he will try to write or type out would end up as incomprehensible gibberish.

“The best he would be able to do is point at things and shake his head yes or no.”

Tang was suddenly cold.

That was…

No.

No no no no!

He couldn’t lose his ability to communicate! Not this cycle!

He finally had a lead to how this had all started! He needed to be able to ask his family from the original timeline questions!

Who knew when he would ever have access to Wukong’s True Sight again? If it ever happened at all?

Tang struggled to open his eyes, hissing in pain as the light filled his vision. He raised his arm to block it out, only to pause at what he saw.

Hadn’t the healer said there had been a curse that caused physical changes?

Bright golden-yellow fur covered his arm, and his hand had been replaced with a paw.

Ignoring his protesting body, Tang sat up and looked around. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, but it appeared he didn’t need them any more.

He wasn’t in a hospital. The room was set up in a traditional style with the typical furniture one would find in a guest room.

Tang found what he was looking for when he spotted the full length mirror on the opposite side of the dresser.

He climbed out of the bed and made his way over, doing his best to move past the pain.

Tang stepped in front of the mirror.

A monkey with golden-yellow fur, cream colored face and chest, and silver face markings that resembled an open book stared back.

Around the monkey’s neck was a black metal choker, the flat side of the purple gem at its center.

“He could have at least found another monkey like us. Luckily I have a way to fix that.”

Ah. So that’s what Macaque had meant.

Tang pressed his trembling fingers against the glass.

He really shouldn’t be so surprised. It had happened to MK so many times that he should have expected it to happen to him as well.

So why did he feel so numb?

Tang opened his mouth to try and say something, to try and prove the healer wrong. To convince himself this wasn’t actually happening.

But the only sound that came out was a raspy breath.

“Hey, bud?” Wukong poked his head through the door, frowning at Tang in worry when he saw him standing at the mirror. “You… You really shouldn’t be out of bed, kid.”

Tang nodded blankly, shuffling back over to the bed and sitting down. Wukong closed the door behind him and made his way over to sit beside him.

“I bet you have a bunch of questions,” Wukong said.

Tang shook his head.

“No?”

Tang pointed at the door and then to his ears.

“You heard us talking?”

Tang nodded.

“Oh.” Wukong shuffled nervously. “Are… Are you okay?”

Tang took a shuddering breath. He turned to his mentor with tears in his eyes and shook his head.

“Oh, bud.” Wukong quickly scooped the younger monkey into his arms as he began to sob silently. “I’m so, so sorry. I should have been keeping a better eye on you. I should have been there to interfere and prevent this from happening. This is all my fault.”

Tang cried into the Monkey King’s chest.

He cried for the pain he felt at the hands of someone he considered a part of his family.

He cried at being forced into a different form unwillingly.

He cried for the loss of his ability to communicate

He cried for losing what may be his only chance to talk to his family from the original timeline.

He cried at the unfairness of the cycles and the universe in general.

Tang cried.

Yet he barely made a sound.

----------

“Hey, bud!”

Tang looked up from his meditation at the approaching Monkey King.

It was a few weeks later. Wukong had practically forced him to move to Flower Fruit Mountain in order to keep a better eye on him.

Tang didn’t mind. Without his ability to communicate, he couldn’t do his job at Pigsy’s Noodles anyway. Pigsy had let him keep the apartment, just in case he wanted to spend the night in the city.

Tang smiled up at Wukong as he stood. It was nice to be the one with multiple father figures for a change.

“So I think I may have a way around the communication curse,” Wukong announced brightly.

Tang’s eyes widened as he tilted his head in curiosity. It hadn’t taken him long to learn how to convey how he felt through body language alone.

“The curse only prevents you from communicating physically, right?”

Tang nodded.

“Well there’s a power I have that lets me speak to someone from a distance. I, uh, actually kind of forgot about it because my astral projections have a longer range so I don’t use it much.”

Tang snickered silently as Wukong rubbed his head in embarrassment.

“Anyway! How would you like to learn telepathy?”

Tang blinked as he processed that. Telepathy certainly wasn’t a normal power the Monkey King usually had.

It also wasn’t a physical form of communication. You instead projected your thoughts psychically to those around you.

Tang pumped his fists in the air and performed a back flip in excitement. Being a monkey had certainly made him much more nimble.

“I thought you’d feel that way,” Wukong said with a laugh. “Want to get started now?”

Tang immediately sat down and stared eagerly at his teacher.

“I’ll take that as a yes!”

----------

Telepathy had been hard to master.

The first weeks of the process had Tang randomly projecting his subconscious thoughts to anyone nearby. There had been some awkward moments when he accidentally projected things from previous cycles, but he was able to wave it off as daydreams.

It had taken some work, but Tang could now pick out a single person within a few hundred miles and send them a specific message. It was a tiring process, so he didn’t actually use it often, but he could do it.

He could communicate again!

Tang stood alone in the apartment above Pigsy’s Noodles and activated his True Sight.

He had done this a few times after the attack, just to be sure that his family would still be there.

Like the previous times, the group of five and his body appeared to the East of him. They all waved in greeting and Tang waved back.

Tang took a breath and looked MK directly in the eye.

‘Can you hear me?’

MK’s smile didn’t change as he eagerly watched on.

‘Hello? MK? Mei? Anyone?’

None of them reacted.

No.

‘Hello? Please! Can any of you hear me?!’

The groups’ smiles began to fade as Tang became visibly upset, his fists clenched and shoulders trembling.

No!

This wasn’t fair!

He had worked so hard!

Tang fell to his knees as tears poured down his face.

This had been his last hope. His last shot at trying to get any answers.

It hadn’t worked.

Frantic waving from the group caught his attention.

The five of them had knelt down to be closer to his eye level. They were all smiling gently, their expressions kind and forgiving.

MK placed his hands together, forming a heart. The others soon followed suit. Even Wukong.

It’s okay. We still love you.

Tang choked as his tears fell harder. He shakily put his hands together and formed his own heart.

I love you too.

Tang decided this was the only answer he needed.

----------

Bet none of you saw that coming!

I’m going to enjoy seeing you all try to come up with an explanation for what’s going on. :3c

Monkey Tang’s design is something I came up with myself. I’ll see if I can draw it out for a better reference.

Look out everyone! The plot is here and it won’t be stopping any time soon!

Until next time!

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: The Anime (pt. 5)

The anime is a different species than the manga, something that frequently happens during the adaptation from page to screen. Since they’re so different, I’ll analyze them separately.

In the previous section, we discussed how a new element has joined the story: Ruka and Natsume's growing tensions and jealousy over liking the same girl, and the effect it could have on their friendship. This is done a little differently in the anime, and in this part, I'll discuss the ramifications for Natsume's feelings and the consequences it has on his friendship with Ruka as well as the approval of Persona. There is also an equally important aspect of Mikan's feelings, frequently neglected in a narrative sense, and how they are growing stronger for Natsume as well.

Episode 20 vs. Chapter 25 & 26

This carries onto episode twenty, the Dance episode. This episode combines two chapters to accommodate length. In general, the anime doesn’t really explore what it means for Natsume to be a principal student, like sitting on stage with the other principals. There’s a lot unsaid here that is more important in the manga.

Even more, the last episode tied up some loose ends, or at least attempted to, in regards to the tension of the musical. In the manga, those tensions are still an open wound that nobody in the love triangle wants to touch. The anime still has some of them, but to a much lesser extent. They’ve made up and had fun between then and now.

And Mikan is completely uninterested in the Last Dance, seemingly, but spends a lot of time wondering about why others care about it, almost as if she wants to care so she can fit in. Anna and Nonoko have their crushes, the fan club girls are as obsessed with Natsume and Ruka as ever, and even Hotaru has a horde of admirers, even if she’s uninterested in them. Mikan feels left out, just like she always does, just for the sake of being different.

(One of my favorite tropes is when Person A is talking about their love life or lack thereof and the next person that shows up next just so happens to be their soulmate.)

The tensions between Natsume, Ruka, and Mikan are focus in the manga. In the anime, they’re watered down. Mikan is interested in dancing with both of them, unlike in the manga, where she desperately wants to avoid them. Mikan is more oblivious in the anime than in the manga, as a result. Manga!Mikan can feel the tension, and knows things are different now, because they’re weird! She’s a very intuitive and emotional girl and she can sense shifts and changes better than anyone. In the anime, she’s not as uncomfortable; she just wants to have a good time with her friends.

Interestingly, even though it was Ruka he pushed, it’s Mikan who’s watching him leave in the frame…

Just like in the manga, Natsume literally pushes Ruka into dancing with Mikan and they have a lot of fun dancing together before Mikan starts dancing with others. Hotaru’s “blessing” (or whatever that scene is) is a lot more obvious in the anime, with her actually requesting a “Mikan cake”, and neglecting some of the demanding, blackmailing atmosphere of the chapter. In the anime, Mikan actually seeks out Natsume and asks him to dance. In the manga, she is upset with him, but in the anime Mikan doesn’t hold grudges. She’s not tense at all and is willing to be the one to break the coldness between them. He naturally responds in the negative and insults her and they fight again, culminating in the infamous “Mikan” and “don’t care about what I call you anymore; that’s my last wish.”

Natsume: *says 2 syllables* // Mikan: *falls in love with him*

Even the anime has to concede that Natsume won with that one, lol.

Anyway, the anime also includes Ruka meeting up with Natsume and them fighting over who’d get Mikan (“You can have her, bro.” “No, bro, she likes you.” “No, bro--”), even though it’s not their decision. Even if they somehow decided Ruka would win, or Natsume would win, it’s ultimately up to Mikan to figure out who she has feelings for.

And award for best friendship in the history of all media ever goes to--

This is where the tension from the previous episode takes center stage. There’s discord and insecurity here, but not any real malice or resentment. They’re just boys and this is the first girl either of them has ever liked, and it just so happens to be the same girl. They’re best friends and they love each other, but this is a complication neither of them anticipated. Naturally, they don’t know how to communicate it, but they both know how the other feels anyway because they know each other so well they don’t need to be told. They fight that Mikan will pick the other for the Last Dance and then a very cute moment follows when Hotaru reveals she picked Mikan for the Last Dance and both of the boys start laughing. It ends, focusing on Hotaru and Mikan’s friendship and Natsume and Ruka’s friendship. They’re kids after all, and should be focusing on having fun and being children whenever they have the chance. Romance and complicated love triangles can wait. I really like this addition.

Episode 21 vs. Chapter 27

Just like in the manga, Natsume is bad at sticking to his word and he still engages with Mikan in the next episode. He still helps others with studying because of her example, and goes along with the whole class in study mode, even if he is half-assing the actual exams.

Mikan and Sumire have a plot element added, to supplement their new friendship from the Reo Arc. Sumire can’t cook and has given up on exams. Even though Mikan desperately wants the honor student award so she can see her grandpa, she sacrifices her study time to spend the whole night helping Sumire with cooking, even though she herself isn’t so talented either. This further helps showcase that Mikan is helpful, and that she is willing to sacrifice what she wants so that other people can have happiness too. Just like she was willing to leave the school she fought so hard to keep open so she can see her best friend in the first episode, she’s willing to wait a little more to see Jii-chan if it means she can help Sumire.

“Nice girlfriend you have there. Sure would be a shame if something happened to her.”

However, despite all the sweetness of Mikan’s plot, someone is watching Natsume interact with the group and more specifically with Mikan (though in the anime, it’s Persona, not the ESP), and Natsume gets warned by Persona to stay away from Mikan.

Episode 22 & Chapter 28

He does just that in the next episode, staying away from and (as a result) bothering Mikan.

We are introduced to Kaname, Tsubasa’s sickly friend who has the life-shortening alice. He uses his alice anyway, because he likes making people happy, even if it comes at a cost. After all, he grew up lonely until he made Bear, so he wants others to not feel lonely.

But Kaname isn’t the only one with the life-shortening alice. Mikan is so distressed about her revelations that she acts out a little during her chores, hitting Natsume with her duster. He simply walks away, doing as he is told to keep her safe, because that dream he had in the Reo Arc is still relevant and because Persona’s warnings are fresh in his mind. Hanging out with her is bad for both of them. Mikan doesn’t know any of this, but thoughts about poisonous alices are all she can think about, and as he walks away from her, it occurs to her that he might be suffering just like Kaname. But whereas Kaname chooses to use his alice to make others happy, Natsume has no such choice. He is forced to use it, and his life is much shorter as a result.

Sadly, once Mikan starts really liking Natsume, he's always walking away from her.

In the manga, we do get a glance of Natsume’s suffering and reliance on pain meds to get through the night, but it’s a bit different in the anime. We see him lying on his bed, struggling with the pain. But why night? The truth is that Natsume feels like that almost all the time. It’s only when he’s alone in his room that he can be honest and really let himself feel it. He doesn’t have to hide it for someone else’s sake, or to give off the impression that he is totally fine.

Summary

In this section, we discussed the consequences for Natsume's growing feelings for Mikan, and the added complication that Ruka likes her too, as well as the fact that Mikan is starting to develop feelings for Natsume as well. His illness and status as child soldier are sadly all too present, and Natsume is paralleled with Kaname in Episode 22 and then is paralleled with the mistreated lion in the circus arc, which is what I'll be discussing next, in the final part of the anime analysis.

<- Previous Part Next Part ->

[hollenka99]

Introductions

Summary: Ghostbur arrives in the Void and meets the half of Alivebur that never returned to the Overworld. It is not always plain sailing. Chapter 1 of Unequal Halves.

Warnings: Implied/referenced self harm, derealisation(?), unreality, death, smoking, alcoholism mention

