#another random place and time for inspiration to strike

[youchangedmedestiel]

I was in the shower when my brain did this thing: it got inspiration.

So I'm asking you, did someone invented lyrics about those two idiots in love on this song?

Because I thought about it and - man, I never wrote a single fucking song in my life, I don't even know where to start, but - I might do it.

I don't have any clue about what the lyrics might be, like at all, and if I think about it while listening to the song I might cry myself to death.

Please tell me someone did it already so I won't have to and also I want to listen to it if it exists.

(Sorry for the gif with desperate!Dean)

[hearts4mica]

Can’t we be seventeen?

JD! Tim Drake x Reader

Heathers inspired cause i love heathers.

Masterlist!

_________________________________________

“I’ll stay if i’m what you choose.”

_________________________________________

You had been dating your boyfriend Tim since he moved school’s it was a really good relationship.

When you met his family… it was something?

They acted like the version of the Wayne’s you see everywhere. But something was… weirdly off?

Your friendgroup didn’t like Tim at all!

They all said that “Tim was weird” and that “he was creep.”

Some popular boys invented some disgusting rumors about you. Your reputation fell lower than it already was before. Safe to say you felt horrible about yourself.

Oh Tim… He came to your aid. Telling you he could help you if you wanted to. Of course you wanted his help! You wanted your boyfriend to- i don’t know! But he had connections! He could surely do something about this disgusting rumors-

He… killed them.

“Tim what the fuck! You told me you would help me with them but not murdering them!” That was the first strike.

The second one was when he indirectly made you murder your bestfriend! She got angry at you at a party and treathened you that the next Monday you would be a nobody a friendless weirdo once again.

And the last one was when he asked you to murder another one of your bestfriends.

_________________________________________

“It’s over Tim. I’m breaking up with you.”

“What?… Haha. Hahahah you are breaking up with me?! Oh sweetheart what a funny prank! C’mon let’s go i’m taking you out tonight-“

“I’m serious! I feel like i don’t even know you anymore! And i- i’m done with this i murdered people i should go to jail for this- we should go to jail!”

“I have connections-“ he said weirdly calm which made you feel uneasy.

“So what you can just pay to not go to jail?!- I mean i know we live in fucking Gotham but-!”

“They will never know we did this! For fucks sake [name] we can blame it on another random friendless loser! They can’t defend themselves!” He started smiling a maniac smile he looked like he was about to start laughing.

“I was once a friendless loser! Your behaviour disgusts me! You-!… You’re a killer.” His smile faded. He didn’t like this.

…

“I’ll make sure you go to jail if you break up with me.”

Now he was threathening you?!

“I’ll drag you down with me if you even try to.” And with that you started packing your stuff to leave.

He grabbed your wrist.

“This is your last chance [name]” he looked into your eyes. He did this many times before when he wanted to make you feel small and powerless

He didn’t have that power on you any longer.

“Fuck off” his grip loosens and you move your hand leaving the place leaving him by himself.

“This isn’t over [name] you said we would get married. You promised. It’s bad luck when you break promises you made to me.

_________________________________________

“You promised we would die together.”

_________________________________________

A few years later after succesfully surviving highschool you had saved enough money to leave Gotham.

You could finally leave this horrible place.

You turn your head up to stare at a small poster of the Gotham Academy

“Our honor roll student Tim Drake!”

Of course. You raise your middle finger towards that ugly poster and take one final look to that man. He never stoped stalking you after your breakup.

Everyday you saw him everywhere.

This was the last of those times.

Unkowingly that someone in the shadows was staring at you.

Click

A small noise not loud enough for you to hear.

Tim takes out the photo he just took of you.

Another one for his collection. You were his muse afterall.

The only thing missing was you. Not your pictures, not your stolen clothes. You.

And oh boy you didn’t knew it yet but he made sure your flight was cancelled. You were now a criminal in each of the 50 states, he didn’t ban you in every country since he knew you couldn’t afford to leave the country, so why even bother? And in the impossible case of you affording a ticket he’ll have you in the criminal list in no time!

_________________________________________

You had sold everything. You wanted to start fresh. It was just you and your luggage. It was early in the morning since you planned to leave to the furthest state from here.

Red Robin was there. You saw him. He let him show himself. Maybe he was taking care of you? It was always good to have someone with you in Gotham.

You started walking towards a taxi and looked back to where Red Robin was suposed to be but he was gone. Well heroes have busy lives.

You get into the taxi when and Tim suddenly also gets in backseat besides you.

“Hello darling.” How did he even know where you were?! Why was he here?-

“Tim what the fuck are you-!”

“It’s to early to ask questions am i right? Haha just relax darling.” And with that a gas comes out from inside the car while Tim puts on his mask. “Rest well Darling.”

And with that he went into the drivers seat which was empty and started driving towards the Wayne Manor. Your new home.

_________________________________________

Masterlist!

Requests are open! Thanks for reading!

_________________________________________

[nnnaaahhhiiiaaa]

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐀𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐭.1 - choi seung hyun

Summary | You have a secret admirer, and you don't know it's the most troubled but richest boy in school, Choi Seung-hyun.

Pairing | Bully! Choi Seung-hyun x Fem! Reader.

Genre | 2000s school era.

Warnings | Fluff, romantic.

Author's note | English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any spelling mistakes.

Saying you were nervous was an understatement.

You could feel the heat rising to the tips of your ears, and you were sure that if anyone saw you, they would notice how red you were. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, and in a desperate attempt to calm yourself, you began fanning your face with your hands. But it was useless.

Ever since you found that letter with no sender, your whole world had been reduced to a single thought: Who left it?

It had all started with an envelope carefully placed in your locker. Alongside it, a small yet elegant box of chocolates and, to your surprise, a pendant that seemed far too luxurious to be just a simple gift. Diamonds? You didn’t even want to imagine how much it could cost.

The curious thing was that, although those gifts were striking, they weren’t what truly occupied your mind. It was the letter. The words written inside carried a different weight, an echo in your heart that refused to fade.

"For you,

I don’t know how to write this. I’m not good with words, but there’s something about you that won’t leave me alone.

Every time I see you, my mind goes blank, and my heart does things I don’t understand. I wish I could tell you everything I admire about you, every little detail, but I can’t seem to find the right way.

I don’t expect anything with this letter—I just wanted you to know.

—Someone who admires you more than you imagine."

It wasn’t a passionate declaration, nor was it overflowing with cliché romance, but there was something about it that made you feel a whirlwind in your chest. Not just the words, but the fact that someone, somewhere, had taken the time to write them for you.

And now, here you were, your mind spinning in circles, distracted, unable to focus on what you really should be doing—your homework for tomorrow.

When the bell rang, marking the end of classes, you sighed in relief. You had spent the entire day lost in thought, barely paying attention to the lessons. Now, at least, you could go home and focus on your assignments.

As you walked through the crowded hallways, you tried to shake off the anxiety pressing on your chest. It was just a letter. A simple gesture. Nothing more. But no matter how much you tried to downplay it, the uncertainty was eating you up inside.

Before leaving, you made a necessary stop at the lockers. You had to grab your shoes, change them, and finally head home. However, as you opened the metal door, your heart skipped a beat.

There, among your things, rested another envelope.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you picked it up. The paper was the same ivory tone as the previous one, and the subtle scent of fresh ink told you it hadn’t been there long. You swallowed hard.

Should you open it right there, in the middle of the crowded hallway? Or wait until you got home?

Curiosity won. With slightly clumsy hands, you slid your finger along the edge of the envelope and carefully unfolded the letter inside.

"For you, always for you,

I hadn’t planned on writing again, but my heart has betrayed me once more. Or perhaps it was never a betrayal, just the truth I’m too afraid to say out loud.

I don’t know how you do it, but every day, I find something new in you that takes my breath away. A gesture, a smile, a fleeting glance… and suddenly, the whole world feels a little less gray.

If you ever wonder if someone thinks about you more than they should, if you ever question whether you inspire someone without knowing it… the answer is yes.

—Someone who has surrendered to you."

You felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs.

This wasn’t just some random message left on a whim.

