#and yes its not dating but its not devoid of... something

[rius-cave]

In my head, Lute is the only person who knows about Adam and Lucifer because she had to listen to Adam complain about him one too many times for it not to be obvious.

Anyway, she comes down to see Adam during his redemption journey and starts teasing him about it, expecting him to brush it off like before. Well no. Apparently, not only have they been fucking (dating is questionable, but it’s definitely not without feelings), but it was a secret.

And now everyone knows.

Are we working on the basis that Adam and Lucifer have had something before season 1? Because that's galaxy brained.

I do like thinking of them having a fling, or an almost-but-not-quite thing before Lilith was created, just because I love adding salt to the wound of "oh Adam you've fallen so low" and all that.

If that's the case, then yes, Adam has definitely told Lute. Only when he gets drunk, though, I don't think he's particularly proud of it. And then Lute pretends she never heard it but is internally screaming.

[makeyoumine69]

i would love to see more jealous patrick ❤️😫

Hello, dear anon!💗

Ohhh, jealous Patrick is a thing!

In the middle of dinner with Bateman's family in Dorsia, the reservation Patrick had been trying to get all week, you needed a moment to powder your nose. On your way back to your table, you were playing with the ring Patrick had gifted you a week ago—a huge gem shone on it whenever you rolled it between your fingers—but when you were distracted by the waiter, you accidentally dropped the ring, and if the stranger hadn't caught it, it would have rolled across the floor to God only knew where.

"Oh, thank you so much!" You beamed and smiled as the unfamiliar but handsome man returned the ring.

"It's nothing, really." He replied, examining you curiously from head to toe.

Such attention made you embarrassed, but then you felt a burning sensation between your shoulders. When you turned around, you locked your confused gaze with Bateman's, his hazel eyes piercing through yours like sharp daggers.

"Uh, thanks again! But I have to go!" With these words you walked away from the stranger before he could tell you something else.

Sheepishly you approached the table where Patrick, his parents and his brother Sean with his date were waiting for you. And even though Bateman's face was devoid of emotion, the moment you took your seat, his large palm found its way to your inner thigh in the blink of an eye.

"So, who was that guy?" He whispered in your ear, leaning closer so only you could hear. "And why was he touching you?"

You let out a shaky breath and smiled politely over Mrs. Bateman's comment that she was glad you were finally back. "What?" You asked bewilderedly without looking at the man next to you. "I just dropped my ring."

"You dropped the ring?" Patrick almost chuckled, his hand diving deeper between your legs under the table, forcing you to grab it to keep him from going any further. "Forgot how to wear a ring, sunshine?" The man took the opportunity to nip at your neck while everyone at the table was busy with each other. "When we get home, I'll remind you… I'll remind you of everything."

His skillful fingers reached beneath your skirt no matter how hard you tried to stop them. Now, they were brazenly playing with the lace of your panties and perfectly hiding beneath the soft material of your dress.

"Patrick," you gasped, gripping the table to stifle a moan as Bateman pressed his thumb against your blushing clit. "Please," your pathetic pleas only brought a broad grin to his smug face. "Stop."

And then Patrick's mother asked you a question you couldn't even hear as your whole body was focused on the rising tension in your lower abdomen as the man was relentless in his intentions to work you up.

"Excuse me…could you please repeat your question? You asked, completely awkward.

Patrick smirked arrogantly and leaned back in his chair. "She asked if you liked the food," he muttered mockingly, before shoving his two digits into your oozing pussy. "Believe me, Mother, she is enjoying the evening. Am I right, honey?"

Paralyzed, you were about to explode at how shamelessly Bateman was behaving, literally fingering you in front of his family. Biting your lower lip for a second, you tried to take a sip of mineral water, but the man wouldn't let you as he intensified his ministrations, curling his fingers to stimulate that spongy spot inside you that made you grip the surface of the table once again.

"Yes…everything is perfect," you managed to blurt out, sensing the cool metal of his Rolex gliding along your hot skin, the contrast only heightening the pleasure. "Thank you, Patrick."

"You're welcome, darling," the man chirped, leaning closer to peck your cheek in an affectionate, pretending way, only to purr into your ear. "Tonight I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't even remember your own name." And with that, Bateman sat back, looking cheeky as ever, as he felt your inner walls contracting around his fingers once he began to rub your little bud with his thumb.

Mrs. Bateman couldn't help but smile. "Oh, you two are so adorable! Such a loving couple."

With a soft chuckle, Patrick grinned in pure delight. "Thank you. We really are."

Bastard.

[milktei]

Homecoming

Ushijima Wakatoshi x gn!reader

Genre: Sickfic, hurt comfort

Warnings: Slight manga spoilers

Requests: Closed*

a/n: hello hello! (is acting like i haven’t been gone for forever), can you believe i found this just sitting on a random note in my phone 90% done???? i literally wrote this over a year ago and never found the motivation to finish it ;-; due to its age toshi might be a bit ooc.

anyways, i’m not entirely back yet but i keep seeing lovely comments and reblogs that just make me want to start writing again ;-; maybe with the haikyuu movie being released soon my motivation will amp back up. ALSO i’m gonna try to start reblogging regularly again

*request box is still technically “closed” but if anyone has some genshin or *ahem* Baldurs gate 3 requests, i may be inclined to write if they pique my interest :)

enjoy!

If there was one thing that you knew for an absolute fact. it would be that volleyball would always be his main priority.

You knew this well before you started dating him, it was part of the reason you refused to admit your true feelings for him. You refused to take him away from his first love. Something that he was so visibly passionate about.

So you stayed on the sidelines, watching wistfully as the boy you had a crush on rose higher and higher, while you stood on the ground looking up in awe. This was comfortable, you were content with just watching and admiring. It was all you thought you were able to do.

Until he had asked you out first.

You had genuinely thought that Tendou was joking when he had told you that the Ushijima Wakatoshi saw you as anything more than one of the team’s managers.

His face was always devoid of emotion. Your interactions were limited to him nodding in thanks as you gave him a towel or water bottle, or him humming in acknowledgment as you relayed to him the notes you took after the most recent practice match.

And yet you found yourself standing in front of him, just outside the gym after practice, heart absolutely racing as he asked you out on a date.

Your first date was awkward to say the least. Having never spoken outside of club activities, you found it hard to keep a conversation flowing as you two sat in a cafe sipping your drinks.

He had walked you back to your dorm that day, but before you could go in, he had grabbed your hand.

You stared in shock at the large hand enveloping yours, “Ushijima?”

Suddenly, you felt a tiny gust of wind and a slight pressure against your forehead. You could only stammer dumbly as you realized the pressure was his lips.

He pulled away after a moment. He was heavily avoiding eye contact and turned his head to the side, but you could see the tips of his ears turning red.

“I don’t know much when it comes to this stuff. But I know I would like to go out again… if that’s okay with you of course.”

You gaped at the boy in front of you “I- um we…” you took a deep breath to centre yourself and smiled “Yes I would like to go out with you again Ushijima.”

Your relationship progressed quite fast after that. More dates, hanging out with him and Tendou in their dorm.

You were there for everything, cheering him on during games, you were the first person he would seek out when he won, you comforted him after a loss.

Your relationship lasted through high school and even university. It wasn’t long before you two ended up moving in together.

When Wakatoshi found his place with the Schweiden Adlers you were ecstatic. You had also just landed a great job and it felt like your two were simply cruising through life with ease.

Unfortunately your seemingly perfect life would never last forever.

Being in the v-league, volleyball seemed to fill his schedule more now than ever. Constant practice, games outside of the city even in other countries sometimes.

You hardly saw Ushijima anymore despite living with him. Even when you did, he was tired or just about to leave for practice.

It felt like you were pushed back into the sidelines. Watching hopelessly as he rose higher and higher, to places where you could not reach. It was no longer comfortable, you could no longer look in awe, but in despair as you watch him slip from the already loose grasp you had on him.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you went on a date. Every time you mentioned doing something in his free time he had brushed you off.

Which led you to now.

You woke up to an empty bed yet again. It was your day off so you weren’t rushing to get out of bed.

Yet you felt off.

The dryness in your mouth and throat is what you felt first. Then how runny your nose was. Finally, the cold sweat you were experiencing.

You were definitely sick.

You groaned to yourself and pulled the blanket to your chin. Hoping that you could possibly sleep it off.

Yet your efforts were in vain. After what felt like hours of trying to fall back asleep you realized that you were just going to feel even more miserable without anything to eat or at least drink.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows and immediately regretted it. The world spun around you and your entire body shook. You collapsed back onto your pillow and panted at the exertion it took.

As you caught your breath you turned your head towards your bedside table, where your phone sat charging.

Weakly, you lifted your arm and with a bit of effort you were able to grab your phone. As it turned on you winced at how bright the screen was and with bleary eyes you managed to open your contacts.

The words seemed to blend together as you searched through your contacts, you nearly sobbed in relief as your eyes finally focused on the name of your best friend.

You clicked the call button and dropped you hand to beside your ear, preparing for the way your throat would undoubtedly hurt as you spoke.

After a couple rings you heard the person on the other side pick up and you quickly began speaking, desperate to get them to come quickly so that you could hopefully feel better.

“Hey, I’m sorry if you’re busy but do you think you can bring me some drinks and maybe food? i’m not feeling the best and I don’t know if I can get up at all.”

The person on the other end of the phone began talking but you could barely decipher it as your head spun and your body shivered despite how warm you were.

“-/n….y/n?”

You froze at the deep voice on the other side of the phone. You pulled away an looked at the screen, nearly breaking down at the sight of Wakatoshi’s name instead of your friends. Quickly you put it back against your ear

“Ah I’m sorry Toshi. I meant to call a friend you’re probably busy you don’t have to come back home.” you said quickly, actually sitting up as you rambled nervously, reprimanding yourself for interrupting his practice.

You had called and texted him during practice before. At one point he was fine with it, responding during breaks or calling you back once practice had finished. But lately you had been greeted with one worded responses, or you were just ignored.

One time you even tried to pry once he got home from practice, asking him about his odd lack of response. That day, he had turned to glare at you.

“I’m busy y/n. I don’t have time for things like that.”

“You’re sick?” your thoughts were interrupted by his voice again. He used a tone much gentler than the one he had used that day.

“A little bit, nothing to worry about I can just call-“ you cut yourself off with a harsh cough, unable to hold back the whimper as your throat throbbed in protest.

“I’m coming home.”

Whether from his words or the fever you couldn’t tell, but a chill ran down your spine

“N-no toshi you don’t have to I’ll be fine don’t leave practice just because of me”

“I’ll stop by the store for some ingredients don’t get out of bed.”

And with that the call ended. Slowly, you took the phone away from your ear and looked at it in shock. He was leaving practice early. Something you weren’t aware he was willing to ever do.

At least not recently.

Only when the shock settled, did you realize just how much your body was protesting you sitting up. So, despite your better judgment, you lied back down, waiting in nervous anticipation for him to come home.

What might have been half an hour felt like forever as you laid in bed. Shivering underneath the comforter despite sweating profusely, rubbing your nose raw from having to blow it constantly, all whilst it felt like you were spinning.

In your haze you didn’t even hear the front door or you bedroom door open. How could you when your body demanded all the attention you had?

Wakatoshi stood frozen in the doorway, a plastic bag hanging off his arm, silent as he took in the state you were in.

How hadn’t he noticed before he left? you couldn’t have possibly entered this state within the couple of hours he was gone.

He felt a tug of unease pull at his heart and willed himself to walk up to you.

“y/n,” he called softly. sitting on your side of the bed.

You flinched at the sound of his voice not knowing he was in the room. Slowly, you opened your eyes and winced at the light in the room.

“Toshi,” you croaked pathetically.

His face softened and he brushed your damp hair away from your face, frowning when he felt how warm your forehead was.

“Hey,” he greeted, he lifted a hand and that’s when you saw a thermometer from the medicine cabinet in his hand “can you open your mouth please?“

Weakly, you did as he asked, and as it sat in your mouth, he quickly walked towards the master bathroom. Mumbling something about a towel.

You didn’t hear him however as you turned your head back towards the ceiling and already felt your eyes drooping again.

You only came to when you felt something cool against your forehead, you opened your eyes to see Toshi looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows. The thermometer beeped and when he looked at the reading the crease deepened.

Toshi disappeared for a moment again, making his presence known when he began to take the comforter off of you.

You whined as he did so, shivering even harder as air hit your body. You even sat up to try and grab it back.

“‘s cold toshi,” you slurred.

He was quick to place a thinner sheet on top of you “I know dear, but we have to get your body temperature down.”

As you pulled the blanket closer Wakatoshi opened the bag he brought with him. You heard the rattle of a pill container and then the crack of a bottle being opened. Wakatoshi turned to you and held out some medicine and water.

You reached out a shaky hand to take the medicine, placing the pill in your mouth. Wakatoshi helped you hold the bottle, noting how weak your arms were.

You sighed in temporary relief when you finished drinking, glad that your mouth felt less dry.

Wakatoshi allowed a small relieved smile to cross his face and he quickly helped you lay back down.

“I’ll make you some food, stay here.”

Once he was sure you were comfortable he made his way to the kitchen quickly getting his ingredients ready.

It was only when he was midway through washing some rice when he took a moment to pause.

When was the last time he had cooked for you?

Wakatoshi continued his task albeit feeling guilty thinking about how you’ve been the one cooking and eating dinner alone for some time now. It used to be a shared responsibility. Now he usually came home late so you would put a plate aside for him or he would go out to eat with the team.