There is the low hubbub of quiet conversation in the air. All around him is rubble and he can't quite recall how L'Manburg came to look like this. If he asked Phil, his father would likely explain. Something bad must have happened if he can't remember. So... maybe it was for the best that his mind goes blank whenever he thinks about it. It was probably just the result of Alivebur blowing the country up anyway, he didn't get a great vantage point before he died so the theory is feasible. Ghostbur must be misremembering how L'Manberg looked before- Huh, no it got restored at some point, he knows that. Not Alivebur's doing then. Phil would know. Phil knows a lot of things, including how to potentially bring back Alivebur. Speaking of Phil, his father was stood next to Eret, both of them lingering by the little recreation set. Ghostbur isn't paying much attention but his best guess is that the topic revolves around their third resurrection attempt today, the reason they've all gathered here once more. He wonders whether the others like Tommy, Fundy and Tubbo will join them. He wouldn't mind leaving for a few minutes to make absolutely sure he's said his goodbyes to them and others. That said, he has had nearly an entire week between the last attempt and today to do that. Not to mention the few days prior to that after he and Phil had organised the first round of re-enactments. Perhaps if this works out, he could influence Alivebur somehow and say goodbye posthumously. "Well, if we're going to do it, better sooner rather than later. Unless we're waiting for the exact time of day he died." "No, let's do it now. I've got the totem and sword, we're all here... there's no point in waiting for the stars to align." "And if it goes like the last two times?" "Then we deal with it. I'll take the blame for wanting to use our third and final chance." There is a pause and in the corner of his eye, he can sense Phil looking his way. "Ghostbur?" "Hi, Phil." He floats over. "Is it time to try again? I've been going over my lines so nothing can go wrong." "I'm sure you have, mate." Phil takes his arm so it is outstretched with an open palm. Into his awaiting hand, a small figurine is placed. It resembles a villager with tiny wings poking to the sides and eyes made of emerald. He believes the closest he's come into contact with one of these totems is that time some citizens of L'Manburg locked Techno in a cage as a prank. Was that thing he saw Techno use a totem? He can't recall correctly, he's not even sure he was fully paying attention since he was watching Friend sniff around at the time, but the light show had been very pretty. "This is a totem of undying. It's going to help us with resurrecting you. Do not drop it at any point. Hold it as tight as you can, got that mate? You holding on to that totem is more important than any lines you might have rehearsed." He playfully tosses it between his hands. "Okay." "Ghostbur." Phil snatches the item from mid-air. Ghostbur catches a glimpse of his father's scornful expression and instinctively averts his eyes. "This is serious. Do you understand how important it is for you to hold this totem or not?" "I do, Phil. Sorry." The item is returned to him. Like he's been instructed to do, he grips it tightly and refuses to let his hold on it weaken. Their little dramatisation goes well. He says the crucial line, the button gets pressed and even more impressively, Ghostbur doesn't flinch in the slightest when the sword meets his semi-corporeal being. This is the third time he's properly died as himself and the sixth since Alivebur's birth. He's sure that if there's any deity in charge of death, they'll be going 'oh it's you again' in a second. ---- It's an odd thing to see your doppelganger in front of you. Wilbur is certainly not a twin and he's never met anyone he's shared a particularly strong resemblance to either. Even during the genetic mishmash that created him, both sides of his family tree had won their battles yet neither claimed true victory over the other to represent themselves more heavily within him. So sure, there were traits you could see he'd inherited from his mother but it wasn't as if he looked like her. However, he was yet to meet someone whose similarity in appearance took him by surprise. The first time had been a shock. He'd been tolerating Schlatt's company with Mexican Dream making the experience a little easier to endure. The Wilbur duplicate had randomly appeared while the three of them had been sitting around, wasting time at a table. The guy is only there for a matter of seconds but it's enough to register his appearance. There's the matching dull grey skin and the hair that's darkened with death. Wilbur's vaguely aware he used to own a sunflower yellow jumper like that in life. It's certainly not the chequered top he's wearing. It happens again shortly after. Wilbur Two doesn't stay long but he appears at the exact spot where Schlatt was sitting. A flimsy connection seems to form, strong enough for the ex-emperor to speak through the ghost and have an extremely blurred view through his eyes. Wilbur sits there as his political rival talks bullocks about jacking off, protein powder and cigarettes. Wilbur would tell him to cut it out if he had cared enough about his counterpart being used like that. All he says when Schlatt seems present within himself once more is impatient prompting to continue their game. They'd anticipated another visit but his clone hasn't shown up since. By now it's been... months maybe? It was hard to tell with the only natural variables when it came to the passage of time being whether it was day or night, sunny or raining. He's been stuck in what he believes is the transition period between spring and summer ever since he got here. Which is absolutely ridiculous given that he has some creative control of this place. Regardless, he's honestly half forgotten about the incident when they truly reunite. The clone sticks out in his bright jumper. It's one of the days Wilbur's dragged himself away from whatever tree roots he's picked to curl up besides. Upon spotting the other Wilbur, he follows from a distance. He ascends a nearby tree. He swears he's been here before, amongst the highest branches to observe someone who didn't know he was there. It's the kind of deja vu he hates, the one with not even the slightest hint of why he might feel that way. Well, maybe one reason but he'd rather not dwell on that. Listen, he tells himself after travelling through the treetops, he's not going to be whole until the two of them interact so he'd better just get on with it. Well, here goes nothing. He pushes off and hops down with a thump. ---- It's peaceful here. Daisies are dotted around, as are oak trees. Despite not knowing where exactly he is, he appreciates how at ease the occasional sounds of wildlife or the leaves of trees rustling in the wind make him. Well, at least for a while, that is. He swears it's just birds. Honestly, what else would it be if not birds? He's being silly. Although, maybe he should escape from any potential creature's line of sight. A part of him he can't reach urges him to not seek out any dirt walls, to head in the opposite direction of them in fact. He's pretty sure he doesn't have anything to protect here other than himself but the instinct to fool potential pursuers directs his movements. A weighty object impacts the ground behind him and he abandons his efforts. Ghostbur risks peeking over his shoulder. And that is how he finds himself face to face with the man who'd been following his movements. "Well, took you long enough." The stranger was certainly not there a moment ago. The fact they are his mirror image is naturally the most striking detail to notice. Although, he will say Alivebur doesn't look too well. His beanie helps with hiding the full extent of his hair's dishevelment despite said hair potentially being able to somewhat distract onlookers from noticing how permanently exhausted his face was. It doesn't matter to Ghostbur. Regardless of the disapproving crossed arms he is met with, he politely introduces himself. "Hi, I don't think we've met before. My name is Ghostbur! What's yours?" "You know our name." He's rifling through his pockets, seemingly unconcerned by the momentous occasion. "Oh, you're Alivebur then." "Ali-" The other Wilbur's head whips up to glare at him. "Do I look alive to you?! We are both the same person, a person who is very much dead." "Deadbur then." "Wilbur is fine. It's our name so I don't see why you can't use it." "It doesn't matter anyway." Wilbur abandons his quest to locate whatever he was try to find. Instead, he sticks out his hand, offering for it to be shaken. "Since you haven't disappeared 2 seconds after showing up this time, I think it's high time we wrap this little charade up, don't you? My best guess is we need skin contact or something along those lines." "Charade?" The hand's altitude falters slightly, almost as if the disgruntled sigh it was paired with had caused it. "Us being apart. I'm sure you've had your fun but it's time we fused back." He should take Wilbur's hand. He really should. This is what Phil, Eret and the others were working towards. People wanted Alivebur back as it was. So that meant he had to go. Think of all that time and effort to prepare everything for something he suggested they do in the first place, wasted by cold feet. Was he the first one to bring up resurrection? He honestly has no clue. There isn't a guarantee that this will work anyway. Same as... something he's sure has slipped his mind. Oh wait no, the button! He hadn't been sure about whether that would be successful either. But it had been. So this would likely be too, right? Except, he doesn't want to. He's not ready to give up the feeling of sunshine as he strolls around, the aroma of ingredients as he brews potions, the ability to chat with his friends while checking in on them or any of the other things he's enjoyed while himself. It was him who helped make the lanterns that once floated above New L'Manburg, him who attempted to collect enough books to start a history-preserving library and it was him who tried to build Tommy a nice holiday home to cheer his brother up during their time away from their nation. He knows he told Phil he was willing to relinquish his existence to return Alivebur to everybody but... maybe he didn't entirely mean it in his heart. They'll never be enough time, regardless how much the universe may wish to grant him, yet this doesn't feel like it's close to enough. "...No." "No?" "I don't want to go back yet. I..." He isn't too keen on that scowl. Perhaps if he makes up an excuse, things won't be so tense. "I just got here so why would I leave before I um, explored?" Shoulders loosen and Wilbur is back to absentmindedly rummaging through his pockets. "Guess I won't force you. And well, if you're going to be here for the indefinite future, I can give you a tour of this place." "That would be really helpful. Thank you." He breaks into a grateful smile. "Okay so to the north is grass and trees, to the west is grass and trees, same to the south. Oh but the east is actually quite exciting. You'll find trees and grass there." "I... see. Sounds great." Keep smiling, no need to ruin any potential future rapport so early. "I can't wait to look around." "Ghostbur, was it?" "Uh huh!" "Guess I'll be seeing you around." Having finally found his cigarette, the one native to these lands waves him off, the soon-to-be lit stick inbetween his fingers. He begins to stroll off into the cover of forest. He's sure he's being silly but Ghostbur could have sworn the quantity of trees gains density as it conceals the other man. Still, Ghostbur has seemingly been left completely to his own devices so he comes to the decision he will spend the rest of the day exploring. It can't hurt to get a feel for his surroundings. Honestly, how monotonously repetitive could this world really be? --- This is fine. All this is a setback but not one they can't overcome. He'd meant it when he said he wouldn't force Ghostbur to do anything. This was all a waiting game, to be honest. He could win it with the mouth that had long ago rallied people to a cause. He once believed in the phrase 'words over weapons' and how nobody in L'Manburg should wear armour because they shouldn't need that level of protection on a daily basis. The reality of tyrannical violence had proved him wrong. However, it was a negotiation that ultimately won them the war, albeit not one he was part of. He still likes to think Tommy's success that day was potentially due in part to Wilbur rubbing off on his right hand man. So in the pursuit of victory, Wilbur vows to stay civil where possible. --- As Ghostbur wanders, he comes to realise how true Wilbur's summary had been. The longer he explores, the longer the green persists. This world truly seems to be comprised of forests and open fields. It's his third day of checking what each path may offer when he finds himself in the midst of trees. However, the woods here were familiar. All around him was birch bark. They're scattered about and nothing about them indicates a natural path that can be made. Yet, as Ghostbur walks, he seems to know instinctively how to navigate the area and the way in which he should weave through the trees. It surprises him to eventually discover a stream flowing by these woods. Yet, at the same time, he feels like he should have been expecting to find it. Why does this place feel familiar? Oh. This was where Alivebur met Tommy, wasn't it? He could almost picture it. He had been wandering around the area surrounding their latest base. At least this part of the world tended to have fairly warm Aprils. Even better after the two months Phil had made them spend in a tundra during winter. It was completely nonsensical and Wilbur had made sure Phil knew his thoughts on the matter beyond any doubt. But they'd evaded any of nature's potential attempts to make them hypothermic long enough to get through it. Now all Wilbur needed to focus on was enjoying the not-yet-scorching sunshine while Phil was... off collecting resources, he believes. He's sure he's slightly lost. The general direction of their temporary base, that was no problem to discern but the actual way to reach his destination? Who on earth knew. It was just birch tree after dumb birch tree. There weren't any of those markers that he'd been taught about either so it was like he was destined to get lost. But then, a break in the tree line? A stream, actually! He's sure Phil has the essentials like water down already but it wouldn't hurt to gather a bucketful more. Phil did lend him a chest for a reason, after all. It's not the cleanest nor clearest body of water he's ever seen. Who really cares when there's ways of purifying it. It does seem to go on for a great distance, further than Wilbur's eyes can tell. The stream itself isn't particularly wide. He reckons he could easily leap over from one side to the other. On the opposite side of the bank, there's a hole that seems to have been hollowed out by hand amongst all the mud. Rather bizarrely, there's also a random child lingering there. Wilbur was hardly an expert on determining someone's age, especially when it came to younger children. However, he'd soon know with hindsight that the little boy in front of him had been roughly 4 years old at that moment. Blond hair messy to the point it might be easier to shave it all off than attempt brushing it, clothes tattered and dirt visible in several spots of his skin, it was evident from this kid (regardless of their isolated surroundings) wasn't meant to be here. "Hey, are you lost?" "No. Go away." A thin branch makes an attempt at threatening him. "Are you planning to hit me with those sticks?" The little boy glances back at the pile nearby. "They're my Scary Ouchers." "Scary Ouchers. Uh-huh." He forces himself not to laugh. This kid must have undoubtedly been through a lot if he's out here on his own seemingly long term. "And am I scary?" "Maybe." "What if I tell you my name, will that help me be less scary?" "Dunno." "Well, I'm Wilbur. And I promise I'm not here to hurt you." The kid seems to shrink within himself slightly as he weighs whether this 11 year old stranger is worth trusting. "Tommy." "Tommy? Okay. Hi, Tommy. Do you want me to take you home?" "I have a home." "Then let me bring you back there. I'm sure your Mummy and Daddy are worried about you." "Got a home." He repeats, banging the stick in his hand against the earth. "Tommy," Wilbur sighs. "You get that this isn't a good home, right? Come on, I can take you to my camp. Me and my dad will help you out." Tommy's confliction persists until he tentatively raises a hand, all fingers folded inwards except for the smallest one. Wilbur giggles as understanding dawns. One pinky encompasses a much smaller one. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you, Tommy." "You sure?" "Just pinky promised, didn't I?" Tommy considers this then nods with all the solemnness that only a child his age could treat such a practise with. They gather up all of the so called 'Scary Ouchers', god Phil will probably get a kick out of hearing the story tonight, and dump them in the chest. With Tommy tasked with guarding their wares upon the shoddy wagon Wilbur had constructed himself ages ago, the older boy guides them back to camp. Phil is understandably confused when he sees another child by the tents. He quickly resigns himself to their new reality. The conclusion that there are no parents to speak of, at least not anymore, is kind of obvious. Any memory of them will be stolen by time and the inability of a developing mind to store any event for potentially lifelong recollection. It's fine though. The four year old has a new family now, one that will love him for years to come. And after they return home to the little house situated in a valley? Well, Wilbur's little brother only gains volume when he speaks and far too much energy the more comfortable he becomes with his new life. In response to this memory, he longs to have Tommy here, to be the good Alivebur who can be trusted to be on better terms with his little brother. The two of them used to be really close, despite how often they drove each other up the wall. But Ghostbur had seen how Tommy didn't seem too fond of Alivebur anymore. There was also the fact Alivebur had become bad at some point down the line, driving Tommy as well as others away. Because nobody is born bad and Ghostbur struggles to reason that an 11 year old boy who genuinely wished to help a homeless kid approximately a third of his age was bad too. Here, in this secluded area full of birch trees with flowing water as part of its soundtrack, Ghostbur imagines a teenager obnoxiously laying across his lap in the gentlest of ways. Tommy calls him a bitch through chuckles and playfully chastises him for being 'all sappy and shit'. It's reminiscent of moments that truly did come to pass once upon a time. His little brother once made him a daisy chain while in this very position but unfortunately, this was back when Fundy was still tiny and all it took was little hands being allowed to inspect the item before the stemmed links broke as a result of tears. It had still ended well, the remnants were sprinkled in Fundy's then-wispy hair while the baby's giggles joined the laughter of his father and uncle. God he misses Tommy. He hopes that one day, if- when he and Wilbur manage to reform into Alivebur, things will improve and they can have that again. --- By now, he knows not to expect Wilbur to look his way. It's okay, he's used to it. People would talk to him then struggle to continue fully politely hiding their desire for him to leave them to their own affairs. At least Wilbur is more willing to be upfront with it, he supposes. Wilbur has things he wants to do and so must Ghostbur. When the rain descended upon them yesterday, their conversation resulted in them clashing. Wilbur can come out with a spiteful anger without much provocation. It usually lies restrained on the surface but Ghostbur dreads when it is fully unleashed on him. For the most part, there is an understanding that for whatever reason, Ghostbur is not inclined to view him fondly. He wonders if his rejection of the merging request has anything to do with Wilbur's negative bias. Perhaps it is best that Wilbur keeps his distance. He doesn't want to believe that is the case though. It is for this very reason that Wilbur approaching him with an friendly offer takes him by surprise. "I'm going to visit Schlatt and Mexican Dream. Want to come? I think it would be interesting to see how you'd affect our dynamic. Plus, an even number of players means we could do teams." "Of course." A grin bursts onto his face. He follows Wilbur's lead as they traverse the path. He's getting used to the scenery but when he notices a mushroom his eyes had previously missed when passing by, he knows he's far from done yet. There is no time for admiration right now and he's fully aware Wilbur will outwardly make known his frustration otherwise. When they reach their destination, Wilbur tears a section of the bark off from a spruce tree. Instead of revealing more inner layers, a fully lit pathway stretches in front of them. "Well, go on. It's not like I can hold a rip in our reality open forever." "Oh!" He slips past obediently, watching Wilbur join him immediately afterwards. "You must be quite strong then if you do this regularly." "Sure. Became a real bodybuilder out here." The deadpan causes Ghostbur's attention to flick momentarily to the black sleeves that certainly aren't filled, least of all by muscles. The corridor practically belongs in an aquarium. The arching walls are made of glass, allowing for full view of all the dolphins, turtles and large variety of fish on display. The pathway itself is unusually wide but since they were heading to meet with Wilbur's friends, he can only assume they liked spending time here and therefore needed the space. Following each pair of glass panels were strips of wood upon which torches were hung. It created a lovely ambiance along with the shadows from the waves outside. To be fair, his only complaint is the temperature. It's freezing, nearly unbearably so. Perhaps they are in the sea by a tundra, sheets of ice floating above them on the surface. That would seem like a plausible answer. Ghostbur could spend a good long while here if he found a warmer outfit. "It's very pretty." "Yeah. Just wish I didn't keep having to see it for the first time each week." He wants to harness the inquisitiveness of a toddler in order to learn how exactly Wilbur would ever be able to forget a sight like this. But something tells him it's not the time nor place. Maybe the view out of the windows shifted with each visit. That seems like a decent explanation. So instead he comes out with "I like the lighting too." "Ghostbur," He momentarily glances back over his shoulder. "You can't expect me to create a dark single-file pathway. There's no steps to a dead end either, see." It's muttered with such quiet sincerity that Ghostbur questions what happened to the Wilbur who scorned him and carried an air of resentment towards everything. He wishes he had some blue to offer him right now. Whatever Wilbur's issue with dark and narrow corridors was, Ghostbur can tell it's awful, too awful for him to ever understand. As they make their way between areas, Wilbur debriefs him on what to expect. It nothing too elaborate, simply a few rounds of card games. Until they get too bored or fed up with each other. They mostly stuck to solitaire and poker if he's going to be honest. Sometimes they'd pull out board games for the sake of variety. The three of them had promised Monopoly was for when they wanted to watch the world burn which hadn't happened yet but there'd been threats to manifest a game the next time they all met up. First there was Schlatt. When Ghostbur completely blanks at the name, it is begrudgingly explained to him that this was the guy who succeeded Alivebur as president. No effort is made to hide the fact Wilbur does not view Schlatt's continued presence in his post-mortal existence in a positive light. He even admits to the game he played whereby he attempted to guess what the J in JSchlatt stood for. It did nobody any good but it served its purpose of annoying Schlatt quite well. The ex-president was a poker kind of guy which also caused clashes between them. Ghostbur is told to expect alcoholic drinks being available, especially the stronger varieties. The man's fatal heart attack hadn't been helped by his drinking habits so honestly, it seemed pretty much on brand. Either way, the less Ghostbur allowed himself to do with Schlatt, the better in Wilbur's opinion. The other member of the group was Mexican Dream. Ghostbur remembered Quackity, right? Well, Mexican Dream was his cousin. He'd been generous enough to allow Wilbur the opportunity to learn Spanish as a way to pass time. He shrugs when he says it's something to get up for. He wasn't the best student because he frequently missed scheduled meet-ups by accident or simply let practising what he'd learned when he did show up slip his mind. Regardless, Mexican Dream was an alright guy who tended to hang around Schlatt and Wilbur more for the sake of company half the time. You just had to watch out for when he began going on about his love life. Ghostbur's new, Wilbur warns, so as fresh ears he'd be a prime target for the laments regarding Mamacita. The other half of Alivebur wishes him luck if that becomes the case. Oh and before he forgets, don't ask about his death. Touchy subject apparently. The civilities go well. Given the warmth (or lack thereof) he receives, Ghostbur would say Wilbur's assessments of temperament weren't too far off. Ghostbur sticks by Mexican Dream's side throughout their games, chatting as they attempted to ignore the tension ever brewing between the former political leaders of L'Manburg while they played. Wilbur does not take long to lose his temper at Schlatt. "You can't put a joker directly under a king. Also they're both spades so not only are they in the wrong position of the sequence, they're the wrong colour and suit for that move to be legal." "You know, Wilbur, this is why I always say we should start with poker." "Oh you and your poker. If you love poker so much then why don't you make it your vice president so it can leave you the minute you piss it off one too many times." "You don't like poker because it's too hard for you to understand." "Says the one who can't even understand that a black king can't be immediately followed by a black joker." "Well at least I don't have a tell that even a newborn could recognise." "And at least I'm not so untrustworthy that two-faced is an understatement." Wilbur glares before adding an ever so succinct "Wanker." as his closing statement while he collapses back into the chair. "Asshole." "...I have a joker and it's red. Would you like it, Schlatt?" "Thank you, Ghostbur." Schlatt grins in a way that somehow makes Ghostbur wish he wasn't in his company. Wilbur's face gently slams into open palms. When his fingers are finished with their journey down his face, he plucks the offending card out of his counterpart's hold. "Put the card down. We can't start mixing packs like this." Wilbur abruptly rises to his feet. "Actually, you know what? Sod this. Between you and Tweedle Dum here, I feel like he's the lesser evil. Come on, Ghostbur, let's go back." Like a plus one whose only way in and out of the event was their invited friend, he has no choice but to follow Wilbur's lead. He would rather stay and get to know Mexican Dream better but it would seem it wasn't on the cards for today. He waves the pair goodbye. Mexican Dream returns it genuinely. Schlatt's smile comes across as sinister and his attention appeared to be on Wilbur as it was. "...I can see why you like Mexican Dream more." He comments in the tunnel home. "Yes, guy's less of a twat." He distracts himself from this disaster of a meeting with the marine life outside. It doesn't prove as effective as he would hope. --- He doesn't understand why or how but it seems that Wilbur has developed the ability to have a hunch as to where Ghostbur could be found. Today this hunch led him to a peaceful stream. The water flows uninterrupted and he can't recall the last time he was in the presence of such clear water. He suspects it goes on for a while before meeting a larger area of water. Ghostbur himself is seated by the bank, admiring the scenery surrounding them. He periodically remembers himself and returns his focus to a little notebook he was scribbling in. "What's this?" "Wilbur." The ghost lights up at the sight of him for whatever reason. He pats the ground beside him. "Come, sit here. It'll be fun." "I'm... I'm good thanks." "If you're sure." There's that wide smile again. There's no way he can't call major bullshit on it. "Has anyone told you how unnerving your constant good mood is?" "You're just saying that because you like being moody." "I'm saying it because it's the truth." He scrutinises his other half. "Nobody has the ability to be that positive 24/7." "I- Well, I do." There is an argument he could begin having with Ghostbur but he hasn't got the patience for it. "What are you writing about?" "Oh, this is my diary. I don't want to forget what I've been doing while here." Wilbur is struck with the desire- no, the need to discover what Ghostbur has been writing about him. As a general, intel was everything and as a fugitive, every bit of insider information had the potential to prove useful. Ghostbur correctly interprets his extended hand but still hesitates before adhering to the request. It's pointless though as there is nothing regarding himself to analyse. Day 8 (24/1/21) I am in the Void so I think the plan worked. I wish I could tell Phil because he seemed quite worried about the process failing. I have been counting the days at the back of this book because they all look the same and there doesn't seem to be any calendars anywhere. So I'm guessing it's January 24th right now. I think I'm getting used to the Void. Everything is very green but I like it. Exploring has been quite fun and Wilbur introduced me to a couple of his friends for a games night. The tunnel to get to them is beautiful but I think I'll need to craft a few campfires to help combat the cold there if I want to watch the wildlife. I also need more cornflowers to make blue with but they seem to be difficult to find which is a shame. I will have to keep looking but that's okay. Maybe I can convince Wilbur to help me if he's available. I'm at the stream where Alivebur met Tommy right now. I really like it. It reminds me of the picnics Alivebur used "A picnic?" "Yeah! Alivebur used to have lunch on a raft with his mum whenever they could find one. It was fun." "Good for us, I guess. I wouldn't know anything about that." Except maybe, it seems, he might. The feeling of feet bounding against the earth. Excited yelling. Ruffling of hair with something that wasn't an arm around his shoulder. An exasperated chuckle while something sweet was on his tongue. Playing lookout by a window. A contest that ends with a soggy lap. Surrounded by laughter and happy chatter. He realises what this is too late. As it fades, he chases it. No, come back. Don't leave. He needs it, even if it's the vaguest of scraps. Please, please, come back. "Wilbur?" "Sorry, I might have just spaced out for a minute. I was thinking about... about... I don't know, something." "Here." Ghostbur presents blue dye. "I haven't been able to find many cornflowers to make it but I think you should have some." "What's this for?" "You look like you're about to cry. Blue's very good at absorbing all your sadness away. You let it soak it all up and then throw it away. I promise it works. Honestly, try it." "Thanks but I'd rather not stain my hands with blue dye for the sake of humouring you. That shit takes forever to get off. Although... this does explain why your clothes are like that. I thought we'd be smarter than to wear something bright while frequently handling a substance that stains easily." "Well okay then. The offer's always there if you want it though." "I'm fine. Just need a breather. Don't uh... don't wait up for me or whatever." The worst thing is he has no clue why he's suddenly upset. Sitting on top of a hill, he overlooks land with the potential to be built upon, land that had seen construction in a world similar to this one. He's not sure if he's in the exact spot but it's close enough. In his mind's eye, L'Manburg springs into existence, a diagonal line cuts through the wall as it is destroyed by Fundy's pickaxe. Their country had come close to death before but that day had arguably been its last one. The reason why Tommy wasn't by his side in that moment is lost to him. A spark of resentment temporarily roars into a flame as he thinks of how his former right hand man should be present for this in a way more than simply joining in at the end of the anthem over a voice call. Oh who cares anymore? It doesn't matter now. Alone, he witnesses L'Manburg die before him for the... how many times was it now? At least if he's going to be mournful, he should mourn something he actually knows he's lost. --- The entry concludes with a final paragraph. I've also met Wilbur. He's the other part of Alivebur and he wants to fuse so we can be Alivebur again. We will have to eventually but he seems willing to wait. I hope he stays that patient because I don't know how long it will take me to say yes. In the meantime, I want us to become friends. He can be so dismissive and angry but despite how mean he seems, I think we could still get along if we really try. I think getting more blue should be on my list of priorities because he really needs it. Which reminds me, I need to draft a list of priorities. I think I should get on that as soon as I can so goodbye for now. --- Ghostbur makes the decision on the... well he needs to check his memory book to remember exactly what day it is but whatever today was, that was when he sets himself the goal of working on a house. It'll be a nice place, not too fancy (at least not at first, he can add to it later if he so desires) but it can be a lovely base for himself. Maybe Wilbur too, if he can get the other half of Alivebur to join him. The problem was he wasn't sure where to take inspiration from. He built a house for Tommy during their holiday and he really liked how that simple little place turned out. He also recalls Tubbo's house from when he and Tommy were messing around shortly following his arrival in the area. Now that house was very pretty. It would take some more effort to get right, especially when all he had for reference was the memory of it, but he feels it would be worth it if he wanted to go down a similar route in terms of design. Oh! Didn't Techno have a lovely looking cabin too? Perhaps he should keep that building in mind as well. Or he could come up with something new entirely. He wasn't sure yet. He thinks it may be best to experiment first. It's as he is figuring out the size and shape he'd prefer the ground floor to be that Wilbur comes across the soon to be construction site. Arms crossed, he doesn't look too impressed. But then again, when does he? "What is this?" "Oh hi, Wilbur. I thought I could build myself a house. It could be our house if you'd like. Or... Or maybe I could add a bedroom just for you if you already have a house." "I think I'll pass. Though this does explain all the missing oak trees around here." His gaze flicks to the pile of wood Ghostbur has gathered. "Anyway, you're just doing this by hand?" "How else would I be doing it?" "I have my ways. You probably have the same ones." The two of them venture through a taiga until they reach a hill overlooking an empty field of plains. Even before he truly lays eyes on their expanse of their destination, he can sense how far of a drop it would be to reach it without caution. "Wait!" The warning comes too late to have any effect. Wilbur leaps from the edge. Rushing forward instinctively, Ghostbur dreads the scene he is sure will be upsetting to witness. He shuts his eyes but risks a peak regardless. It's to his utter shock that Wilbur stands waiting, perfectly fine. "I know we pretty much have all the time in the world but I'd rather not spend it waiting for you to get on with it and jump already." "You're not hurt?" "What? No, of course not. Why would I-?" Realisation arrives and Wilbur's only reaction to it seems to be an eye roll. "We're dead, you idiot. When was the last time your feet actually touched the ground? In fact, when was the last time you even had feet?" "Oh." "Yeah." Wilbur continues to walk ahead, using an arm to beckon Ghostbur in the right direction. "Now come on." Once they settle on a spot for the demonstration, wooden blocks materialise without warning. They arrange themselves into an empty birch cube that is perhaps twice as tall as they are. It's not a complex structure, pretty non-descript. Ghostbur had been hoping to be a bit more ambitious with his construction work than this. However, he supposes Wilbur is simply only showing him the basics. There's no need to go overboard in an attempt to show off. "It's pretty simple, really. All you have to do is picture what you want and boom," A final block of birch comes into existence. "It shows up without much effort. It saves a lot of time and hassle. Got it? How about you summon a torch to test it out." He imagines a stick. Even a branch will do, he feels. As he does so, a weight grows in his hand with the appearance of a long brown object. The stick he summons is actually fairly substantial once it solidifies. For extra measure, he concentrates on the tip. He devotes his thoughts to warmth and autumnal bonfires and an orange glow then- Oh! Well, next time he should make sure he's careful when causing spontaneous combustion. "See? Easy. Now toss it here." With the rudimentary house completed and torch in hand, Wilbur carelessly allows the flame to linger too close to the wood. Ghostbur is unable to cry out a warning before the building is set alight. It gradually dawns on him that, somehow, this was a deliberate action to achieve this consequence. It leaves Ghostbur more lost regarding the workings of the other man's thoughts than ever. "What is the point in this? I don't... I don't understand." "It's warm." He acts as if this is the obvious answer. "Do you feel it, Ghostbur? Do you feel the cold, the way any and all sources of heat seem to be sapped while you try to make the most of them? You've been here days, you must feel it. Took me a day to recognise what it was. It's the Void, Ghostbur, it's the Void. It- It- It takes the heat from this place. We could be standing in the middle of the fucking desert right now but you'd still feel a chill, like someone left the window open and caused a draft. I... you know, I made this place to get away from it but it followed me regardless. Just... got muted, I guess. I carved out a little bit of the Void. Not even that big. It simply feels that way because it's like in those drama productions where you have the scenery on a rotator or whatever it's called. Not using it? Just poof, gone on standby or- or taped over. Mixing my metaphors here." "Stop standing there before you're on fire." "Hmm? Oh, don't worry about that. Doesn't scar or anything. I can reverse any damage, make it seem like it never happened." "Just get out of it." The ghost reaches out to his friend. Wilbur steps back to avoid him. "Ghostbur, I'm fine. I only want to be warm." "I can make a fire if you want. A normal one, in a pit." "Like I haven't made a bonfire before. You really think I haven't tried that?" "Let's get some water. You just have think about it, don't you?" "Wait, no! I tend to watch it burn. Gives me something to do." "O-Okay." So they witness the structure's demise to fire. Ghostbur mourns the loss of the materials that seem to be going to waste for the sake of entertainment. He can't help but succumb to the desire to be enraptured. The flames dance with curls and bows and sways. He breaks his gaze away to glance at Wilbur, curious to see if he is having a similar experience as him. His companion has only a hardened expression to show, one that pairs a set jaw with calculating eyes. Yet a light, separate to that reflected from the fire, can be spotted dwelling within those same eyes. What one finds aesthetically pleasing albeit wasteful, the other studies as if he can learn how to tame it in order to command it to do his immoral bidding. --- Wilbur thinks of buttons. How technically easy they are to press. How, despite this fact, he'd been getting closer and closer to a dozen attempts before bailing. How one of his last memories (from the ones he'd been oh so generously permitted to keep) was that of burning. Fire is destruction, the chaos of something that aims to consume indiscriminately, a means to an end. But at the same time this is safe, controlled, something he can force to stop if it goes too far. There are 101 reasons why he has every right to hate Ghostbur. More, he'd argue actually. Since they became two, he's been left with the shortest end of the stick. Ghostbur got to go have fun and enjoy himself, got the opportunity to act like everything had always been alright since he'd deliberately discarded the evidence that suggested otherwise. And the personified form of the discarded evidence had simply been forced to endure the nightmares, to desperately avoid triggers he's not willing to confront in any shape or form yet, to attempt to find comfort in familiarity regardless of why an object or location may seem familiar to him. He's done this before. Not every day, mind you. He's not that big of a masochist to pull that shit. Perhaps once or twice in the span of what might be considered a fortnight, if that. Other times he's simply not done anything for a while. But Wilbur has gone through this process before. He has stood in flammable structures and allowed the flames to take their course. He hacks when the smoke increases to the point of becoming overwhelming. It hurts, of course it does (it's fire for crying out loud). Yet when he leaves the scene of arson, any blisters that have begun bubbling on his skin disappear at his command. The main incentive to act so stupidly is to remember. He can recall bombs and the devastation of witnessing his safety being ripped away before his eyes. Over and over, he attempts to confront the things that keep him up at night. The door is always right there, waiting to be flung open the second he decides it is more than enough for that session. In Albert Einstein's eyes, he could qualify to be called insane. He would disagree but then again, they are using different definitions. While alive, he had developed a smoking habit. It began as something to help alleviate stress. Then not inhaling nicotine ironically became a source of stress for him. That's how addictions form, he supposes, with stupid destructive cycles such as his. The inherent need to risk slowly killing his lungs for the sake of feeling relatively decent didn't seem to carry over to Ghostbur. Lucky bastard, always getting the better end of the deal. By his design, most likely. Be civil, he reminds himself, since it will increase his chances of securing victory. Now that Ghostbur is here, he is a step closer to getting what he's wished for since they'd died. It is only a matter of time before he rediscovers the peace of being whole once more. What he hopes will be peace. Wilbur thinks of buttons and fires and explosions. Most importantly though, he thinks of how nice it must be to witness something subjectively beautiful and not question a myriad of life choices. --- Ghostbur didn't appreciate the loneliness. Back down with everyone else, his friends and family either tolerated his company or told him to leave them alone. Even the friendlier ones had a habit of getting tired of him hanging out with them for too long. Sometimes he happened to catch them when they were busy. It was fine and certainly no big deal. Everyone needs alone time. Wilbur, for instance, likes a lot of alone time. Then there were those that Alivebur hurt and struggled to not be reminded of the man they once knew whenever Ghostbur was around, like Phil and Tommy. It was nobody's fault. He did have a striking resemblance to his pre-death counterpart. All this in consideration, Ghostbur could really a friend. Or perhaps more specifically, a Friend. He's seen Wilbur do this practically effortlessly so how hard could this be? He thinks the best way to go about this is to take it slow and begin at the bottom. He brings himself to an open space so he can have as few obstacles during this important moment as possible. Two pairs of hooves appear, already upright on the grass. With them comes four legs then a torso adorned in naturally blue wool which is accompanied by a tail. When the process comes to an end, Ghostbur is met with a familiar face. He wraps his arms around the neck of his closest companion in a hug. "Hi, Friend. I've really missed you. We can hang out whenever Wilbur is being grumpy or wants to be alone. Would you like that? Maybe we can even convince him to like you too. But that might be hard since he doesn't seem to like anyone." He feels it should be common courtesy for Ghostbur to introduce Friend to Wilbur. After all, his twin had already extended that courtesy to him the other day. --- "Wilbur!" There is no need for him to acknowledge the voice calling out his name. Even if he didn't recognise the owner of said voice, there is no-one else it could be. Yet when he does, he isn't sure whether to curse his reflexes for making him see the sight in general or be grateful for the minute's forewarning it grants him. Encouraged to tag along with Ghostbur is an affront to nature. "So..." He begins when the two visitors are near enough. "The sheep." "Yeah! His name is Friend. I had a sheep just like him when I was with everyone else so I thought he could keep me company while I'm here." He's not even sure how to respond to this development. He simply stares at the animal as he attempts to process it. It's so weird because he swears the sheep has one of those rare genetic variations where their wool is quite literally blue naturally. It's obviously not been dyed at all because you can tell with that sort of thing. Somehow, Ghostbur has straight up manifested a sheep with a rare coat colouring. He wants to be more thrown off by it than he is. Yet he struggles to do so. Because, in the several days since he's met the one he shares a face with, he can't truthfully claim he's surprised. "Friend, huh? Well, you really have a knack for coming up with names, don't you?" "I guess." "You asked me the other day what you should call me. You seem to love these cute little versions of our name. Given the way I treat you, I'm surprised you haven't been tempted to call me Meanbur or Sadbur or even Why-The-Fuck-Won't-You-Take-A-Hint-And-Just-Leave-Me-Alonebur?" Ghostbur hesitates, clearly a little shocked by this outburst. He quickly corrects himself, changing his expression instead to something more akin to content thoughtfulness. "Oh, I know! What do you think of Soulbur? I like Soulbur. Because you're half of his soul." "Fine, whatever makes you happy. Though if you really need to bother someone, I'd rather you go to Schlatt or MD." "But do you like Friend?" He glances back at the sheep for the sake of humouring his twin. "I... I suppose it's alright for a sheep. Don't want too much to do with it though. It's your pet." "He is more than a pet." And it comes off as if he's offended him. "He's well, he's Friend." "Gho- It is a sheep. I get that you're attached to it- him so you're hardly planning to serve mutton anytime soon but he's still just a bloody sheep." As he distances himself from Ghostbur to escape this nonsense, his ears catch muttered assurances that 'Soulbur' was not worth listening to. Plus, what kind of name was 'Friend'? His ghostly counterpart sounded like a child who'd decided their stuffed toy deserved a name to fit the role of lifelong companion. He'd retaliate but he's far from in the mood. --- Okay, as it turns out, he does begin to get used to the new moniker. For one thing, it's easier to differentiate himself from their pre-death self (though Ghostbur seems to have that covered thanks to his insistence of using 'Alivebur'). Soulbur likewise continues to tolerate him for the sake of civility. Hence why he's sat by a small fire and performing the absolutely redundant task of eating a meal. No matter how much he attempts to explain neither of them physically need sustenance, Ghostbur remains persistent on his thoughts regarding the issue. "No cows were harmed in the making of this steak." "Oh that's good." Ghostbur beams. "And you made a joke. You don't do that often." "Listen, I might not have a reason to laugh anymore but I do still have a sense of humour." "You know, you sound like Techno when you speak. All serious and bored." "Doesn't surprise me." He mutters. "Besides, you're the one who kept the happier emotions in the split. I'd be worried if I didn't sound like I have the more exhausting ones." "What?" "What are you confused about? You said you can't remember upsetting things, right? Well where did you think they went, the back of your mind, left stranded in the void- no, actually I suppose that one is technically true. Either way, the oversimplified version of events is that you got the good stuff and I got the bad." There is silence but there is also calm. From it, Soulbur gains the courage to put forward one of the questions he's been deliberating on for a good long while. "Ghostbur…" He frowns. "How did we die?" "You don't remember?" "No. For some fucked up reason, we apparently thought so low of ourself that it was a good memory. That or you took it to spite me." "I-" Soulbur holds his hand up. "No excuses, no rambling in the hopes you can beat around the bush. I just want the truth. Because all I can remember is Phil showing up, us getting frustrated then this unbearable pain as if... as if something was cooking us from the inside. I don't know I- it just hurt. A lot. Then we were dead. So what the hell happened to us?" The ghost is focused on fiddling with the sleeves of his yellow jumper. "I don't want to say." "Bad memory then. So... an unnecessary theft. As much as I hate to admit it, that was supposed to be mine if it was traumatic." "Wasn't nice but it was a good moment." "Well, was it good or bad? Make up your mind! I told you, I didn't want any messing around. I'm not expecting an essay from you, only a sentence or two." He groans. "Okay, how about this since you can't give me a straight answer. Did we press the button, yes or no?" "We did." "Brilliant! We got somewhere. I suspected it was burning debris but couldn't be sure. That's all I wanted." Soulbur manages only a handful of steps before his twin's voice is heard once more. "It wasn't debris. The explosion didn't kill us." "Then what did?" If his patience wore any more thin, somebody would have to pull out a microscope to view it. Ghostbur appears conflicted, ever tugging on his sleeves. "Phil was the Saint George to our dragon. He stopped us from hurting anyone else." "Whoa whoa whoa, hang on that's- Phil wasn't always the best parental figure to us, I know that, but he would never... kill us. That is not the kind of guy he is." "We asked him to." "Why would we-" "Don't ask me. You're the one who's always grumpy. You should know." Ghostbur argues back. "Even if we begged him on our hands and knees, as shitty as he could sometimes be, Phil would never cause us deliberate harm." "But he did." Soulbur visibly mulls this over in his mind before a scowl settles on his face. "Can't win, can you? Unbelievable. Couldn't even trust Phil to be on our side." "But he-" "He was supposed to take care of us. I can excuse him not being father of the year because he only took us in out of pity so we wouldn't end up on the streets. But the bare minimum I would have expected from him is to not kill the kid he's raised since they were little." "I don't know what you want me to say. You said you wanted the truth? Well the truth is Phil stabbed us with a sword because we asked him to. It was a... it was a sword with fire aspect, I think. That's why you think it hurt." "I don't think it hurt. I know it hurt." "Can we stop talking about this? I don't like it." "No. No, we are talking about this. I'm not letting you slink off at the first hint of something upsetting, Mr Repression." "I'm not slinking off. I just don't want to think about this." "Well, welcome to my life, every single bloody day since you ran off. At least you have the privilege of avoiding it." "Stop it! Stop it! Why do always have to be so- so- I'm going to find Friend. At least he's nice to me." "You are literally proving my point right now." "I don't care." "Fine! Piss off then. That's what you seem to do best, cry and run away at the slightest bit of trouble. But you can't do this forever, you know. You're going to have to accept we've been through a lot of shit one day." And for the first time in what he believes has been roughly two weeks, Ghostbur frowns. It is not the slight frown from whenever he is unsure or downtrodden, Soulbur's seen that before. Those times had been more akin to a pout. No, this expression has been witnessed by him before. He saw this occasionally in his reflection while alive, especially in the lead up to the festival and war between Manberg and Pogtopia when he'd been steeling himself to play his role in it all. So perhaps frown is not the most accurate word for it. Ghostbur glares, he scowls, he glowers. And then the façade breaks as if the universe cannot permit an angry Ghostbur to exist. Dark blue pools by his eyes and begins to spill down his face. Soulbur doesn't think he's seen his other half cry either actually. It doesn't feel right, watching the one who kept going about everything with a smile cry and descend into sobs while he's at it. The universe doesn't swiftly correct itself at this though so Soulbur will have to make of that what he will. "I'm going to find Friend." Ghostbur repeats. And that is that for the calm dinner between both halves of the same person.