This person… was watching you.

And now, it was up to you to decide what to do about it.

The next day, you were late to class.

Why? The answer was simple: you had spent the entire night thinking about the second letter, going over every word, imagining all the possibilities. Who could it be? Why had they chosen to write to you?

You tried to find clues. You analyzed the handwriting, searching for a distinctive trait. You sniffed the paper, hoping to recognize a particular scent. You examined every stroke, every curve of the letters, hoping to uncover something that would give your mysterious admirer away.

But there was nothing. No clue, no hint—just a carefully written message that left you with more questions than answers.

Still, you weren’t going to give up. Not now. You just… had to postpone your investigation for a little while because there was a much bigger problem to deal with.

Choi Seung-hyun.

The bastard.

That spoiled brat who seemed to have been born with the sole mission of making your life miserable.

Seung-hyun and his little group of friends—four guys in total, including that insufferable leader—found great amusement at your expense, teasing you whenever they got the chance. It didn’t matter if you were in class, in the hallways, or even during break; they always found a way to bother you.

And today, after barely sleeping a couple of hours and with your nerves wrecked because of the letter, you were in no mood to deal with their nonsense.

"Well, look who’s here," one of the guys’ mocking voice broke the classroom’s silence, followed by the chuckles of his group. It was the one with straight hair—the most annoying of them all after his leader. "Still studying for something you’re never going to achieve?"

You rolled your eyes in exasperation, not even bothering to look at him.

"And I see you’re still as insufferable as ever," you replied calmly, giving him a brief glance before returning to your exercises. It wasn’t worth wasting time on his stupidity.

But, as expected, they didn’t give up so easily.

Seung-hyun, who had remained silent until then, was watching you with a mix of expectation and barely disguised nervousness. His friends glanced at him, waiting for him to say or do something. Come on, man, this is your chance.

They knew the truth. They knew he was the one who had been sending you the letters. That, no matter how hard he tried to hide it behind his arrogant attitude and constant teasing, he was completely in love with you. And even though they had tried to convince him to confess, his pride and enormous ego always got in the way.

Now, however, it was different. They had planned something—he was supposed to throw in a clever remark, something that hinted at the truth without exposing himself too much. But the moment he opened his mouth, everything they had rehearsed vanished from his mind.

"I…" he stammered.

A murmur of surprise rippled through the classroom. They had never seen him hesitate before

Intrigued, you lifted your gaze and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes…?"

Shit.

His heart was racing. He needed to say something—anything—before making a complete fool of himself. So, without thinking too much, he improvised.

"W-wouldn’t it be better to marry a millionaire instead of studying all that?" he blurted out, looking away as if feigning disinterest. "I mean, with a rich guy, you’d get things for free. It’s better than studying just to end up in a mediocre job."

Dead silence.

One of his friends covered his face with a hand, another muttered, "God, this is a disaster," and the rest simply watched in resignation. He had screwed up.

You, on the other hand, let out a dry laugh, unable to believe the nonsense you had just heard.

"Marry a millionaire?" you repeated mockingly. "Like who?"

And then, he cut you off before you could even finish.

"Me."

The classroom fell into such an intense silence that even the ticking of the clock on the wall became noticeable.

Had he just said… himself?

You stared at him, blinking a couple of times, trying to process what he had just blurted out. His friends, on the other hand, were on the verge of burying themselves alive at that very moment. Did he really just confess like that?

Seung-hyun, for his part, stood completely still. His own brain was also trying to understand why the hell he had said that. It wasn’t what he had planned, not even close to what he had in mind. But it was already said. There was no turning back.

You narrowed your eyes.

"Wait… are you telling me you’d be that millionaire?"

Seung-hyun cleared his throat, regaining some composure. He wasn’t backing down now.

"I’m just saying that... it wouldn’t be bad. I mean, I’m attractive, I’ve got money, and you wouldn’t have to worry about boring stuff like studying."

It was incredible how his tongue could betray him like that. That wasn’t what he meant to say. He didn’t want to sound like an arrogant idiot (although, honestly, he did so effortlessly).

The whole class was watching the scene closely. Some were trying to hold back laughter, others were waiting to see how you’d respond.

And you, instead of getting upset, just let out a dry laugh.

"My God, how egocentric."

Seung-hyun felt his dignity crumbling in real-time.

"Hey, I’m just saying it’s a good option."

"For you." You cut him off, crossing your arms. "But I’m sorry to inform you that I’m not the type to be dazzled by money. I’d rather earn my things through effort, not have them handed to me."

His friends didn’t even know how to react. One of them even muttered:

"This is worse than we imagined."

Seung-hyun pressed his lips together. He couldn’t lose like this. He had to regain control.

"What I meant is… there are easier ways to live."

"Sure, and marrying you would be one of them, right?" You rolled your eyes. "What’s next? Are you going to start leaving anonymous letters in my locker to impress me?"

And then, Seung-hyun’s expression changed.

It was subtle. A slight blink, a tension in his jaw, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

And you knew then.

You knew even before he tried to respond with another of his usual excuses.

Seung-hyun was the one sending you the letters…

The silence fell over the class again. This time, it was denser, more uncomfortable.

Seung-hyun stared at you, and though he tried to hide it, the slight hardening of his expression, the way his lips tightened for a second, gave him away.

You didn’t need him to answer out loud. You already knew.

"Oh…" You murmured, lowering your voice slightly. You felt the air leave your lungs for a moment.

Some of his friends shifted in their seats, exchanging glances, as if they were witnessing an accident about to happen. This wasn’t what they had planned.

Seung-hyun, for his part, blinked several times. His mind was racing, looking for an escape. But there was none.

He had two options:

1. Deny everything and act like it was an absurd idea.

2. Admit it.

A part of him wanted to laugh dismissively and say, "You think? Don’t dream so much." But... he couldn’t. Because it was true.

He had written those letters to you.

He had spent entire nights thinking about what to say, fighting against his own pride to put into words what he felt for you. And now, it had all gotten out of hand.

Finally, he let out a small laugh, though it sounded a bit forced.

"What are you talking about? Me? Please, don’t say nonsense."

But the slight tremor in his voice betrayed him.

"No?" You crossed your arms, looking at him suspiciously. "Then tell me… if it wasn’t you, why did you make that face when I mentioned it?"

Seung-hyun diverted his gaze for a second. His friends covered their faces with their hands.

"It was your imagination."

"Sure?" You took a step closer, leaning slightly toward him.

Seung-hyun swallowed.

This wasn’t going the way he had planned.

"Listen, I don’t know what you imagine, but…" He paused, trying to compose himself. "If someone like me were interested in someone like you, you’d know."

Oh, wow. Now he was counterattacking.

"Oh, really?" You raised an eyebrow, pretending indifference. "Well, that’s too bad. Because the sender of those letters seemed a lot more sincere than arrogant Seung-hyun."

That came out naturally. And it was a clean hit.

His friends reacted with a muffled "Ooooh."

He, on the other hand, just stared at you, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.

But before he could respond, the teacher entered the classroom.

"Alright, alright, enough with the conversations. Take your seats."

And just like that, you walked away from him, leaving him in a state of total confusion.

Seung-hyun barely heard what the teacher said. He could only think of one thing.

You had said that the sender of the letters seemed sincere.

That meant that...

Did you like his words?

[yerimbrit]

[flufftober day 28, wc: 804] - sleepover : 10 hour flight

“HEY GUYS,” you wave, holding your bag full of your necessities and clothes for the night. that’s right, you’re staying over at your girlfriend’s place! which is also your cousin’s place. which is also minji, danielle, and haerin’s place. which also may or may not be the newjeans dorm. because your girlfriend is hanni from newjeans. 

wow, you still can’t believe that you’re dating hanni from newjeans, and you didn’t even meet as a fan—you met on some random day at the airport, strangers-to-lovers-trope type of shit. 

minji and hyein are the ones who answer the door for you, and minji immediately sighs, “you better not pull anything tonight.”