He was still deep in though as he pushed the bedroom door open with his back, a tray consisting of a bowl of rice porridge and a cup of tea left a trail small trail of steam as he walked.

You were asleep but woke easily at the sound of his footsteps. It took a moment for your eyes to focus on him.

He gestured with the tray, “Do you think you can eat?”

You looked at the food, perfectly plated and garnished, your mouth watering slightly at the savoury smell.

“I think so. At least a little bit.”

He helped you sit up, and when he saw the weakness still in your arms he fed you himself.

You hummed contently at the first bite of food. You had missed this more than you thought you did.

After about half the bowl was done and your tea finished, you signalled that you stomached as much as your body would allow. Now with your body temperature having gone down and your stomach full you could feel yourself becoming less and less loopy. You watched quietly as he put the tray on the bedside table. When he was finished with that, he sat still on the bed and stared at the wall.

You looked at his face, despite it deceptively lacking emotion, you knew better than anyone else that something was bothering him.

However before you could ask he began to speak

“Why wasn’t I the first person you contacted when you realized that you were sick?”

You froze, looking down in your lap fiddling wIth a loose thread in the blanket.

“…Well…you’ve been busy as of late….I didn’t think it was important enough to take you out of practice. Someone less busy would have probably been willing to come.”

He slowly turned to face you. “You didn’t think that your wellbeing was important enough?”

You shrugged, “Well volleyball is always going to be your biggest priority. I’m just sick it’ll pass.”

Obvious distress crossed Ushijima’s face “y/n, you are my main priority.”

You paused. Perhaps it was time to tell him how you were really feeling instead of dancing around the subject.

“…It hasn’t felt that way lately.” you say hesitantly, your voice small.

Wakatoshi faltered. You kept looking down, almost scared to look him in the eye.

“I was content with that at first, your love of volleyball is admirable, it’s was drew me to you at first. But it always made you seem unattainable. When you asked me on that date all those years ago I was over the moon,” you paused to clear your throat huffing in annoyance as your sickness interrupted you.

“But I can only endure so much Toshi. Nowadays it feels like your going where I can’t reach. You’re always busy, which is understandable for a professional athlete… I just wish it wasn’t to the point where I’m worried about your reaction if I were to try to talk to you.”

There was a shift in the mattress. Then familiar arms that you had been longing for wrapped tightly around you.

“Toshi you’re gonna get sick.”

“It’s fine,”

“but-“

“I’m sorry y/n.”

you stiffened but stayed quiet to let him speak.

“You’ve done so much for me without complaint and I have done so little in return. i’m sorry for letting it get to this point. It took you getting this sick for me to realize.”

A stormy look crossed his face, “I… I’ve been struggling to balance work and home, in return I’ve been neglecting you and letting how tired I am influence my reactions. you don’t deserve that. you are my first priority y/n, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You sniffled and wiped a tear that fell from your face. You didn’t even know you were crying. For a man usually so quiet and stoic, he always knew what to say to you when he needed to. It was always so endearing to you.

“If I had known you were going to take it this well I would’ve said something earlier,” you say softly.

He smiles sadly, “I haven’t been making it seem that way hmm?”

You shake you’re head but smile back, “no”

He sighs to himself but places a gentle kiss against your forehead much like how he did all those years ago. Your eyes flutter shut and you make let out a pleased sigh. You were much more comfortable than you were when you first woke up.

“We’ll talk more once you get better. I promise,” He eventually says. holding you a bit closer to him.

You nodded and snuggled closer to his chest. While it wasn’t an immediate fix, it was a start.

“Sounds good to me Toshi.”

He smiled down at you “Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[starkeyslibrary]

Exile

Inspired by the song Exile by Taylor Swift

pairing: you x drew starkey

The café was quiet, save for the hum of soft jazz filtering through the speakers and the clinking of cups against saucers. You sat in a booth by the window, fingers wrapped around a mug of now-lukewarm coffee. The cloudy skies outside mirrored the storm brewing inside you. Drew was late—again.

You sighed, glancing at the empty chair across from you. The weight in your chest grew heavier with every tick of the clock. This wasn’t the first time he’d kept you waiting, but it felt different today. He’d been distant for weeks, his texts growing shorter, his excuses more frequent. It was as though he was drifting away, and you were powerless to stop it.

The door chimed, and there he was. Drew Starkey, with his messy hair, sharp jawline, and the same leather jacket he wore on your first date. He looked like a dream. He always did. But the tired look in his eyes and the hesitation in his step turned your stomach. He spotted you, offering a small, tentative smile as he walked over.

“Hey,” he said, sliding into the seat across from you.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. You watched as he fidgeted with the hem of his jacket, avoiding your gaze. The silence stretched between you, heavy and uncomfortable. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Drew, what’s going on?”

His head snapped up, and for a second, he looked startled. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Your voice was steady, but your hands trembled slightly as you set your mug down. “You’ve been... distant. Different. And I feel like I don’t know where I stand with you anymore.”

He sighed, leaning back in his seat. His hands rubbed his face, and you could see the exhaustion etched into every line of his expression. “I’ve been busy,” he said finally, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. “Work’s been insane, and... I don’t know. It’s not you.”

“It’s not me,” you repeated, bitterness creeping into your tone. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“What do you want me to say?” he snapped, his voice rising slightly. “That I’ve been overwhelmed? That I don’t know how to balance everything right now? Because I don’t.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Why did you just... shut me out instead?”

Drew looked away, his jaw clenching. “Because it’s easier that way.”

“Easier for who?” you demanded. “Because it sure as hell hasn’t been easy for me, Drew. I’ve been sitting here, trying to figure out what I did wrong. What I could’ve done differently. And you didn’t even give me the chance to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix!” he said, his frustration spilling over. “Don’t you get it? Sometimes, things just... fall apart.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stared at him, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. “So that’s it?” you whispered. “You’re just giving up?”

“I’m not giving up,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction. “I’m being realistic.”

“Realistic,” you repeated, your voice trembling. “No, Drew. What you’re being is a coward.”

His eyes snapped to yours, anger flashing across his face. “A coward? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” you said, leaning forward. “You’re running away because it’s easier than staying and fighting for what we have. And you know what? Maybe that’s on me for believing in us more than you did.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice low. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t care?”

“I don’t know, Drew,” you said, throwing your hands up. “Because you won’t tell me anything! You won’t let me in!”

He fell silent, his fists clenching on the table. The air between you was charged, the weight of all the unsaid words pressing down on both of you. Finally, he looked at you, his blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name—regret, maybe. Or guilt.

“I tried,” he said quietly. “I really did. But we’re just... we’re not on the same page anymore.”

You felt the tears spill over now, hot and unrelenting. “So, what?” you said, your voice breaking. “You’re just going to walk away? After everything?”

“I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted, his voice thick. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“You don’t even want to try,” you said, shaking your head. “You’ve already made up your mind.”

He didn’t deny it. And that hurt more than anything he could’ve said.

The drive home was a blur, the world outside your window smeared with rain and tears. By the time you reached your apartment, the ache in your chest had settled into something deeper, heavier. You kicked off your shoes and sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table. For a moment, you considered ignoring it. But when you saw Drew’s name on the screen, your heart clenched. You hesitated before opening the message.

“I’m sorry for tonight. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You stared at the words, the hollow apology doing little to ease the pain. You wanted to reply, to tell him how much he’d broken you, but what was the point? He’d already decided it was over.

Instead, you turned off your phone and curled up on the couch, letting the darkness swallow you whole.

The next week was a blur of numbness and routine. You went to work, smiled when you had to, and avoided any place where you might run into Drew. The ghost of him lingered everywhere—in the smell of coffee, in the playlists you couldn’t bring yourself to delete, in the way your chest tightened every time you passed his favorite bar.

One night, you found yourself sitting on your bed, staring at an old photo of the two of you. It was from last summer, at a carnival. Drew had his arm slung around your shoulders, his smile wide and carefree. You looked so happy, so full of hope.

That girl felt like a stranger now.

With a trembling hand, you placed the photo facedown on the nightstand. You couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away—not yet. Maybe not ever.

A month later, you saw him.

You were at a mutual friend’s party, a moment of weakness convincing you to show up despite your better judgment. And there he was, standing across the room with a beer in hand, laughing at something someone had said.

For a moment, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours. The room seemed to freeze. Neither of you moved, but the weight of that gaze was enough to shatter you all over again.

You turned and left before he could say a word.

—

The story of you and Drew didn’t end with fireworks or closure. It ended in silence, in the spaces between what was said and what was left unsaid. And as much as it hurt, you knew deep down that some stories aren’t meant to have happy endings. Some are just meant to teach you how to let go.

And so you did.

Eventually.

[merakiui]

🐙 Azul's tentacle anon

Oughhh i read ur fem riddle fic and OUGHGHGH ITS SO DELICIOUS now i have some brainrots about party animal floyd shhssh

Party Animal Floyd who starts developing his obsession the moment your romantic love for him starts fading away. You're already becoming distant from him, and once he noticed this, his entire personality starts doing a 360 spin.

Jade's so gentle and caring always holding you close to his chest whilst the old Floyd just leaves you around for anybody to take, not giving a single damn to the point you start wondering if you had dated the wrong twin, Floyd will fix that. He stops his partying antics and had the entire apartment go from a messy waste-filled ruin to a sparkling white mansion devoid of any stains. He's doing all the chores for you, he starts cooking breakfast early and he starts joining you in the morning shower, trying his hardest to replicate his brother's gentlemanly mannerisms.

Riddle's so serious about relationships and expressed to be loyal forever to her partner, unlike the old Floyd who sticks his dick into one girl to another, leaving you to rot in his room tears streaming down your cheeks and tuining your beautiful mascara. He will fix that, no matter what. He gets a job at a close friend's now successful cafe, ditches all of his side chicks and ghosts his delinquent pimp friends, where the only pussy he would stick his dick inside from now on is yours.

If you leave him, he'd just end up spiralling into a deep dark place, depraved of your sweet loving attention

OMG YES AAAAAAAA,,,,, your thoughts are so good!!!! Floyd absolutely puts in the work once he's made up his mind to be a better boyfriend. It's like he's an entirely new person. Suddenly, you're no longer transparent in his eyes. Suddenly, you're all he wants to see. Now you're his entire world. <3 sure, he may have borrowed some of Jade's rizz techniques in doing so, but he's quite the upstanding eel now (still just as crass, though. He will forever be foul-mouthed and unruly and untamed; that's just how he is hehe).

What if the café job Floyd picks up is at the same place Riddle works? :0 maybe it's a branch of Mostro Lounge or something else entirely and the only reason he's able to get in with his spotty resume is because Azul owns the place and he can pull all kinds of strings. Floyd's genuinely determined to turn things around, so Azul does him a favor (which he will pay back in due time, of course) and now Floyd's donning an apron to work in the kitchen as sous-chef. Riddle nearly walks back out the door the day she sees him standing behind the counter. T_T she's certain the world is against her. What sin must she atone for? Is this how hell punishes its sinners now, by sending stupid, annoying, ugly eels to her workplace and conveniently disguising them as coworkers? If it isn't obvious, she is Floyd's biggest hater LOL.

I like to think that Floyd, though he pesters Riddle and annoys the life out of her, would vaguely and briefly confide in her and ask what sorts of things girls like. Riddle puts two and two together and figures out rather fast that he's trying to make it up to you. Obviously she can't let that happen. She just started wedging herself between you and Floyd, making you question your feelings for him, and now he's trying to be better? He had four years to do that! She's so annoyed. >:(

Now you have an obsessed boyfriend and an obsessed friend who wants to take the place of boyfriend vying for your attention. Meanwhile, you're mourning to your bestie Jade about Floyd and his disloyal behavior like, "Why is he so sex-brained? Why doesn't he just like me for me? What's so good about parties and sex with strangers anyway?" and Jade is a persistence predator, so of course he's taking full advantage of your emotional vulnerability and weaknesses to slip in between the cracks in your heart, slowly but surely getting even closer to you. :)

[dilfspitdrinker]

Let The Light In | Joel Miller x f!reader

Description: You’ve been babysitting Joel Miller’s daughter all summer. No matter now much you try to deny it, you know you’re into him. But it’s just a little crush that you thought could never be reciprocated, until one fateful phone call. The shift between you two is irresistible, and you’re in for more than you ever anticipated. A/N: holy shit guys, sorry for the fucking hiatus?? Hopefully the smut in this chapter will make up for it. ITS HAPPENING! EVERYBODY STAY CALM! STAY FUCKING CALM! no guys seriously relax I'm already nervous don't make it a big deal shut up stop laughing. I've been mad busy with lyfe and college lately and had a hard time with this chapter, constantly having to remind myself that I do this FOR FUN and it literally does not matter if it's bad!!! BUT IM LOSING THE IDGAF WAR!!!! anyways enjoy and ily for reading

Warnings/tags: MDNI, oral + fingering (f receiving) (he give me brain like nyu), Joel is a talker, reader likes chocolate, age gap (reader is like 21 and Joel is in late 30s), (no his age doesn't canonically line up with what it should be since Sarah is like 12 here but idgaf)

Masterlist

Chapter 7

Once you woke, it took only a moment for you to recognize Joel’s bed, and your thoughts immediately began racing. You hadn’t slept together, had you? There was no way you’d had enough drinks to have forgotten if that happened, right? A quick flip of the covers revealed you were still in your dress. Guessing that meant no. He wasn’t in bed with you, didn’t look like he’d even been there, the covers on the other side looked quite undisturbed. Confused, you supposed he might’ve woken up before you and made just that side of the bed. Weird, but what other explanation was there?