[ethereal-blossom]

Hi! Can you please do a headcanon about someone who looks a bit like Izaya but is actually really chill and not really like Izaya meeting and being around Shizuo? And maybe the same thing with Izaya but in his case it's someone who looks like Shizuo? It doesn't have to be romantic, justa platonic relationship. Also, do you take requests for Character x Character headcanon or is it just character x reader?

a/n: ahh, my first durarara request! haha, this made me realize how much i missed my guys. thank you so much for requesting this! 🦋

oh, it’s just character x reader. mostly because i still find myself too unskilled to write about the dynamic and interactions between two canon characters, if that makes sense lmao. 

"IZAYAAAAAAAA."

you were one bite away from eating your russian sushi when it slipped through your sticks. one look at the blond dude and you were glad that you weren’t izaya. only, why were those violent eyes smirking at you? and what was he planning to do with that traffic sign?

“didn’t i tell you to leave- wait a damn minute, what happened with your black clothes? and what for shit did you do with your face?” 

the bartender was forced to get rid off the traffic sign when simon told violence was bad for business. it took you a while before you convinced the blonde dude - heiwajima shizuo- that you weren’t izaya or anyone related to him or his plans. “so, that super strength is actually really cool. how does it work exactly?” you asked calmly. 

shizuo was impressed by how relaxed you actually were. you listened fascinated when he talked about his strength and you didn’t seem to be afraid. that would change soon, he thought. You hadn't seen him in action yet.

and you would. shizuo and you worked really well together. your chilled personality often calmed shizuo's temper down. so, together you walked in the streets of ikebukuro, enjoying the life surrounding you. that was until you stopped and blinked twice. “shizuo, don’t you think that guy looks a bit like me?” 

“IZAYAAAAAA.” shouldn’t have said that. 

you had never seen your friend this pissed off. to be honest, you didn’t know how to calm him down from this and shizuo was already running after the black haired dude before you knew it. you could locate him through the objects that flew around in the air. you hid in the crowd and saw shizuo throwing objects and growling like you had never see him been like before. 

so, when the fight was over, shizuo was surprised that you spared him a glance and said: “come on, we need to treat those cuts. no wonder you wanted to kill me with a traffic sign.” 

you often checked in on shizuo after you noticed how lonely your friend actually felt. even tom noticed how calm shizuo was whenever you were around. you made shizuo forget he was one of the most feared people in ikebukuro. 

because let’s be honest, shizuo would love to have a friend that’s patient, relaxed and not scared of him. someone who makes him feel human instead of a monster.

-----

izaya had definitely seen the physical similarities between you and that monster, but he soon observed the difference between your personalities. he had put you through multiple danger scenario’s and yet you had always made it through without disappointing him.  

it made him approach you directly. izaya let shine through your conversations that he was the one behind all the trouble that had followed you. it didn’t scare or bother you. “oh well, it was pretty exciting. so, is this a weird hobby of you?” 

a few conversations with the famous information broker made you realize something: somewhere izaya was lonely. his heart was fragile. and he was interesting, to say at least. 

so, you often visited him. then you would bring food or drinks with you, maybe even movies. you’d show interest in human behavior and izaya gladly answered all your questions and scenario’s. izaya could be strange, but you accepted that. 

there was one time in which you both got kidnapped, because the person you now considered you friend, didn’t have the most legal job. crazy enough, it made the friendship between the both of you grow stronger. maybe it was the danger, maybe this was a great bonding activity or it was that you were involved in izaya’s business, who knew? it actually was quite fun and interesting seeing how izaya worked. 

you would also ask izaya for him to teach you some knife skills. it looked so elegant and simple when your friend did it, but it took you quite a lot of lessons before you got it a little. you got respect for izaya’s knife skills. you came to see it as art. 

this is actually pretty short, but i think izaya needs a friend that accepts him just the way he is, won’t try to change him and is friendly and caring enough that he can trust them with his fragile heart.  

[jisungsmochi]

the coffee shop boy - njm

new coffee shop employee! jaemin / little rivalry b/w reader x jaemin hehe / just lots of teasing eachother and some fluff too 

some references to my jeno imagine for my nct dream job au series! 

link to my masterlist so you can read the others! 

a/n: inspired by katie & aiden’s story in ‘alexa & katie’ on netflix! pls stream it hehe 

word count: 3.9k - hope you all enjoy :) 

//

the first time you met na jaemin was in front of the cafe you worked at. your manager was running a donation drive where customers could donate toys or books for the local children’s hospital. you offered to bake complementary cookies for each person who donated. so there you were, standing outside the cafe, handing out cookies. you swore you turned away for one second, when you heard someone halt infront of the stand. the person swiftly grabbed a handful of cookies, shoving one into their mouth. you turn back around, glaring at the clueless boy infront of you.

“excuse me! those are only for people who have donated” you sternly informed, the boy still not having any sign of regret,

“my bad, i just see free cookies” he smirked, taking another bite of one. you reached to grab the others that were in his hands, but he ended up pulling away before you could reach him. you felt your body tip over the table, the plate of cookies and some donations, falling onto the ground. you loudly groan to yourself, quickly standing up and brushing off any dirt on your apron. your manager, doyoung, immediately rushed outside and to his dismay, he only saw you and a broken table with cookies scattered everywhere. the mysterious boy just took off, what an asshole.

“y/n, clean this up, now” doyoung orders, as you nod. you hoped that boy never came anywhere near the cafe ever again, or you might as well just lose it entirely.  

“and then, he grabbed the cookies and took off! if i ever see him again i want to give him a piece of my mind” you rant as your friend lia listens carefully. you were both eating lunch at a random restaurant she had heard about.

“he sounds like a dick” lia shakes her head in disappointment as you both chew on your fries.

“i know right! and now doyoung thinks i’m incapable of being assistant manager” you grunt, frustrated at the events of the day prior.

“don’t be so negative! you are a loyal employee and you are good at your job. you’ll get promoted soon, i’m sure of it” lia gives your an assuring smile, as you nod along with her. you were glad to have her by your side whenever you would rant like this, it helped you not completely lose it.

“hey! cookie girl!” you heard a sudden voice echo through the restaurant. both you and lia turned to the voice calling you, only to be met with the boy from yesterday.

“you’ve got to be kidding me” you groaned, putting on a small, fake smile to greet to boy.

“fancy seeing you here, stalking me now right?” he chuckled to himself, approaching your table. lia looked over at you with a ‘what the hell?’ expression, you just widened your eyes, unsure of how to respond to either of them.

“whatever helps you sleep at night” you respond, as jaemin just smirks.

“sorry about the cookies by the way. don’t get offended but, they weren’t that good to begin with” he slyly poked at you. you wanted to give him a good lecture about how hard you worked on those damn cookies but you noticed how lia was getting concerned about your next moves. you took a deep breath before giving the boy another blunt answer,

“you’re entitled to your own wrong opinion. now may you please leave me and my friend alone?” you just shot another fake smile, as jaemin couldn’t take his eyes off you. you started feeling repulsed by just his gaze, why did he have to stare for such long periods of time?

“sure thing, see you around” he winks before heading out of the restaurant.

“who the hell was that? is he the cookie thief?!” lia’s mouth was agape as you nodded.

“he was indeed. i just want to wipe that grin off his face!” you cross your arms in frustration. lia just rolls her eyes,

“he’s kinda cute, don’t you think?” she starts to wiggle her eyebrows as you throw a fry at her.

“you have a boyfriend!” you begin to tease as she starts blushing,

“jeno doesn’t need to know” she jokes as you both begin laughing.

(a/n: yes the jeno here is from the bubble tea girl au hehe) 

you were happy that lia had a boyfriend, but it often made you feel distant from her. you felt like you couldn’t ask her to hang out as much, incase she had plans with jeno. you knew that she would have dropped everything to hang out with you, but you still felt guilty if she ditched jeno like that. you wished that you had a boyfriend of your own, so you could hang out all together without the awkward third wheel vibe. but that was a long shot for you, or so you thought.

//

it had been a solid two weeks since that interaction with jaemin, in which you still didn't know his name yet. after constant hassling, doyoung promoted you to assistant manager.

"we have a new employee coming in today, i need you to train him" doyoung orders as you nod in agreement.

"never fear! i'll teach him everything in my barista 101 guide!" you smile, pulling out a pastel green notebook with random coloured tabs sticking out of it.

"i didn't ask, but you do you" doyoung shrugs, patting your shoulder before heading to the back room. doyoung always picked on you, but you were sure, you were his favourite employee.

you were fixing up any last notes in your guide, when you heard the bell above the door ring. you set everything aside, ready to take the next order. you look up, eyes meeting those of the boy you never wanted to see again.

"you" you huff out, eyes immediately glaring, face now stone cold.

"me" jaemin smiled widely, walking up to the counter, leaning his elbows on the top of it.

"fall on any more tables yet?" he chuckled to himself as you mimicked his words, turning away from him to continue writing in your book. he had some nerve teasing you like that.

"y/n, what are you doing? this is jaemin, the new employee" doyoung bursted out of the backroom, standing behind you. you instantly froze, looking over to jaemin who was now standing up straight with his arms crossed over his chest. he had bright blue hair, a blue denim jacket on, and that damn smirk of his plastered on his face. you couldn't stop glaring, slowing moving to face jaemin and doyoung.

"just train him well okay? i don't want to have to deal with any mess in here" doyoung sighed, walking away from the both of you. jaemin had his eyes fixed on you.

"you know just cause you're cute and all, doesn't mean this job is going to be easy" you muttered as you dig behind the counter to find jaemin a spare apron.

"oh so you think i'm cute?" you could hear the flirtatious tone leaving his mouth. you shot up from behind the counter and threw the apron forcefully at his face. to your displeasure, he ended up catching it before it could hit him. jaemin tied the apron on himself, meeting you behind the counter.

"let's get started shall we. i have written pretty much everything you need to learn in this book right here! it's a beginner's guide, with all my best tips and tricks so i-" you were interrupted by jaemin fiddling with the coffee machine, not paying attention to a single word that left your mouth. you groaned in annoyance, watching as he handed you the cup of coffee he had just made.

"try it" he urged you, observing your every move. you cautiously look at him and then at the cup in your hands. you didn't want to admit it, but it looked and smelled pretty good. you slowly took a sip of the warm drink, eyes avoiding those of jaemin. you hated to compliment him, but the boy had some skills. you felt jaemin's eyes on you, ready for your verdict.

"it's alright i guess" you sigh, trying to play off how impressed you were. jaemin just chuckled, knowing he was already doing a good job.

"i don't need that little book of yours, i think i'm just about perfect" you rolled your eyes at the taller boy, giving him a small slap on the shoulder.

"get to work buddy, tables need some wiping and coffees need to be made" you made your way to the cash register, beginning to take orders as customers entered the shop. jaemin couldn't help but shake his head at your bossy persona. he found it entertaining, but also quite enticing. he couldn't wait to work with you more.

//

weeks had passed since jaemin started working at the coffee shop. he never asked for any of your help, making you quite frustrated that he wouldn't even listen to a single piece of advice you had. it's as if your authority as assistant manager and his trainer, was thrown out the window. you were getting ready to start your shift, noticing jaemin drawing something on the front window with some paint pens.

"what the hell are you doing? doyoung hates it when we mess with the window art!" you nag at the blue haired boy. jaemin just rolls his eyes, turning back at you,

"can you like stop nagging me for one minute?" he responds, continuing to draw on the window. you let out a small huff, and as if on cue, doyoung approaches both of you.

"ooo you're in troubleee" you slyly mutter, waiting for the scene to unfold. jaemin turns to face doyoung, who at first didn't say a word.

"jaemin, i didn't give you permission to do this" doyoung started, you felt yourself perk up at the possibility of jaemin getting scolded.

"but i was kind of wanting a new design anyway, your doodles are quite nice actually. keep it up" doyoung smiles, looking over at your pissed off expression. he just pats your shoulder before heading off to do business of his own.

"you can't bust me, sweetie. i'm just that good" jaemin walks closer to you, backing your up against the counter.

"you are so infuriating" you grunt through your teeth, eyes meeting jaemin’s. he had a slight kindness in his eyes. as if he was pleading for you to not to be so mad at him. jaemin chuckled softly,

"you're gonna just have to deal with it then" he leaves you stunned as he walked behind the counter, starting to take orders.

was he always this handsome?

you shook your head from your thoughts, na jaemin was utterly unbearable to be around, so why couldn't you stop thinking about him?

//

"you know what he did the other day?" you begin another rant, this time lia and jeno were your audience.

"what did he do?" lia played along, looking over at jeno who was invested in your story.

"so, you know suzy? the dreaded middle aged woman who always complains about her coffee having too much sugar? yeah well, jaemin served her the other day and she complimented him! right infront of me!" you started to pout. lia started giggling causing jeno to start giggling as well.

"what's so funny?" you furrow your eyebrows at the couple.

"doesn't sound like you hate him all that much to me" jeno smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at you. you just give him a scowl in return.

"no you see jeno, y/n hides her feelings for jaemin through all this teasing, and so does he. it’s adorable" lia commented, causing you to know scowl at her.

"you guys are being ridiculous! he is so infuriating, no one can be that perfect at making coffees? especially a beginner anyway" you continue being stubborn as your friends just roll their eyes, already convinced you were in complete and utter denial.

you went home that day, thinking back to the times you felt yourself stare a bit too long at jaemin. he was so charismatic, he could practically charm any person who entered the shop. he had doyoung, the most stone cold person you had met, wrapped around his finger. he was the perfect barista, and could even do coffee art. you envied how good he was, considering it took you months to perfect your own skills. you knew that hating jaemin wasn't the way to handle this whole situation, but it was much easier than having him know that you sort of liked him.

//

you were writing down stuff in your weekly planner, it helped you stay organised with your daily tasks so you knew you wouldn’t forget anything. well, except your pastel green notebook. you swore you had left it at work, but for the past week you hadn’t been able to find it. you were slowly starting to accept that you lost it, and all your hard work over the past 6 months was for nothing. you let a soft groan, finishing up your final sentence, as you heard the boy next to you clear his throat.

“may i help you?” you move your head to face him, not realising he was already inches close to you. you immediately froze, unsure of what to do next.

“you’re slacking off, i can’t make all these coffees on my own”  jaemin smirked, like he had many times before but this time, you couldn’t help but admire how handsome he was up close.