“you bet, MJ,” you click your tongue playfully and shoot a finger-gun at her, “no shady business that was planned.”

hyein gives you a hug, and- “oh my god, you got taller again!”

the younger girl is about to make a height comparison with her hands until you spot danielle who pushes her out of the way to give you a hug. “y/n! i haven’t seen you in forever, you’re so busy with school!”

a slight headache invades your mind for a split second when she mentions ‘school’. “i’ve got deadlines, a painting to finish, and a thesis to write, dani. don’t remind me…”

the australian shoots you a pitying look, before making way for hanni, who strikes a pose before strutting over to you. “hello, guest.”

oh, another thing you learned is that hanni can be pretty unintentionally funny at times. like how she’s greeting you like some sci-fi bigshot. “hello, your highness,” you bow, hovering your hand over your chest. 

she brings you in for a short peck on the lips, causing haerin (who just walked into the living room) to cover hyein’s eyes, and for minji to cover haerin’s eyes. danielle smiles and walks to the kitchen. “i missed you, y/n.”

“i missed you too, han,” you smile fondly at her before she leads you into the apartment. everyone gathers in her room where you also put your bag of things in. 

it’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve been to the dorm, but it hasn’t been that long since you’ve seen the girls—danielle was exaggerating. you just stopped by their practice room two days ago to drop off some food that hyein’s mom made for them. not that your absence has changed anything, the dorm is pretty much the same save for a big banner featuring their ‘right now’ characters. 

in hanni’s room, she’s moved around some stuff, like the record player that’s playing a mac demarco vinyl right now. there’s also a whole section dedicated to organizing the various supplies that you’ve forgotten while you were over the few dozens (maybe even hundreds) of times over two years. you’re pretty sure there’s even stuff you left in hyein’s room, whoops.

you climb up on her loft bed (which she’s been saying she’s gonna replace, but she hasn’t yet) and hang your legs over the edge. minji sends you a warning look from her place on the floor. hanni looks concerned, but joins you criss-cross on the bed, holding her ‘fluffy’ plush (yes, the one from despicable me) to her chest.

a few conversations start, like danielle bringing up sylvanian families and getting haerin very invested in the discussion, which led to the topic shifting to cats, and then your sketch of a cat you saw on the way here, and somehow sparking your flame of inspiration.

you slowly lean forward, trying to get a view of the girls that are sitting on the floor (or bean bag, in haerin’s case) because just a little more and you’ll have a perfect bird’s eye view.

hanni notices your movements and widens her eyes, “y/n, you’re gonna fall!”

“it’s not that high,” you try to reassure her, still inching off of the bed, danielle, hyein, and minji scoot away just in case you actually fall, which you probably will, based on their previous experiences with you. come on, you mostly stopped doing those stunts a long time ago, because you knew hanni would worry! it’s not like you’re gonna—

“y/n!”

…you fell. that kind of hurt. “uh, don’t worry guys. it’s just a sprain.”

haerin winces as she looks at your present state. “your arm is bent the other way.”

it is? you look at your arm and, oh. “i guess it is—oh shit.”

…

“i can’t believe i’m in the er with you. again,” hanni sighs heavily, poking at the cast wrapped around your arm.

you blow a strand of your bangs out of your face. “at least i didn’t break two of my ribs again. hey, wanna reenact our first kiss?”

your girlfriend stares blankly at you. you raise your unbroken arm in defense. “no? okay…”

flufftober masterlist!

a/n : i miss u 10 hour flight

[calaisreno]

May Prompts 2024

Dear Writers:

It's nearly May! The month of merry little thoughts, divine mistakes, and frivolous whims.

Time to set aside that fantasy trilogy that's been stuck in the mud all winter, the six-act tragedy in blank verse you've been labouring over--and write some random bits and bobs!

Visit your mind attic. Pull open the drawer where you hide your terrible ideas and scenes that are waiting for the right story. (I know you have such an attic and such a drawer because I do as well 🙄) Dig around— not with the idea of spring cleaning, which will only produce an empty drawer and a tidy attic— but because it's a treasure hunt.

Dust off the lawn furniture, put on your sandals, take your laptop outdoors. New environs, new inspirations.

The point is this: Last year* some of us wrote and shared a month of little daily fictions. There were drabbles and 221Bs and flash-fiction and mini-epics. There were prompts, which some of us used as a starting place, and sharing of minifics amongst ourselves, which led to more inspiration. 

Wanna see some more?

I've been hoarding ideas since last year and am now opening that drawer. I plan to write a short something every day in May, and will share my words with whoever wants to be tagged. If you'd like a daily prompt, I will be supplying that. 

No pressure. While some structure creates opportunity and creativity thrives within structure, this exercise is not meant to create anxiety or trigger your inner completionist. (My internal taskmaster is taking the month off.)

No judgement. No prizes for reaching 31, no awards for creativity, no certificates of participation. Just cheering one another on.

No rules. Use the prompt or don't. Write 100 words or 1000. Any fandom, any characters, any headcanon. Or your own original creation. Write every day or whenever an idea strikes. Share or don't. 

No guilt. Fail gleefully, write terribly, get out of the boat and swim.

Correction. One rule: write some words. 

*Credit goes to @notjustamumj for last year's inspiration. Eternal thanks for that idea!

Please reblog! I'm tagging a few people who participated last year or expressed interest, but I’m sure I’m leaving someone out. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for prompts and sharing.  

@raina_at @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @allsovacant @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jrow @elwinglyre @bertytravelsfar @helloliriels @gregorovitchworld @peanitbear @mydogwatson

[farmerstarter]

Could you possibly write some random hcs for my man Elliott? Hope all is well <3

ʚ📜ɞ ˚ · . random Elliott HCs:

tags: elliott x gn! reader

hi! thank you so much for requesting :) Elliott is my number 1 favorite bachelor in sdv, so writing this was a treat. I hope you enjoy them 💐🤍

🪶 You had to be the one to initiate your first conversation. The two of you exchanged smiles and gave each other waves when you crossed paths. But apart from that, you and Elliott never spent time together that lasted more than a minute. He was always so caught up in his own world, distracted and staring off into the distance. You later found out that he tended to zone out a lot, thinking about his drafts and meticulously judging his own writing prowess. "Being alone tends to do that to you," Elliot would muse. The two of you soon made an effort to spend Friday evenings in the Stardrop Saloon, hiding away in your little table in the corner. He would drone on about ideas for his book and you would complain about crows picking at your crops. It would usually end with Elliott drunkenly dancing on the table while you laugh at him. He's a happy drunk, no shame hiding under his lucious hair whatsoever.

🪶 He helps Willy tend to the shop sometimes when he doesn't have the energy to write. Or he would be with Leah in the saloon, both of them complaining about their art/writing block.

🪶 He's a master of calligraphy, I decided. His letters to you are always so well done. You end up keeping his letters instead of throwing them away because they were too pretty to be lost in your endless letter drawer. He writes poems to you, most of them about you. He always signs it at the end with "Yours, Elliott"

🪶 He collects sea shells. Makes them into bracelets after Leah taught him how to do it. It was no wonder why you couldn't find any shells when you would wander to the beach in the afternoon. Elliott already got to them first. You've noticed that both Leah and Willy have shell bracelets, wearing them wherever they went. When you and Elliott became friends, he sent you a bracelet and a letter accompanying it in your mailbox. Elliott bashfully told you that he got your wrist size correct because he would hold onto your wrist when crossing to the other side of the beach, across the wooden bridge you built for it. And here you thought he was holding onto you so neither of you would fall in the water. Turns out, that was only half the reason.

🪶 When he moved in to live with you, he spent his first few weeks reading about crops and farm animals so he can help you around the farm. He enjoys spending time in the coop with the ducks the most. He even bought a duck from Marnie to have as his own, much to your amusement. It's the only duck that lives inside the house. He gave you the honor of naming it.

🪶 He and Willy would have dinner together sometimes (Elliott and Willy friendship, my beloveds). Willy made him his famous crab cakes and Elliott has never known peace since. Willy had to give Elliott the recipe so he can make his own batch to eat anytime he wanted. Elliott cooks them for you too.