You quietly followed the same routine as the last time you woke up in Joel’s bed, rushing to the bathroom to check yourself. Even after fixing your hair and dress that had gone askew, the thought of going out there in your little outfit from last night made you cringe. You thought briefly about going back to his room and stealing some of his clothes, just to avoid walking into the kitchen looking like you’d passed out after clubbing or something. After how great your date went, you prayed you hadn’t ruined it by saying or doing anything mortifyingly embarrassing, since you apparently didn’t even remember getting into bed.

You steeled yourself and padded down the hall. Peering around the corner into the kitchen, your voice came out small, “Joel?”

He was sitting at the table, dressed casually, a mug of steaming coffee in hand. A smile spread over his face at the sight of you, “Mornin’ darlin’. You sleep alright?”

“Yeah,” you gingerly sat across from him.

He could see the question in your eyes, and answered it to save you the embarrassment, “I slept on the couch.”

With that revelation, you quickly switched gears. Your tone was devoid of humor, “Are you kidding me?”

He gave you a quizzical look.

“You let me sleep in your bed while you slept on the couch again?”

He laughed you off, but you wouldn’t let him get away with it.

“I’m serious,” you crossed your arms, “Doesn’t matter if I’m here, it’s your own house, you’re sleeping in your own bed.”

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned, taking another sip from his mug.

You glared at him, but the hardness in your face dissolved as soon as he set a cup of freshly brewed coffee in front of you. Despite your outrage at the sleeping situation, Joel’s presence still managed to put you at ease. You’d even forgotten about why the dress thing made you nervous, he was probably enjoying the view.

“What time is it?” you asked between sips. You hadn’t registered the hour on the clock when you’d woken up in your alarmed state.

“Early,” he responded.

You hummed, soothing your mild grogginess with the coffee. You wished you’d slept in just a little more. You wished you’d slept in with Joel. Not ready to back down just yet, you asked sharply, “And how did you sleep?”

He was amused by your stubbornness, “You’re not lettin’ that go, are you?”

“Never.” 

He sighed, “Just didn’t wanna get all up in your business, darlin’.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh please, you can get all up in my business anytime you want.”

He chuckled, “I’ll keep that in mind from now on.”

You two sat together, finishing off your coffees. Sunlight poured in through the windows, and you silently watched specks of dust float around him like a halo. His eyes still looked heavy with sleep, blinking slowly. More often than not, he would come home fighting exhaustion as he thanked you for watching Sarah. There were a few instances where he paid you a day late, accompanied with a text apologizing profusely for forgetting. You’d always assured him that it was fine, imagining how he must’ve passed out the second his head hit the pillow. In the quiet morning light, you wanted to pull him into bed, cradle his face, soothe the lines etched into his skin. You thought you’d do anything to relieve his stress.

He stood to collect your empty mugs, his broad frame towering over you.

Yes, anything.

You became newly aware of your dress, tugging the hem down a bit. While his back was to you, you cleared your throat, “Sorry for crashing here again.”

“How long ‘fore you learn…” he sighed to himself. He turned and crossed his arms, unexpectedly stern, “Will you quit talkin’ like you’re an inconvenience?”

The hand that fiddled with your dress stilled. You began fumbling through a sort of confession, “Sorry, I just, I don’t want you to think I’m… I don’t know…” You trailed off, unsure of exactly what image you were trying to avoid. Messy? Unpredictable? Opportunistic?

Brows turning up, he spoke, “Sweetheart, whatever it is, you gotta know that I only think good things of you.” He stepped forward and closed the space between you, capturing your face in his hands. He leaned down and kissed you sweetly.

As soon as your lips parted, the words spilled out. “This is gonna sound dumb,” you started, to which he immediately shook his head. You continued, wondering how much dumber you sounded with each word, “I just, I don’t want to do things that’ll make me seem– that’ll make you, like, not take me seriously. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

He pulled out a chair and sat facing you. “Why wouldn’t I take you seriously?”

So he was going to make you say it? You figured you’d have this conversation eventually if this thing was going to continue, but you didn’t expect to find yourself having it here and now. You felt unsteady, despite being seated. Inhaling, you willed your voice to come out stronger than you felt, “Because… I’m younger than you.”

The air stilled as Joel stared at you for a moment, thinking of the most careful way to say he didn’t give a damn about how it looked from the outside. Truly, he was old and gruff and undeserving of you. Indeed, you were young and pretty and lively and smart and giving and everything he fucking needed. He rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, “Right. Let’s clear up a few things. First and foremost, I care about your feelings and your wellbeing. If the uh, the age difference is makin’ you uncomfortable or unsure, we don’t have to do this.”

You pursed your lips together, palms feeling clammy. “I know it’s… unconventional, or at least most people would think it is, but I’m okay with it if you are.”

“I’m the same way darlin’. Don’t want you thinkin’ I have a- a thing for young ladies, it ain’t like that. It’s just,” he looked into your eyes, “you.”

You cracked a smile, “Yeah, I’ve never gone after an older man before.”

“I’d hope not. Even most of these grown men ain’t good enough for you.”

You quirked an eyebrow, “And what’s good enough for me?”

“I could be, if you decide to keep me around,” he winked. “But hey, I mean it. If you start feelin’ like this isn’t the right thing for you, tell me. Please.”

You nodded, even though the notion sounded impossible. You wanted Joel with a ferocity unlike anything you’d felt before. Now that you’d had a taste of him, you needed more, even if blindly going after him made you look like a dog chasing a squirrel. For the first time, you wondered what your friends would think of it. Or your parents- would they wonder in bewilderment what had possessed you to seek out a single father? But they didn’t know Joel, you were sure that anyone who stepped into your shoes could understand why this man had you obsessed. Despite your insecurities, you were confident that he would be attentive to your needs. You looked into his eyes intently, “I trust you, Joel.”

He took it as a warning. “I know you do. And I don’t take that lightly.” He shifted in his seat, ruminating on whether you knew what you were getting yourself into. He didn’t want to deny your autonomy, but god, he didn’t want to be the reason you felt trapped down the line. And most of all, if it turned into a burning mess, he didn’t want to get Sarah tangled in it. But the way you were looking at him, those eyes were his weakness. How the hell was he supposed to deny himself of you when you were giving him that goddamn look, eyes revealing that you were so eager to please, dying to be something real to him.

“You check me if I’m outta line,” he poked your nose. The way you scrunched it had him falling faster than he thought possible.

“Oh, that’s my new favorite excuse.” Your voice turned parodic, “Joel, you can’t make me do the dishes, that’s taking advantage of me.”

“God, you’re gonna kill me, girl.” His warm laughter filled the kitchen, filled your heart. He stood, pulled you to your feet and into an embrace. You buried your nose into his neck. His lips pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

You sighed and mumbled into his skin, “I should probably get going, huh?”

He tutted in disapproval, “Go take a shower. Help yourself to my clothes.”

You pretended to contemplate, then said, “If you insist.”

In the shower, you reflected on last night, and finally recalled falling asleep on top of Joel. He’d probably carried you to bed. You cursed yourself for not being awake to remember the feeling. He’d probably lifted you into his arms like you were made of feathers. You focused on washing your hair to avoid getting too worked up, reaching for Joel’s shampoo yet again. Logically, you understood how one thing lead to another since the last time you did this, but emotionally, you could hardly comprehend how one phone call generated this sequence of events between you two.

The striking sense of deja vu followed your path back into his room. You rooted around his dresser, picking out a T-shirt and sweatpants. Pulling them on, you giggled to yourself, remembering your date banter about him wanting to see you in his T-shirt. You’d obviously meant it in a much less innocent way, but you supposed this counted too. While you were at it, you couldn’t resist the urge to snoop a bit. It seemed like he kept his room tidy, save for a few pairs of socks discarded on the floor. You slid open the nightstand drawer, not expecting much, but found some neatly folded clothes that didn’t look like his. In fact, they looked a whole lot like yours. Pulling them out, you confirmed, they were the clothes you had on the night Joel picked you up. You’d ultimately forgotten to retrieve them. You put them back as they were, deciding that your wardrobe didn’t miss these particular garments that much. But more so, you liked knowing that Joel kept a piece of you here, in his space, close to him.

Upon your return to the kitchen, he smirked at the sight of you, his shirt hanging loosely off your frame. You knew he’d like it. He leaned against the counter, nursing a second cup of coffee, “What you feelin’ like for breakfast, beautiful?”

You shrugged, “Anything.”

“You gotta gimme a real answer, darlin’.”

“Let’s do your favorite, I’ll help you make it.”

“Bacon and eggs it is, then.”

He was about to tell you where the pans and utensils were, but he watched you move around his kitchen with efficiency, already knowing which cabinets to reach for. He loved seeing you be so in your element in his house, like you lived here.

The moment felt insulated from the world. You, swaying slightly as you tended the stove. His hand on the small of your back as he moved behind you.

At some point, Joel snuck in some toast and fruit that you didn’t notice until you sat to serve yourself.

“When did we end up with such a spread?” you asked, baffled.

“When you weren’t lookin’,” he answered with a cheeky grin.

*. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. * · *. *

You sat on the couch, struggling to stay focused on an assignment. The minutes crawled by, the afternoon sun casting sidelong shadows of everything in your apartment.

Your eyes lit up when the phone rang, a welcome distraction, and all the more welcome to see it was Joel calling.

You quickly picked up, “Hi!”

“Hey darlin’, whatcha up to?”

“Just finishing up some homework. What about you?”

“Sittin’ here in my empty house.”

“Sarah’s not back yet?” you asked, surprised.

“She was back for a couple hours, then left again to a friend’s house. She’s really been into sleepovers lately.”

“That’s cool,” you tried to sound nonchalant. “So, what, you want me to keep you company?”

He heard your smile through the phone. “You got me there. You can, uh, bring over your work if you’re busy, I don’t mind.”

Your heart tightened knowing that he didn’t mind if your attention wasn’t on him, he enjoyed your presence all the same. You liked the thought of doing your assignments at his place, but you knew you definitely wouldn’t have any hope of concentrating. “I’m almost done with this, let me finish and I’ll be all yours.”

He liked the sound of that a little too much. “Alright darlin’. See you soon?”

“Within the hour.”

“I’m countin’ down the minutes.”

You rushed through the rest of your assignment, crossing your fingers that your professor would get bored halfway through and skim over the drop in quality. You practically threw yourself into your car, only realizing that you hadn’t changed out of Joel’s clothes once you were too far from your street to care. Whatever, as if he would mind.

You arrived at his house, opening the unlocked door with a clammy hand. Here once again, with Sarah gone, just the two of you. After your conversation this morning, you weren’t quite sure where you two were going from here, and you were anxious to find out. You stepped into the living room, not finding him there.

“Hi Joel,” you called out.

You jumped a bit when a pair of large and strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you backward into him. His chest was so warm against your back, easing the tension in your spine.

He leaned down and kissed your temple, “Missed you honey.”

“Missed me? I was only gone for a couple hours.”

“Too many,” he mumbled into your neck, planting a kiss there.

Your heart fluttered. You hadn’t expected Joel to be such a lover, already treating you like his one and only.

“Have you eaten, baby?”

“Not since our breakfast.”

“You hungry?”

“I could go for a snack.”

“Then we’ll get you a snack,” he led you by the hand to the kitchen.

You sat yourself on the countertop while he grabbed something from the highest shelf. His shirt rode up a bit, and you got a delicious view of his skin. 

“I hide these up here so Sarah doesn’t get to ‘em,” he pulled out a box of chocolates.

“Ah, secret stash. Should’ve kept it hidden from me too.”

“You’re allowed to know,” he winked.

You reached to grab some, but he intercepted your hand. He held one in front of your face, and after a moment of staring blankly, it clicked, and you promptly opened your mouth.

He smirked, and barely whispered, “Good girl,” but you heard it loud and clear. He popped the chocolate into your mouth. It was dark, you thought you recalled him saying he didn’t like things that were too sweet. You hummed in enjoyment.

You noticed a smudge of melted chocolate residue on the pads of his index and thumb. A devilish idea occurred to you, and you held back a smirk so as to not reveal your plot. Feigning innocence, you took his palm and pulled it to your mouth, closing your lips around his finger.

He froze, eyes locked on your face.

You swirled your tongue around his finger, licking off the chocolate and savoring the taste of his skin under the sweetness.

He slowly pulled his finger from your mouth to replace it with his thumb. His index, still wet with your saliva, curled under your chin, tilting your head up while bringing his thumb up to your lips. Looking at him through your lashes, you sucked off the chocolate, teeth gently grazing the ridges of his fingerprint. He almost wanted to laugh in disbelief, laugh at himself for not giving you enough credit. You devious little thing, you knew exactly what you were doing.

“What game are you playing, hmm?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you narrowed your eyes at him, as if offended by the question.

“I know you want somethin’. What are you tryin’ to get out of me?” He came to stand between your legs, hands planted on the counter at either side of you, caging you in.

“Nothing. Seems like you want somethin’.” Your hands laced together at the back of his neck, drawing him in closer.

His eyes raked down your figure, pupils wide and dark. For the first time, you identified lust in his gaze. You wondered how many times you hadn’t noticed it.

Your lips met in an ardent kiss, and your tongues quickly found each other. His hands roamed your hips and waist, fingers pressing into your soft flesh. You felt the warmth of his skin slide under your shirt, but just barely.