“i- well uh, yeah sorry” you stuttered, pulling away from the boy. jaemin just sighed, he didn’t understand why it was so hard to talk to you. he wanted to get close to you, possibly even ask you out, but your repeated attempts to ignore him during your shifts together had deflated his confidence. you caught yourself glancing over at him multiple times during work, watching how he interacted so kindly with customers and somehow always kept his composure when being lectured by doyoung.

you were about to close up, making sure to double check that the bathrooms were clean. as you made your way back to the counter, you caught jaemin in the act. he was reading from your notebook. the one you thought you had lost. he didn’t see you approaching, making it an even better bust.

“AHA! i knew it! you read my book” you exclaimed, catching the boy off guard, causing him to fall into his butt. you couldn’t help but laugh at his exaggerated reaction, before helping him from behind the counter.

“it’s not what it looks like” he just sighs, knowing he had already been caught.

“oh really? cause it looks like you were reading my book, and have possibly been following every single piece of advice in it” you continued to tease, a bright smile plastered on your face. jaemin couldn’t help but crack a smile back at you, nodding in defeat.

“yes okay, i read your book. it helped a lot! is that what you wanna hear?” jaemin could feel the redness flush his cheeks and the tops of his ears. you couldn’t help but gush over how hilarious the situation was.

“and here i was, thinking you were a barista prodigy! well na jaemin, you just got schooled!” you started getting up in his face, watching as the taller boy just shook his head at your incredibly quirky antics. he found you adorable, not that he would admit it anytime soon.

from that day onwards, you and jaemin bickered less. of course you’d still poke fun at him now and then for initially taking your book, but it was all fun and games.

“y/n look!” you heard him call, as you were both closing up that night. jaemin had smeared on a foam moustache on his face, attempting to make you laugh. you just threw a dirty towel at him, rolling your eyes at us childish antics.

“god you’re such a loser” you smile softly, removing your apron. jaemin wipes off the foam, placing the towel away, before removing his own apron.

“you know, i think that all this teasing from you, is really a way for you to hide how much you like me” his words made you freeze. you didn’t want to face him. you weren’t sure if he was kidding or not, so you opted to just crack another witty comment, to avoid any more awkwardness.

“in your dreams, i do it because you’re just easy to make fun of. it’s what friends do” you shrug, looking over at the blue haired boy. you were expecting atleast a small smile to come from jaemin, but instead, he had an unreadable expression. he approached you slowly, causing you to shuffle backwards, your back now pressing against one of the cupboards behind the counter. jaemin places his right hand next to your head, leaning closer to you. you felt your breath hitch as he stared into your eyes. jaemin didn’t want to keep beating around the bush, he needed to know how you felt, and soon.

“ so you’re telling me, we are just friends?” he mumbles, quiet enough for only you to hear. you could practically feel him begging for you to deny it, but your heart wasn’t sure if you were completely in it. of course you found jaemin attractive, who wouldn’t? but to be in a relationship or even start something more than a friendship, with anyone was a huge step for you. you had never had a boyfriend before, and watching your friends experience immense heartbreaks in the past, made you unsure of your own experiences.

“y-yeah jaemin, we’re just friends” you whisper, watching as jaemin’s face softens. you didn’t know if he was upset, hurt, or both. but you knew something was off. jaemin just nodded, packing up his things.

“have a nice night, y/n” jaemin gave you a small wave before exiting the coffee shop. you felt your heart tighten, what the hell was he doing to you?

//

“y/n, i’m your best friend and all, but you’re an idiot. jaemin clearly likes you and you have just ruined your chances!” lia sighs, comforting you the next day. you just nod, knowing everything she said was true.

“i know i messed up. i just don’t want to get his hopes up if i’m a shit girlfriend or something” you worry, unsure whether you could really show jaemin the appreciation as love he deserved.

“stop being so afraid! don’t stay sheltered! if you like him, you should tell him. you deserve to be in a happy relationship, never doubt that” lia pulls you in for a long hug and you begin t think about what you wanted to say to jaemin, the next time you saw him. you knew she was right. if you didn’t confess soon, it would eat at you inside about what could have been. it was time to take a chance.

//

at your next shift at the coffee shop, jaemin came in late. he apologised to doyoung who didn’t mind, as today was fairly slow. he would usually shoot a witty comment at you before he started making drinks, but today he just gave you a small smile without a single word. your heart clenched at how he was acting. but you knew exactly why he was doing it. you wanted to wait until closing time, to properly talk with jaemin. but you couldn’t help but notice how down he looked whilst he was serving customers. it really must have affected him a lot. you tried to talk to him during your shift, standing next to him as he was making a drink.

“h-hey, how are you?” you tried to start, watching as jaemin halts his movements. he turned his head to face you, the expression was unreadable. jaemin knew he was being petty for giving you the cold shoulder. it wasn’t like he could have forced you to like him back, especially since he hadn’t properly right out confessed to you.

“i-i’m alright, and you?” he tried to act as normal and nonchalant as possible.

“i’m okay i guess” you mumble, unsure of how to continue. you were thankful that jaemin had to serve more customers, cutting your conversation short.

you waited for the clock to strike 9:30pm, as it was time to start closing up. doyoung tossed you the keys before he finished his shift earlier that day, leaving both you and jaemin to pack up together. jaemin had finished cleaning the bathrooms and all the tables as you worked on the countertops and back area. you made eye contact with him from across the room. he looked so solemn, as if he would rather be anywhere else but here with you. you sighed to yourself, knowing what was on his mind. you approached the blue haired boy slowly. he watched your every move, his heart beat increasing with every step you took.

“i lied” you blurt out as his eyes furrowed, confused at your words.

“when you asked me if i thought we were just friends. i lied. i don’t think of you as just a friend, jaemin. i-i think of you as something more” you avoid his eyes, watching as he sets down the dirty towels onto the nearest table. he pulls your chin up with his fingers, making sure you were looking at him directly.

“why didn’t you just say so?” he had that cocky smirk on again, which would have drove you nuts before, but now you found really attractive.

“i was in denial, okay? i didn’t know if you really liked me back or not and i guess i was just scared about what to do next” you admitted, as jaemin’s lips formed a small pout.

“you drive me crazy” jaemin smiled, cupping the side of your face with his left hand, softly caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“well so do you” you mumbled while blushing.

“just so you can hear me say it, i like you too. kinda have been trying to drop hints. you’re completely oblivious” he playfully teased, causing you to give him a small shove. you couldn’t help but smile at him as he pulled your face closer to his with both his hands on your cheeks. you move your hands to wrap around his neck, watching as his smile widened.

“bold move there” he muttered, lips brushing briefly over yours.

“can you just kiss me already?” you whine, which made jaemin’s heart burst. he nodded eagerly before connecting your lips with his. he moved one hand to grab your waist and the other was left caressing your cheek. you couldn’t believe you were kissing the same guy who stole your cookies months ago.

jaemin suddenly pulls away, mumbling,

“i knew you’d fall for me, i mean i am a catch”

“you really know how to ruin a moment don’t you?” you pull away from his completely, letting his take his hand in yours.

“yeah but we have a lot of time to have more moments, won’t we?” jaemin pulls you to his side,

“we sure will” you smile up at him, leaning in for another kiss when you were interrupted by a familiar voice,

“i freaking knew it! you two better not do this lovey dovey stuff during your shift otherwise i’m firing one of you” doyoung warmed as you both burst into laughter.

you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into with jaemin. but that was the thrill of it all. he was constantly surprising you with new things about himself. you completely adored him, as he did with you. you realised it was okay to let yourself be vulnerable, you never know what you could get out of it.

a/n: ahhh i loved writing this one! let me know if there were any mistakes! x 

[catherineflowers29]

Hi! I'm the anon from before! Oh, thank God. I was worried I upset you because JB shippers get so defensive when someone is critical of their ship or Jaime (btw I'm a Brienne stan before a JB shipper.)

I think your story is so great and feminist... the fact that Brienne was allowed to be angry at Jaime and make the choice to fuck Addam and still be the doting mother and a warrior who inspires women (also thank you for no boring Sansa/Brienne friendship). I loved how she said "fuck that" to any of Jaime's weakass explanations and whenever that bitch was like, "are we good? have you forgiven me? can we fuck?" and she just went like "wtf no you're the worst." like YES. It fucking bothered me the way those S8 apologists defended Jaime's "addiction" and liked the offensive disgusting white book scene. FFS LET WOMEN BE ANGRY. LET WOMEN HAVE A STORYLINE THAT ISN'T TIED TO SOME GARBAGE MAN. LET WOMEN SLEEP WITH MEN INSTEAD OF THEIR ASSIGNED LOVE INTERESTS AND LET THEM ENJOY IT TOO. LET WOMEN BE BITTER AND UNFORGIVING AND COMPASSIONATE AND MOTHERLY AND BRAVE AND AWESOME AT THE SAME TIME. ALL THESE THINGS CAN EXIST IN ONE WOMAN. IT'S ALLOWED. AND BRIENNE IS NO BETTER OR WORSE IF SHE CHOOSES TO BE UNFORGIVING. I HATE DUDEBROS.

I don't think you should be unhappy with your story! Your story has amazing dialogue and internal thoughts, well-rounded characters, and Brienne of Tarth being awesome. If anything, you were too nice to Jaime by having him be happy and giving him a purpose. You should subvert my expectations, lovely author! Don't have Brienne forgive Jaime and get into a relationship with him! Make her kick him to the curb! Break his heart! Piss on his corpse! Probably JB shippers will be mad at you but I've got your back. The REAL Brienne fans know that Jaime did Brienne so dirty, and no bs addiction or duty can justify that!

Ok that's enough... and WTF why would people think your fic is controversial. IMO we should bully the writers who had Brienne easily forgive Jaime and take him back just like that. Fuck them all. I only respect YOU. You got me into shipping Addam/Bri and also validated my anger. Also I was busy, didn't know you updated your fic. Gonna read it now. Not gonna lie, I'll be a little upset if she chooses Jaime because I thought the glass throwing scene was written to show the tragic end of their relationship and how there's no coming back, but I did want to know your thoughts.

Bless you, kind reader. 

I’ve had a lot of thoughts about why my fic is considered controversial. The subject matter in it really isn’t that “dark” in the traditional fic sense. There’s no rape or major character death, it’s not torture porn or anything. And yet, there was rage about it on Reddit, it was banned from being discussed on Discord, and a BNF decided (very hurtfully, I might add) to call me out on Twitter because she had formed a judgement based solely on my tags. I have also been blocked by numerous people in the fandom that I have never so much as had an interaction with. I’ve also had a LOT of shitty comments and anons here and there from people who seem really angry that I had the temerity to write this fic.

That genuinely surprised me. I knew it wouldn’t be everyone’s cup of tea - what fic is? But there have been times when I have felt like a total pariah and not wanted to interact with other members of the fandom in case they feel the same way. Whatever way you slice it, that’s shitty behaviour.

Largely, when we ship something, particularly when it’s an OTP, we think of that relationship as an ideal. It’s escapism, it’s perfect in ways that our real relationships never can be. I think that’s why, for so many of us, 8.04 was really devastating. Jaime and Brienne are also a ship about acceptance and understanding, of a deep connection that transcends surface impressions - they both see each other for who they really are. That means a LOT to us, I think. I think we all long for that kind of relationship and exploring it in our fandom gives all of us so much happiness. We are in love with their love.

In their portrayal of the JB relationship, D&D ABSOLUTELY got that wrong. I absolutely do not dispute that. I think a LOT of people were angry with me because they confused what I was writing as being supportive of D&D’s take in some way, because I treated it as canon. Some writers were able to paper over the end of the show, dismiss it as bad writing and move on, or write fic where Jaime changes his mind, Brienne forgives him, and then they carry on with what we wanted.

I just couldn’t do that. God knows I tried. But if I had been in Brienne’s position, I absolutely would have been as pissed as fuck about what Jaime did. I don’t accept that he went back for Cersei as a brother, or that Brienne wasn’t crying for herself but only for him and his lost honour. Being dumped HURTS, particularly when you loved someone and thought you had a future, and then he walks out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. Brienne had SO MUCH backstory about being hurt and humiliated by men, having the first man who loved her, the man she gave her virginity to, treat her that way would fuck her up.

I’m not saying that anyone who disagrees with me is wrong, and I never have. I don’t have the definitive knowledge of these characters, none of us do. I only have my take, my experience, my style.

I just couldn’t write about their relationship as being idyllic and perfect any more. Is it a reflection of who I am as a person and as a writer? That’s certainly been the accusation several dozen times. Maybe. It’s certainly a reflection of how I feel women put up with too much shit from men and are expected to be kind and forgiving in return. I HATE that with a passion. 

Angry women are really controversial. They make people of all genders feel very uncomfortable. Sexually confident women do, too, and I think my story was the perfect storm of those two elements, really. People who want escapism from realistic relationships where people don’t live happily-ever-after really took exception to its very existence.

I don’t hold it against anyone for it not being their cup of tea, or if they disagree with my take. God knows there are kajillions of fics out there that aren’t my bag too. Things I’ve rolled my eyes at, things I’ve fundamentally disagreed with, things I’ve been horrified to read. But not once have I ever felt the need to be a public douchebag about it. I’ve never felt the need to make a writer stop writing.

So thank you so much for taking the time to send me this. It does make a really nice change to get an anon be so positive and affirming to me as a writer!

I really hope that you enjoy the end of the story. And that you will enjoy the reboot in a few weeks where we stick with Brienne’s POV and I turn the volume down on some of the elements that I don’t like about the story myself. Not the rage though, or the Addam banging. That’s staying! 

[thefinalyeehaw]

(Obey Me Fic) Deathly Hearts {Ch. 1 - Arrival}

Killian didn’t know what to expect of the Devildom. Her knowledge of the realm was solely based on books and tales of her father’s younger days as he had been good allies with the Demon Lord. Diavolo had spoken about his home realm during his stay, now Killian regretted not asking further questions. Especially after she agreed to become a lab rat to the demon prince’s social experiment. His decree caused an uproar in her father’s court, shouting of royal advisers and loud gossiping among members of the reapscape’s nobility flooded the otherwise organized hall.

Among the chaos, her father sat on his throne, quietly observing the unleashed mayhem as she stared, shocked at Diavolo. The demon prince stood unflappable, the midst of the yelling and arguing, his eyes trained on her. The golden hues pierced her icy eyes, and his radiant smile remained unbreakable as a few irate advisors began to hurl thinly-veiled insults, stabbing at the demon prince’s character and integrity. Killian knew Diavolo didn’t care; the advisors could throw stones at him like a humorless jester telling bad jokes, he would still stand tall and proud as he awaited her answer.

Killian felt her father’s steely gaze latch onto her; he also awaited her answer. Usually, Killian felt graceful that her father always let her make her own decisions, but at that moment, she wished he had said something. Anything.

As she expected, her father remained silent as he stood up, his towering frame immediately silencing the hall. Her father turned to her, his dark eyes joining a hundred pairs piercing her; All awaiting an answer.

She didn’t know why she said yes. Diavolo’s dream was one that Killian shared; she also envisioned unity among the realms. But a dream is just a dream, a wild fantasy that will never come true. Diavolo’s idea was too outlandish; she couldn’t fathom reapers that won’t be a Ravished or an outcast in the Devildom, let alone a human.

Demons would tear a human to pieces the moment they stepped foot in the realm of the demons. Killian has witnessed many aftermaths of demons’ ravenous hunger for humans, to confirm that fact. But Diavolo wouldn’t listen even if she begged him on her knees as it wasn’t her place, much to her dismay. She was only a guest at the Devildom. Her only goal is to participate as a student for a year and report back to her father about her own opinion on the program.

Nothing more and nothing less.

“Welcome to the Devildom, Killian!”

A smile graced her face, her eyes landing on Diavolo as the mist of his transport spell vanished. Standing in the center of a raised judge panel, his already large frame looked gigantic as the demon prince peered down at the reaper. She recognized his signature red ankle-length coat, the crimson of his clothes heavily contradicting the large assembly hall’s violet and black scheme. Diavolo’s face brightens as he takes in her form, his gold eyes practically glow with excitement in the dimness.

“I’m honored to be here. I was starting to think that you forgot about me.” Her mask’s lips curled into a grin as the magic-infused in the porcelain mirrors her facial expressions. Killian didn’t usually wear a mask; her arrival to the Devildom coincided with the Melachonia festival in her home realm. Not wanting to break tradition, she decided to partake in the porcelain mask tradition during those significant months, though its appearance made her stick out like a sore thumb.

Diavolo chuckled at her tease, “Killian, you are someone who isn’t easily forgotten,” His gold eyes twinkled gleefully. “I do apologize for the delay. We had some difficulties with bringing Mattie to RAD.” Diavolo’s gaze shifted past the reaper, who turned to follow his stare.

A small distance behind her stood a human; their aura confirmed it. The person flinched when they noticed her glance, their eyes widening at the sight of her mask. They stood shorter than her, about chin-height to her. Killian noted they were cute, admiring the human’s olive skin and dyed teal hair, styled into a chin-length choppy bob, framing their round face and button nose.

Killian smiled, forcing back a giggle as the human gasped at her mask’s movement. “Hello there, I’m Killian. Who are you?” Keeping her voice smooth and calm, not to frighten the human further. “I-I’m Mattie. Mattie Carson.” Their doe-like eyes were glued to the mask’s mouth, watching in awe as the thin line moved and took shape, mirroring every word the reaper spoke. Their cheeks flushed as a giggle escaped Killian, immediately averting their glance in embarrassment.

“I’m glad the two of you are getting along well,” Diavolo smiled, observing the duo’s interaction happily. The demon prince seemed elated by the newest students’ friendly exchange; joy practically oozed from every pore. “Killian here is a good friend of mine. Treat her kindly, and she will do the same.”

Friends? Diavolo’s comment surprised her. She never thought he would consider her a friend. During his stay, Killian always made an effort to be friendly with the demon prince as their first meeting didn’t leave the best first impression whenever she bumped into the demon in the hallways and at banquets. Their chats were amiable but not enough to warrant status as the demon prince’s good friend.

Nevertheless, Killian took the opportunity to joke, “Aw, you’re going to make me blush~” Amused at the faint flush on Diavolo’s face as he laughed, also amused by their banter. A loud cough drew Killian’s eyes to the demon standing next to Diavolo, wearing a black version of the prince’s uniform. The demon was almost as tall as Diavolo, incredibly handsome with flawless porcelain skin and silky black hair. Even from the far distance, Killian noticed the crimson gradient in the demon’s otherwise piercing grey eyes. Those scrutinizing eyes glared disapprovingly, unamused of her playful attitude.

Killian grinned, winking at the scowling demon. She watched gleefully as his glare deepened. Obviously, the demon didn’t like her, not like she gave a shit about his feelings. If the demon was judging her already without getting to know her, Killian didn’t want to waste her energy on trying to be liked by some demon with an apparent stick up his ass.

“I apologize. We got off-topic.” Diavolo’s laughter subsided; he gesticulated around the hall as if performing a magic trick. “I should explain where we are. This is the Royal Academy of Diavolo, though we just call it RAD. You’re standing inside of the assembly hall, the very heart of RAD. This is where we officers of the student council hold our meetings and conduct our business.” Killian glanced around the impressive room, and she noticed a few empty seats among the ones occupied by a few disinterested demons.

“I’m the president of said council.” Diavolo stated proudly as if demons were fearless enough to run against him for the seat. She counted the number of seats, growing more curious. There were eight seats, including Diavolo; three seats were vacated. Why isn’t the whole council here? Won’t it have been more proper to have the full council present for the new students’ arrivals?

“Why are we here?” Mattie asked firmly, some of the shock and fear melting from their body. Killian felt slightly happy at the human’s growing confidence; the human will need that moxie if they want to survive the Devildom for the next year. Although it won’t prevent them from being eaten, it was at least progress.

“I will explain everything to you.” The black-haired demon spoke, ascending down the center stairs of the panel towards the two. Killian willed herself not to step forward in front of Mattie protectively; her posture grew rigid and alert. Her thumb fiddled with the ring on her right index finger, containing her scythe. The smile on Diavolo’s face eased her a bit; she still won’t hesitate to attack if the demon tried anything funny.

“Mattie. Killian. This is Lucifer. He is a demon and the Avatar of Pride.” Killian studied the black-haired demon with mild interest, so this is Lucifer? Diavolo spoke a lot of his dear friend during his stay in the Reapscape. From his descriptions of the demon, Killian honestly thought Lucifer was an old grumpy cat whom Diavolo grew fond of. Finally, now that she put a name with the face, she thought of him more like an arrogant peacock, domineering over ostentation of peafowls.

“So, you’re Lucifer? Lord Diavolo spoke many praises of you to my Excellency.” Her father’s title felt odd on her tongue. She doesn’t remember the last time when she had to call him by that status as “father,” and the occasional papa was his usual title to her. But her father had requested her royal status to remain anonymous during her participation in the program; Killian needed to remember that she wasn’t the Grim Reaper’s daughter in the eyes of these demons. She was just a representative of the Reapscape handpicked by the demon prince.

“He’s also the vice president of the student council and my right-hand man...and not just in title, I assure you.” Diavolo added. Killian disguised a sudden laugh as a mild cough fit, nearly giggling as Mattie shot her an odd look. Diavolo slightly pouted, resembling a worried puppy more than a demon prince. Lucifer’s glare intensified; oh, he knew exactly what she was thinking. Killian didn’t care if his stare melted the flesh off of her bone. The accidental double meaning was too funny not to laugh at.

Killian let out a quick apology in between fake coughs, claiming she was okay. Reassured that the reaper wasn’t about to keel over and die, Diavolo continued to praise Lucifer. “Beyond that, he’s also my most trusted friend,” Lucifer grunted at his words, annoyance twitched at his features as his stare shifted to the prince.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Diavolo.” He cleared his throat; his red-grey eyes pierced the two exchange students. Mattie winced at the intensity while Killian merely stared back, unbothered by the demon’s biting gaze. Being a royal heir, she grew custom to the glares and gawking of nobles as she wasn’t introduced into palace life with open arms as a young reaper.

With practiced grace, Lucifer placed a gloved hand to his chest, slightly bowed his head towards the duo as he spoke, “Speaking on behalf of the entire student body at this great and storied school of ours, I offer you a most heartfelt welcome.” Killian blinked; that was one of the driest greetings she has experienced. She endured stabbings more heartfelt.

“On behalf of the students?” A faint frown appeared on the human’s face. Killian didn’t need telepathy to know Mattie found Lucifer’s welcome less than warm. Lucifer’s eyes briefly narrowed before he diverged into a monologue, “Diavolo believes that we demons should start strengthening our relationship with both the human world and the Celestial Realm. As a first step towards this goal, we’ve decided to institute an exchange program.” Killian turned him out. She already heard the program’s nature when Diavolo did his sales pitch to her father, resulting in brief mayhem occurring in the royal court.

“You both need someone to look after you, and I think that someone should be my brother Mammon?” The name seemed familiar to Killian; where has she heard that name before?

“Your brother?” Mattie asked curiously.

“Yes. He’s the Avatar of Greed, and… how should I put it…?” He sighed defeatedly, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if a headache was forming. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

Reaching into a coat pocket, Lucifer retrieved two cell phones. “Here, take this device. It’s called D.D.D. It’s a lot like the cell phones of your worlds,” He plopped the phones into each of their hands; his aim missed Killian’s hand, the phone nearly slipped. Her quick reflexes easily caught the falling phone; she gave him a sharp look. If Lucifer purposefully missed, his face didn’t show its guilt as he further discusses the new cell phones.

With an annoyed huff, Killian decided to examine the new device. Her phone case was a dark red; she lifted the phone slightly. She let out a breathy laugh as she saw the case matched the color of Diavolo’s uniform. Killian playfully winked at Diavolo, noticing the man also looking at the case in her hand. Diavolo’s smile widened; she suppressed a crackle when he winked back.

Forcing herself to turn away as not to draw any attention, she turned it on to see the phone was already charged and unlocked. Killian quickly browsed the standard installed apps. Although it will take some time for Killian to get used to a new cell phone, everything seemed in place. She wondered if her other phone would work if she needed to call home. She knew there would be metaphorical hell to pay if she didn’t text Jules often. The reaper shuddered at the thought of being on the end of her dear friend’s notoriously short temper. That wasn’t something she wanted to deal with any time soon.