🪶 He keeps a notepad tucked in his pocket for when inspiration strikes. He told himself that he would write ideas for his book the moment he gets them. But he doesn't end up doing it. He tells himself that he'll remember them when he gets home. Most of the time, he doesn't.

🪶 I like to imagine that Elliott is a merman that Willy accidentally caught in a net one night. He got into writing after he realized he can hold paper without ruining it now. He rarely talks to anyone aside from Willy, who caught him in the first place, and Leah, who accidentally caught him swimming in the river as a merman. But honestly, this is a story for another time.

[featherlight-touches]

Man random hcs again for my baby twinsss.. right most of the community refer Aether's weak spots on his like.. midriff area especially his stomach right? And he is absolutely weak to raspberries there. And hereby that logic with whatever reveals the skin.

So wb Lumi? So for me since she is more of a switch rather than full on ler, I think on the opposite side since they're twins uhh.. I think she'd be weak to raspberries on her neck! Armpits too (girl reveals them like Lyney but Aether has the same reaction like her) and her thighs :)) it'd make sense if her feet tickle BAD

Then like I said previously.. their back 👏👏 the end :D (girl if u catch me offguard with another fic I'm gonna sob that you'd drink my 😭)

me? write a fic based on hcs that feed me inspiration? I would never. except I totally did. ENJOY! 💚

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

“Aether! Show yourself!”

Aether snickered to himself as he hid behind quite the suitably sized boulder, concealing his whereabouts from his agitated sister. Of course, she had every right to be upset, he did prank her after all.

During their travels to this strange world, he had discovered a beautiful flower that sprayed colorful pollen when sniffed. Lumine only figured this out because her brother insisted upon her smelling it without the knowledge prior, and such, became covered in the pollen.

By the time Lumine had recovered her bearings, Aether had already sprinted off, laughing gleefully at the success of his prank. Which lead to her chasing after him.

That is how he found this boulder, which provided quite the cover for him to evade his sister’s wrath. He smiled hearing the threats that poured out of her mouth, because he knew her well enough to know that there was no real malice behind them.

“You’ll have to come out sometime, you know? Unless you plan to stay in this world forever.” Lumine called out to the air, knowing that he had to be in the area. “All on your lonesome, bored and without your sister’s flawless guidance.”

Aether had to laugh and was unable to hold back the tease. “Wasn’t it you that got us stuck on that revolving platform for like, two hours? I wouldn’t exactly call that ‘flawless’.”  

Lumine grumbled at his words, but a smug grin took over once she realised where his voice was coming from.

“Admit it, brother. You would be clueless without me.”

“Just like how clueless you were with the flower,” Aether teased, peeking from behind the boulder. He raised his brows when he didn’t see Lumine, unaware of her approach until it was too late.

“You-!” Lumine pounced at her unsuspecting sibling from the other side of the boulder who let out a very undignified yelp once her body collided into his. They both fell to the ground below, Aether’s laughter filling the air once he looked up and saw his sister’s appearance, still covered in pollen.

“You think this is funny?” Lumine brought her hands to Aether’s exposed midriff and began to tickle him, sending him howling with more laughter. “I’ll give you something to laugh about!”

“Noho! Stop – ah! Hahaha! Lumine! Thahat’s not fahair! Stohop!” Aether begged, folding over on himself to try and protect his tummy. However, all this did was reveal more places for Lumine to strike, his ribs for example. “Ahaha!”   

“You owe me an apology, Aether, and I won’t stop until you do,” Lumine giggled along with her sibling’s frantic laughter. Her hands moved relentlessly, and Aether flopped around like a fish out of water.

She managed to get at his back once he turned over, and his laughter burst uncontrollably.  

“I’m sorry! Ahaha! Lumine, you cahahan stohop now! I’m sorry! Hahaha!” He gasped between fits of laughter, trying to grab at her hands to get them to stop attacking his tickle spots.

“What’s the magic word?” She jabbed her fingers into the one spot on his back she knew got him squealing, which succeeded.

“PLEHEHEASE!”

Lumine relented and backed off from her giggly brother with a look of triumph. “That’s what I thought.”

Aether’s giggles gradually died down as he laid there. “Did I really deserve such treatment?”

“We both know the answer to that,” Lumine gave him one last poke and was about to stand up, but her wrist was grabbed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Aether asked, a mischievous glint present in his eyes.

Lumine suddenly felt nervous upon seeing that look and tried to pull away, dismissively. “I’m going to wash off this pollen,” -

“Oh, no you don’t.” Aether pulled his sister back down until she was trapped in his embrace. She protested by trying to push away from him, but she squealed once she felt his hands wiggle at her bare back. “Not after I get you back!”

“Eee! Aehehether! Nohoho! Stohop it!” Lumine gasped for breath between laughs, wiggling in his grasp. “Yohou deserved it!”

Aether hummed thoughtfully as his hands flew into her underarms, sending a shriek of laughter to pierce through his ears.

“NAHAHA! AEHEHETHER!”

“Yeah, sis?”

“STOHOHOP RIGHT NOHOW!”

“What’s the magic word?” Aether repeated as she said it to him, that teasing tone laced with his words. What he was not prepared for was a sudden smack of Lumine’s arm that contacted his head. “Ow!”

His hands stopped tickling in favor to rub at the sore spot on his head.

“I’m sorry!” Lumine reached up to assist and comforting her brother’s head. “You know I fight back when I’m being tickled.”

Aether chuckled. “Yeah, I know. I guess I should have seen that coming sooner.”

“I didn’t hit you too hard, did I?”

“No, it’s fine. You win this round, but next time you won’t be so lucky!”

Both siblings smiled and laughed, which started to fade out in the strange world around them.

“Traveller… Hey, Traveller… HELLO?” Paimon’s voice snapped them out of their thoughts, grabbing their attention away from the fond memories they were recalling. “Are you alright? Paimon tried to call you, but you were miles away.”

The traveller blinked, slightly dazed and looked at their surroundings. Teyvat, Fontaine specifically, in the presence of Lyney and Lynette who were currently prepping for a magic show. Their sibling nature must have triggered the memories for the traveller.

They smiled. “Sorry, Paimon. I was just remembering something.”

[ohwormwood]

I have entered your blog and you will have to deal with an OC lore devourer.

I love the ISAT OC lore HAND THEM OVER /j

HEHAHAHAAH

ok ok here's some lil fun facts abt the party's craft skills:

All of Celest's Craft Skills are named after tarot cards. Her default group is The High Priestess (Examine), The Magician (Default Paper attack), Strength (party attack buff), and Wheel of Fortune (a randomized skip, gives turn to another party member and boosts their crit chance). a lot of her skills increase crit chance and mainly she works as a more direct fighter/support character, with a heavy focus on accuracy

Orion's crafts all have an associated origami. Each time he uses a craft skill he folds the associated origami and imbues it with craft. His defaults are Papercut (WHEEZE. Default paper attack), Rabbit (Attack speed buff), Tiger (attack buff), and turtle (defense buff). most of his craft skills are buffs for the party.

Himawari's level is almost double of the rest of the party's and he has a lot more craft skills as a result. they also vary depending on what weapon or craft type he's using. his defaults are Strike (basic rock attack), whirlwind strikes (all enemy rock attack) and Cloaked Shield (defense for one ally, essentially works the same as mirabelle's shields). the names of the later more powerful crafts are inspired by demon slayer according to @dasnercaret.

Haruka works the same as Bonnie, serving as a support gimmick and not really having an active combat role until the very last fight due to...... extraneous circumstances. however, her randomized crafts are TAKE THIS!!! (kicks her tenmari at the enemy and bonks them for a lil bit of damage), Oops (misses), Look Out! (speed buff), Stay Back! (defense buff), Rest Up! (heals a party member for 30% of their health), and I'll Help! (heals all party members for 10% of their health. after friend quest TAKE BACK!!! gets a boost kind of like bonnie's.

We have three unique status effects: STUN, TRANCE, and HYPNOSIS. STUN skips the affected party member's turn; TRANCE acts similarly to SLOW; and HYPNOSIS places them into a sleep kind of like time freeze. there are items and counters to these though, including the dream charm that Celest gets from Himawari, which has the unintentional makes her immune to TRANCE.