You had him figured out enough. For all his flirting – and much as you wished he’d do as he pleased with you – Joel was too cautious, you’d have to draw it out of him. You nudged his hands to go further up, and with the encouragement, his large palms smoothed over your back– strategically braless.

A groan vibrated in his throat, and he detached his lips from yours just far enough to mumble, “That what you want?”

You looked deep into his eyes, testing the connection, seeing if he could read you.

He could. Like a fucking book. And from that gleam in your pupils, he knew exactly what you needed. He asked in a teasingly coy tone, “Want me to make you feel good?”

You bit your lip and nodded, buzzing with anticipation.

Immediately, he picked you up off the counter, palms spread over your ass and squeezing. Your arms clung to his neck as he carried you to his room.

He laid you on the bed, holding himself over you. His lips trailed from your face, down to your neck, nipping at your collarbone. Once he heard you taking deeper breaths, he leaned away to stand. You propped yourself on your elbows, watching him with curiosity mixed with disappointment. You voiced your dissatisfaction, “Why are you so far?”

Standing above you, he raised a brow. He grabbed your legs from the back of your knees and yanked you to the edge of the bed. You released a small yelp at the suddenness, but it only added to the desire swirling in your stomach.

“Better?” He splayed a large hand on your chest, pushing you back onto the mattress. He kissed a path from your mouth to your ear, and whispered huskily, “Or you want me closer?”

Your hands twisted in his shirt, wanting to pull him against you, but he was moving away again… only to kneel between your legs. He rested his cheek against your thigh, giving you a sultry look.

He toyed with the waistband of the sweatpants. “You look real good in my clothes, baby. Planning on stealin’ these too?”

“I didn’t steal them, just… haven’t given them back.” You could hardly string the sentence together with his knuckles running along your hips.

“Sure. Might as well take them back now,” he started tugging down the sweatpants, “y’know, ‘fore you forget.”

Past your knees, off your ankles, discarded on the floor. His lip curled at the sight of your little blue panties.

His hands slid under your shirt, pushing it up and finding your heated skin. Your heart raced and you clutched the fabric, “I think I wanna keep this on.”

His eyes flickered to yours, “Whatever makes you most comfortable baby. Can I still touch under there?”

“Please,” you nodded. It wasn’t that you felt particularly shy, the truth was, it turned you on more to have Joel doing this while wearing his shirt. It made you feel claimed.

You felt his breath against your thighs as he spoke, “I’ll go real slow baby, you let me know how I’m doin’.”

You nodded, heart racing with anticipation.

“Need you to use your words, baby.”

You swallowed thickly, then found your voice, “I’m ready.”

He looked down at the dark wetness staining your panties. His eyes flicked back up to yours with a smirk, “I can tell.”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband, and slowly, so damn slowly, pulled them down, revealing you to him. You felt his breath against your pulsing heat, “You’re gorgeous baby.”

His hands slid up your thighs, pushing them apart. With each thumb, he spread your pussy lips open. He groaned at the sight, “So pretty baby…”

Gingerly, you threaded your fingers through his hair. He looked up at you expectantly, a small smile on his face that you found reassuring. “Let me take care of you, sweetie.”

You gave him a small nod, and he dipped his head. He licked a thick stripe through your folds, eliciting a whimper from you. It reached a higher pitch when he attached his lips to your clit. Responding to your noises, he devoted his attention to your clit, licking and sucking at a pace that soon had you whining. One of his hands snaked up your torso, under the shirt, until it reached the softness of your breast. His thumb circled your nipple, adding to the warmth pooling in your loins.

He lifted his head briefly to check in, “How you feelin’ honey?”

“Good, keep going,” you rushed out, tugging at his hair.

He chuckled, “Yes ma’am.”

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, sliding two of them up and down through your wetness, circling your clit and teasing your hole.

“Joel, please,” you moaned.

“Please what?”

You whined in response.

“Gotta use your words, baby.”

You tilted your head back onto the pillow, faced with the ceiling. “I need your fingers,” you choked out, cheeks heating at the words.

He hummed, index and middle still giving attention to your clit. “Look at me,” he commanded.

You looked down at him between your thighs, and once your eyes locked, he began pushing in one thick digit. You moaned, eyelids threatening to close, but he captured your gaze again with a low voice, “Keep looking at me darlin', that’s it… good girl.”

Once his finger was up to the knuckle inside you, he started pumping in and out at a measured pace. When he reattached his lips to your clit, your head fell back and a long moan escaped your throat. His tongue swirled ceaselessly around the bud, making your hips squirm.

Slowly, he pulled his finger almost completely out of you, and you felt a second prodding for entry. They pushed in slowly, allowing you to relish the stretch.

“Joel,” you whimpered in a way that had him grinding against nothing. He pumped his fingers at a faster pace, needing to hear his name pass your lips again.

He curled his fingers up, and you clenched around him with a high pitched moan.

“That’s the spot, huh?” He looked up at you mischievously, “Yeah, I know.”

His other hand continued playing with your nipple. With your own hand, you pulled the shirt higher, exposing your plush tits. He suddenly pushed himself up, eagerly attaching his mouth to the swell of your breast. He pressed wet kisses down one side, nipping and sucking just hard enough to leave a few purple marks. His fingers never stopped massaging that perfect spot inside you, rapidly pushing you toward the edge.

“Joel- fuck- ” you panted, “I’m so close.”

He brought himself back down to your pussy, taking in the sight of you dripping around his fingers. He flattened his tongue against your clit, and the sensation made you jerk your hips up.

“That’s right baby, get yourself there,” he rasped.

You gripped his hair, grinding on his tongue. His fingers stroked your g-spot further with every movement. He had you right where he wanted you, thoughts reduced to nothing but his name.

“Joel,” you moaned brokenly, eyes rolling back. Your orgasm rippled through you, had you arching your back and curling your toes.

“So sweet,” you felt him mumble, his lips never breaking contact with your pussy. Like a man starved, he licked you clean, lapping at your juices. You whined every time his tongue brushed over your sensitive clit, hardly allowing you to come down from your high. You tugged at his hair, and he reluctantly lifted his head from between your thighs.

He kissed a trail up your torso, chest, neck, and finally reaching your lips. He kissed you softly, slowly, tenderly. But even through your hazy mind, you dared not think lovingly.

“What about you?” you panted.

He smoothed your shirt down and moved you onto your side, pulling you into his chest. “Don’t worry about me sweetheart.”

“But I wanna return the favor,” you mumbled into his chest.

“You’ll get to another time, I just wanna focus on you.”

You relented without much of a fight, still dazed and sleepy from your high. The steady rhythm of his breathing soothed you.

“I’m gonna fix us some dinner, how about that?”

You made a small noise of disapproval, curling further into his chest. He chuckled quietly, rubbing your back.

Masterlist

[sammylbir]

Day 6: The Tragedy (Junko x Kyoko)

*Kyoko stared outside the window, mustering the dark red sky and the shadowy clouds in the air, from her Office in the Future Foundation.

To think that this sight should have been nothing, but a macabre fantasy of sorts.

Straight out of a nietzschean novel.

A world full of darkness, where god abandoned its toys and moved on.

Yet.... this was reality. All done by a bored criminally insane teenage girl.

Destroying the world for nothing, but shits and giggles.

Kyoko met many screwed up people over the years and yet, Junko was the one who kept on surprising her.

She never saw anyone, who was so smart, charismatic, pretty...and so utterly insane.

...................

"You know, you should smile more.", Junko told her, as they sat inside the closed in academy, at the table in the cafeteria. Kyoko looked up from her novel and tilted her head, glancing at the model curiously.

"Hm. I never expected you, to worry over someone else's well-being.", Kyoko mused, causing Junko to pout offended.

"Gee, just because I'm better than all of you, doesn't mean I'm heartless.", the fashionista replied and tried to sound offended, even though Kyoko could see through the mask easily.

The void........

*"Of course not.", Kyoko answered with a frown. *

"Say you're sorry!"

"Hm.", Kyoko replied and glanced around.

The others had already gone to bed.

It was just Junko and her....

...........

A year ago:

Junko leaned forward and gave her a grin.

"Awww what's wrong? Are you being flustered on our date?", she teased, causing Kyoko to shake her head.

"It is not a date. Stop lying to me.", the detective answered and crossed her arms.

"Oh? You think I'm lying to you?", Junko asked and looked down saddened. "That hurt...you know I love you."

Love.....

"I'm not in the mood for your games.", Kyoko told her adamantly and crossed her arms, giving her a cold look. She expected Junko to tease her further and and to mess with her even more.

Yet....that didn't happen.

Instead...the mask began to slip. Bit by bit.

Her smile dropped.

Her eyes lost all of their warmth.

And the skin gained paleness and her hair seemed almost dead at certain points.

To say that the sight surprised the detective, would be an understatement.

"Mask's off then.", Junko told her, her voice being completely cold and devoid of life. "Funny. I never would have thought that I'd meet someone like you."

"Like me?", Kyoko asked carefully and tried to not look afraid and remain as composed as usual. Junko nodded slowly, her movements being almost alien.

"Yes. I met so many people in my life...all of them look the same...all of them act so predictable.....all of them....but you."

Junko leaned forward and forced a smile that didn't even look genuine at all. She grabbed her fingers and forced them up.

"I act so charming and convincing...yet you aren't fooled by my mask one bit. Can you tell me why? Why won't you fall for my charms? In all honesty.... I do not get it."

That last part had a bit more emotion than the rest of the words.

Did...she really not understand Kyoko?

Kyoko closed her eyes and shook her head.

"If you do not get, how I am not falling for you...then you are not nearly as smart, as I thought you were.", she explained to her and stared into the corpse's eyes. "I could explain it to you. But you still wouldn't get it. Because being human is something you will never, ever be familiar with."

"....Hm."

Junko stroked her own cheek.

"You know I love you for that, Kyoko.", she mused emptily. "You see through me...the real me..... It's a shame that you don't love me, as much as I do."

"........Hm."

"We could have done so much together....but I suppose you want to keep holding onto your weakness. And to not embrace the darkness in your heart."

"Never.", Kyoko told her adamantly. "I will never see the world, the way you see it."

"Hm."

Junko slowly got up and towered over her.

"We'll see."

And then suddenly, the mask was back on.

"Anyways..", Junko told her, acting as fake as usual. "I'll go bully my dumb sis. Bye!"

With that, she walked off and approached the door. She blew her one last kiss and she then left the cafeteria.

And Kyoko was alone.

Staring after her....

....

Staring through the window with her cheeks, as red as the sky.

The End

[viktheviking1]

FizzxBlitzø

Warning, implied sexual content

Stumbling out of the bar came Blitz and Fizz had their arms around each other together as they made their way over to Blitz’s van, tipsy and trying to steady themselves.

“And then I said, ‘What family?’”Blitz said and they both cry-laughed together.

“You absolute little sh*t.” Fizz laughed, “And you said you weren’t a comedian anymore.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a special brand of humor I suppose. Only us circus f**kers really get it.”

“Buckzo would be so ashamed.” Fizz snorted.

Blitz guffawed, “Good!”

Fizz caught his breath and turned to Blitz, "You know, I haven't had such a good time since Ozzie took me to a rock concert with 8 dozen cans of silly string." He wiped a happy tear from his eye, "We should do this again sometime."

Blitz couldn't believe what he was hearing. Only one thing could make this better. He looked around and saw the street was entirely devoid of people.

Too drunk to think clearly, he smirked and pinned Fizz against the side of the van, "Ya know, the night doesn't have to end here. I could take you back to my place, or we could go to yours? I wouldn't mind some quality time with you and the Misses."

Fizzarolli felt a tail curl around his inner thigh, "I- uh- . . ."

"Come on, Fizzy~" Blitz cooed in his ear, "Show me some of what you've learned in the lust ring."

Fizz swallowed and tried not to shudder as he felt Blitz's tongue on his neck, "I'm not sure if-"

Blitz slid his tongue across Fizzarolli's sharp teeth. He felt Fizz melt in his hands and he loosened his grip on the jester's wrists. Fizz's metal arms wrapped around Blitz, pulling him in. Blitz let his hands wander; one found its way to Fizzy's lower back while the other held his chin. He pulled back a little, and looked into Fizzy's eyes. They both stared deeply into each other, intoxicated by the nostalgic scent of an old friend, and the taste of old feelings on their tongues.

"I've missed you so much." Blitz finally let himself say.

"Yeah," Fizz interlocked his mechanical fingers with Blitz's and smiled, "Me too."

Fizz leaned in and kissed him again. Back still against the van, He wrapped his legs around Blitz, bringing him closer, and felt something there. He pulled away again, smirking, "Oh~ Hey there big mannn -ngh!"

As he spoke, Blitz pressed his hips harder against him, "Heh. Right back atcha."

They fell back into a kiss and Fizz undid the tangle of his legs to stand up on his own again and before Blitz knew it, he was the one against the van. Fizz pressed his body against Blitz, feeling the tension of his abs, the heaviness of his breathing, the heat of his skin. He bit into his lip just enough to draw blood, and Blitz drank it in like it was cheap whiskey. Oh, f**k yes. Fizz let his tail slithered up Blitz's shirt and soon one was in his pants.

He then broke the seal of their lips and began nibbling on his neck, a small part of his brain thinking about how they would need to go somewhere more private and soon. Blitz caught his breath as he held him close, clutching onto Fizzy's shirt. His other hand wandered up to Fizzy's horns.