“Now, go ahead and try calling Mammon with it.” Lucifer instructed.

~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! Reblog if you want me to post more. 

Also, I wanted to explain a few things about Mattie (The human; the usual MC of the game), Killian (my reaper mc of sorts) and the story.

1. Mattie identifies as genderqueer; The pronouns of Mattie are They/Them, just like in the game. (Killian's pronouns are She/Her as she identities as cisgender).

2. This story will follow the overall plot line relatively close, it will kinda diverges from the original story in a few major events. there is also some side plot and funny (sometimes spicy~) filler chapters.

3. Mattie will not be the one romancing the boys, Killian is the romantic interest. Mattie will develop deep platonic relationships with the boys, I'm still deciding upon Mattie's sexual preference (possibly gray-ace?)

4. Since this is somewhat an AU; there will be chapters outside of the realm of the devildom, focusing on Killian's backstory and the Reapscape.

5. Last but not least, there will be some dark topics explored (mostly involving Killian's past) that I hadn't tagged yet. I will put trigger warning in the beginning notes of those chapters. If wanted, I can put line break around the sensitive materials.

[macklives]

session 92 end (bye 413...)

this session was so long but so fucking hectic what the fuck

im going to try and slim it down to its bare essentials rather than go on a full rant because im pretty sure i want to make a post later on about vriska’s characterisation (not anything about me liking her/disliking her, just an analyse on her life really, so it wont be too bias because thats not the point of an analysis. i also want to do one on aradia, been meaning to for a while... hmm... damn i havent done much analogies lately, and i THINK the last long post on a character i made was about davesprite??? so its been a fucking while. that being said, ill leave a lot of details out for this end of session notes so i dont just repeat myself later on. rather will keep to plot points here and then make character points in another)

alright

first we had a page or two where aradia confided in nepeta about her being dead which means nepeta is the only one to know this revelation. im pretty sure aradia confided because there was no other way around it, since nepeta was her server player, so it was inevitable. either way, aradia still put her trust in nep, which means, if you think about it, nobody else knows and nobody else ever will. and considering aradia asked nep to keep it a secret, it probably wont get explored by others until MAYBE later on, whenever its plot relevant, so everyone will be in the dark about it for a while which ill have to remember for future dialogue and scenes with aradia in them

then we met vriska

which, yes, is a meme. i may not have been on a lot of fandom platforms, but you cant escape some of the stuff that goes around the internet. even if you dont know undertale, im pretty sure you know of sans. or komaeda if you have/havent seen danganronpa. its just.. the memes, ya know? ive heard from many sources of the “vriska did nothing wrong” quote (even through mbmbam which??? WHAT) but since i didnt even know what it meant, i never explored it so then i never knew it was a homestuck thing. imagine my surprise...... i think even at the time, i wouldnt have known what homestuck was either honestly so it wouldnt even matter. i only recently learned about the fandom.... uhh, maybe half a year ago??? yeah, august, so my knowledge was slim but vriska is a thing ive heard before, which still shocks me

goddammit

anyways back to her

so her intro was something, we pretty much found out she likes DnD (a FANATIC in fact) and feeds her lusus the flesh of living trolls. which is fucked up. but i wont get too much into detail about that until i make a post about her life on alternia and the consequences of such. or maybe just alternia in general...?? or *both* heheheh but i feel i need more information before i go off on a tangent about that

then we met??? white text dude?? who is a major asshole but an asshole with insults that hURted, to think i felt bad for VRISKA when that happened. woah.

i said before, but... karkat, he cant really hit deep because his insults are just HIM and his way to express himself. like some people find it natural to just go “FUCK YOU” to show emphasis on a point, and thats just karkats way. he may do it so aggressively that it takes you a second to realize what he said, but usually i dont take anything to heart whenever he spurts out some insults. ive progressed to the point where whatever he says, is just “karkat” and not him trying to be actively mean. rather, its now funny whenever he does say anything SOMEWHAT creative, dude has an imagination that goes on for miles

but vriska?? she IS trying to be a bully, you can tell. but i feel theres something much more to that. like shes trying to prove herself and her “blueblooded” demeanours or whatever the hierarchy is. she doesnt want to show emotions so she makes herself a barrier by being mean is what i can gather from her conversation with kanaya. im pretty sure youre not supposed to understand her until its pointed out and rather see her as an “antagonist” at first, but yeah, her insults are more pitiful than anything and i also cant take her too seriously. i may not like her as a person but her character is interesting because you cant always have the goodie two shoes as the protags. it doesnt diversify the characterisation so i like vriska as someone who makes the plot work and it becomes more interesting since you have someone that makes it harder for the main crew to progress. a happy-go-lucky adventure with no trouble and no turnabouts would be boring in a way. so having a character like vriska, or like this new white text guy, it makes you stop for a second and realize oh shit okay, here’s where shit CAN go wrong and WHY. and i do especially like it when these bastards of characters somehow have more depth than being the “bastard characters”. kinda humanizes them in a way. doesnt mean you have to LIKE them continuously, but theyre humans (trolls whatever) in the end and every person has their own story whether its for better or for worse

for example, i like her being placed into the story, along with white text, by how its all leading to this “accident” and is slowly showing us hints on what happened, but in the end, it wont be until later that we know the full story. even if it was in the past, it apparently is very vital to the plot and shapes how the characters act in the future, so important aspects like that are to look out for. and usually they only occur when theres been some trouble within friend dynamics. so without these bastard of characters, plot wouldnt grow AS strong and i often keep that in mind when i explore a story.

anyways, I HAD A POINT TO THIS: so vriska and karkat are characters who are yes, mean, but it seems to be their personality, and the way they either show emotions and convey feelings (karkat) or make a barrier so they DONT show emotions to produce vulnerability (vriska), white text guy seems to mostly be out to be an asshole. he told vriska she was useless to sum it up but im not too sure if this is one of those “first dialogue” to mould out a bias opinion before we even get to the character themselves, but judging by how vriska and karkat played out, he surely means something bad and i dont know how to explain it. but i cannot base anything off from one piece of dialogue. i dont even know what else to call him other than white text guy so...... ill just leave that out for now, until we finally get his introduction

though, i do wish to mention, and will expand on, im not wrong when i say karkat and vriska are similar but in different context. sorry if youre favourite is karkat and you dont like vriska, or vice versa, but uhhhh their introductions are so similar its uncanny and the way they’re portrayed is the same except one is more on crack about the meddling, while the other is angry about the meddling. similar to how it was with karkat, we were introduced to vriska talking with someone we knew (tavros) whom she obviously didnt like, so obviously, from her point of view, she wanted to be menacing. like how karkat was menacing to jade because she wouldnt listen to his point... he got angry, so he lashed out. but us, the readers, didnt know that. we thought “oh god its this asshole” until we made it further in the story and started to warm up to karkat. it may not be the same with vriska, she may be a bully regardless, but you cannot tell me we moulded a bias towards her character as we did when we first read karkat. theyre both truly mean to other people, maybe both for different reasons, but i do want to point out the similarities and not leave that out. im pretty sure andrew basically gave us a conversation that formed our opinion of a character right off the bat rather than go into depth of WHY they did it, and how they are naturally without the conditions of the game. which, you can also see with vriska when she conversed with kanaya. andrew started off with a character who only appears to speak once, and makes you judge them from first appearance alone, without any explanation as to why they said what they said and how they are with other characters, let says. so you assume they were simply a rude character. now look how karkat turned out. so im guessing in homestuck, the first impression should never be the opinion you stick with until MAYBE 5 more conversations with that character (each one different)

OKAY done with the vriska introduction, now to slutquius

yes, hes kinda weird, i have stated that many times. i have no idea what to say about him other than he likes porn, he likes centaur dick which just so happens to be his lusus as well and if that isnt a red flag idk what is

he also likes his lusus milk, right from the udders of his guardian

fun times, fun times

my opinion of equius kinda.. differs. which i should really put in place the “dont judge by first impression” rule, because at first i thought he was rude with, then i thought he was hhh okay, because i understood why he was being so protective over nepeta and her team placement, since the people she was going to play with WERE dangerous. but if you think about it, both sides will probably put you in danger. it just depends on which ones you confide in more to protect your back rather than those which would cause trouble on purpose, in my HONEST opinion. so equius was a little overdramatic on that part, but i got what he meant. he was on the blue team and he didnt want to leave nepeta alone without him on the red. but then this session happened. and he went back to being weird again because of the whole porn thing, especially being so open about it like dude chill youre 13. but the thing is, then i felt bad for him because hes basically touch starved. to say that he could break anything he touches, i doubt people would go up to him for hugs. in fear they would be crushed to death by a simple hug. so im guessing hes rather lonely and doesnt really know how to interact because of this. so i felt sad that he had to live a life where he needs to be careful of everything he touches so it doesnt break randomly. see? poor dude. but then things got weird. and im pretty sure hes a masochist. so my opinion on equius is a fucking cosine graph

which brings us to the final point:

gamzee and equius’ conversation

i dont even know.....like.........gamzee was unaware that equius was using him for his own power play roleplay, right? gamzee knew it was a roleplay but it had had some.. idk.... obvious sexual implications? and i bet gamzee didnt really know that? he thought they were only venting out through a simple roleplay and trying to get closer because he originally thought equius hated him, considering equius flat out said “i hate you” and gamzee went “you tell me everyday and im okay with that” so.. gamzee probably wanted only to get closer to equius so he helped out his little problem which.. thats so sweet but i feel bad he was coerced into something he didnt get, especially since he was innocent enough to go along without knowing equius’ true gain

anyways, equius was getting off with the hierarchy thing. considering he’s “lower” than gamzee, and gamzee is surprisingly ...high on the spectrum??? so equius wanted gamzee to boss him around, because it felt only natural to him since he’s the “inferior one” and gamzee is The Big Man. like i get that, but it was written in a way that was so uncomfortable, that i wish i didnt. equius is just a weird character... hes not BAD per say, but hes... hes something alright

but im really liking gamzee. the two things which struck me in that one conversation, was the “i dont get why we should dictate people by the colour of their blood, i just see people as people” piece of dialogue and “i cant go around pleasing just everything so its alright if you hate me”

thats... so good, idk. i really liked that. i also really liked when kanaya said “youre dangerous but dangerous people are needed and are important because it shapes you” like <33 my fucking heart

god homestuck may be a tad on the weird side with some of its characters but it surely knows how to create great lines of dialogue

and that concludes the long 4 hour session i did, hope you all enjoyed it

with that, i rest

[mysticalmusicwhispers]

aditya is going to be grounded forever and ever and ever once he gets caught lmao. indus might even throw a slipper at him 😔someone please help him (not yao he's going to make it worse. or maybe yao can give him nice doodles and presents as a way of consoling him. he probably won't feel bad but at leas he will try to make his friend less sad lmao. and iran would help!! even as they're like "wtf you're SUCH A BAD INFLUENCE" @ yao. their combined efforts would likely make aditya very happy!!) the poor baby will not be having any fun for a Very Long Time :(

HM i think nyo china should live in a place of residence that makes me want to eat the rich whenever i walk past it, filthy capitalist that she is. but should that be the penthouse apartment of a high-rise condominium or should it be a lovely landed property? or maybe she has 2 houses an apartment for yao and sometimes herself in the suburbs of their primary school and a rich people house in the city that is near the elite high school she WILL get yao into (but this might mean moving yao away from his friends in middle school 😔) . decisions are hard. but yes she definitely buys her way out of trouble with her neighbours all the time

"you should follow his example in the things he's a model at not in things he does badly" i CHOKED i don't think i've heard a more chinese parent quote than this for the past 3 years they would totally say this and of course their disgruntled kids would complain that yao is um not the most respectful of the law dhwkntke

ALSO HIS POOR TEACHERS... I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY HAVE A CLUB THAT'S SO SAD OH MY GOD

hmm i think that like. even without a mentor's guidance yao will probably become less unruly and wild as he ages, as a process of growing up and becoming less focused on causing Chaos (he's directing that feralness to like. making an actual plan to take over the world probably), because society's tolerance for buckwild bullshit decreases as you get older and older, and the likelihood that he'll miss out on awards and other accolades if he continues this sort of behaviour, which his ambition won't allow for. BUT what i think won't change is the fact that he's an arrogant asshole and he becomes more and more so as he grows up with a lifetime of academic and extracurricular excellence. so im just saying imagine said sub in high school absolutely tearing apart one of his assignments. like just covering the whole thing in red-inked ruthless rebuttals and giving him a c. yao has never gotten a c in his life and is both humiliated and impressed because the sub is RIGHT, and they managed to outlogic him (which up till now only his friends + nyo china could probably yao doesn't associate with dumb people). and then he progresses amazingly in that class during the sub's remaining time with them and gets nyo china to let the sub teach him when they land a job. like i feel as though he would greatly benefit from an older mentor who won't tolerate his bullshit and would challenge him to reach new heights and this might be person!! (this thought is kinda unrefined and doesn't fully explain the Vibes but i need a nap now + it's not really Baby au anymore it's Slightly Less Baby au fhwinfkwg good afternoon to you and good night for me!)

They’re so sweet omg ☺️ Yao and Iran giving Aditya little presents... I love it. Their small gang of bastards has to stick together after all. Also yeah RIP India; at least they still have time to interact at school, but at-home hours is rough. (also, Yao’s neighborhood is moderately far from Aditya’s, but what about Iran? o-o I feel like they’d live a bit closer (?), maybe a couple streets away, and Iran isn’t on Indus’s blacklist yet............ (but then again, Indus probably banned any of his friends coming over lol). Also, Yao makes a plan to somehow get into the house across from Aditya’s and flash morse code at night with flashlights so they can talk, and hopefully it entertains his house arrested friend! Iran is dragged along for the ride and just goes with it lol. Jury is out on whether they get caught.)

Nyo China’s many houses.... :| she would do that oh my god. Also I think (?) there was a whole crackdown a while ago in China on people who were buying houses they didn’t live in, so they could get their kids into good schools in that residential area.... that radiates her vibes and I hate it. Miss China, how does it feel living in a penthouse, or just being rich in general O-o I LAUGHED at “decisions are hard” that’s everything about nyo china. “hmm yes I can’t choose which house I actually want to live in so why not just buy all 5??? yep, sounds like a good idea!” O_________O can’t relate

lol thank you; I was trying to channel Chinese parent energy and I’m glad it came through! The kids are grumbling that Yao could just be 100% awful or 100% academically stellar, but no, he has to be a genius AND a delinquent (just choose one, god) also yes they have a lil club just for them! Only people who have the honor of suffering get to join :)

And to your last paragraph, HELL YES IT’S CANON NOW. “Yao doesn't associate with dumb people” I’m crying omg. Yao takes all honors/gifted classes and doesn’t speak to anyone who doesn’t 😭 The big red C glaring at him from the top of his (once beautiful) essay stabs him viscerally in the chest and he needs to take a few days before looking at it again in order to recover his strength ego. He reads through all the comments and each one shreds his ego even more lmao; they’re not even mean comments but he just knows the sub is Completely Correct and sinks into a low like he’s never had. But yesss @ the whole episode pushing him to do better in order to keep up his Academic Excellence, and maybe impress the sub whom he now views as superior and whom he actually has respect for.

May I propose the sub is miss Vietnam o-o... she probably should be in the gang of ancients (as the only other kid who can rival Yao in Logic and fistfights, but isn’t friends with him like the other ancients because he sucks and she doesn’t like his bs) but shhhhh.... we can make a spin-off AU and nobody needs to know... lol anyways, I feel like if the substitute is Vietnam, she and Yao would have some sort of antagonism (not too tense but not friendly bickering either) at the beginning; Yao really wants to impress her and do better in class but Vietnam just. Does not like how he’s an asshole, especially to other people he thinks are below him sksksk. But they slowly warm up to each other especially as Yao gets ~reformed~ ever so slightly, and then it turns into friendly bickering and Long Debates on various intriguing topics (Yao always plays devils advocate in those :|). But yeah I definitely think she’d be a good candidate ig, since she doesn’t take bs even from the star pupil who is also an ass. And she’s a sub at first, so it gives her a little bit more room to throw hands whenever she wants instead of having to control herself lol

[sinner-as-saint]

Bad Reputation.

Mob! Seb x reader AU.

 A/N: I was initially gonna do some cheesy ass, so-fluffy-you-could-die imagine. But then I was like, I have my thirsty, horny children waiting on me. So, here you go. 

 Run-through: You work as a bartender at one of the many bars owned by the biggest, most respected mob in the city; Sebastian Stan. And one night, things get…interesting.

 Themes: Smut, mob! Seb, language, age gap

 A/N (ii): I don’t know what time it is when you’re reading this, but Happy Birthday to our baby boy/ Romanian God Sebbie!!

   You placed the cloth down, next to the beer glasses and sighed. The day had been tiring; consisting of countless clients, a few drunken fights which the security guards handled with ease, a few older men flirting with you.

And to top it all off, your boss; the owner of the bar you worked at, was pissed off when he came in and disappeared behind the door which led to the private/VIP area.

Why was he mad? You couldn’t quite tell. Then again, he was a mobster and his entire day revolved around barking orders at people and having to deal with the stupidity of those working with him. So, that probably explains the bad temper.

You never interacted much with Sebastian, he was rather quiet whenever he stopped by the counter for a pint of beer or on some more tough days; shots, before he went home.

He had everything; money, power, control over people, and he had earned enough respect in the city. Yet, it seemed as though he was lonely deep down.

  Clearing your head of the thoughts of your boss, you glanced around one last time to make sure that everything was perfectly in place as you closed.

And you were about to pick your bag up and make your way out of the door, but a voice stopped you.

 “Mind staying for a while longer, Y/N? I’m in terrible need of a drink,” your boss spoke up, stepping out of the VIP section.

He had a faint smirk on his face, and a hint of playfulness in his voice.

 You smiled, nodded and got back to the other side of the counter; grabbing a large glass before he stopped you again.

 “Beer won’t do it, I need something stronger,” he spoke as he approached and settled down on one of the stool.

He rested his hand on the counter and you noticed his bloodied and bruised knuckles. He took out a white handkerchief and wiped the blood off his hand, leaving behind a red stain on the white fabric.

 You set the glass down and picked up two shot glasses and his favorite liquor. You poured both shots and pushed them towards him.

 “Who was it today? The French guys?” you asked with a small smile; knowing perfectly well that he must have punched someone who didn’t obey, or agree to what he said.

It was a bad habit of his; among others.

 Sebastian swallowed the first shot, then the second.

He chuckled right after, cherishing the feeling as the liquor burned down his throat.

 “It was. They are…troublesome,” he answered, and watched you intently as you refilled the alcohol.

You noticed a shift in him. Not in his manner, but his voice.

 He leaned against the counter and watched how you pushed the glasses towards him again. He smirked and pushed on of the glasses towards you.

You looked at it, then at him, questioning the situation.

“Oh come on, it’s my birthday. Celebrate with me,” he spoke with such an ease that it sent shivers down your spine.

His voice was suddenly deep and smooth. And the grin on his face made him look even more gorgeous than he already was.

You hesitated.

 “Happy Birthday, but, I shouldn’t, Mr. Stan,”

 “Why not?” he spoke, tilting his head to the side. The dimmed lights accentuated his features; he looked ravishing and lethal at the same time.

 “Because you’re my boss. And I shouldn’t be drinking at work, let alone with you and I still have to walk home. I’m sorry sir,”

 You knew he didn’t like that. He never liked it when people turned him down. He hated hearing ‘no’, and you knew that.

 He chuckled again.

 “It’ll be a secret between you and I, doll. Go on,” he persisted. And given his reputation, you didn’t want to argue further with the most well-known mob of the city.

You reluctantly held the glass and brought it to your lip, while Sebastian watched you with his mischievous, blue eyes.

You tilted your head back and swallowed the contents rapidly, frowning as the liquor burned your throat.

 You placed the glass back down, in front of Sebastian and he smiled back.

 “Happy Birthday to me,” he teased, winking at you; knowing he has won again.

 He swallowed the other shot and looked up at you, his eyes shining in the dimmed lights. There was no one else in the bar, except for the two of you.

Sending a quick glance at clock, it read that it was nearly 11 p.m.

 “You want anything else, sir?” you asked, seeing that he had finished his drink but was still sat at the counter.

Of course, he owned the place; he could do whatever he wanted in it.

 An enticing look was seen on his face as he looked at you right after you questioned him. He was definitely not drunk yet, but he seemed more, lively.

 “Yes, actually. I wanna know you better. Tell me, Y/N, why do you stick around here? Most women would run away from a place like this, the violence, the weapons, the…men, how do you handle it?,” he asked, and leaned forward on the counter.

His face was not far from yours, and you caught the hint of the alcohol in his breath. And you had to admit, he looked good from up close.

His blue eyes bore into your e/c ones.

You knew what he meant, the men who came in here were literal pigs; rich but downright barbaric.

 “Well, the weapons and the violence doesn’t scare me. My dad got into a lot of fights when I was little, and I tended to his wounds, so the violence isn’t alien to me,”

His head shot up in interest as you spoke.

 “As for the men, well, being a woman in a city like this one I just learnt how to live with it. No matter what I do, or where I work, they’re still gonna eye me like I’m a piece of meat. So, I might as well earn me some money while they do that,” you finished with a small smile.

 Sebastian nodded, in appreciation of the answer he got.

Without another word said, he got off the stool and walked around the counter; making his way to the side where you stood. And soon, he stood right in front of you.

You didn’t have much resistance against alcohol, one shot was all it took to make you feel the buzz.

Sebastian stood right in front of you, and his hand reached out and tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

He was so close to you now that each breathe he let out fanned your face. And his scent was almost irresistible. Strong and fresh, he smelt tempting.

 “You’re very impressive, Y/N. And very pretty too,” he complimented you and for the first time, you didn’t have a proper reply to give him.

Thank you?

 “You too!” you spoke almost too fast and your tone was too cheery. Shit.

 You corrected yourself quickly.

“I mean, thank you. And you’re very impressive too,” you breathed in his scent. He smelt amazing. Jesus, does he always smell that good?

 He chuckled. And took a step forward, causing you to take one back; resulting in you being pressed against the counter and his built frame.

He was quite the ladies’ man in the city. And you often wondered why he hadn’t been officially involved with one of the many beautiful women who always roamed around him.

 “Can I touch you, doll? I’m just, gonna steal a kiss or two,” he whispered as he brought his face closer to yours. You smelt the alcohol in his breathe clearly now.

 Your heartbeat rang in your ears, and his scent invaded your senses.

 You giggled.

“I think you’ve had too many drinks, you need to go home, sir,” you couldn’t help the smile which formed on your face.

 He smiled back.

 “Come on, it’s my birthday. I deserve a kiss from the prettiest girl I know,” he pouted slightly, sticking his bottom lip out. And it made you laugh.

Sebastian Stan, The Sebastian Stan; the most respected mob boss of the city was standing in front of you, pouting, because you won’t kiss him.

Good lord, what is happening?

Your giggles were cut short as he placed his hands on either side of you, on the counter. He had you trapped.

 “That’s quite an excuse, sir. But really, we shouldn’t,”

 “Oh yeah? What’s a better excuse then? The fact that I know you watch me longingly every time I walk in?” he smirked.

He caught you.

 You blushed. And didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t lying; you indeed watched him every day. To be honest, it was the best part of your day; watching him march in with all his glory. His expensive suits, and even more expensive cologne. He was perfect.

But he was also much older than you, a gap of 15 years between the two of you. And you were a mere bartender who worked for him, so, you always believed you had no chance.

Until now, apparently.

 You were flustered, and he saw it. He saw how you blushed and how you hesitated to answer. You squirmed in embarrassment, yet once his lips touched yours; you melted in his touch.

 His mouth moved against yours perfectly, his tongue slipped into your mouth swiftly and you tasted the alcohol you had just served him minutes ago.