[fakekojimo]

Pretty disappointed with the GQX OP. It's Tsurumaki's first proper opening for his own show (FLCL was ED only, Diebuster had a 10% of an actual OP and 90% of it was a clip show, wasn't even boarded by him to boot, and Dragon Dentist was more like a short movie) So I was real excited to see what he was gonna come up with. And what I got? Was... Just ok.

It really does come out swinging at the start though, for the sure opening at it's most inspired. I feel like the best openings (besides the ones that aren't done by a cool yet completely different crew entirely) build upon show specific imagery and expand upon it an exciting way. If there's one thing an anime opening's gotta do it's gotta get you hyped for this week's episode.

The inverted city with the Gundam in BG and the "Kira-Kira's" flowing throughout Machu... That's what I mean by "show specific." It being such a VFX-heavy opening makes it stand out even more too.

Another detail I like is that the "Kira-Kira's" aren't just passing through the drawing, but they also distort to contour around her face too!

And all that build up leads into.....

About twelve seconds of awkward running.

To be fair I definitely don't hate it! Everything about is so damn goofy that it makes me crack a smile every single time I see it. The awkward posing and the even timing on 1s results in a weird ass yet memorable run into the distance. But it's also the start of the opening nosediving into the usual cliches.

Tsurumaki knows how to make a pretty picture, that's a given, so it's more well realized take on the usual anime OP tropes. Again, the VFX heavy approach does give it a little bit more of a push. but we're already starting to drift away from building upon more of the show specific imagery for more standard urban imagery. Still cool! but less impressionable to me.

Random facial close-ups that just feel like filler.

I do like this cut alot though. Great nuanced rim-lighting from Char's Comet(?) being contrasted with Challia's nearly silhouetted body. Genuinely striking and it does build up some momentum...

Before focusing on the ugly ass CG mech. Damn!

One last cool yet slightly out of place cut before the opening just dies for me entirely. Mechs floating around in the empty void of space for about twenty seconds and the rest of the opening calling back to the weird ass running with the whole crew + some of the antagonists-- Even Challia's there! Old man getting in some much needed cardio.

This is too cute to hate. I do hate that lack of bitrate though. damn.

I do feel more positive about GQx's OP compared to his other mecha ones though.

A more well-realized take on the usual formula but it's hard to deny he's just going through the motions. Character introductions, the mid-way points where everyone's striking random poses, the big fight during the chorus... Well, at least the mechs are hand-drawn so the fights aren't complete noise. Worth noting while he only boarded the Star Driver OP, he did both board/direct Captain Earth OP so it does feel a little more unified in comparison.

In conclusion: The GQx OP is pretty neat. I wish I felt stronger about it beyond that though.

[diyasgarden]

hiii can i ask what ur usual writing process is and what inspires you? your blurbs and writing in general is very inspiring and makes me want to write smth myself but i'm drawing blanks

It's one thing to be told you're a great writer and it's another thing to be told your writing is inspiring. This is so sweet, I needed a moment to process.

The majority of my writing is a product of a certain idea I want to convey about the characters. An extension of ideas I have about how they behave, think, or even exist, that I think would be interesting to explore through writing. The conception of an idea is the most abstract part of the process for me, because it is very random. Inspiration can really strike at any time, but I think already having your own thoroughly developed ideas about the characters you're writing about helps. It allows you to form connections to things which may seem irrelevant, but end up being really concrete ideas to start writing from. It also helps with integrating little details about behavior and dialogue that really add to the overall emotions of the writing. Headcanons and analysis are a great place to start for this (anything that helps you fully flesh the characters out more really). To be honest, a headcanon is the most simple piece of narrative based on your own understanding of a character, knowingly or not, which also just makes it a great way to get into writing too! If you have a headcanon, try developing that idea into writing, either a full-length piece or blurb. 

Another great place to really start, especially with blurbs, is trying to vividly imagine any scene you’d want to see the character in. Really imagine the little actions, details, and all the emotional undertones, and letting yourself sit down to just let it pour out of you onto the page. Be self-indulgent, write what excites you if nothing else. It’s a really easy way to actually take the first step into writing, and you can always revisit these scenes to integrate them into a larger work if it feels fitting!

Now if you do want to start with something longer, I think allowing yourself to fully sit with the idea is the best thing you can do. Just letting yourself explore every possibility you could take a story eventually guides you to the best way to do it. I try to visualize scenes in depth and outline general ideas, filling in details and playing them out in my head to see if it really contributes to the larger emotions and ideas I want to convey. To sound completely like a literature professor, knowing exactly where you want your writing to go before you start makes it much easier to actually write. The words will come once you’re ready. 

I hope this makes sense! Like I said finding inspiration is an abstract process for me, but these are some of things which are usually floating around my head when an idea comes to me. And frankly, as mystified as writing feels, I know the more you do it the easier it becomes, so I hope you do start!! If you have any other questions or ever need someone to discuss an idea with, I'm always here :)

[youchangedmedestiel]

Annoying when inspiration to keep writing your current fanfic strikes during lunch break and then the break is over and you have to return to work and be focused on something else.

[alexanderwales]

Roguelite LitRPG Theorycrafting

I had a great idea for a litRPG that takes its inspiration from roguelites rather than JRPGs or Skyrim.

I do not have the time to write such a novel, and will not have time to write it into the foreseeable future. But I do have time for some theorycrafting:

A classic roguelite of the current generation has variable powers and powerups drawn from a small pool that change the character of the run over time. Maps and enemies are boundedly random. When you die, you might have some meta progression, which is usually in the form of unlocks. Sometimes this makes the game easier, but often it just adds in variety. You go until you win or die, and then you go again, starting from nothing.

To start with, I think this has to be a time loop, because it fits that pattern too well. I wrote a blog post about time loops, and would include some ideas and variations from there.

The protagonist starts every loop as a total scrub, but gets to select from a few options at the loop start (or just after) and then at either intervals or with things accomplished. The pool of powers needs to be fairly small, but large enough that we don't see repeats all that often. We want a protagonist who is forced to make the best of a bad situation.

There are a few cool things about this, but the biggest is that we get to see the protagonist solve the same problems in different ways. One one loop, getting into the compound is easy, because he has flight and invisibility, but on another loop, it requires a firefight because he's got a laser belly and can absorb flesh to regenerate. The protagonist presumably has goals, so we also have some stakes built in: all runs are not built the same. When you're on a "hot" run where it seems like everything is going your way, you can't immediately grind your way back to that if you fail. Stakes are one of the things that are sometimes lacking in time loops, so we're solving that problem as a byproduct.

Similarly, a weird power build can take the story in different places. You're able to walk through stone, and all of the sudden you realize that you can penetrate the defenses of the mage academy. You strike while the iron is hot, and uncover things that would, in a normal run, be locked away from you.

There are problems here. The biggest is that I think a lot of audiences would cry about the author's thumb being on the scale, because audiences will always cry about that no matter what. Which powers get offered to the protagonist on any given run will be under scrutiny though, and even things that aren't forced will feel like they might have been. Readers don't like that, particularly litRPG readers, who sometimes come to the genre for a sense of "fair play". I'm not sure there's a way around that, though this is one of the rare cases I feel like an author rolling dice might actually make sense, so long as it was done in a way that would be difficult to fake. This might make for a worse story though, since the author would have less control of the plot.

One of the other things that interests me is ... what if the world changed in the same way it does in a roguelite? In a normal time loop story, the world is static and predictable, but wouldn't it be interesting to write a story in a time loop that acted more like Rogue Legacy, where there are certain "anchors" and patterns to the world, but much that is random and different? The protagonist wakes in the same apartment building every time, but sometimes he's next to a park and other times it's a train station. There's a corner store three blocks away that's always exactly identical down to the misalignment of the Mars bars, always with the same woman with a streak of blue hair behind the counter. Is this meaningful, that everything changes except the things that inexplicably don't? Almost definitely. It's another mystery to unravel with every new run and a new, diverse set of powers under your belt.