A hot, burning pain filled his mind; a scorching memory, the smell of burning flesh. Blitz pushed Fizz as hard as he could off of him.

Fizzarolli stumbled backward, barely catching himself, "Wha-? What? Why- oh. Oh. Oh, f**k!" He grabbed his horns, flattening the jester hat, where they ended.

They both stared at each other, stunned and unsure what to do.

"I, um- I'm sorry, let's-" Blitz stepped forward and began reaching for Fizz's face again.

"I need to go." Fizzarolli turned and began walking towards his limo, a couple cars down.

Blitz followed, "Wait, no! Fizzy!"

"Don't call me that!" Fizz wrapped his arms around himself as he walked.

"Hey! Lover tits! Date time's over. Take me home." Fizz shouted at the two hellhounds who just so happened to be making out against the side of the limo. The one against the limo growled, while the other giggled.

"I'm sorry, Fizz. Let me make it up to you." Blitz grabbed his hand, and tugged it towards him, but instead of bringing fizz closer, the metal arm extended.

Fizz watched the surprise on Blitz's face, and gave a big sigh, "There are reasons why I was hesitant to start; reasons why we could never work, Blitz. Why can't you be satisfied with what we have now? What we finally have back after all those years?!"

"Because I love you, Fizz!" Blitz was crying; he couldn't lose him again, "I've always loved you."

"No, Blitz you don't. You don't even know me." Fizz contracted his hand back and looked at it sadly, "You love the me from before. You love the life we had before."

Fizz gestured to himself, "I have accepted what's happened to me. I have made a life for myself-"

"So have I!" Blitz stepped closer.

"No, all you have created is a nice little distraction for yourself." Fizz jabbed a prosthetic finger at him, "Just something to take your mind off the pain; to stop the never ending spiral. But I've gotten out of it. I've found someone who accepts me for who and what I am. All the parts of me that are and aren't there, and I've accepted reality head on. I am better because of the pin I've gone through, and I've healed all the parts of me that needed healing."

Blitz watched as one of the Hellhounds opened the door of the limo for Fizz, "That's why we won't work. That's why none of your relationships ever work. Not with me, not with Verosika, and definitely not with the Prince. Because you are still broken; stuck in the past. You might be more broken than I ever was."

Blitz could only stare, hurt and confused.

Fizz got into the limo, "Take me to Ozzie."

Blitz watched the limo pull out of the parking lot, and drive away. He stood alone on the street, crying silently.

[toujokaname]

Card shuffle / Episode 5

Author: Akira

Characters: Kohaku, Niki, HiMERU, Hiiro

"This 'Matrix' is just a waste of a project that boasts an impressive facade yet remains hollow at its core."

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[ Read on my site for a better viewing experience using Ois~su ♪ ]

Season: Winter

Location: Café Cinnamon

Kohaku: Uh-huh, guess callin' it an end-of-year special program hits the nail on the head. With all the talented people wrapped up in the new year's developments, they're so busy that the leftover folks get the scraps.

Niki: *Munch munch munch* End-of-year specials always get ripped apart... Come to think of it, doesn't Rinne-kun always get on edge around the end of each year, too?

Kohaku: He's a surprisingly passionate man. Can't stand half-baked efforts, maybe?

HiMERU: Well, not all specials are so ostentatious.

However, this "Matrix" is just a waste of a project that boasts an impressive facade yet remains hollow at its core.

Kohaku: What a way of puttin' it...

HiMERU: There is a reason for HiMERU to say so.

The producer leading this project isn't held in high regard at ES.

Not gonna lie, it's an individual notorious as a LandmineP.

Niki: Uwah, HiMERU-kun used youthful language like "not gonna lie"~♪

HiMERU: Rather than youthful, you could call it anachronistic. Anyway, if ES is labeling it as a major event, the producer in charge should have a solid track record and skill.

Niki: Like Anzu-nee-san, maybe? She looks like an ordinary girl, but it surprised me to hear she's a very reputable and talented producer!

Kohaku: There's no way you didn't know that...

Niki: I've got her food preferences down pat!

Kohaku: Why can't ya put that enthusiasm into idol work?

HiMERU: Fufu. Well, you're right about that. Seems like Shiina's unusually understanding today.

If it's being touted as a major event, someone like Anzu-san should have been put in charge.

But in reality, Matrix is a landmine project with a low budget, a useless producer, and numerous unfavorable conditions.

Hiiro: Fumu, is it really that bad? That Matrix thing?

HiMERU: Yes. It's a textbook example of a hopeless project.

Matrix will take place over a month, during which Crazy:B and ALKALOID are supposed to have a total of ten matches—so it's said.

Despite the unnecessarily long time commitment, there are no specific dates or instructions mentioned in the plan.

Niki: Ah~ That's a problem, even I can see that... If I dunno in advance when it'll be busy, I can't adjust my part-time shifts.

HiMERU: Do you even need to work part-time at a restaurant anymore? Compared to the summer, we've been earning a reasonable amount of money through our idol activities, haven't we?

Niki: Being a chef's my main profession!

Kohaku: He says, eyes all sparkly...

Hiiro: Hehe. Actually, what HiMERU-san mentioned was on my mind too.

We're supposed to have ten matches, but what exactly does that entail?

If it involves physical combat, I might be in a bind. If Nii-san's skills haven't dulled, he'd still be stronger than me, and I don't want to hurt Aira and the others.

HiMERU: It seems unlikely that it will escalate to physical violence...

Niki: Why keep the details secret? Such a hassle!

Kohaku: Maybe it ain't set in stone yet, rather than bein' kept secret?

HiMERU: Yes. HiMERU shares this suspicion, as it tends to be the case with hopeless projects.

On paper, the plan looks grandiose, but in reality, its purpose is only to gain approval, devoid of any substance.

There's no preparation, no specific plans, absolutely nothing.

Niki: Is it like starting to chop veggies without even knowing what dish you're making?

HiMERU: Right. So you understand it by comparing it to cooking, Shiina. You can't make a good dish with such a haphazard approach, can you?

Niki: Well, even with that, I could whip up something decent~

HiMERU: A skilled chef like you could. However, it seems that this producer lacks such an ability. Sadly.

Kohaku: Still, if we're called upon, we can't refuse. That's the tough part of bein' newbies... Even if we spot a landmine right in front of us, we've got no choice but to walk that path.

Unpleasant stuff like that always seems to find its way to the most vulnerable.

[ ☆ ]

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[spadecentral]

🌸 Flower Filled | Cater Diamond x Reader

>> requested: no!! >> a/n: this one almost made me tear up

>> masterlist: here!! >> summary: cater forgets his feelings for you >> reader prns: they/them >> warning(s): uh... i dont... know?

Morning dew was always a nostalgic smell to Cater. The way it seemed to tickle his nose just right, it always was a part of his life. He used to leave his house early to run through the wet grass, and get his socks wet.

He was always such a happy child.

You were his morning dew when he got older. Seeing you made his day better, even if it was only temporary. And when you gave him a kiss on the cheek out of habit… oh, when you kissed him. It made the difference. All the difference in the world. He would rather die from a kiss by you, than live forever without one. He lived for you, and you only.

Even though the both of you weren’t dating, you became his whole social media. There was rarely ever a photo without you somewhere in it, even if you were facing a different direction. Those photos were everything to him. Documenting everything, he would never forget anything. Not even once.

But he hated that you would never look at him how he looked at you. Always pretending not to notice when he pressed the record button, but he noticed when he rewatched the reels. The way your eyes weren’t filled with love like his, how they didn’t soften, how your cheeks never flushed. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew you didn’t like him like he liked you. But maybe he was an idiot for liking you like that in the first place.

The flowers came late December during his second year. Delicate cherry blossoms seemed to come out of nowhere, and that’s when he knew. And yet, he still continued to hang out with you. Never dropping the act, photos were continuously posted to his Magicam, in hopes that you would return his feelings and he could have the whole album to look back at.

But the look in your eyes never changed.

Coughing more and more every day, soon Trey caught on to his disease.

“Cater, please!”

“No!”

“Just get the surgery,” Trey pleaded. “I’ll pay for it!”

“What if they like me back, Trey?!” Cater’s eyes filled with tears. “What then?!!”

They would bicker everyday. Of course, not around you. Cater wouldn’t let it happen. You couldn’t know that he was throwing up blood-covered petals because of you. It would humiliate him beyond relief. So he did the only thing he knew how to do. Take it to social media.

Probably the worst thing he could have done, even though he had blocked you from seeing this story post. All it was was a pole: I’ve been feeling a little sick and might need surgery. Should I do it? Yes or No.

Of course it would have gotten to you. You had social media, of course other people were going to make posts over this story.

Coming over to him, Cater was not ready for it.

“Cater!” you called. You could now see how pale he looked. How his look was more vampiric than preppy, with the red makeup under his eyes. As he turned, his hair no longer bounced. It was dry and devoid of the bright orange color you knew. The orange color that fit him so well.

“Yes?” he asked. His voice was gravelly, even though he still tried to be as upbeat as possible.

“What is this?” you stuck the phone in his face, barely giving him time to read its contents. But he knew what it was about. Why else would you be so angry with him?

“Oh!! Haha, don’t worry about it,” he smiled, before coughing. You could hear him curse under his breath. Bringing his hand up to his mouth, he seemed to grab something out of it.

“Cater, why didn’t you tell me you were so sick you could need surgery?” you frowned, sitting next to him. “You’re my friend, Cater. I care for you.”

Ah. That’s why he didn’t tell you. The word friend. He would never mean as much to you as you meant to him. And that’s when he knew Trey was right.

“I think… if you’re really sick enough that you need surgery, you should get it.” you said, reaching out to hold his empty hand. It was cold.

“Are you sure?” he asked, as if it was life and death. “Are you positively sure, because I need you to be.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Okay.”

You and Trey both waited outside Cater’s surgery room together.

“Trey, you know Cater well, right?” you asked quietly, as to not disturb the peace in the hospital.

“I suppose so, why?”

“Why…” you cleared your throat. “Why did he need this surgery?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Trey raised his eyebrows. “He should have.”

“Why? Was it important?”

“Cater… he had the Hanakahi Disease,” Trey sighed, looking away from you. “Because of you.”

“...What.” your eyes widened. Tears started forming at the bottom of your eyes. “He had what because of who?”

“I–”

You gripped Trey’s uniform tightly. Tighter than gripping the steering wheel of a car when there are idiots on the road. “Trey. Tell me again, right now.”

“He got a surgery for Hanahaki Disease, because of you.”

You almost screamed.

You had left before Cater woke up. You couldn’t take seeing him after what you had learned from Trey.

When Cater woke up, the first thing he asked for was his phone. He wanted to make a story post saying the surgery went okay. Logging into his phone and opening magicam, the first thing he noticed on his profile was you.

And something nagged the back of his head, but it wouldn’t come to his mind.

“Trey,” Cater’s voice was still raggedy. 

“Yes, Cater?” he bent down to Cater’s level.

“Who is this?” the redhead pointed to you, before scrolling to another photo of you. And again, and again, and again.

“...No one, Cater. No one at all.”

>> twst taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @ghost-hyacinth | @oseathepebble | @ventisaircurrent | @epelys | @pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie | @divinesapph | @ze-maki-nin | @booming-spam | @flqyd-is-lost | @ravenlking | @queerlordsimon | @ruggiethethuggie | @rayisalive | @kyraxiyn

[dasboligrafo]

Illinoise -- May 24, 2025 @ St James Theatre

Oh my god, what to say about this one. Remember my theatre rating system (how many times I cried, over 5?) By the system, this show is...what percentage is infinity out of 5?

Basically, the lights went down, the (absolutely fantastic) band swelled out the first few bars of "Concerning the UFO Sighting," and I started silently weeping and I. Could. Not. Stop. for the remainder of the show. Despite being, generally, a huge crybaby, I could not have predicted that reaction.

I passed on seeing this show at the Armory (I have a string of terrible decisions involving the Armory...I still have not seen Lehman Trilogy after passing on seeing it on opening night, among so many others.) I will say I'm not sure that was, for once, necessarily the wrong decision, just because it's hard for me to imagine seeing this show there, especially from high up in the seats. I suppose it depends on the showz but that space can feel quite alienating. The St James is a pretty small theatre and I doubt there are any really bad seats in the house as a result. I'm sure the show got sanitized, some edges polished unto anodyne for Broadway. It doesn't matter. It was so fucking moving.

Before taking my seat, I grabbed my summer theatre treat of choice (the $50 big white wine, with ice. Pure class) and the lady who sold me the drink, while perfectly friendly, asked me what I knew about the show in that sort of tacky way I get asked about stuff in New York by younger white people who assume they must know more than me than whatever interest of theirs I'm about to engage in. (I guess, interpreting charitably, I look like a tourist to them.) I mumbled something about Justin Peck and NYCB, not even trying to get to -- listen, Lady, Sufjan was the music we listened to in college, so by extension, it is the LAST popular music I am aware exists. Sufjan is very much the soundtrack of my life.

Only I didn't really realize that, apparently, until I saw the show? Although I listen to Seven Swans a few times a year, I didn't realize, prior to "Illinoise," that I know every word to "Illinois."

The thing about "Illinois" is that, like all great generational works of art (there, I said it), you can receive it entirely differently depending on your age at the time you encounter it. So when I heard "Illinois" as young dumbass, I thought it was music about yearning; about the things you want so badly and might never realize and/or might not be able to front the cost. And now as an old(er) dumbass I find the record is about regret, about the things you give up and the mistakes you make ("I made a lot of mistakes...") making those choices or letting them happen to you, and about how the choices haunt you, even as you're making them. And I didn't understand that then, although the *second* word sung on the record is "revenant."