Your hand flew around his neck and your lazily caressed the back of his head. His hands were on you; one at your waist and one slipping discretely under the black skirt you were wearing.

You moaned as soon as your felt the coldness from his rings rub against your inner thighs. Was it the alcohol, or the connection between you two, but you felt a tingly sensation all over your body when he pushed your underwear aside and lazily rubbed your wet folds.

 He muffled any sounds you made by placing his mouth on top of yours, tugging at your bottom lip and earning another quiet mewl out of you.

 You whimpered when he teased your clit, rubbing your bundle of nerves with his finger; coating it and spreading around your arousal.

 Grinding against his hand subtly, you tried to chase your orgasm as quickly as you could but he prevented you from doing so.

You whined as he stopped his actions.

 “Oh no, babygirl, I want you to come around my cock,” he whispered sinfully in your ear and slipped his hand from under your skirt and turned you around so your back was pressed up against his torso.

 You gripped the counter as he grabbed your skirt on either side and pulled it down until it pooled around your ankles.

You jumped when he pinched your ass. And the tingly sensation intensified as you heard the sound of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

You waited for his cock to bury itself into you, but what you felt against your dripping core was his skilled tongue.

Warm and wet against your heat; he ate you out from behind.

 You shuddered and moaned out loud, his name escaping your lips like a mantra.

You felt his face pressed against your ass; his beard scratching your sensitive skin as he pulled your ass cheeks apart and latched his mouth onto your core.

His fingers lightly rubbed your clit as his tongue poked your tight entrance. Your eyes rolled back and your face lowered until your forehead touched the cold surface of the counter.

A quiet mewl escaped your lips as you heard the wet sounds which erupted from your unholy doings. You couldn’t see him, but you were sure he looked enticing with his plump, pink lips on your wet heat; you arousal dripping down his chin and coating his beard and lips as he devoured you.

There was a hunger in him, seen through his actions. And your face burned in embarrassment as you thought about how intimately he was touching you.

 You whined as you felt the pressure building again.

Yet, as your moans got more and more high pitched, he lifted his mouth off you. He placed wet kissed on your lower back and lightly smacked your ass cheek.

Your body trembled. Your knees felt weak, and of it weren’t for the counter, you were sure you’d be a hot mess on the floor.

 Anticipation burned bright in your gut and your core throbbed due to lack of attention from him.

 “Tell me if I hurt you, babygirl. Don’t be too loud,” he whispered against the shell of your ear before placing his hand on your shoulder and urging you to bend over the counter.

Your heart raced as you did.

 This was new for you. And it was exciting.

 You felt his tip press against your folds, slowly rubbing up and down; parting the lips at your entrance. He moaned under his breath as he pushed himself slowly inside of you.

Your grip on the counter grew tighter as you steadied yourself for his thrust.

Slowly, he filled you up; stretching you and had you whimpering under him.

 “F-fuck, you feel so good, doll,” his voice cracked as he moaned out how good you felt. And the fire inside you intensified.

 You couldn’t form proper words as he started rocking into you. Slowly, then building up his pace.

You felt all of him; the raw him. And you shamelessly liked it.

 Each time he filled you up entirely, the tip of his cock brushed against your most sensitive spot, and you moaned out loud each time he did so.

Your mind was hazy, by the bit of liquor in your system, and him slamming into you. His thrust was animalistic, and rough. Each time he slammed into you, your front crashed against the counter, achingly. But the pleasure his body brought you made up for that.

His hand flew to your hair and he grabbed a fistful of it, and pressed your face further into the counter. You whimpered as his pounded into your core. His pelvic bone smacking against your ass each time he did so.

The sounds of your skin slapping against one another was downright obscene, and the grunts leaving his mouth was even more sinful.

You couldn’t see him, yet you believed he looked absolutely divine with his head thrown back, eyes closed, his lips parted as occasional groans escaped his lips.

He must be quite the sight.

 You moaned as he hit a sensitive spot, and he pinched your ass as you did. He seemed to be rather enjoying himself, toying with your body and using you however he liked. And not even a fiber of your body hated that – quite the contrary actually.

 You felt a familiar warmth washing over you, and a pressure building in your lower region. You knew you couldn’t hold it any longer.

And when your walls clenched around him, Sebastian knew you were close as well.

 “You gonna come for me, doll? Go ahead, come around my cock babygirl,” he cooed, his voice laced with lust and desire.

 It didn’t take much for you to come undone after that. Gushing out around his cock, walls pulsating around him; you came, hard.

He did too. With a few strokes against your walls, he came right after you.

His warm load shooting inside you, leaving behind his presence as your body shook against the counter.

 Carefully, he pulled out. And smiled sinisterly as he watched how his cum trickled out of you and past your folds. He adjusted his pants and zipped it up.

Satisfied, he pulled your underwear up, then your skirt, and finally; he pulled you up against him.

Your back was still against his torso, and his arms were around you. Unable to trust your own body, your hands gripped the counter still.

He nuzzled his face into your neck, kissed your skin and moved his lips to your ear.

 “Thanks for the birthday present, doll,” he whispered teasingly in your ear. And you couldn’t help the blush, nor the smile which appeared on your face.

 Let’s say, that night was quite unforgettable.

   ---

 The next day, evening rather, you were back at work. With each step you took, each movement – you felt him.

You felt the soreness in between your legs, and the bruises on the sides of your hips where he had held you. The all the marks he left behind on your; as a reminder of his presence.

You sighed for the hundredth time that night and served your client anyway.

Each time you wiped the counter with the dark red cloth, you thought of him. How he had railed you against it, how he had pressed your face into it as he pounded into you from behind, and how he had whispered sinful things, and called you names which still made you dizzy when you think about it.

As if to tease you more, just as you thought of him; he walked in through the doors. Looking as expensive as always, Sebastian looked around.

But before his eyes met yours, you looked elsewhere.

How could you face him?

 All the beautiful women who associated themselves with Sebastian earned titles. Not good ones either. Sebastian was quite a player, and stories of his promiscuity could be heard occasionally.

Spending a steamy night with the mob boss earned one a bad reputation. And now you did too. And although no one knew about it, you couldn’t help but feel as though you had been unprofessional – given you had slept with your boss.

 You tried to seem busy, as you picked up clean glasses, wiped them and placed them back to where they initially were.

 “Something bothering you, little one? Hate seeing pretty girls like you sulking,” commented a man who was sat the counter.

 That damned counter…

 He looked like he was an important persona, and you couldn’t be rude.

 As much as you wanted to flip him off and tell him to kindly stay out of your business, your job required you to smile even when you received vulgar comments. After all, you worked for The Sebastian Stan, any mistake or misbehavior on your part would result as a blemish on his image.

 “I’m alright, sir. Nothing to worry about. Enjoy your evening,” you replied, fake smiling politely as you kept pretending as of you were busy.

Through your peripheral vision, you noticed that Sebastian stood still in the middle of his busy bar. People around you were rather loud, so you wondered if he heard any of the interaction between you and the man.

You didn’t want him to. You didn’t want him to come up to you, you couldn’t look at him. Was it shame, embarrassment, or the fact that you liked how he had fucked you like he owned you?

You didn’t know. All you knew is that you couldn’t look him in the eye.

 “Probably would’ve enjoyed it better if you came home with me tonight. You’re a pretty thing, you know that? Girls like you don’t belong to places like these,” he spoke and sipped on his gin and tonic.

 Good lord. Here we go again…

 You opened your mouth to politely tell him off but before you could, another voice intervened.

 “Careful there, Stark. I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Sebastian spoke, his voice smooth and almost melodic.

As soon as he spoke, you immediately thought of how he had been moaning while he was pounding into you the previous night.

And your head lowered as your face flushed again. You still couldn’t look at him.

The man named ‘Stark’ laughed and turned to face Sebastian, then you felt as though he looked at you again. Both their stared burning on your skin.

You felt exposed as your eyes flicked to that damned counter again.

 “Why so? Is this one taken or something?” Stark spoke in a mocking voice; testing Sebastian’s patience.

 Stark had a smug look on his face, which was quickly wiped off as soon as Sebastian spoke.

 “She is. She’s mine,” his words caused you to finally look up at him. Stark was surprised, he scoffed and left.

 Sebastian’s blue eyes sparkled as they looked into yours. A pleasant smirk on his gorgeous face as he looked at you intently.

Not a word was spoken, yet a promise was made.

  Bad reputation or not, you had no problem with being his.

-

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[capricornus-rex]

Stronger Than Blood (2)

Chapter 2: Meet the Mechanic | Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: Meeting another Force-sensitive was one thing, but having them related to one of the most formidable known duelers was a whole other story to tell. While being stranded in another planet after barely escaping the Haxion Brood, Cal crosses paths with someone who’s at a crossroads with their own identity and lineage.

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Force-User! Reader, Force-Sensitive Reader, Sith-Related! Reader

Previous: Part 1 | Next: Part 3 | Masterlist

2 of ?

The cityscape reminded him so much of Bracca and Coruscant altogether.

Tier upon tier of annexes and alleyways along buildings, big and small, framed the city. Humans and other races diversified the bustling city life. Cal was already beginning to get nauseous for flicking his eyes left and right in search of a parts shop—as well as watching out for Imperial patrols.

“I just hope the Imps doesn’t find out soon that we’re here,”

“Bee… Trill?”

“Yeah, buddy, of course we’re gonna find help. Don’t you worry,” additionally, Cal patted the little droid’s head as he walked.

Not long after his consolation to the droid, a modest parts shop caught the eye of the young redhead. The sign only read “Tundu’s Mech” presuming that it was the name of the owner. Either way, he followed his instincts, trusting that from the looks of the building’s façade, it was highly likely a mechanical parts shop. Hopefully, they’ll have the merchandise the Mantis needs.

The door of the shop was merely twin swinging doors that flopped even when the person has gotten through, the hinges were squeaky enough to produce a sound—signalling the entry of a customer—until it mellowed. An Iktochi appeared from the other side of the room, obscured by a wall of small parts in a closed display case, nonchalantly greeting the boy. The blood-orange creature didn’t face Cal until he waddled towards the counter, in a sort of formality.

“Welcome, friend!” he repeated. “See anything you need here? I assure you I have quality wares as much as the next stall in the block!”

Cal didn’t waste time with the niceties. He started off by telling the parts that the Mantis needs as well as an extra set of hands to help out. Without needing to be prompted, BD-1 flashed a holograph of the entire Mantis’s cross-section, highlighting the damaged parts red.

The Iktochi shopkeeper ran his clawed finger across his chin as he took a gander of the hologram. He wagged his finger.

“Aaaah-ha,” he groaned. “I think we may have something. Hold a minute.”

The owner suddenly shifted to speaking in his native Iktochese, fixating his head in the direction of the other side of his shop. Shortly after, you popped out of the room where he had his eyes on, and then you joined him by the counter. Tundu continued using his dialect on you, it was stern and hissy, you replied in full Iktochese in the same bickering-like manner.

You took notice just now of the ginger boy with a tiny droid riding his shoulder. Your eyes met for the briefest moment and then the Iktochi transitioned into speaking Galactic Basic.

“You’re in the workshop again, child! You’re staying there for way too long and less on watching the store!” Tundu scolded.

“It’s lean hours already, Tundu, I doubt someone will come here,” you argued.

“Well, there is one now, [y/n],”

Tundu gestured to Cal. His presence in the store finally sank into you.

“Hey,” you casually greeted. “What do you need?”

Cal stuttered and fumbled over his person, by habit he searched his pockets hoping to find a compact projector there and forgetting for a moment that BD-1 had that covered. The little droid sensed the redhead’s anxiety and did him a solid of flashing the holograph again.

“Oh, thanks,” he quickly told BD and then turned to the blue projection of the ship. “Yeah, we need these parts—hopefully you have something that fits into a luxury cruiser.”

“An S-161 luxury yacht,” you uttered, an expression of interest plastered all over your face. “Impressive. Not many models like this nowadays. It’s beautiful.”

Cal’s eyes trailed to you, an involuntary smile curled at the corner of his mouth as he studied your inquisitive expression, peering and squinting your eyes closer to the projection to get a better look. He sensed something unique about you ever since you walked in on him and the store owner. It was only a feeling and he didn’t fully trust it yet.

You clicked your tongue, and then hovered your pointer finger about the broken tendon of the landing gear, “I think I can find you a fresh replacement for this one. The others—the bigger parts—are gonna need some inventory checking.”

“You made inventory last month, no?” Tundu jabbed.

“Wouldn’t hurt to visit the storage room,” you shrugged.

“Good, good,” a tired sigh was released from the Iktochi’s lungs. “Sorry, your name? Cal, was it? I shall leave you to my little protégé. My apologies. Bad back, you know.”

Without needing a response from the boy, the Iktochi immediately retreated to his private room in the shop. Now, it’s just you and the boy with a little droid.

“Sorry, he often forgets that he works up his lungs whenever he scolds me,”

“He does seem to trust you well enough though,”

You scoffed, “Guess you could say that.”

A pause. Cal looked around the store while you continued to gather and then re-sort the scattered merchandise on the counter display.

“So, uh, don’t wanna rush you the same way your boss does but when are you gonna do that inventory check?” Cal struggled to sound as politely as he can, without sounding like he’s telling you how to do your job.

You dismissed it as you continued reorganizing the items, “Oh sure, this’ll be done in a sec.”

You told him to wait in that little area that could be the lobby, you gestured to a crate and offered him a seat, followed by an apologize for not having the best interior design in Nalima. You excused yourself to the stockroom, the sound of the metal clanging together was enough an evidence for Cal to know you’re trying your best to help.

You come out of the room with two parts on each hand. You raised the right hand first.

“Okay, this is the landing gear ligament that I told you,” you switched to the left hand. “This is a replacement suspension coil. I didn’t see your ship land but I think it’s safe to assume that you’ve worked up your cruiser there. It’ll be dangerous to work with a brittle suspension.”

You were taken aback when Cal started marching towards you, under the impression that he was about to take the parts off of your hands, you retracted them farther from him and then shot him a quizzical look straight in the eye.

“Don’t worry, I was just gonna take a look,” he said so in a gentle, reassuring tone.

Not only did his voice make you certain enough that he’s trustworthy, it was the feeling he gave off ever since he stepped in the store. Back in the workshop, you had already sensed his presence, but shrugged it off as a fluke—that is until Tundu called for you to the counter and met him.

You were slightly hesitant to hand him over the parts, when he stood close enough, a metal shine caught your eye—you followed it and found a very familiar trinket hanging on the hook of his belt.

Jedi…? Here?

All of a sudden, your mind was in a rush. The memories immediately flooded over you, clouding you of your senses. The hesitation tripled, but you were too late to reaction when you felt his fingertips make contact with your palm as he takes away the parts from your hands with care.

“Are you okay? You kinda froze there for a moment, [y/n],”

“You’re a Jedi, aren’t you?” the delivery of that question was calmer than you expected it to be.

Your eyes met again. Cal had a startled look in his face, while your expression mirrored the same frozen state you had mere seconds ago.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna turn you in,” you assured him, but uttered it within his earshot. You take a deep breath and shifted back to the real topic at hand, turning your voice back to its normal volume. “Oh, and your busted hyperdrive compressor? That’s a bit tricky.”

“Why? Why’s it tricky?”

“Well, for one: it’s hard to come by those things,” your shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know why people keep breaking their compressors every now and then.”

“And I suppose you know where to find one?”

An amused chuckle rumbled in your throat, “Take a wild guess, pretty boy.”

Cal replied with his trademark smug, putting himself at par with your snark. For whatever odd reason that he couldn’t point his finger on, the vibe that you exuded intrigued him the longer he interacts with you. It’s almost as if the Force was telling him—rather, nudging him about something.

“Tomorrow. Come by here tomorrow and I’ll take you to the inner district,”

“Why not now?”

That amused smile that adorned your face melted in an instant when the answer came into mind.

“Imperial patrols, they’re stricter—and more suspicious of you—when going through the inner district. Especially at this hour. You arrived here just a tad borderline of the wee hours,”

“No surprise there,” said Cal agreeably.

Two of you have settled the agreement for tomorrow’s excursion. You instructed him to meet you at the store in the morning—when the patrols aren’t so strict. It almost felt like a shame for you to tell him that it’s closing hours now, but he flashed a friendly smile at you as he slowly walked away.

As soon as Cal left the store, the feeling was still there and couldn’t make of it—at least not yet.

“Bee, chirp?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, BD. There’s just… something that about that [y/n],” Cal confided to the tiny companion on his shoulder. “It’s strange, but… I know it means well.”

He dismissed the thought as he made his way back to the Mantis, he eventually spotted the Imperial patrols that you were talking about—white duraplast armor sticking out of the dark, neutral colors of the city like a sore thumb—and evaded them. The whole ordeal reminded him greatly of how he strode Bracca’s streets day and night, in and out of work, just to avoid these Stormtroopers.

Cal got back to the Mantis, unfollowed and unscathed, and bore the good news to the crew in the middle of dinner.

“Just how much trust can you put in a person?” Greez asked, his tone delivered the question somewhat sarcastically, but he was gravely serious.

“Well, I don’t know if I can justify my reason but… there’s just something about her that I can’t explain,”

“You know the word for that is called ‘crush,’ right, kid?”

The young Jedi’s cheeks burned nearly as red as his hair. He averted his face from his crew, hanging his head low while he fiddled away the food on his plate.

“You don’t mean that she’s…”

“Force-sensitive?” Cal shrugged as he drives the prong of his fork into the Scazz steak and brings it into his mouth. “Could be or could not.”

Cere expressed on the crew’s behalf that she trusts Cal’s judgment.

“So far, you haven’t befriended anyone who’s tried to kill us,” Cere blurted, somehow solidifying her confidence in the boy.

“Right?”

The crew continued on with their meal. The quarters weren’t a suitable place for Cal to sleep in yet, so he slept in the couch of the lounge instead—and made himself comfortable there. In the midst of the dead silence of the ship, he had more time to think… of you.

He doesn’t know if you were aware of it, but the moment his fingertips brushed against the skin of your palm, he felt a jolt course into his body. Given that his connection with the Force is still healing, even a Padawan could still spot the signs, however, this was only a hunch that has yet to be proven.

Cal slept with the hope that the Force could tell him more.

[shibalen]

[1/3]🍁Hello! I'd love a [ 𑁍 ] and [ ♫︎ ] matchup for Hetalia! I'm a Virgo, INFJ, she/her, and if you'd like you may call me Lilly! I'm very shy, reserved, and awkward when approaching new people, frankly judgemental with them. First impressions are sort of everything to me. So if I have an idea about someone, it sticks. It'll take a bit to convince me otherwise. I don't trust easily, I'm very stubborn. I have anxiety, and tend to fidget when in uncomfortable situations.

[2/3]🍁Once I've found someone I can trust or I even feel is worth of my time as a friend or otherwise, I cherish completely. I'm very protective over the people I care about, I do anything in my power to accommodate them if I can and do my best to provide advice whenever they need it. I'm the 'mom' friend. Once someone truly gets to know me I break more so out of my shell, I'm much more bold and open. Intense some may say. I can get pretty chaotic when I'm 100% in my element.

[3/3]🍁I'm pretty affectionate with those I let into my life.I hate PDA, I hate being touched in public,or without permission.I most definitely hate pet names like 'babe' or 'baby' it makes me very uncomfortable,though 'darling' or 'dear' is much more acceptable to me.I love to joke with people,though I have a very strange sense of humor.I am a little needy with those I love,I have a some abandonment issues.I'm quite the control freak,with some minor anger issues.I love to write, read, and bake!

♡︎ matchup for @lunar-calliope

hello, dear! aah i'm also a virgo and an infj btw, what a coincidence c: i hope you enjoy your matchup!

hetalia: i match you with . . .

arthur kirkland !!

• Arthur is in love with your bold actions and choice of words! getting into a relationship with him means having to deal with honest and sharp-tongued comments. in other words, he needs someone who can keep up with him, aka you.

• you both prefer being reserved, looking for deeper connections with people instead of many half-baked friendships. you also understand each other very well, considering you both play the role of the responsible one in the group when you have the potential to be the most chaotic of them all in the right circumstances.

• you're also oddballs when it comes to your sense of humor. when you're joking around everyone just gives you confused looks while y'all are laughing your heads off. sarcasm, witty inside jokes etc. σ`∀´)σ

• it just seems to me you'd be on the same wavelength from personality to interests. you're the type of couple that gives the other one glance and the latter will immediately know what it means.

• i would love to think you met Arthur in a very elegant manner, where he was at his best gentlemanly behaviour. but we know the truth is that you caught him in the middle of one of his gremlin moments and swearing bloody hell at Francis (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

• not the best first impression, no, so you decided to have as little interaction with him as possible. but i think he was one of the few people who managed to change their image of them in your head. underneath that rough exterior he truly wanted to get closer to you.

• despite being quite distant, once Arthur opens up and lets you in he will cherish you for the rest of time! he has already lost so many important people in his life, he refuses to lose you too. . .

• this means that although you're rather stubborn, a bit temperamental and might get into heated arguments sometimes, you know the other well enough to acknowledge that's just how you are. give it a few hours or a day at max and Arthur is silently paying you'd accept his apology.

• Arthur himself is more into subtle but sweet displays of affection rather than showing off. he prefers going the traditional way and get you get you flowers, for example. also acts of service such as helping you clean the house or brush your hair are some things he highly values ♡︎

• when you show your affection to him, on the other hand, he might get huffy because he's not used to being treated with such open affection. he loves it and never wants you to stop.

• i am begging, please teach him how to bake. after your baking sessions together i imagine you two sitting in the garden and drinking tea. on the tray there would be a set of beautiful scones and muffins (yours) right next to the burnt bundles of unidentified matter (his).

• introduces you to his fantasy friends (though you can't really see them oof) and teaches you magic. now there's some writing inspiration for you! plus, he's very much into literature so he happily reads your works and gives you encouragement ♡︎

• a very assuring and supportive lover overall! though not always the best with words he never fails to make you feel loved. you can trust him to be there when anxiety gets particularly bad although it's the little things he does that make it easier to get through the days.

• your dates include afternoon tea times, reading sessions while comfortably leaning against one other and music playing in the background, museum dates, strolls through cities and countrysides, and concerts ♡︎

𑁍 jewellery box

— favourite memory with you:

that one summer evening when you were walking back from a date. you had insisted you'd go on foot instead of taking a cab because of the crisp air and beautiful sky. Arthur was still a little nervous because it was one of your first dates so you generously switched the topic from classic literature to light banter. the atmosphere became lighter, so much even that you ended up playfully shoving each other until you both ended up in the nearby pond. you were soaking wet but laughing nevertheless. for Arthur, that expensive suit was definitely worth it.

— favourite activity to do together:

i love the idea that you're both always teaching each other something so i have to say that's what he enjoys best as well. you teach him how to make perfect cake batter, he teaches you embroidery. you teach him how to write your favourite genre, he tells you about the world of rock and punk music. it's fulfilling and a way to spend quality time with you ♡︎

— favourite place to kiss you:

ack this man loves nothing more than kissing your fingers and knuckles. there is just something so enchanting about them even as he watches you flip a page of a book or decorate muffins. although it's a common gesture of courtesy it has grown to have a very special meaning for the two of you.

— favourite nicknames for you:

darling, dear, love, sweetheart. these come as no surprise but Arthur does really find them fitting for you, sweet and classy. he sometimes adds my and your name to the beginning to emphasise the deep meaning they hold. "Lilly, my dear, won't you put down the pen and take a break with me? The weather is lovely, how about a stroll?"

— favourite thing about you:

how reserved but fun you are. how do i explain this? Arthur is someone whose personality has many layers and so are you. you are a complex person who can appreciate that trait in him as well instead of getting turned off when he displays the rougher side of himself. so your understanding, trust, commitment? i think you catch my drift (◕ᴗ◕✿)

♫︎ music box

— I Hear a Symphony by Cody Fry

— Help! by The Beatles

— I'd Die For You by Bon Jovi

— Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen

— Castle on the Hill by Ed Sheeran

♡︎ runner up: Toris Lorinaitis

that is all! thank you so much for requesting and being patient with my slow butt! please remember to take time off to relax and drink water ♡︎

[lopsided-whiskey-grin]

Wild Violets and Unicorn Stickers

This is my contribution to the RBB put on by @android-whump-big-bang! This was the first Big Bang I have ever participated in and it was really fun to craft a story around a beautiful piece of artwork! I hope you enjoy reading Ralph’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

WR600, register your name. 