There's a chance I write this at some point. There's always a chance. But I think sometimes it's good for me to sit down and think about the possibilities, then resign myself to moving on without devoting the next month's word count to something that's captured my fancy.

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Grannies - Part 4 (Finale)

Summary: Gordon's committed to the bit. The bit just happens to be an obnoxious amount of granny squares.

A/N- In the finale: warning for a bit of whump. Whole lotta love though. Words for this part come to 2K.

Part 1 here | Part 2 here | Part 3 here | AO3

Thank yous: craftyfam, patient readers, my yarn stash for inspiration, Kat for the read through and assuring me this was post ready. FFXIV I can't thank you because you are a menace and a distraction no matter how much I love you.

*****

Part 4: Finale

Because Gordon never goes half-assed into anything, Virgil is still finding granny squares. 

He has to keep reminding himself that he appreciates Gordon’s dedication. He actually relies on this part of his brother’s character. Frequently, in fact. 

But as he pries a stray granny square out of his sock drawer and tosses it into the project basket housing its companions, Virgil has to roll his eyes. Fondly of course. In the project management world, they call this scope creep - with no real end in sight, the project keeps getting bigger and more involved, and it’s all too easy for it to just keep living on indefinitely. But then, Gordon is one big Scope Creep anyway since he was never one for boundaries in the first place. 

His definition of an appropriate time to stop was very different from Virgil’s. 

At this point, the new square isn’t anything Virgil hasn’t seen before. He knows by now what to expect from Gordon’s work. And, honestly, it’s just like Gordon to somehow manage to desensitize Virgil away from everything he knows about color theory, however briefly. So, neither the presence of the piece of fabric nor the color combination provides any shock value anymore. 

What it does do is remind him that he’s got his own project balancing to do. That of actually… you know… finishing the damn thing. And figuring out what to do with the rest of the squares, he reminds himself as he slides on his socks and laces up his boots for the day. 

The newest acquisition - two rounds of golden yellow followed by two rounds of aubergine purple and a final in white - doesn’t look as visually discordant alongside its peers, the scrambled rainbow they are.  They are all the ones that didn’t make the cut for Gordon’s afghan, the  squares Virgil keeps finding anew, and inevitably the future ones Gordon will continue to make until he receives another lightning strike of an idea.

Right beside it is a second project basket. Gordon likes a big blanket, so enough squares to fit a king sized bed are already packed up and labeled in their sequential order. As he’s had time, Virgil has started sewing them together based on the design Scott helped with. There’s enough space still for him to store the bolt of fabric John helped him find too, once it finally arrives. 

Virgil’s grateful for their help, and their part in the project has made it just that bit more special. He hopes Gordon feels that way too. It took Scott reminding him that it wasn’t his own aesthetic he was trying to please for the design to come together. Otherwise, Virgil has no doubt what he would’ve designed would’ve been lesser for his own misery trying to force order into chaos. 

Somehow, with the power of math, Scott’s perspective on patterns and probability and randomization had been just the ticket. Gordon also probably hadn’t realized just how many squares he’d made that started with the shade of yellow or orange or his typical bright shades. Just that little bit of consistency was all he and Scott needed to figure the rest out as they laid out the squares. It wasn’t a pattern, a fade, or even entirely randomized. But a couple edits later, they had the final layout, the squares numbered, and Virgil had gotten to work joining his own granny stitches into his brother’s work in the only color Gordon considered “neutral” - yellow. 

Unable to resist the smile it brings, Virgil tugs the blanket out of the basket and unfolds the two rows he’s finished, with the third halfway complete. It doesn’t bother him that his connecting yarn is still live - the hook has his last loop stabbed into the working skein, and even if it does come unraveled a little, crochet is not so difficult to start again. 

It had taken a few tries to find the right hook to help him match Gordon’s stitches. Even though Virgil taught him a few years ago, no two makers’ work was exactly alike. And Gordon was as carefree with his gauge as he was in the rest of his life. 

Excitement thrums through him; it’s morning, the birds are chirping, and he’s feeling motivated and productive. The crochet work is soft in his hands, the next square in the sequence visible in the project basket below but hiding the rest of the queue for the third row. It’s the perfect day to grab some coffee, hide away in his studio for a few hours, and let the project surprise him. 

That’s the way a WIP should work: it should inspire along the way. 

Virgil has just thrown a towel over the basket to make it seem like it could be laundry - just in case he runs into a wayward squid - when the alarm in his room sounds and John’s voice comes over comms. 

They have a rescue. 

~*~

Virgil awakes to the smell of antiseptic and the uncomfortable feeling that his mouth tastes like cotton. 

Something about that makes him want to giggle, except he can’t actually do that. 

“Easy, Virg.” Hands, soothing, graze his hairline. “They’ve got you on the good stuff.”

He can tell. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet to know if he’s in a hospital or the infirmary, nor does he know what happened to land him there.

Based on the cotton in his throat and in his head and in his lungs, maybe he ate Gordon’s blanket. 

The giggle turns into a groan. 

“You’re okay now. Rest, Virgil.” 

Since the voice is Scott, he does so.

~*~

The next time he remembers waking, he’s in the infirmary on the island. Again, this he knows not because he’s opened his eyes to figure it out, but because his senses tell him so. Only one brother knows sea shanties enough to be familiar with that one and, if Gordon is here humming it, they’re both definitely not in a hospital.

The words he wants to say trudge through the molasses on their way out.

“Wha’ happ’n?” 

“Virgil!” It’s surprise, and excitement, and relief all rolled into one, but Gordon has the good sense to keep his voice low once the original shock of him waking settles.  

Gordon knows the drill well, his voice barely above a whisper as he closes the blinds and scoops some ice chips into a cup. Virgil’s grateful for the gentle way he moves about the room; he can hear him shuffling around, dictating as he goes. By the time Gordon returns with the cup of blessed relief for the feeling in his esophagus, Virgil has managed to tearily blink his eyes half-open. 

Beneath his brother’s brushed fringe hides a bruise the size of a fist, purpling so harshly at his hairline that Virgil ignores the ice chip Gordon offers him in favor of reaching up to check the injury out for himself. Immediately, his body protests the movement, and Gordon urges him to lower his arm back to the support of the bed.

“Yeah, maybe don’t try that?” Gordon waves him off. “I’m fine. What do you remember?” 

Through the pain in his lower half and the color of Gordon’s face, the memories of the rescue come back clearer. Unfortunately, of all things, they’d been called out to a mudslide. He’d checked Gordon out in the field, he remembers. A panicked civilian with a wayward right hook while Gordon was calming his husband. The man had been incredibly apologetic, and Gordon assured him no harm was done, but Virgil pulled him off duty as a concussion risk and left him in Two with  Grandma talking to him.

Then, when Virgil went after a lifesign in a toppling two-story… 

“A house hit me.” 

“Well, more mud than house. You’re ok though. You were buried from the waist up. Had some compartment syndrome. Everything you’re feeling - or not - is temporary.”  

“You came to get me.” Virgil could argue that grounded meant grounded, that Gordon should never’ve gone after him in such dangerous conditions, that he’s the big brother and Gordon’s the little one and he should keep himself safe when he’s told to do so. But there’s a challenge in his little brother’s warm honey eyes already, and he remembers faintly words spoken in worry and fear, assurances that tighten in a coil around his heart.

“I did. There wasn’t anyone else.”  

He owes Gordon everything.

Virgil hums, “Thank you.”

Between the pain medication and water soothing the grittiness in his throat, he feels more aware by the minute and ready to try sitting up for a time. Gordon helps him settle a few pillows into position and raises the head of the infirmary bed to the appropriate level. He’s got to let Scott know he’s awake - and Grandma -  Gordon tells him. Before either of them decide to have scolded Squid for dinner. 

Virgil doesn’t have the energy to chuckle, but it does as he knows Gordon intended: leave him with a smile for the few moments Gordon needs to step away to communicate Virgil’s situation. 

His heart is music, his soul is color. Where sound is oversaturated with the wisps and hums of machinery tracking his vitals, his heartbeat in rhythm, color becomes his touchstone. Outside the window will be the cerulean of the sky and sea. Green, which he thinks in its most basic form because it’s every combination of the hue throughout the robust plant-life of their Island. Dandelion yellow - the sun and safety and Gordon’s baldric. 