The *magic* of this record is that it is spiritual concept folk-rock opera music, still managing to connect, in an age devoid of spiritualism and shy of conceptual pop music, with an incredibly broad audience. To clarify, I'm talking about the current age; when the record came out, you could still make a concept album. I believe that age ended around 2012, Kendrick Lamar excepted. I don't know when the age of spiritualism ended, I think it was before I was conscious of contemporary art works. If you go to a Sufjan Stevens concert, or to "Illinoise" for that matter, you will be treated to the sight of literal children -- people under 15 years old -- singing all the lyrics. And crying millennials, naturally. My boomer friend told me "Chicago" is his and his (gen z) daughter's song, dating to when he drove her to Chicago for graduate school.

And oh, yes, it is a sublime piece of Americana purporting to exalt the state of Illinois and its millions of inhabitants and events, past and present, and actually examining, at the most personal level, how faith can fail to deliver you, and still impart your life with grace.

The magic of "Illinoise" is that it is a concept ballet masquerading as Broadway, of all things, i.e. an expression of universalism and accessible theatrical cliche where the text is, incredibly, a tale-as-old-as-time style campfire story anthology (hello, Decameron! I've got your story framing device here....) WITH NO DIALOGUE, about leaving your (gay) lover behind to experience the pleasure and promise of the big city and how you will feel regret and gratitude forever for the gift of having him, the gift of moving on, the gift and curse of free choice, the curse of loss.

When I think about "Illinois" only barely disguising its core concern with Christianity ("to recreate us...all things go, all things go" only a couple misunderstood syllables away from "to the Creator..." for example) and outright telling us what it's about in other places ("I made a lot to mistakes," "If I was crying, in the van, with my friend, it was for freedom from myself and from the land," etc)...this beautiful directness and lack of high-minded artifice was always already destined to be on Broadway. I didn't mind that the show is, at times, frankly...quite literal. I experienced "Illinoise" as the rare miracle of a message arriving packaged in its perfect medium. I feel so fortunate to have seen it.

Coda: I thought the dancing was fantastic, easily my favorite Justin Peck choreo this year. Genuinely accessible, technically proficient, appropriate to its text and moving.

[hanayori89]

To The Arbiter’s Grounds

* Ordon Village *

A spritz of fog quilted the early morning air of Ordon Village. You awoke with a sense of newfound zeal towards your mission within the light. In truth, you were also eager to escape Ordon for a little bit. You found that when you spent time in the quiet confinement of nature, you were one with the light. Paradoxically, it was its inhabitants that made you feel oddly ostracized.

Aside from Link and Telma, whose kindness did not go without merit.

Yes, you were tired of the verdant flurries of leaves that fell from the Ordona trees and the synthetic smiles that the residents wore. Then there was the looming wedding of Link and Ilia, which was a mere few days away. What had you hoped for by telling Link you wanted him to react to your "date" with Aryn? He didn't even react to the statement itself.

He gave you a simple "I see" as he polished off the rest of his water glass. What did he see? You may have never experienced a kiss before, but from what you read, isn't that what almost happened yesterday?

What if Link pities me? Or worse yet, if he was presented with my Twili form, would he still have wanted to kiss me? And how could I kiss an engaged man?

You got out of bed, stretching your fatigued body from all of the hustling that took place at the bar. You weren't just receiving a monetary benefit from working, but also a physical one. If you were expected to keep up with the Hero of Twilight, you would need to improve your stamina.

There will be no more silly pandering thoughts of Link. He is a vessel for me to complete my conversion. Nothing more. You developed steadfastness when it came to mentally repeating mantras that opposed your feelings for Link. Whatever they may be.

The foolish pandering thought himself interrupted your mental tirade. He lightly knocked on your door, his voice drifting beneath it. "Y/N? Are you decent?"

"Decent in what regard?"

There was a slight pause. "Are you dressed?"

Ah, decent does not just mean respectable in morality but also in wardrobe. Their interesting spin on words will never cease to amaze me here.

Your voice had just returned, causing it to slip out slightly gravelly. "Yes, I am dressed." With that announcement, Link gave the door a gentle swing and let himself in.

"Good morning. Today's a big day, isn't it? The journey officially commences. I know you don't own a lot of clothes. I figured you could borrow some of mine to protect you from the sun. I do worry about your eyes. Gerudo Mesa is quite glaring, even for my human ones."

Link evaded your gaze as he continued on. "In the top drawer, you'll find an outfit I prepared for you the other day. It'll be great for dessert travel and covering your markings. I know that's important to you. Whenever you're ready to depart, I'm downstairs. I made us some fruit to take on the road."

You didn't have time to respond. Link was already thudding down the stairs with the door shut behind him.

It seemed the discomfort of the desert heat wasn't going to compare to the awkwardness that had made its way in between you and Link.

*

You strolled downstairs, robed in the outfit Link had created for you. It was a heat-resistant tunic. He had chosen a drab burgundy color, along with beige pants to layer beneath it. You recognized them as his own pants- the ones he wore with his green tunic. You created a brown headscarf out of one of the linens he had nestled in the top drawer with the outfit. Luckily, you came to this realm with sturdy walking boots. You wouldn't have an issue traversing the sandy mounds of the Gerudo Desert. It wasn't the most flattering outfit, but you felt protected from the elements. Once again, Link managed to touch you by taking the time to craft something for you to wear, all the while considering your markings.

Link gave you a once-over, devoid of the incinerating passion he usually held within his eyes. Here you were taking everyone's advice, trying to talk about what you felt, only for it to create unwelcome stress. No wonder people in the light acted so emotionally constricted.

His smile was smothered on his face in a contrived attempt at friendliness. "Looks good."

You had to fix this somehow. You simply wouldn't ride through the desert in the weird state he was in. You tried to lighten the mood. "Will there be cuccos we can sand dive with?"

Link studied you for a moment before giving you a stringent response. "No cuccos. Just this guy." He gave a gentle slap on a metal apparatus he was fiddling with. Its circular shape was studded with 10 nodules sticking out around it. You tried to jog your own memory from the stories Midna told you of her own visit to the Arbiter's Grounds. You stood there with a dazed look as Link continued to tinker with it. He felt your blank stare fixate on him.

"This is called a spinner. It will be necessary for us to ride over some of the treacherous quicksand spots as well as the wall rails. Did Midna ever tell you about it? We received it after we defeated Death Sword."

"Is there one for me to ride on?"

Link stuck his eyes back down on the spinner in his hands. "There is only one. We'll have to ride together." Knowing well enough that your cheeks would betray you, you walked past a distracted Link to the outside.

When all was said and done, Link and you were ready to bring your A game to the Arbiter's Grounds. He offered to help you mount Epona. Still perplexed by his lack of acknowledgment with your confession, you turned him down. You felt foolish for letting yourself be vulnerable. Here he was asking you to describe how you felt, yet when it came to himself, he was clogged like a drain. The last thing you needed was to be close to him, which was proving impossible thanks to the ride on Epona.

And now the spinner.

You held on to his waist loosely, not allowing yourself to rest on his back.

"Y/N, would you like an apple?" He asked, not bothering to turn his head in your direction.

"No. Thanks." You answered dully.

You were instantly taken back to when you both first rode to Castle Town. How did you go back to that same miserable discomfort? You didn't have an answer. But you did know one thing for sure.

The spirits in the Arbiter's Grounds would provide you with more camaraderie than Link in his current state would.

*Gerudo Mesa*

Little smears of pink sky were oppressed by the gray smudges of clouds that hung low among the top of Gerudo Valley. Link could feel Epona's exhaustion with each sinking hoof print in the sand. Y/N only exchanged conversation with him when it was necessary. The weight of her statement was crushing him.

She wanted him to react. In Link's mind, the only logical reaction she could hope to gather was jealousy. She wanted him to be jealous.

Well, she got her wish because goddesses, was he ever.

But of course, Link couldn't admit that. He concealed his emotions, always making sure they were thoughtfully hidden. His emotions were locked in a chest and stowed away where no one could reach them. It wasn't that Link wasn't flattered beyond comprehension at Y/N's statement. The last time he ever felt such happiness was when he defeated Ganondorf.

He was elated. Giddy, even.

So why had he clammed up? He sat there like a blithering fool, simply answering her with a nonchalant "I see." It was evident to Link, through Y/N's crying jags, that there was a plethora of emotions beneath the surface. She could feel. But she couldn't make sense of what her feelings were. The very issue he seemed to struggle with himself. He was so similar to Y/N, almost to the point of being repellent. It was clear to Link what was going on. They were repelling each other with their veiled emotions. Link was certain; what they felt was the same. The real question was, who would make the first move?

But he couldn't think about any of it now. There was much to be done. There was Y/N's conversion, which Link was secretly beginning to dread. Y/N had captured his heart the way she was. Another scathing secret he kept hidden. If Link wanted a Hylian, he would go be with one. He wanted Y/N, the outstanding Twili with eyes that burned crimson like a blood moon. He wanted to learn Twili, the language that baffled him and intrigued him all the same. He wanted her to wear clothing that showed off the magnificence of her markings, which had sunk their roots down her spine. He wanted to listen to her hum in the kitchen while she cooked Moblin guts. He wanted to watch her eyes devour all the wonder of everything around her, like she had in Lake Hylia.

Hylia, he just wanted her.

Maybe, for as much as Y/N wanted to be part of the light, he secretly wanted to be part of the dark. Zelda did know Link too well. Link noticed the familiar six columns of the Arbiter's Grounds protruding upwards in the distance. There were many memorable moments during his time here. The one that would never fade for Link was the distinct architecture the grounds held. It was an old prison, housing only Hyrule's most despicable criminals. With its archaic colosseum, you would think they made the criminals duke it to the death here.

I should take Aryn here. He snorted to himself.

"Link?" Y/N's frail voice emerged from behind him. "Is that it in the distance?"

"Yes." Link concurred rather abruptly. He hated how he was acting. He knew if he answered Y/N's statement, he wouldn't hold back. It was going to be torture to have her body pressed into his when they rode on the spinner.

I just need to see Mayor Bo. I need to get this wedding revoked. I told Y/N to share her feelings with me. Ignoring her feelings because I can't ignore my own isn't fair.

"Halt!" Link straddled Epona into a hasty stop. He patted her head, gently strumming her mane between his fingers. "Good girl. Here. Epona, wait for us. Take your rest. You deserve it." He withdrew a few carrots for her to nibble on. He hopped off, walking around, feeling for a tough area of sand. When his feet found a sturdy spot, he bent down and created a mini-well. He whipped out a canteen and filled it with water for Epona to refresh with.

He looked Y/N's way. Her body was drenched in the desert dusk. She was preoccupied by the vision of the Arbiter's Grounds in the distance. Link's heart began to mumble all the things he wanted to say to her with each beat.

He soaked up the image of her in the Gerudo light before making his way over to her and Epona.

"Y/N, would you show Epona where her drinking well is? I'm going to get the spinner ready. We'll ride it over to the grounds."

She gave Link a dubious nod as she dismounted Epona. He didn't bother to reach his hand up to guide her down. He knew she'd refuse. He missed the warmth of her body pushed against his back as he rode. He created the distance between them. The only thing he could do at the moment was respect it.

He caught notice of Y/N picking at her nails.

She's nervous. Why wouldn't she be? I need to support her through this.

Link set the spinner down with a raucous thud in the sand. He hopped atop it, reaching his hand down to her. "I know you're nervous. I would be lying if I said I wasn't either. But I promise, we go through this together. You and I."

She delicately placed her hand in his. She seemed to hesitate as she stood in front of him, uncertain.

"It's alright to hold on to me. Tightly." He added.

Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking her head beneath his chin. He wondered if she could hear his heart picking up speed now that they were near.

Like the almost kiss in Castle Town. The new thought plaguing him every second of the day.

Link had to sheath his romantic fantasies along with his sword. The Arbiter's Grounds were swarming with potential danger.

Link wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her close. A surprised breath escaped her lips from the sudden, brash contact, tickling Link's throat. He reached his other arm up, gripping the hilt of his sword.

"I've got you." He whispered.

"And I'm never letting go." He stashed that thought away in the chest of his locked emotions.

A/N: Edited 1/13/23

Even though things between you and Link are awkward right now, you will enter the Arbiter's Grounds side by side. Or, should I say, within each other's arms?

What wisdom will the six sages depart? And perhaps more importantly, what danger still lurks within the grounds?

Check out my other completed OOT Zelda work- No Woman Beyond

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Title: Shall We Convene? The Coffee Table Book of Gamer Culture

Author: Studio 4

Rating: 0/5 stars

I picked this up yesterday at a used book sale, which I was attending with a friend who was visiting from out of town. The friend is an experienced gamer and considers herself something of a gaming snob; she wanted to see this book in person (as it were) and was doubtful that it was for real. So I read it in the bookstore with her watching.

If you want a book about video games that does not treat its subject with enough respect to put in a single picture of a game console or even a game screen, this book is the one for you. The first (and last) page of each chapter consists of a large block of text, utterly devoid of paragraph breaks, the style of which "appears to have been inspired by Microsoft Word's default clippy," in the words of the RPG.net reviewer here. The end of each chapter consists of several pages of "The Gaming Sheet," an odd (and unfunny) mix of Cosmo-style sex tips and aspects of the dating/hookup culture of the gaming underground. The cynicism and crude style of the book's writing, and the fact that this style is maintained throughout, makes it feel a lot like the kind of media fanboy writing one encounters on e.g. IGN.com, but worse.