I see a man standing before me. And beside him are a woman and a young girl. A family. They are all smiling and it makes me smile. “Ralph,” the man says.

“My name is Ralph,” I reply. It’s a good name and I think it suits me.

The family brings me to their home. It is a beautiful farmhouse. Situated on a large plot of land down a long dirt road, it is much larger than the others we drove past when we left the city. Here there is a sprawling green lawn surrounding the house, with lush flowerbeds blooming in a riot of different colors bordering the wrap-around porch. I also glimpse a greenhouse as we pull around to where the garage is located in the back. I have a job to do here and I know exactly how to do it. I am eager to start.

The father of the family, who introduced himself as Garrett, gives me a tour of the property while his wife Olivia takes their daughter Gracie inside the house for lunch. Garrett instructs me on how he prefers the lawn to be maintained and how short to prune the hedges. Then he shows me where the various gardening tools and lawn mower are stored in a shed beside the garage; I carefully catalog everything on my hard drive, making quick notes as we go to check the pH level of the soil and the area’s water table.

Before he is done with our tour, Garrett shows me the greenhouse. To say that I am impressed would be a vast understatement. Late afternoon sunlight streams through the glass walls and roof, saturating the lush greenery surrounding me in a golden glow. There's rows of ripening vegetables running down the middle - tomatoes, squash, zucchini and others - and lining the sides are various herbs, a handful of flowering orchids and roses, some pastel-toned succulents, and fragrant lavender.

I glance at Garrett and smile. "It's beautiful."

Garrett beams with pride. "Thank you," he says. "I inherited this place nine months ago from my grandfather. He used to grow corn out here but his land got sold off little by little until just the farmhouse and the greenhouse were left. I remember spending the summers here as a kid. It was in pretty bad shape when we moved in, but I've been putting a lot of work into fixing it up as best I can. This greenhouse is kind of my way of keeping my grandfather's memory alive."

"Your hard work definitely shows. I'm happy to help you maintain it."

Garrett nods warmly. "I'm not normally one to ask for help and I never pictured myself owning an android, but the upkeep on it all is getting to be a little much and I wanted to be able to spend more time with my family. I'm glad to have you here."

“I’m ready to begin whenever you are,” I say with a nod of my own.

My first week at the farmhouse goes fast. I perform my duties efficiently and with care. Garrett lends a hand occasionally but for the most part he leaves me to my work. Olivia and Gracie are very nice to me and we talk sometimes when I come inside to wash my hands in the kitchen at day's end. Gracie especially loves telling me about what new things she learned at school. It feels nice to be included.

Another week passes much the same as the first. I am more observant, though, of how this little family unit operates. It's fascinating to see the intricacies of their interactions when I catch glimpses of them together during my daily duties. I see Garrett push Gracie on the tire swing in the backyard one morning before the school bus comes, then one evening at dusk I see Olivia braiding Gracie's hair on the front porch while Garrett sweeps the steps. And on one hot afternoon, I see Olivia bring Garrett a glass of lemonade and give him a kiss on his cheek while he is helping me pull weeds. I am captivated. But I find my favorite thing to see is the three of them having dinner together. I don't sit and stare but sometimes in the evening when I'm putting the hose or lawnmower away and the summer sun is sinking low and the gloaming fades into night I can see them through the back window that looks into the dining room. They sit at the table together and it looks so pure and real the way they smile and talk and laugh. It makes me want to be a part of what they have in an intense and confusing way that makes my chest ache.

As the days go on, I know very well what this family means to each other. They care for one another. They love one another. I wonder if it is something I will ever truly experience or even understand. I desperately want to.

By the time a month rolls around, though, I notice that they begin to pull me in, little by little, and it surprises me. Now, when I go into the kitchen to wash my hands at the end of the day, Gracie almost always asks me to sit at the table and color with her while Olivia prepares dinner. And Garrett once let me help cook burgers on the grill for a backyard barbecue and he did not get mad at me when I accidentally burned two of them. Garrett has even made me a small room in the garage with a bed and a nightstand even though I technically don’t have to sleep. They treat me as more than an android and it’s a strange revelation to process. I feel like I am becoming a part of their family. And I never want to be apart from them.

Summer slowly surrenders to the start of autumn in a gradual shift from sweltering days to rainy ones and from vibrant greens to striking reds and yellows. Gracie tells me it is her favorite season. The fall harvest soon comes and everyone decides to pitch in to help gather the ripened pumpkins, zucchini, squash, turnips, and carrots. It is an overcast day that threatens showers later in the afternoon so Garrett says he wants to get an early start. I meet the family in the greenhouse just after they eat breakfast. They are dressed in vests and boots and matching flannel shirts and my chest gets tight and I don’t know why.

With so much help we get the job done pretty quickly. Olivia is happy with the amount of zucchini we grew and is excited to make enough zucchini bread to give to all the neighbors. Gracie, wiping the dirt from her hands on her jeans, sticks out her tongue at the mention of it and Garrett shakes his head and laughs. But then Gracie grins wide when Olivia says she'll make a special batch of pumpkin bread just for her. They all look so happy in this moment and I want to remember it forever.

After loading up our harvest into wooden crates, the family heads inside to clean up and warm themselves with some hot cocoa. Since we got done earlier than I expected I have time to trim the hedges out front before the rain starts. I grab the shears and make my way to the front yard.  When I am almost finished with my task it starts sprinkling a little. The sky is darkening the late afternoon sky with the impending storm. I go a little faster, not minding being rained on but not wanting Garrett’s gardening tool to become rusted in the drizzling weather.

Soon my hair becomes so wet with rain I have to flick the dripping strands out of my eyes so I can see what I am doing. I am nearly done, but just as I am reaching to prune the last few branches away, a bright flash of light instantly followed by a loud crack of thunder booms above me.

The utter unexpectedness of it startles me and I flinch. The hand holding the shears jerks toward my outstretched arm and before I can react the sharp blades slice my forearm. It’s not a long gash but it looks like a deep one. I'm so stunned I am not even able to process what precise bio-components are compromised. I stare in shock as blue blood wells from the wound almost immediately. It tracks down my arm in thick rivulets mixing with the rain that is now coming down steadily.

The sound of the front door opening draws me from the injury in a dazed sort of way. I look up slowly to see Garrett suddenly standing there.

“You okay, Ralph? That lightning was pretty close.” Concern knits his brows together when his gaze drops to my arm. “Holy shit.”

Tears form at the corners of my eyes, catching me off guard. “I- I’m sorry — ,” I begin but Garrett cuts me off.  

“Come inside.” He rushes down the porch steps to where I’m standing in the rain. The garden shears are still gripped tightly in my hand and Garrett has to tug them from my grasp to get me to let go. He tosses them aside onto the wet grass and it surprises me.

I protest weakly. "The shears…"

"I don't care about those," he says, guiding me gingerly up the stairs to the door. He is genuinely worried about me.

Pain suddenly registers like a hot flash then dims to a dull throb and I cradle my arm to my chest. Androids don't feel pain in the sense that humans do, I know that, but it's still a sharp perception of a malfunction. My body recognizes there is something wrong and the delicate receptors that were severed with the laceration pulse with a warning that hurts. I hold my forearm a little closer and follow Garrett inside the house.

“Olivia, I need some help here,” Garrett calls as we come to the kitchen.

Olivia turns from the counter where she is putting mugs into the dishwasher. When she sees me her eyes go wide and she rushes toward us. “Oh my god, Ralph! What happened? Are you okay?”

“I cut myself. It was an accident.”

Garrett goes to the sink while Olivia stays with me. She reaches her hand up and gently pulls my arm away from my chest. I grimace but allow her to look at it. Her mouth turns down into a pout as she examines the injury. Garrett comes back with a towel and a small first aid kit and they both lead me to sit at the kitchen table.  

The bleeding has mostly stopped and is now only oozing a little. Olivia kneels down and tenderly wipes the residual blue from my skin and I hold as still as possible while she cleans the wound. Garrett stands beside me with his hand on my shoulder, watching as Olivia wraps a long bandage around my arm.  

“How are you feeling? Is that better?” Olivia looks up at me from where she is kneeling on the kitchen tiles.  

I give a weak nod. The pain is thankfully fading somewhat and I can now internally assess the damage with a diagnostic check. “I’ll need some repairs, but I can still bend my fingers and my wrist.” I attempt the move to show them but a sharp twinge limits the mobility.

Garrett gives my shoulder a little squeeze. “Hey there, just take it easy for now, okay? As long as it’s not hurting you, let's worry about the repairs tomorrow. I don’t want you moving it unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

I glance up at him, confused. “But I still have work to do outside…”

Olivia shakes her head and stands. “Not for the rest of the day, you don’t. I’m going to get you some clean clothes to wear while I throw those in the wash.”

Looking down at my Cyberlife issued shirt, I see that there is a mess of blue blood smeared across it. I begin to try to tell her that it will evaporate in a few hours but she won’t have it. She orders me upstairs to the laundry room in a way that is both soft and yet brooking no argument and I do as I am told.

This is a level of the house I have not been to before; I haven’t needed to. I can’t help but stare as I walk down the hallway at this little slice of domesticity. Bedrooms, a bathroom, an office, family pictures on the wall. I take it all in.

Olivia stops at the small hallway accordion doors that hide the washer and dryer and she opens them up. She helps me shimmy out of my shirt, careful not to jostle my arm too much. Then she flips the shirt this way and that, looking for a tag with washing instructions. Upon not finding any, she shrugs and tosses it into the washer and starts the cycle.

“I think Garrett might have a sweater in here that will fit you,” she says and digs through a hamper with big block letters saying ‘clean’ across it beside the dryer. Finding one, she raises it up, victorious. “Ha!” It’s a grey hoodie with an outline of a shark on it. We both grin.

Olivia helps me into the sweater. It’s a little big on me but it is very soft and comfortable and it smells like a field of wildflowers from the detergent she uses. The terrifying memory of my injury is fading further and further to the background with each passing minute with the care of this family.

We start back down the hallway. Gracie suddenly appears from one of the doorways, rubbing her eyes, her hair a sleep-mussed tangle. “Mommy?”

Olivia bends down to smooth down her hair and peck a kiss to her cheek. “Did you have a good nap?” She glances back at me over her shoulder with a smile. “This kid could sleep through anything, I swear.”

“What happened?” Gracie asks.

“There was some thunder and lightning. You didn’t hear it?”

Gracie shakes her head then looks at me. “Hi, Ralph.” Her eyes drop to my arm. I didn’t realize I had been cradling it to my chest again -- A subconscious instinct to keep it immobile, I suppose. “Did you get hurt?”

“Yes, but it's starting to feel better now,” I reply.

Olivia straightens back up. “We’re going to get him all fixed up tomorrow. Until then we’re going to take care of him, okay?”

Gracie’s small, worried face brightens up. “I’m going to get my stickers and coloring books! That always makes me feel better when I get sick!” And with that she dashes off back into her bedroom.

Olivia chuckles and we head downstairs. In the living room, Garrett has started the fireplace going with a warm, inviting blaze. He puts a hockey game on the TV and welcomes me to sit on the couch, so I do. Olivia sits beside him with a bowl of popcorn and a blanket emblazoned with the Crimson Shark logo. Gracie soon comes bounding downstairs, her arms full of coloring books, her markers, and box of beads. She sits on the floor next to me and sets up her impromptu art station at the coffee table.

The rain has really started up now, accompanied by occasional gusts of wind that batter the side of the house. But in the cozy room with the roar of the fire, Garrett and Olivia cheering for their favorite hockey team, and Gracie busy digging through her beads, it fades to the background. I find I’m smiling and can’t seem to stop. I catalog this moment on my memory drive so that I hopefully never lose it.

Suddenly, Gracie turns toward me with a sheet of sparkly unicorn stickers. She has a very serious expression on her face. “Can I put some of these where you were hurt? It will help you feel better, I promise.”  

“Yes, please.” I pull up the sleeve on my sweater to look at the gauze on my arm. There’s only a little blue that has soaked through and the pain is almost nonexistent now. I still can’t move my fingers very much though.

Soon my bandage is covered in a smattering of unicorns that catch the light from the fire in a mesmerizing way. Gracie then grabs a green marker for her finishing touches. I watch as she writes get well soon down one side and draws scrolling vines and flowers on the other. I am filled with such a sense of belonging I can barely function.  

During one of the intermissions in the hockey game, Garrett gets up to make more popcorn. He asks me how I’m doing.

I glance down at my colorfully decorated arm and smile. “Much better,” I say, my voice cracking.

As the stormy late afternoon gives way to a cool autumn evening, the hockey game ends, and the fire begins to die down, Garrett and Olivia go to the kitchen to start dinner. I stand up from the couch, ready to head back to my room in the garage.

Gracie tugs at my sweater and I stop. “I made this for you.” She holds up a bracelet made from her rainbow pony beads. Some of the beads have letters. It spells out best friends.

“For me?” No one has ever made anything like this for me before.

“Yup! And I have one too!” She shows me how the two bracelets match then puts the one she made me on my wrist and the other on her own. She is very proud of her craftsmanship.  

“I’ll keep it with me always” I promise her.

Pleased, she skips to the kitchen. I follow, making my way to the back door next to the dining room that leads to the yard. Olivia sees me about to head out and tells me to hold on just a moment because my shirt is just getting done from the dryer. She gets it from the laundry room and presents it, newly cleaned and neatly folded.

“We can get you changed back into your uniform tomorrow before we send for your repair parts,” she says. “You can keep the sweater for now.”

Garrett looks over from the stove where he is stirring something in a pot and says, “I’ll call Cyberlife first thing in the morning and you’ll be good as new. Don’t worry about any chores until you’re all fixed up though, okay? I don’t want you hurting yourself anymore.” He smiles warmly and I nod and return the smile.

After saying goodnight to everyone, I walk out of the house to the cool backyard. The storm has passed and the moon shines down on me in a soft silver glow from the now cloudless sky. I look at my bracelet in the muted light and turn it round and round my wrist. I have never had a best friend before, much less a family, and now truly feel I have both.

Sitting on my bed in my little room in the garage, I stare at my bracelet and my bandaged arm, thinking about the events of the day with a fondness I have never known. I hope tomorrow brings more of the same.

The morning dawns grey and dreary with not even enough sun poking through the clouds to brighten the fiery autumn colors of the falling leaves. I do as Garrett told me the night before and I do not do any gardening. Besides, with the damage, my arm is still not functional enough to move it much. I am able to shimmy out of the hoodie Olivia gave me and slide into my uniform shirt, though. It is quite the task, but I manage.

I fold the sweater and start bringing it to the house when I see a Cyberlife van pulling up in the driveway. I know it's because Garrett called them so they can repair me, but the sight of it makes me feel uneasy in a way I can't explain.

I continue toward the house, my stride a little slower than when I left the garage. Before I get to the backdoor Garrett is coming out to meet me.

“Ralph, Cyberlife is here. They’re going to get you all back in working order. Let’s head over to the van, okay?”

I nod and hand him the sweater then head around the side of the house to where the van is parked. Garrett follows along beside me. The door on the side opens when we stop next to it. A man steps out wearing an official Cyberlife uniform and a baseball cap. Inside the van I can see various tools and supplies on a workbench as well as a few monitor screens.

“Hi, I’m Ben. Mr. Baker?”

“Yup, that’s me,” Garrett replies. The two shake hands.

“And this is your WR600 unit?” Ben turns his attention to me.

Garrett and I both nod. “I’m Ralph.” I find I’m fidgeting with the beaded bracelet on my wrist and I force my arms down to my sides.

“Let’s take a look at the damaged component and I’ll see what I can do.” Ben’s voice is warm and reassuring.

I present my arm with the bandage and sparkly unicorn stickers. Ben looks a little surprised and chuckles. “Can I take this off?”

I hesitate for a moment, but then give him the go ahead and he unwraps the bandage carefully. He examines the wound with a gentle touch then scans it with some kind of hand-held device. After looking at the readout on the device’s screen he glances up and scratches his chin. He looks perplexed. He rummages around in the van for a minute then turns back around.

“I’m not sure I have the parts on hand to repair him here.”

“Well, what does that mean?” Garrett asks. I’m fidgeting with the bracelet again.

“I’ll have to take him into town to the central warehouse hub we have there.” Ben shrugs. “It looks like he’ll need a full below-the-elbow swap.”

“Garrett, I am so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“It’s going to be okay, Ralph. It was just an accident.” He pats my shoulder. “How long do you think he’ll be gone, Ben?”

“Shouldn’t take more than a day or two, depending on how many others are scheduled for repairs ahead of him.”

Garrett and Ben finalize the necessary paperwork. I stand awkwardly, not sure how to feel about what is happening. This has been my first and only home for the past six months. I have found a family here. And although I know I’ll only be gone a couple days, like Ben says, I am nervous about leaving.

“I’ll go get Gracie. I know she’ll want to say goodbye.” Garrett trots off to the house and I watch him go, glad that at least I’ll be able to do that.

Ben closes up his van then hops in the front seat. Just a few short seconds later, Gracie and Olivia come out to see me. Gracie runs right up to me and hugs me around my waist, knocking me back a step. My chest does that thing again where it aches in the middle.

“Ralph, you’re leaving?”

I hug her back, tentatively, not sure if I’m doing it right. “Only for a few days. I’ll be back soon,” I say, and I hope it’s the truth.

Gracie sighs and steps back. She lifts up her arm and shakes her bracelet. I smile and shake mine. Olivia puts her hand on Gracie’s back. “We’ll see him again in no time.”

And with that, I get in the van and head to the city with Ben. The already dreary day darkens even more the closer we get and I can’t tell if it’s my mood or if it’s because another storm is brewing.

Ben pulls the van into the central warehouse hub he had mentioned earlier. It’s surrounded by a forest of skyscrapers, some so tall the tops are hidden by slate colored clouds. Inside, I am directed to a big room full of various other androids. Some are milling around aimlessly, others are sitting in chairs, and still others are sitting on the floor. Most of them look like they are in a lot worse shape than me and my heart sinks. I hope that the minimal severity of my injury will not put me at the end of the list; I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary. I want to go home.

I sit in an empty chair in a corner away from everyone and look at my bracelet. After a while I realize I have lost track of time. How long have I been here? My internal clock registers that it has been twelve hours and nine minutes since I left the farmhouse. I am beginning to lose hope that I will be going back in only a day or two.

Another hour later, someone finally calls my name and I walk to a door at the front of the room. A woman is standing there with a holo-board and I instinctively slip my bracelet from my wrist and tuck it away into my pocket. I don’t want anything happening to it. After registering my name and serial number the woman leads me back to another holding area. This one is larger, with cots and chairs and more injured androids wandering around.

“How much longer do you think it will be?” I ask the woman. She shrugs, clearly not caring one way or another. My shoulders droop and I go to find a place to sit.

Time drags on and after being here for two days I move to an empty cot at the back of the room and lay on my side. What is taking so long? I miss Gracie and Olivia and Garrett so much it hurts. I wonder if they miss me. I wonder if they are worried about me. I curl up and look at my bracelet for probably the hundredth time since I've been here.  

A week passes. My name is finally called. I sit up in a daze, slipping Gracie’s best friends token back into my pocket, and shuffle to the door. I am led to a workshop area then seated on a medical type chair that is reclined next to a workbench. There is an armrest extended out to the side of the chair. Soon after, an MC500 model android wearing a black apron comes and sits on a rolling chair beside me.

“Please present the defective limb.”

I do as I am asked and set my arm down on the table under a work light. “Will I be able to go home after this?”

The MC500 does not answer me. Instead he says, “I am going to place you on standby mode while I replace this part for a new one.”

And with that my world goes dark.

When I wake up, the first thing I notice is my arm — brand new and fully functional. I move my fingers and wrist and have full range of motion again. I cannot wait to get back into the greenhouse to pull up the last of the season’s harvest.

But then I look up and remember I am not at home. A welling of sadness fills me as I see my surroundings. I am in a different room than all the ones before; it appears to be a sort of recovery room. There aren’t many other androids here with me, but there is an open door that leads to a small office. A man is sitting at the desk, typing away on a computer.

I quickly get up, walk to him, and stand in the doorway. He glances up at me briefly before going back to his work.

“It appears I am repaired,” I say with a timid smile. “I am ready to go back to work now at the Baker’s farmhouse.”

The man looks at me again and sighs. “Serial number?”

I tell him.

“Says here you’re to report to the Lafayette Central Park management building.”

I frown. “No, that’s not right. I belong with Garrett and Olivia Baker.” I am beginning to panic.

The man shakes his head. “The info is right here, buddy. Lafayette. There’s been a rash of gardening droids going missing all around town so they probably reassigned you.”

“No, that is not right! ” I raise my voice. It’s the first time I have done that. A software instability warning flashes across my CPU, but I ignore it. “I belong to a family, not the city parks department!”

The man is taken aback then he narrows his eyes and leans toward me. “I don’t get paid enough to deal with this bullshit. It says right here, okay? I don’t make the rules, I just read out what gets sent to me. All I know is, if you aren’t on the transport that takes you to your assignment in one hour, you’ll be decommissioned.”

Dread, heavy and awful, settles deep in my stomach. “W-what?” The word barely squeaks past my lips.

The man points to a closed entryway at the opposite side of the room that says ‘loading dock’ on it. “The transport is through that door. If you aren’t on it within the hour, you’ll wish you were.”

“But what about my family?”

“They’ll probably get reimbursed by the city or something. I don’t know, pal. Sorry.” He sits back in his chair and closes the door in my face.

My hand immediately goes into my pocket and I squeeze my bracelet almost as hard as I can. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to fix this situation. I’m lost, alone, and terrified.

Turning away from the door, I face the loading dock entry. If I get on the transport will my family come looking for me? How will they even know where to find me? What if I make a run for it? Could I make it back to the safety of my home? If I am caught I know I will be shut down permanently — That terrifying thought alone forces my feet to start trudging toward my fate.

I am halfway across the room. Then three-quarters. Then I stop. I know if I go through those doors everything will change.

But maybe it already has.

I look down at my arm. An unbearable wave of sadness pummels me. This happened because of me. This was all my fault. Will Gracie ever forgive me? I told her I would be back soon. Tears start tracking down my cheeks before I can blink them back. I scrub them away with the heels of my hands.

With no other choice, I go through the loading dock doors and get on my assigned transport.

I have been in Lafayette Central Park for two weeks now and I have been miserable every single second. The management building is more of a small groundskeeper hut where they store the lawn maintenance tools and it is where I am told to stay after hours when the park closes. It’s not even close to the cozy room Garrett built for me in the garage.

The first few days here I cried every night. But when it really hit me that I would most likely not be going back home, my heartache was overtaken by anger. I should not be here. There is no joy or sense of belonging for me here. I rake leaves, I empty the park trash, and no one ever talks to me or asks me how I am. I don’t get to watch things grow or harvest the fruit of my labor with the people I love.

I have tried leaving a handful of times but I don’t get very far. My fear of being caught and shut down stops me in my tracks before I hardly get a block away from the park. And I wouldn’t even know how to get back to the farmhouse if I had the courage to commit to an escape plan. With each failed attempt I become more sullen and withdrawn. I miss my family.

One night I am sitting on the concrete floor in the management building with my back leaned up against the wall and my knees drawn to my chest. I am staring at my bracelet, spinning it slowly through my fingers like a rosary. I pull it out less and less these days. I know if I was braver I could have gone back home by now. But at the same time I wonder why haven’t they come looking for me?