Past the shut blinds, it’s all just a sliver. More prominently, there’s just white and infirmary clean grey.  He has to blink away the dullness, as he tears his gaze away from the window and finally musters the strength to glance at himself and especially at his lower half past the pain where Gordon promised his lack of feeling, muted through painkillers, was temporary. 

Color, so much of it that it’s blinding, greets him with the neon of signage amidst the Las Vegas cityscape and the celebration of the New York Pride parade they attend each year. The blanket draped across his lap is authentic Gordon through and through, in familiar squares assembled in a chaos true to their variety. No rhyme, no reason. 

So much care. 

“Grandma will be in shortly.” Gordon plops into the chair at his side, wiggling in the armchair to reacquire the work he’d placed on the seat cushion. He catches him looking, wide-eyed. “It’s not your project, promise. Though I did bring it in for you to work on when you’re feeling better. It’s over by the holoscreen whenever you want me to bring it over. You’ll be here for a bit healing, so I figured…” He shrugs, trailing off. 

“Gordon?” He slides his fingers between the stitches and curls them gratefully into soft, comforting colors. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m - uh -” Gordon flushes in dim light. “I’m weaving in my ends finally,” he admits, holding up the darning needle. “Sorry if you had another idea for the squares, but once I finished putting yours together, I realized we had enough still to donate some more blankets and those really should be finished.” Gordon weaves a red tail end back and forth between the strands the way Virgil taught him, and the way their mom taught Virgil. “I really did go a little overboard on granny squares didn’t I? I just figured it would be okay for me to help you along. So you could finish what you were working on. Was that ok?”

“More than.” 

It also tells him a significant amount about how serious his injuries were and how long he might have been out of commission, if Gordon’s found the time to finish as much as he has. The concern for what he’s put his family through spikes his heartbeat again, and his younger brother glances up to check on him, the monitors, back at him.

Virgil gives him a weary smile, tugging the blanket further up his chest. “I’m ok,” he assures him. “Thanks to you.” 

“Don’t do it again,” he admonishes, shaking his head.

Neither of them can promise the other, not in their line of work, and they both know it. 

The words go unspoken, but they are woven delicately in the strands of their gifts to each other. Virgil feels the care against his skin, in colors that chase away greys, and soft cotton that sifts fear and worry out through openwork patterning. And when Grandma finally makes her way in to check in on him, his heart is so full with the chance he’s been given, the support he’s always had by the people he cares for, that the love hits him with a wave of exhaustion. 

Into sleep he falls, deeply into dreamless rest by the time Grandma finishes her checks and  Gordon tucks him in with a thankful salute to the stars above.

The End

[fanboyswhore9]

Bookish Encounters

Pairing: Darry Curtis x Y/N/Darry Curtis x Fem!bookworm reader

Summary: Darry goes to the bookstore with Ponyboy and meets the person he never would’ve expected to be interested in.

A/N: For @outsidersweek I decided as the Darry girl that I am, I decided to write my first Darry fic on Tumblr. It’s a tiny bit inspired by my own fanfic on Wattpad called “I Should Tell You”

The bookstore had always been a place of comfort, where the smell of paper and the sound of quiet rustling pages created an almost magical atmosphere. On this particular day, the air felt charged with a strange anticipation. You wandered through the aisles, fingers trailing over the spines, pausing occasionally to flip through pages of random books, savoring the feel of the worn paper.

Then, you spotted it—a novel you’d been wanting to read for months. You felt a little thrill as you reached for it, your fingers barely brushing the spine… just as another hand appeared, reaching for the exact same book. “Oh!” you said, laughing softly in surprise as you looked up at the stranger who’d interrupted your book hunt.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, with striking blue eyes that held a mix of apology and intrigue. His strong jawline and serious expression softened as he looked down at you, clearly as surprised as you were. He pulled his hand back a little awkwardly, smiling in a way that made his whole face light up.

“Sorry about that,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “Didn’t mean to steal it from you.” “No worries,” you replied, laughing a little. “Seems we’ve both got good taste.” You gave him a playful smile, feeling oddly at ease despite the unexpected encounter.

He smiled back, a faint flush coloring his cheeks as he nodded toward the book. “It’s all yours. I can always find it another time.” You raised an eyebrow, feeling the thrill of a friendly challenge. “Oh, please—you were here first. I insist.”

And so began a lighthearted standoff, each of you politely nudging the book toward the other, sharing smiles that became easier with every word. Finally, you relented, nudging it back toward him with a grin. “Alright, alright. You win.”

He accepted it with a small smile, glancing at the cover as though seeing it for the first time. Before he could say anything, you pulled a pen from your bag, opened the cover, and scribbled down your phone number with a flourish.

“There,” you said, closing the book and handing it back to him. “If you like it, give me a call. I’ll have a whole list of recommendations for you.”

He looked a little surprised but clearly pleased, his blue eyes meeting yours with a warm sincerity. “I’ll hold you to that,” he replied, a hint of a grin on his face. “I’m Darry, by the way.” “Y/N,” you replied, feeling a rush of excitement as you exchanged names. You lingered just a moment longer, the warmth of his gaze leaving a lasting impression, before you walked away with a smile. As you left the store, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder, feeling the undeniable spark of something special.

————————————————————————

It was late in the evening, and you were curled up with a book, trying to shake off the memory of the guy from the bookstore. You’d just about convinced yourself that you’d never hear from him when your phone suddenly rang. Your heart raced as you glanced at the caller ID, seeing an unfamiliar number.

“Hello?” you answered, trying to keep your voice calm. There was a slight pause, followed by a familiar voice, deep and warm. “Hey Y/N? This is Darry. From the bookstore.

You felt a rush of excitement and relief, smiling as you leaned back into the couch. “Darry! I wasn’t sure if I’d ever hear from you.” He chuckled, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, I figured I’d better not keep you waiting too long. I actually started reading the book. Figured I should put some effort in before I called.”

You laughed, delighted that he’d taken it seriously. “Oh yeah? How’s it going so far?” “Not bad, actually,” he admitted, sounding a little surprised. “I thought it’d be different, but… you were right. I think I might actually be getting into it.”

You spent a few minutes talking about the book, sharing your thoughts and favorite parts. The conversation flowed naturally, and soon you found yourselves moving beyond books, diving into stories about your days and sharing little pieces of your lives. He told you about the Curtis household, about raising his brothers, about the gang that felt more like family than friends.

“I guess I’m just used to keeping everyone in line,” he said, his voice warm but carrying a hint of the weight he bore. “It’s a lot sometimes, but they’re all I’ve got.” You listened, sensing the quiet strength and loyalty in his words, admiring the way he cared so deeply. Finally, after what felt like only minutes but was nearly an hour, he cleared his throat.

“So… would you maybe want to meet up sometime?” he asked, his voice hesitant, almost shy. “For coffee or something?” Your heart skipped a beat, and you smiled, feeling a quiet thrill. “I’d love that.”

“Great,” he replied, the warmth in his voice making you feel completely at ease. “How about tomorrow evening? There’s a little café around the corner from the bookstore.” You agreed, and as you hung up, you felt a quiet sense of excitement settle over you, the beginning of something you hadn’t even known you were looking for.

————————————————————————

The next evening, you arrived at the café a few minutes early, nerves fluttering in your stomach. The café was softly lit, its cozy atmosphere welcoming and warm. You glanced around, and there he was—already seated by a window, looking out at the street with a faint smile on his face.

When he saw you, his face brightened, and he stood to greet you. “Hey,” he said, his voice a little lower than usual, as if he were nervous too. “Glad you could make it.”