The end of the chapter on "Roleplaying Games" describes the various types of sexual metaphors and acts popular in the (male-dominated) hobby. The ones that strike the reader as the most absurd are:

Having one's character transformed into a rabbit. Or into a slime, or a hideous goblin, or a slimy goblin hiding in a big pile of goblin slime. The incentive here is not to get laid as a liaison between partners – rather, the alteration of one's physical form is considered extremely humiliating and degrading.

Having two other people create a humanoid character which is supposed to represent one's gender. The character is then forced to "bond" with the members of the couple. Yes, you read that correctly. Having two other people play a fictional being representing you having sex with them, while you have no say in the matter.

(Perhaps it's important to mention that this book was produced by a group of male gamers and co-written by a male "veteran editor," and that some reviewers thought that this might go a long way toward explaining certain features of the book.)

There are also other more amusing entries. "Tabletop RPGs," the chapter on pen-and-paper roleplaying, consists primarily of a critique of the existence of any number of hobbyist RPGs whose names consist of a cliched sci-fi or fantasy word in which the first two letters are capitalized, such as The Matrix RPG. The writers mock these games, and their authors, as no doubt they should. But the authors do so in a style that borders on the Unfunny (c.f. above). This is an extremely small target, one that can be mocked by anyone who bothers to bring up the topic at all, and one can't help but wonder why the authors cared so much:

[T]here is a kind of game where even the publishers seem to know that they are indulging in a flight of fancy and try to compensate with humor. The Matrix RPG is the archetype. It is written by Vince Garcia (he of the GDC speech) with a forward by Mark Tyghe, former president of Warner Brothers. The cover shows a random array of monsters, exotic aliens, robots and human soldiers. The game description tells us that in a bizarre twist of fate, Neo and Trinity have joined forces with a group of Matrix RPG players, and have somehow managed to figure out that the true battle is not against a sentient computer operating system, but the very people who think they can use it to exploit and control humanity!

I think it's the "not" in the sentence about Neo and Trinity in the last paragraph that does it for me. "That's right! The Matrix is actually about a bunch of nerds! How clever!" The authors, by the way, include a space on the last page for the reader to take notes. Since this book is 150 pages long, that space is .117% of the entire book.

The writers appear to have been struggling for something to say, and to have found themselves incapable of even that, which is my charitable interpretation of their attempt to talk up their own graphic design abilities -- "it's not just words, it's visual!" The visuals are indeed nice, but the authors do not seem to realize that a coffee table book about gamer culture should be, above all else, readable. They also include a very large number of photos -- more than can fit on the one page they give over to a photo each from each chapter. Many of these photos are unrelated to the text, and furthermore, the vast majority of them appear to be stock images (like the "safe sex" ad from the book cover). Most of the photos are also very large -- one spread, for instance, is a 2-page closeup of a character from an obscure Xbox game called War of Eden -- and it's unimaginable that this would ever work if the reader wasn't constantly distracted by the many other photos on nearly every page. It's possible that the book designers thought they were trying to make a "gamer" book by putting in as many photos as possible, in which case they must not know a single gamer, because real gamers have plenty of experience with slow, unresponsive, and ugly-ass video game interfaces.

I could go on. "The Gaming Sheet" is the kind of thing only a guy in his 20s who has never spoken to a woman in his life and has a lot of free time on his hands would create, and its inclusion in the book is only more baffling because most of the book is mostly about how hey gamers aren't those guys, except here's a little anecdote that implies you actually are (my favorite, about halfway through: "when I mention sexual conquest to my gamer buddies, it doesn't make much sense. However, if you were to tell one of them about a high scoring session, they might be more eager to hear about it.") The layout and style of each chapter's introduction is different, sometimes quite noticeably (although not in a good way), as if to imply that there is a theme between each chapter -- but it's difficult to see what such a theme might be, unless it's simply "you know, games" (and even that's hardly a high point of insight). The authors spend a lot of time mocking one niche game (The Matrix RPG) and seem confused that this has made them look insular, in the same way that someone who holds a potluck with four of their friends might be perplexed that this makes them seem like an especially inaccessible clique. This book is like a haunted house that is scary because it's run by inept college students, and the authors seem to think that they're among the hosts.

A lot of nerd culture -- mostly science fiction and fantasy -- has always been deeply sexist, and this book was written as part of a (fairly narrow) hobbyist subculture that is overwhelmingly male, so the problem of sexism is not just "easy pickings" but also a natural target. Yet, if you're going to mock this problem, you need to make sure that your targets are, in fact, your targets. A lot of non-nerds -- nay, normal people! -- will watch gamer conventions on TV or the Internet, and think of the "geeks" they see there as a group to which they don't belong. Many of these people would say the same thing about the men who participate in nerd culture, but the descriptions in this book -- gamer guys with way too much time on their hands and an odd obsession with the aesthetics of visual design -- are only slightly less bizarre than those in the average hacker comic from the 1980s. If you mock "nerds" you're going to look like nerds to the people whose lives are unaffected by, say, The Matrix, and one of those people is going to call you a poser. If you want to talk about

[gummybugg]

Oc Interview Tag for Darcy aka "The Tonight Show: Without Clementine!"

Tagged by these pals! Thank youu!:

@mysticstarlightduck here

@doublegoblin here

@asterhaze here

(gently) tagging people I hope haven't been over-tagged: @digitalsatyr23 @frostedlemonwriter @abalonetea @basalamander-corner @wrenofthewords @teawhilewriting @innocentlymacabre @zestymimblo @sergeantnarwhalwrites @new-royston-cursebreakers @murosakiiro @hghrules @rubywrite @anulithots & anyone who wants to have at it (say I tagged you!)

...

This is kind of a long read (I went above and beyond again oops). I also included info about more interviews at the bottom for funsies!

Censor warning: mention of alcohol, dead bodies, gore, and mild reference to animal cruelty

Now, without further ado, let's meet our 4th interviewee, Darcy, from my WIP Crater City!

...

Much to Darcy’s irritation, he was invited to this wonderful interview that is being televised in color for all of Crater City to behold. Or, at least to those who care. The setting is a bit different from the past interviews, its new setting reminiscent of a dating game show. A cream-colored set decorated with 60s motifs backdrops a tangerine chaise lounge on stage right and a podium covered in flowers on stage left. It is unusually devoid of life after-hours, but it is the only place suitable for such a high-demand guy like the mayor of Crater City. A live studio audience seems to have congregated itself, composed of the previous candidates: Jemmah, Blair, and Elijah. In the front-center row, they are chained to those foldable theater seats with poor lumbar support that eat your ass if you sit too far back. They are not allowed to get up until the interview is over. Because that would be rude. 

Darcy makes his way through a dark labyrinth of sorts (not unlike the back of an optometrist’s office), until he finally reaches the stage. The hot stage lights flit between colorful hues, accentuating his chestnut hair, navy suit, and elaborate tie. The live studio audience groans, but thankfully it can’t be heard under the fake cheering the host rigged. Darcy is instructed to make himself comfortable on the sofa, to which he crosses his legs like a respectable guest. Shortly, the Very Desirable and Well Maintained Host makes his way to his post behind the podium. The words “The Tonight Show Without Clementine” flash on the screen, accompanied by applause. 

Host: Thank you for coming to the show tonight!

Darcy: It’s about damn time. You’ve been putting this off for weeks, completely messing my itinerary up. I’m a busy man, you know. 

Host (adjusting tie): Apologizes!

Darcy (with a frigid glare): Shall we get on with the interview, then?

Host: ...

Host: Eh…yes?

Darcy: ...

Host: Uh, yes–yessir! Right away, sir!

[1.] Are you named after anyone?

Darcy: Am I named after anyone? (pauses in thought) No, not that I can recall. 

Darcy: But I believe I was going to be named Sydney. 

Host: You know, I can see it. 

[2.] When was the last time you cried?

Darcy: Excuse me? What kind of interview is this? 

(from the audience, Blair whispers something in Elijah’s ear. They snort. Darcy squints his eyes at them.)

Darcy: But if you really want to know, that's something I can't recall. 

Host: Oh, come on, you can be honest with me, Darcy. 

Darcy: No, I just mean that I physically can't cry. 

Host: And why is that?

Blair: Because he's a robot after all! DUN DUN DUN~!

Darcy: Ok, that is not even remotely the reason why. 

Elijah: Yeah, that's more my thing, Blair. 

Jemmah: What is going on here?

Host: I actually have no clue! 

[3.] Do you have kids?

Darcy: No, but that is something that’s been drilled in my head since I was younger. 

Host: Do you mind elaborating on that?

Darcy: About being told how precious my genes are and that I am an important asset to saving humanity? Oh please, that’s disgusting to think about. Have you no manners?

Host: Oh, I…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried. 

Blair (quietly): That’s fine, we don’t want your offspring anyway.

Darcy: What was that?

Elijah (sinking down in his seat): Blair!

Jemmah (suddenly with a wine glass): I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I’m invested. 

Blair (pointing at Jemmah): Yo, who gave him alcohol? I want some!

Jemmah: There was some on the way in, didn’t you see the huge sign?

Blair: What sign?

Darcy: It’s just like you to miss glaringly obvious signs. 

Blair (baring his teeth): …Say that again?

Host: Hey, everyone, let’s try to get back on track!

[4.] Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Darcy: I do; I think many people miss it. Which isn’t my fault. If you can’t detect it, that’s your loss. 

Jemmah (raising her glass): You and me, both. 

Host: Tell us a joke. 

Darcy: A joke? Oh, I didn't come prepared…!

Host: Oh, just anything’ll do!

(Elijah looks uncomfortable in his seat. Blair is half-asleep.)

Darcy: [censored due to censorship guidelines]

(Elijah, Jemmah and Host turn pale.)

Host: Ahaha, something pg-13 would be preferred, Darcy!

Darcy: Oh! Right, right…

Jemmah (whispering): I take back what I said.

Darcy (clears throat): What's the difference between a pair of jumper cables and a dead body? 

Host: Oh gosh…what?

Darcy: Blair doesn't keep a pair of jumper cables in his trunk. 

(The laugh track plays.)

Blair: Now, listen here! The only reason I don't have any is because I don't own that car! 

Jemmah: And you also didn’t stuff a body in your car…right?

Elijah: Then whose car is it?

Blair: I…rented it?

Darcy: The jokes just write themselves, don't they?

Blair & Jemmah: What's that supposed to mean?

Host: Uh-oh, things aren't looking good for Blair…

(Elijah shakes his head in disappointment. Jemmah is concerned for his own safety since Blair sits next to him.)

[5.] What's the first thing you notice about people?

Darcy: The amount of eye contact they make.

Host: Oh, really? What does that say about me?

Darcy: I was just kidding, I don't usually look people in the eye unless I must. 

Host: O-oh, yeah, right!

Darcy: But to answer the question, I notice how they carry themselves. If there's a certain word they enjoy saying or the cadence of their speech. The casual or formal way they act, the way they walk, who they surround themselves with…I learn a lot. I like to learn about others. 

(The host looks a bit troubled about the idea of Darcy getting a clear picture of him)

Darcy: Oh, don't look at me like I'm the odd one. Blair said the exact same thing as me in his interview!

Blair: True. 

Host: Well, what can you say about me?

Darcy: That, for some reason, you're scared of me. I'm not sure why, though. It's kind of insulting. 

Host: Oh, no–I'm not scared of you! 

Darcy: Yes, you are. 

Host: You're just…so…

Host: Well, I can't help but feel like I should be the one being interviewed! (Laughing)

Darcy: Oh, am I imposing? 

Host: No, I didn't mean it like that! Ah, forget what I said…

[6.] What's your eye color?

Darcy: Can't you see? (catching himself) Oh, I apologize, that was probably presumptive. Can you see?

(Editor's note: we are unable to tell whether or not Darcy is being sarcastic here)

Host: I…yes, I can, actually. It was just a question in the list. Aha!

Darcy: I'm just confused who came up with these questions, is all. 

Darcy (pointing to each eye): I've got a blue one in my left and a brown one in my right. 

(The camera zooms in on Darcy's face)

Host: Oh, so like that one famous musician? 

Darcy: Who?

Host: Ah, nevermind. That was a weird thing to ask. 

Darcy: If you're wondering, I was born this way. Human error. No big deal. 

Host: Well, I think they suit you just fine. They're enchanting. 

Darcy (plainly): You think so?

[7.] Scary movies or happy endings?

Darcy: A happy ending. 

Jemmah: I don't like the way he's grinning like that…

Host: Oh, really? Do you have any movie recommendations for us?

Darcy: A Clockwork Tomato and One Flew Over the Crow's Nest. 

Elijah: Those movies…don't have happy endings. 

Darcy: Depends on what you define as a “happy ending.” Maybe that's why you're so emo. Cause you don't know how to look on the bright side of things. 

Elijah (in all black): Emo?!

Blair (jolting awake): Huh?!

Jemmah: Gah! Stop yelling in my ear, Blair!

Host: What interesting selections! I've never actually seen either of those movies before, but I'll trust your judgment. 

[8.] Any special talents?

Darcy: Apparently I have a light step and often scare people by mistake. I also know how to disable alarms and explosives, memorize license plates at a glance, and find almost every constellation in the sky. Believe me, I've had all the time in the world to do so. 