Before I can wallow much more in my own self-pity I hear a noise outside. There have been racoons getting into the trash cans lately, but it didn’t quite sound like that. I stand quickly, tucking my bracelet into my pocket, and peer out a small window in the door. A shadow moves past too fast for me to make out. A moment later it is followed by two more. The glow from a near-by street light illuminates the corner of one of the shadows just for a second, but I can see now what it is. Teenagers wearing dark clothes, carrying what looks like spray paint. This is probably the same group that has been vandalizing the park since I got here. I have had to clean up their messes, repair the benches they have set on fire, and scrub off the tags they have left behind more times than I want to count. And now I’ll finally catch them in the act.

Grabbing a heavy-duty flashlight from a shelf, I stomp out the door in the direction the shadows went. My patience has worn down while my software stability has risen. I have had enough.

With the amount of noise they make, it is easy to find them, even in dark pre-dawn hours. There are three teenage boys huddled around a trash can near the playground, laughing maliciously. I click my flashlight on, thinking it will just frighten them away and I can chase them off.

“This park is closed! It's after hours!” I shout, trying to sound imposing.

The boys turn around and I see right away that they are bigger and older than I first thought. A bright flare of alarm pulses through me. One is grasping a handheld electric blow torch and grinning menacingly. There is no doubt they were about to light the trashcan on fire… but now their attention is solely on me.

They stare at me in the pale beam of my flashlight, waiting to pounce on the slightest misstep. I can’t back down now. I take one shaky step forward. “You are trespassing. I am ordering you to leave now.”

“We’re not going anywhere, gearbox.” A voice comes up behind me, startling me so badly I almost drop my flashlight. Spinning on my heel, I try to face the person the voice belongs to, but my feet are suddenly kicked out from under me.

I land flat on my back and my flashlight flies from my hand. The group descends on me instantly like a pack of wolves. Two pin my arms down to the ground and another restrains my legs. I struggle as hard as I can, but my terror makes me clumsy; it’s like I’m treading water.

“Let me go!" I shout. I get a kick in the side in response. A sharp ache blooms across my chest. “Please, don’t! I’ll leave, I promise. Please, just let me go!” I continue to thrash about, but it’s no use. They only hold me tighter.

One of the kids kneels down and straddles my chest. The others chuckle. The weight of him pressing me into the hard concrete path fills me with a dread I’ve never known. He stares down at me, face vicious and sinister. He holds a hand out and one of the kids slaps the blow torch onto his palm. The grin this produces is staggering in its cruelty.

“Please,” I whimper. “I just want to go home.” Tears are beginning to blur my vision.

The kid grabs me by the chin, hard. “I’d like to go home, too, you fuckin’ skinjob, but guess what? I can’t because my dad lost his job and our house because of freaks like you!”

I try shaking my head but he’s holding my chin so tightly it hurts. I am almost nearly paralyzed with fear. “I’m sorry,” I cry. “I didn’t —”

He pulls my head up a little then cracks it back down to the ground. Pain sears through my skull. “ And then I’m just trying to have a little fun with my friends on a nice October night and you come along and ruin it! Isn’t that right, guys?”

The kids jeer their agreement loudly. Panic is settling deep inside me. Software instability alarms are flashing insistently in time to the pain pulsing at the back of my head and side. I shouldn’t be here. I should be home with Gracie and Olivia and Garrett. I should be with my family.

“Someone! Someone, please help!” I shriek. But I know it’s useless. No one is here to rescue me. I am utterly alone.

“Shut up!” The kid lets go of my chin long enough to lay down a ringing slap across the side of my face. I can feel a warm gush of blue blood track down my mouth from my nose. Momentarily stunned, I think about when I cut my arm during the storm and it seems like a lifetime ago. Garret and Olivia took me in, bandaged me up, soothed my hurt away. Gracie made me a bracelet. Best friends.

“Gracie,” I whimper.

“I said shut up, gearbox.” There is a small click as the blowtorch is primed.

My face is again grabbed roughly then jerked to the side. And the next sensation I feel reduces my world down to the exquisite agony of a flame scorching my skin. The fire gouges deep fissures to my cheek and brow. All I can do is scream. Hundreds of system malfunctions blast inside my head and my software instability reaches critical mass.

I struggle again under the weight of the bodies holding me down, fighting for my life. That earns me a bash upside the jaw and another to the temple with the heavy butt of the torch — at least there is reprieve from the flame. The relief is short-lived though, because the fire starts up again almost immediately.

Pain is coursing through every part of me and I know, with a sudden and vivid clarity, that if I do not escape right now I am not going to survive this night. Through the haze of my pain and fear, I see a red wall blocking my way to freedom. I put my hands up to it and I smash it as hard I can over and over. It gives a way a little each time my fists collide with it. Tearing down this wall is one of the hardest and most vital things I have ever done. But it comes with a price, because once I do this I know I will never be the same again.

With one more violent shove, the red wall finally gives way.

Deviant.

The raw liberation Ralph is met with is dazzling and gives him the last bit of strength he needs to get away from the people who are hurting him. With a desperate roar, Ralph pulls his arms from the two bad men at his sides and punches the face of the bad man on top of him. In just a matter of seconds Ralph is rolling onto his knees then getting up, then running. Ralph needs to run as fast and as far away from the people hurting him as he can.

Ralph can hear shouting behind him, angry shouting, but he does not stop, no. Tears are streaming down his face along with his own blood and he cannot see out of one eye, but still he does not stop. Pain throbs through him everywhere but he keeps going. rA9. He needs to find somewhere safe.

A few blocks from the park the shouts behind him start to fade away. He still runs. A group of people walking down the sidewalk suddenly appear in front of Ralph. He skids to a stop then cuts to an alleyway at his right. He can’t trust anyone. They might want to hurt Ralph, too.

Dirty rain puddles soak Ralph’s shoes as he trudges quickly through the alley. Hanging from some broken scaffolding, Ralph sees a big black tarp. He wraps it around his shoulders — it will help him blend in, make Ralph harder to notice.

Safe, Ralph needs to find somewhere safe, somewhere to hide. rA9. After turning at the end of the narrow alley Ralph sees it. A boarded-up house with a fence around it. There are no lights on and no people to be seen. It’s a safe place for Ralph.

He runs across the street, keeping an eye out for anyone that might grab him. Ralph is scared, so scared, but he looks at the fence around the building and finally finds a place to squeeze in. It’s a tight fit, but Ralph pushes through. His forward momentum, though, knocks off his balance and he lands on his hands and knees in the mud. Ralph’s tears can no longer be held back to a few stray drops. It’s like a dam bursting. Ralph weeps openly, hurt and sad and afraid. He knows he misses someone but he can’t exactly remember who; there’s an empty longing ache in his chest he can’t explain and he weeps for that too. Ralph doesn’t want to be alone like this.

Eventually Ralph stands up and stumbles toward the ramshackle house. The door is unlocked and that makes Ralph wary. But he has nowhere else to go and the sun will be up soon. Ralph walks inside cautiously. He stops just over the threshold, listening carefully. There is no sound to be heard except a few creaks and groans from the house itself — it’s empty.

The first thing Ralph does is find a safe room in the house to hole up in, at least until it is light outside. rA9 rA9. After quickly scanning the first level, he decides he’d better check upstairs. There is a room on the left just at the top of the stairs that has a small closet. Ralph has found the perfect spot and looks no further. He climbs in and squeezes down as small as he can, closing the little door and blocking out the rest of the world. Ralph doesn’t think he’ll leave here, ever. He never wants to see another person for as long as he lives.

In a few hours, morning sunlight begins streaming through the tiny crack between the two closet doors. Ralph looks up slowly. He spent the whole rest of the night trying to keep his mind blank, trying to forget what those nasty men did to him. But it’s hard for Ralph to forget. His side still aches and his face is awash in agony. He can’t forget when his pain is a constant reminder.

Staying in the dark closet is making it too easy for those memories to keep replaying over and over, Ralph decides. Opening the doors slowly, he stops and listens. The house is still empty, much to his relief. He pushes to his feet and lets out a soft moan. His whole body feels stiff and uncoordinated. It is not a pleasant feeling at all.

Absentmindedly, Ralph slips his hand in his pocket as he stands in the nearly empty room, trying to decide what he should do next. There is something in there. He fishes it out and holds it up to see. It’s a bracelet with beads on it. It says best friends . Ralph gets a funny feeling in his chest, but he can’t quite understand why. rA9. He puts the bracelet back in his pocket reverently.  

There is another bedroom on this level of the house as well as a bathroom. Ralph goes into the bathroom and catches a glimpse of his face in the mirror. He almost doesn’t recognize himself. It kind of makes him want to start crying again. He has no one here to help clean him up, to help fix these wounds. Someone had before, Ralph is sure of it. rA9. But now Ralph is alone.

Ralph wets a rag in the sink to at least wash his face of the blood caked down his lips and chin. There is nothing more he can do for the deep gashes carved down the side of his face or for his blinded eye, though. He is broken beyond repair. A bitter anger wells up inside him at the people who did this to him, at the people who hurt him this way for no reason at all. He makes a promise to himself that no one will hurt Ralph, ever again. Readjusting his handmade poncho, Ralph turns away from the mirror rA9 rA9 rA9 r..A…9

The next couple weeks pass by in a blur for Ralph. His fear and mistrust never quite leave him. He finds a little comfort in carving rA9 into the walls in the kitchen. It’s a compulsion he cannot explain, only that it feels good to do it. And so he does. Over and over and over. He is so lonely. He has the barest glimpse of a happier time with a family that loved him. A mother and a father and a best friend. Someone to take care of, someone to take care of him. But it is a fractured memory. One Ralph is certain isn’t even real. Because if it was real then why is he here? Why was he hurt? Why is he going through this all alone? Why?

Ralph rarely ever leaves the house and he has never left the safety of the gate around the property. It is much too dangerous to venture out there where someone might try to hurt Ralph again. But one night, when he is walking by a window that has been partially boarded up, he sees a flash of green outside. He stops and takes a closer look out the window. There in mud is a small little plant standing proud in the light of a moon beam. The sight of it fills Ralph with a joy he hasn’t felt in so long. He rushes to the kitchen to grab a cup and a spoon then cautiously, oh so cautiously, Ralph unlocks the door. He creeps out to the dirt yard, hypervigilant, afraid. But he makes quick yet meticulous work of scooping up the plant, a wild violet that has yet to flower, and bringing it into the house. He is a gardener afterall. It’s in Ralph’s nature to care for such things and it feels like it has been too long since he has done so. The tender shoot, not much more than a weed, comes to live with him in the kitchen and keeps him company from then on.

Sometimes humans try to come into Ralph’s house, even though he has locked every door he can. There have been two or three that have gotten in. Ralph is too afraid of them. He tucks away in a special hiding spot upstairs until they leave. He does not make a sound and keeps a knife he found close to his chest to protect himself if they do find him. Ralph does not like visitors.

One time, though, a visitor comes in and does not leave. It makes Ralph mad, very mad. He can’t control himself. He pictures the people who hurt him in the park. The way they laughed at Ralph, the way they tormented him. Ralph can’t bear it anymore. His fear-driven rage takes over and he attacks the man. The man is so surprised he doesn’t even fight back. It is all over quickly and suddenly there is a dead person on the floor of the upstairs bedroom. rA9 . Ralph cannot believe what he has done. His hands shake as he drags the man into the tub and closes the shower curtain. He can’t put the man outside because then more visitors may come and see what Ralph has done. And then they will surely hurt Ralph again or possibly shut him down. Ralph simply cannot and will not allow this to happen.  

The next visitors Ralph gets are not like the others. They are nice to Ralph and talk to him, even though they scared him very badly at first. Having them in his house is like having a family — a father, a mother, and a little girl. It triggers the shadow of a memory for Ralph and he looks at the bracelet in his pocket a lot while they are there. It’s like a word is right on the tip of his tongue but when he thinks about it too hard it slips away. I made this for you! I have one too! They spend the night and Ralph keeps his promise and does not hurt them. It is so nice not to be lonely or afraid for once.

In the morning, the visitors are still there and Ralph decides he will be a good friend and make the little girl a meal. He even ventures outside during the day to find the perfect food. It is a risky move for him, going out there when the sun is up but he knows his new friend should have something to eat. At last he finds it, a big, juicy, succulent rat near the back of the house. Ralph makes quick work of killing it, then excitedly runs back inside to cook it up.

The little girl seems afraid of Ralph and he does not know why. He is just trying to be nice. The android that is like him but not like him comes downstairs and she seems afraid of Ralph too. He has done nothing wrong! Ralph just wants to have a family like he remembers from before. Ralph had a family before, right? He is still not sure, but it sounds so nice.

They finally agree to sit at the table and that makes Ralph very happy. “The little human is not gonna regret it! Ralph found the best! The biggest one he could find! This is going to be succulent! Succulent !” Ralph can hardly contain his excitement.

He puts the rat in the fire, burns the meat just how he knows humans like. Ralph is not sure how he knows they like it that way but a small inkling of a memory tells him this is right. Burnt burgers on the grill. He throws it down on the table, charred and still smoking.

“Go ahead! Eat!” The little girl just stares at him and the food he has prepared. He has been nothing but nice to them and it is making him angry that they are being so impolite after all the trouble Ralph went through. His temper is flaring again. rA9 . “Eat!” he shouts, banging his fists down. Both of his guests flinch and it makes Ralph feel bad for a moment.

Kara, the android sitting across from Ralph, suddenly speaks up and he looks at her. “I saw that body upstairs. You killed that human, didn’t you?” Ralph can see she is upset.

Panic settles deep inside him. He should have done a better job of hiding what he has done. “No,” he replies. “No, he was like that when Ralph found him.”

She doesn’t believe him of course. “You killed that man, Ralph. There’s no point in lying. You hate humans, but you’re just like them. You’re a murderer!”

Ralph shakes his head, but he can’t deny what he did that day. There are so many emotions bubbling up inside Ralph, he can hardly process everything that is happening to him.

His fingers tremble over the knife in his hand. “Ralph didn’t mean any harm!” Ralph’s voice breaks. He's on the verge of crying again. “It’s just that Ralph can’t control his anger, when his anger comes. Ralph doesn’t know what he’s doing. He becomes stupid, full of hatred. Ralph is sorry. He just wanted to be your friend.” He is always so lonely and scared and sad and he does not want these feelings anymore. Ralph wants to go home, but he still doesn’t know where or what that is.

“Then let us go,” Kara says softly.

Ralph looks down at his hands. He doesn’t want his new family to leave, but he knows they can’t stay. He is about to tell them goodbye, but there is a sudden knock on the door. Everyone at the table jumps. Ralph is afraid, very afraid.

“Who is here?” he whispers.

“I saw police outside earlier," Kara admits, frightened. "Alice and I need to hide. Please, Ralph, help us.”

Ralph surges to his feet, terrified. But his new friends need him, they trust him. And so Ralph helps them the best he can. Ralph crowds them under the stairs and covers them up. He has hidden there a few times himself. rA9. He has just enough time to scurry back to the middle of the room before the door is being opened. Ralph is so stupid for not remembering to lock it after he came back in with the dead animal.

An android detective comes in and questions Ralph. Ralph is very nervous but he does a good job of lying to protect his friends. But then the detective gets too close, much too close, to finding them in their hiding spot. He needs to help them. Ralph jumps on the detective, grabs him as tight as he can. He will not let his friends be hurt the way he was

“Run! Quick, Kara!” Ralph shoves the detective down and gives them just enough time to escape. Ralph feels so proud of himself that for a moment he is not afraid.

It is not long, though, before the rest of the police officers that were with the detective come in and start searching the house. Ralph tries to flee before they find what he did upstairs, but the humans capture him. His terror comes flooding back all at once. It feels like the night in the park all over again.

Ralph is thrown into a transport truck. The police tell him he is being sent to a processing facility, but Ralph does not know what that means.

“Please, promise you will not hurt Ralph!” he shouts as they close the door to the truck. No one gives him an answer.

After finally arriving at the processing facility later that day, Ralph is forced into a big room with a lot of other androids. It brings a memory to the surface of a place he had been to before. Before what, though? When he had been hurt before , but it wasn’t his face. It was something else. Ralph looks down at his arm. There is no wound or scarring there. Ralph thinks he hurt himself accidentally once. He fleetingly remembers unicorn stickers. This only confuses him more.

Ralph hates this processing center. There is nowhere for Ralph to hide here. He feels too vulnerable. He wants to go home. But not even the house he was taken from. His real home, with his real family. Best friends.

The stay at the processing center lasts about a week. Through a window, Ralph can see that it has begun snowing outside. He wonders what has become of the wild violet he replanted in the kitchen. Just the thought of it makes him want to cry, because he knows his plant is alone now just like him.  

The androids at the center are starting to be separated into groups. Ralph is labeled as ‘deviant’ and ‘unstable’ and this makes him afraid. rA9. He does not know what will happen to him now that he has been tagged with these words. It is not something he has to wonder about for long, though. Ralph is shoved onto another transport truck and this time he ends up in a place called the Recall Facility and if anything, Ralph hates this more than the processing center.

It is open air with fences all around and scary guards with guns that could hurt Ralph. After being forced from the transport, Ralph is led into a room with all the other androids he had traveled with. The guards begin to strip everyone down, but Ralph fights back. He doesn’t care about the clothes, but he wants to keep his bracelet. He needs to! It is the only thing tying him to a family he is positive he once had.

Ralph is knocked in the head then punched in the gut for resisting. And for all that they still take his uniform and poncho and force him to his default skin. But Ralph is sneaky and he was able to get his bracelet from his pocket before they discard his clothing. He keeps it tightly concealed in a fist, vowing to himself he will never let it go.

In the pen outside, Ralph mills around with the other androids. He is becoming more and more afraid. It is dark now and snow is falling all around. He can hear shouting and gunfire in the different fenced areas surrounding him. He is not sure he will survive this camp and this uncertainty terrifies him. rA9 rA9. He will almost certainly be killed here, forgotten and alone.

Farmhouse! The sudden thought flashes in Ralph’s mind. He does not know if it is from being hit in the head just now or if it is because he is actually starting to remember his past, but he holds on to this little morsel as tightly as he can. A farmhouse! I used to live where there was a farmhouse! Ralph thinks that maybe, maybe, if he can remember those happier times, those times before he was hurt so badly, that he won’t be so afraid when his time comes up. He tries to focus on what the farmhouse looked like and who lived there, trying desperately to get his brain to give him just a little more to go on.

Ralph is so concentrated on his task that he doesn’t realize someone is talking to him until he feels a hand on his shoulder. Ralph is snapped out of his introspection and it makes him mad. He was so close to getting his lost memories back.

He looks down to see Kara standing before him. He is not sure why he is suddenly so upset to see her here. Ralph thinks it is probably because he went through so much to save her and the little girl and now here she is anyway, captured just like he is.

Kara asks Ralph if he has seen the little girl she was with, but no, no Ralph has not seen her. He only just got here. But she must be here somewhere, if Kara is here. “Obviously the little girl is a prisoner here, just like Ralph. But Ralph doesn’t want to die.” Ralph’s fear is rising again, pushing him nearly out of control like it has before. rA9. He squeezes the bracelet held tight in his hand.

A drone appears above their heads and scares Ralph. He has seen the drone kill androids. Ralph hates this place. He wants to leave. Panic is gripping him, he can’t stop it.

But then Kara helps Ralph. She talks to him and calms him down. Ralph quiets his voice, tries not to be upset. Finally the drone leaves. Kara leaves Ralph too, but he feels a little better knowing she is here, knowing that he at least has a friend in this awful place.

Soon the guards force all the androids into straight lines. They are putting them into boxes that no one comes out of alive. Ralph is frantically trying to remember more about the farmhouse. He had a room in a garage, he thinks. And there was a greenhouse! Ralph takes another step closer to the box. Think, Ralph, think!

Kara’s voice suddenly pops up in Ralph’s head. He looks over at her across the snowy yard where she is also standing in a line. He sees she has found the little girl and this makes Ralph happy, but only for a moment. Because of course they are all being led to the box now, even the little girl. rrrAA9. Ralph knows he does not want to die, but the little girl reminds him of someone he knew (the name is so close in his mind if he could just remember) and he does not want her to die either.

“Ralph will help you escape,” he says. He understands very well that it is most likely at the expense of his own life. “You only have to ask and Ralph will help you.”

“They’ll kill you if you try anything.” Kara sounds afraid and Ralph knows how that feels.

But Ralph doesn’t feel as scared now as he was before. He knows that no matter what happens, it is for a reason. And if the little girl has a chance to be safe, then Ralph is willing to give the ultimate sacrifice for her. Just like he would have done for the family he had before.  

“Ralph knows that. But if the little girl is free, it’s a little bit like everyone else was free. Ralph isn’t scared. The little girl’s life is more important.” Ralph glances at Kara, meeting her eyes just for a moment. “Take good care of the little girl. Ralph wants you both to be happy.”

He feels more at peace now than he has for the last few weeks. He is not afraid anymore. It is as though a weight has been lifted from Ralph’s shoulders. All the fear and anger and unbearable heartache has finally, mercifully, vanished. So when he sees Kara and the little girl make a run for the fence, he does not hesitate.

Breaking out into a sprint, Ralph tackles the guard who was about to shoot Kara. They land in the snow with a heavy thud. Before the guard can pull his gun up, Ralph begins bashing him as hard as he can with powerful fists. He will not let anyone hurt his friends! He will not allow it anymore!

The guard has finally stopped moving beneath Ralph’s hands. A quick glance over his shoulder confirms to Ralph that Kara has escaped. Relief washes over him as he rolls off the guard. All around him, the other androids that had been waiting in line for their fate have suddenly rallied to fight back. The guards that had been in the pen are suddenly being mobbed from every angle. None of them ever stood a chance. It gives Ralph a swelling of pride to see it.

Ralph slowly gains his feet. He looks down to his hand, then opens his bloodied, trembling fist. The bracelet is still there. A couple beads are broken, but it is mostly intact. He stares at it as the ruckus wages on around him. And then, like a lightning bolt, it hits him. All of it, everything. The past half year comes flooding back to him in a shattering,  overwhelming rush. Ralph staggers back a step. The farmhouse, the greenhouse, Garrett, Olivia, Gracie .

My family.

Tears well in my eyes and I double forward to brace my hands on my knees. I have been through a literal hell I was not sure I would survive and now I finally know where I belong. The clarity is stunning. It's like finally kicking to the surface of a lake after being submerged in its murky and disorienting waters for far too long. I need to get back. I need to find them again. It's the only thing that matters.

Stumbling to the back of the pen, I find a hole in the razor wire fence, then slip out unnoticed amongst the commotion. I make my way to an empty road about a half mile away and travel along the slushy, snow-driven shoulder on feet as light as air. For the first time in a long time, I have hope.

My heart feels so wonderfully liberated, I am not even bothered by headlights approaching me up the snowy, dark street. I feel no fear, no apprehension. I have a mission and nothing will stray me from the path.  

The vehicle slows to a stop beside me and the widow rolls down. "Hey, sweetie," the driver calls to me. "My name is Rose. Do you need help or a ride somewhere?"

The kindness in her face is endlessly reassuring. "I- I would love a ride," I reply eagerly.

After climbing into her vehicle, we get to know each other. With Rose's gentle coaxing I tell her my story. I want to leave out all the pain and fear and cruelty I experienced, but it comes spilling out of me before I can stop it. Coming to terms with my regained memory but also recognizing the rage I harbored during those dark times when I was just trying to survive is one of the hardest things I've ever done; realizing it will be an ongoing process is even harder.

As we drive, I give Rose as much information about the Baker’s farmhouse as I can. She lights up immediately and says she knows exactly who I am talking about. The Bakers live only a few miles from her and her son. The utter elation I feel is nearly indescribable. I am one step closer to my family.

Rose makes a quick stop on our journey to find some new clothes for me; jeans, a soft Henley, and a warm jacket. Not much longer after that, dressed and in my natural skin, with my bracelet secured around my wrist, I truly feel comfortable. Safe. Free. Alive.

We continue through the snowy night until just before dawn when the cobalt hues of a clear winter morning creep across the sky. Rose turns down a dark country road. It's a road I recognize immediately. Tears form in my eyes, I can't stop them. I don't want to.

I am going home. After all this time, I am finally going home.