Host: That is impressive! But I have to wonder, how often are you going to encounter explosives? Sounds dangerous. 

Darcy: Oh, as mayor I have to watch my back. Many people aren't too fond of me. 

(The camera pans to the audience who looks like they couldn't care less for Darcy. Blair picks his nose.)

Host: Oh…really? Sounds scary. 

Darcy: Yeah, just ask that miscreant in the crowd. (Points to Blair)

Blair: Aw, poor you. Scared of a little pipe bomb right outside your window. And you call yourself the mayor. 

Elijah: Not this again…

Darcy: See? He just incriminated himself! On television, at that! But no one will care, he'll just get off scot-free.

Darcy: I don't even know how he got close enough to do that–! 

Blair: Easy–your security is trash. You should hire me to rewire your system, except I kinda don't like you, so there's that. 

Jemmah: Do you have magic where you're from, too?

Elijah: No, Blair's just one lucky son of a bitch.

Blair: Hey, give me some credit. 

Host: Wow, you two seem to share some animosity towards each other. 

Darcy (sighing): I don't hate him. He's just this spur in my heel that I can't shake off. People like Blair are selfish and hinder progress because they value their inner circle more than the general population. 

Blair: You're just mad you don't have any friends. Seriously man, why put your social life on blast like that? Why do that to yourself?

Darcy: I'm just trying to help people like you, but you refuse my efforts. It's maddening and confusing. You're like a boiling frog. Impossible to reason with. 

Jemmah (tipsy): …What are we talking about again?

Elijah: Special talents?

Host: Ah, let's proceed to the next question!

[9.] Where were you born?

Darcy: Crater City.

Host: Ah, born in the same city you watch over. You must be proud of where you come from. I know I'd be! 

Darcy: Yes, I take a lot of pride in my city. You know, my grandfather would have passed the baton to me if things had worked out. 

Host: Well, then! Leadership must run in the family. As does looking sharp. 

Jemmah: Oh please, you call a man in a simple suit “looking sharp.” Is that all it takes?

Darcy: I wouldn't be saying that while decked out in holographic clothing. I can see you from here, you know. 

Jemmah (under her breath): Oh, I don't like this guy. 

Blair: I mean, compared to me and Elijah, you have to admit, he's got some style. 

[10.] What are your hobbies?

Darcy: I like to stargaze, read, collect ties (pulls at tie), learn more about the world around me, and embroider…I like to embroider plants and flowers. They remind me of better days. 

Host: What do you embroider on?

Darcy: Clothing, mostly. Even if I were asked beforehand to bring in finished pieces, I couldn't because they were all gifts. 

Host: Oh, I'm sure they're lovely. I could never sew, I'm not nearly as patient!

Darcy: It’s easy if you have steady hands and nothing else to do but daydream. I wish I had more time. (distantly) I'd love to go back…

[11.] Do you have any pets?

Darcy: I do! I have three rats called Juni, Vinnie, and Addy. 

(The camera zooms up to Darcy showing the Host a picture of his pets: three rats snuggle around his neck and peek through his mess of curly hair.)

Host: How adorable! 

(Elijah whispers something to Blair, which Jemmah overhears and gasps in disgust.)

Jemmah (now drunk): Darcy did what?!

Elijah: Jemmah, please–

Jemmah (struggling to break her restraints): You mean to tell us we're locked in a room with a man who used to make his pet rats fight against each other?! 

Elijah: Jemmah!

Blair: How do you know this? 

Host: Well, that sounds unflattering! Don't worry, Darcy. We'll cut it out of the final. 

Darcy (calm): It's alright. I'll get them after this interview. 

Host (concerned): Right….

[12.] What sports do you play/have you played?

Darcy: I've played very, very many. Let's see…volleyball, tennis, archery, fencing… I was in a 5-dimension chess club at some point. Not sure if that's considered nerdy where you're from. 

Host: What is 5-D chess?  

Darcy: You use space and time to move around the board. You know, five dimensions. 

Host: Eh…right?

Darcy: Whoever wins the most times lines wins. Easy. 

Blair: It's really just chess but for larger nerds. Don't let it get to your head. 

Elijah: I just can't understand it. Then again, I never understood movies with time travel. 

Darcy: Just say that you're uncultured. 

Jemmah (pointing): The yeast used to make this wine has more culture than the three of you. 

Host (calling from the set): Indigo, are you in the audience? Yeah, please stop serving Jemmah drinks. I don't think he needs any more. Yeah, that'll do! 

[13.] How tall are you?

Darcy: 6 feet.

Host (joking): You know, many people lie about their height. 

Darcy (monotone): Why would I lie about my height?

Host: Oh, haha, no reason! 

[14.] Favourite subject in school?

Darcy: I never went to public school–

Blair (interrupting): Which explains a lot…

(Elijah & Jemmah cover Blair’s mouth.)

Darcy: But I gravitated more towards sociology in college. 

Host: Why is that? 

Darcy: I found studying why societies work the way they do far more interesting than psychology. Psychology is more exclusive. Sociology taught me the larger picture–why things happen, what we can predict to happen, and hindsight. It angered me, surprised me, and taught me a lot of things I hadn't considered while in captivity.

Host: Captivity…?

Darcy (confused): Did I stutter? 

Host: No, I was just curious what you meant by that. But we don't have to delve into…

Darcy (tapping foot): How many questions are left?

Host (checking chart): Oh, just one more. Then we'll get out your hair!

[15.] Dream job?

Host: I'm sure this is a rather obvious question for you, the mayor, but…

Darcy: As a kid I wanted to become a nurse. 

Jemmah: Feel that. 

Host: Oh, what happened to that?

Darcy: I wasn't supposed to be a nurse, I was supposed to lead people. Fate works in mysterious ways, so…here I am.

Blair: Fate must be some wacked-up sadistic bitch. 

Darcy: You'll understand when you're my age, piss ant. (To Host) You better cut that out. 

Host: Yes, of course.

Darcy: As I was saying, I was set for other purposes…I suppose I get to help people either way, as was my original intention. But there are some downsides. Now, if I want to play with mangled bodies, it's seen as taboo and illegal. 

Host: …!

Darcy: I'm only joking, you know. Don't act so high-strung!

Host (laughing?): Right, right…

Host: Well, it was lovely meeting you here tonight, Darcy. 

Darcy: It was a pleasure. 

(Host points towards stage right and Darcy turns to look.)

Host: Now, if you would just walk straight until you hit a red door…

Darcy: Right…

(Indigo silently appears behind Darcy and firmly taps the back of his neck until he slumps forward, unconscious.)

Host: And that's all the time we have for tonight!

Automated applause fills in the silence. The camera pans to the audience one last time: Blair is comforting Elijah, who is fearful of the possibility of Darcy sitting next to them; while Jemmah seems to be asking Indigo questions about how they got here and how to escape. The title “The Tonight Show Without Clementine” appears one last time before the screen fades to black. Immediately after, an ad for your local attorney plays its funky tune. 

Host (sighing): Well, that's another addition to our collection. Like flies to a honey trap. Wonderful performance, everyone. 

Indigo: I'm eager to see who the next guest will be. 

Host: All in good time, Indie. Now, we wait.

...

TAGLIST (dm to be +/-):

@writeouswriter

@lyra-brie

@digitalsatyr23

@talesfromtheunknowable

PREVIOUS INTERVIEWS:

Jemmah

Blair

Elijah

WTF IS "The Tonight Show Without Clementine"???

Alludes to this tag I did

[viaetor]

¥ (gently tossing kazuha and shenhe back at you, or either one if you'd rather do just one <3)

SEND ME ¥ AND MY MUSE WILL RATE YOURS / accepting! / @maquiscursed

(KAZUHA) looks: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 personality: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 attraction: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 would they date them: yes | no | maybe favourite thing about them: ❛ his gentleness as a warrior. ❜   his confession comes easily, matter-of-factly as his gaze seems lost in shared memories and thoughts. although kazuha could be hard to follow in his semantics sometimes, that was what made him so outstanding in the traveller’s eyes. devoid of a great sense of arts, comprehending the intricate complexities of nature and humanities still came as a hard task to the caeling—yet when he saw how the samurai calmly rested against the sun, meditating and connecting to the world, he thought he understood it better. life was meant to be like him, wasn’t it? freeing. it was as if kazuha was the planet itself—tranquil, loving, mature, bewitching, welcoming. when he held his sword, there was not an ounce of unnecessary hostility or hatred, only faith. his spirit was clean, sincerity bathing it whole. could a lover be a fighter? kazuha’s existence seemed to point positively.   ❛ it’s hard to find people like him, i could hear him talking for hours… ❜   and get a bit too lost in his own thoughts, it seemed. forgive him.least favourite thing about them: ❛ hmm… ❜   moving his weight from one foot to another, the traveller’s pupils travelled between invisible lines only he could see as if he was trying to read between the lines of fate. perhaps, in his own way, he truly was. he crossed his arms.   ❛ he’s a wanderer like me, but sometimes i wonder if he’s running away from something. from having a home again. i know it can… hurt—not feeling at home anymore. but i hope we can find it again. ❜   he placed a hand on his heart,   ❛ my least favourite thing about kazuha is that he sometimes doesn’t seem to notice how loved he is. but maybe i’m being too pretentious…? ❜   or perhaps they shared such a trait as well.

(SHENHE) looks: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 personality: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 attraction: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 would they date them: yes | no | maybe favourite thing about them: ❛ shenhe loves like no other. the way she cares for those around her, how she uses her strength to protect what matters… i admire her a lot. ❜ he nodded to his own words, finding that he was able to express himself well. though he realised he wasn’t exactly satisfied with his statement. there was still something that he couldn’t quite grasp, that he couldn’t quite put into words, no matter how many idioms and metaphors he tried to find in his mind. how could he convey that her power came not from her suffering, but from her belief in others? that she bloomed not because of the bloodshed that rained down on her, but in spite of it? how could he even begin to express that her claws and fangs became caring, calloused hands? that she did not let the monster of yore win, becoming its tamer? that she embraced the world, despite how many thorns and spikes it barred at her? that in all his immortal years, he wasn’t able to be as brave as her? what could possibly begin to describe how wonderful she was? ah…   ❛ i love how humane she is. ❜   perhaps this was why he adored her so profoundly.least favourite thing about them: ❛ i wish she could understand she can’t hurt me. ❜   although there’s a hint of sorrow on his visage, he remains relaxed in his posture, putting a strand of hair behind the shell of his ear.   ❛ sometimes it’s as if she’s holding herself back with me… ❜   sure, he understood well the principle of having a ghoulish god inside oneself, that was scary, but couldn’t she see that she was much stronger than said deity already? and that no matter what she did, she would have her friends and loved ones right by her side to ground her and show her the way?   ❛ i trust her. so if she could only let me be there for her… ❜   a sigh. letting go of self-made cages was a hard process. but no matter, he would wait for when she was ready.

[trendagon]

Starfield Review: Bethesda's Epic RPG Takes You to the Stars and Beyond

Starfield, the latest offering from Bethesda Game Studios, takes gamers on a celestial adventure in a brand-new universe. Departing from the familiar realms of The Elder Scrolls and Fallout, this colossal RPG transports players to the depths of space, promising exploration on an unprecedented scale with a staggering 1,000 planets to visit and a multitude of captivating stories to immerse yourself in. Prepare to forge your unique path among the stars, unearthing ancient relics in the forgotten corners of the cosmos. As you create your character, construct your dream spaceship, and assemble your crew of companions, Starfield invites you to embark on an odyssey that redefines epic gaming.

A Departure from Expectations

Anticipation for Starfield was sky-high, with fans envisioning "Skyrim in Space," "Fallout in Space," or even "No Man's Sky…in Space." However, Starfield manages to carve out its niche, offering an exhilarating and surprising experience while retaining the classic Bethesda RPG elements that players love. The game introduces a structure that is both familiar and refreshingly unpredictable.

The Verdict

Is Starfield worthy of its lineage, following in the footsteps of Bethesda's iconic RPGs? The answer is an emphatic yes. This ambitious title stands out as something truly special from the outset.

Reviewing the Cosmos

Summarizing the entirety of Starfield is a challenge in itself, given its vastness. However, our Features Editor and dedicated space explorer, Ben Sledge, has spent considerable time navigating the game and has shared his insights.

In his review, Ben praises Starfield, saying, "Bethesda boldly launches to the stars with Starfield, confidently planting its flag in the loamy soil of a thousand planets to stake its claim as the best RPG the developer has made to date. It excels in unexpected areas, with quests and characters being the highlights. The main story is surprisingly strong, with great central characters and a solid narrative hook, despite a slow start."

Bethesda's trademark side quests shine in Starfield, breathing life into the universe. However, Ben points out, "These side quests are too few and far between. Interplanetary travel is tedious, and too many planets are devoid of interest. It's in these fringes that the cracks in Bethesda's procedural generation start to show. These issues are quickly forgotten as soon as you return to civilization, however, and explore another vast city teeming with life and teasing myriad secrets around every corner."

Time Well Spent

Starfield is a colossal game in every sense. With 1,000 planets to explore and a dedicated modding community at your fingertips, prepare to bid adieu to your social life indefinitely. Playing through the main story alone will take you around 30 to 40 hours, depending on your pace. However, this represents just the tip of the cosmic iceberg. Delving into exploration, side quests, and building your galactic legacy will likely extend your playtime to a whopping 50 to 100 hours, with some dedicated players easily surpassing 100 hours.

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