“Me too,” you replied, smiling as you took the seat across from him. You ordered coffee, and soon the conversation started to flow, first about the book, then moving on to other topics. You found yourself sharing stories about your favorite books, your love for quiet moments like these, and the thrill of finding a new story. Darry listened with a deep, focused attention, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Books were never really my thing,” he admitted, a touch of humor in his tone. “But I get it. My family… they’re my anchor. They keep me grounded, give me a reason to keep going.” His words carried a depth and honesty that took you by surprise, and you could see the weight he carried, the responsibility that shaped his life. “That’s a lot to carry,” you said gently. “Do you ever feel like it’s too much?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Sometimes. But it’s worth it. They’re my brothers, you know? And the gang… they’re like family, too.” Without thinking, you reached across the table, placing your hand on his, offering a silent reassurance. “You don’t have to do it alone, you know.” The warmth of your touch seemed to reach him, and he gave you a grateful smile. “Thank you, Y/N. It’s been a long time since I felt like I could… just be myself.”

The hours slipped by as you shared stories and laughter, the world outside fading away. By the time you left, you both knew that this was something special, the beginning of a connection that neither of you had expected.

————————————————————————

Over the next few weeks, your connection with Darry deepened. He often showed up at your door late in the evening, sometimes carrying a book you’d recommended, sometimes with coffee or a box of donuts. You’d settle in together, sharing quiet conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning.

One night, he arrived with a book in hand, looking both a little embarrassed and proud. “Thought I’d give this one a shot,” he said, holding up the novel you’d mentioned last week. “Figured it’d give us something to talk about.”

Touched, you invited him in, and the two of you curled up on the couch, reading together in companionable silence. Occasionally, he’d ask about a passage, and you’d discuss it, sharing thoughts and ideas that felt as comfortable as they were enlightening. It was a quiet intimacy, a bond that didn’t need grand gestures or declarations.

As the night grew later, you leaned against him, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm draped around you. “You know,” he murmured, breaking the silence, “I never thought I’d have this. Something just for me.” You looked up at him, his blue eyes softened in a way you hadn’t seen before. “What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “I spend so much time worrying about everyone else… I didn’t think I’d find something that was just for me. But with you… it feels different.”

You reached up, gently brushing your hand against his cheek. “You deserve this, Darry. You deserve to have something that’s just yours.” He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a gentle, lingering kiss that felt like a promise. When he pulled back, he smiled softly. “Thank you. For everything.”

————————————————————————

When Darry mentioned he wanted you to meet his friends and family, you’d felt both excitement and nervous anticipation. He’d told you bits and pieces about the gang, and it was clear how much they all meant to him. Now, as you walked up to the Curtis house, the sounds of laughter and conversation spilling through the open windows, you couldn’t help but feel the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Darry greeted you at the door, his reassuring smile easing your nerves as he took your hand. “You ready?” he asked, his voice low and warm. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied, trying to mask your nervousness with a smile.

The second you stepped inside, you were met with a whirlwind of energy. The living room was filled with the gang, their laughter and voices creating a warm, chaotic welcome. As soon as they noticed you, Ponyboy’s face lit up, and he nudged Johnny beside him with a grin.

“It’s her!” Pony whispered, a little too loudly, his excitement palpable. Ponyboy practically bounded over to you, a wide grin on his face as he extended his hand. “You’re the bookstore girl! Darry’s been talking about you.”

You laughed, taking his hand. “That’s me. And you must be the famous little brother I’ve heard so much about.” Pony’s cheeks flushed, and he looked pleased as he shook your hand. “Guess Darry’s been talking about us, huh?”

Before you could respond, another voice chimed in. “So, Y/N,” came the playful tone of Two-Bit, who had appeared beside you with a smirk. “Nice to finally meet the girl who’s got Mr. Serious here picking up books instead of weights.”

Darry rolled his eyes, looking torn between embarrassment and amusement. “You guys don’t have to make a big deal out of this.” “Oh, but we do!” Two-Bit said, patting Darry’s shoulder with a grin. “Because it’s not every day Darry finds himself a girlfriend.”

You laughed, glancing up at Darry with a smile as he looked at you, a faint blush on his cheeks. Before you could respond, Dally, who had been lounging on the couch with his usual air of cool detachment, raised an eyebrow. “Girlfriend, huh?” he said with a smirk. “She’s gotta be brave to put up with you, Curtis.”

Darry sighed, giving Dally a look that was part amused and part exasperated. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.” Johnny, who’d been sitting quietly beside Ponyboy, gave you a warm, welcoming smile. “They’re just giving you a hard time,” he said gently. “We’re all glad you’re here. Darry… he seems happier with you around.”

There was a sincerity in Johnny’s words that touched you, and you could see the bond they all shared, the way they looked out for each other like family. “Thank you, Johnny,” you replied, your voice soft. “That means a lot.” Ponyboy, grinning like he’d just uncovered a secret, leaned toward you. “So… Y/N, does this mean Darry’s gonna start hanging around the bookstore more?”

Dally chuckled, his smirk widening as he added, “Yeah, better watch it, Y/N—next thing you know, he’ll be quoting poetry.” Two-Bit’s eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. “Now that I’d love to see! Darry Curtis, the poetry lover. Just imagine it… reciting Shakespeare to his girl.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Darry shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “You guys are unbelievable.” But despite his exasperated tone, you could tell he didn’t mind. The gang’s teasing felt more like a welcoming ritual, an invitation into their tight-knit circle. They continued to chat with you, peppering you with questions, trading playful barbs with Darry, and sharing stories that had you laughing until your sides hurt.

At one point, Johnny leaned over to you, his voice low and sincere. “You know, you’re really good for him, Dhwani. I can tell. He’s… different since you came around. Lighter.” You gave Johnny a grateful smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Thank you, Johnny. I’m really glad to be here.”

Two-Bit, who had overheard, grinned and clapped his hands together. “Good! Because we’re not letting you go now. You’re part of the gang.”

Darry shook his head, his smile soft as he watched you fit so easily into his world. By the time the evening wound down, you’d shared stories, laughter, and a feeling of belonging you hadn’t experienced in a long time.

When it was finally time to leave, Darry walked you to your car, his hand slipping into yours. His gaze was filled with a quiet pride as he looked at you. “They really like you,” he said softly, his voice carrying a sense of relief and happiness. “They… I’ve never seen them warm up to anyone this fast.”

You squeezed his hand, smiling up at him. “I like them too, Darry. They’re like… they’re family. Just like you are to them.” Darry’s expression softened, his hand reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For fitting in so well. For… making this feel so right.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping around you as you stood together in the quiet night, feeling a sense of peace and belonging. In that moment, you knew you hadn’t just found a place in Darry’s heart but also within the family he’d built with the gang—a family that was now yours, too.

————————————————————————

As the weeks turned into months, your relationship with Darry continued to deepen. You became an inseparable part of his life, sharing everything from quiet mornings to late-night conversations, the moments woven together like the pages of a cherished book.

One evening, Darry picked you up with a quiet, almost nervous energy. You’d been together for a while now, sharing countless late-night conversations, shared moments, and quiet support that had grown into something neither of you had anticipated. Tonight, though, there was something different in his eyes, a soft, contemplative look that made your heart beat just a little faster.

As he drove, he held your hand, and the comfortable silence wrapped around you both, punctuated only by the soft hum of the radio. You’d come to love these drives with Darry, the way he could make everything else fade away, leaving only the warmth of his hand in yours and the quiet assurance that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Eventually, he turned onto a familiar, winding road, pulling off into an open field just outside of town. He parked the truck, then came around to help you out, his touch lingering as he guided you toward a small hill covered with soft grass. Above you, the stars stretched across the sky in a brilliant display, their light casting a gentle glow over the landscape.

Darry spread out a blanket, and the two of you lay down side by side, your shoulders brushing as you both looked up at the endless sky. The cool night air wrapped around you, and you felt a sense of peace settle over you, the kind of calm that only seemed to exist in moments like these.

“It’s beautiful out here,” you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder. “Do you come here often?” He nodded, his gaze fixed on the stars. “Yeah… whenever things get too heavy. This place reminds me that there’s more to life than just… everything I’m carrying.”

You turned to look at him, sensing the quiet strength and vulnerability in his words. You knew how much weight he carried, the responsibility he felt for his brothers, for the gang, for everyone he loved. But here, in the quiet of the night, he was just Darry—your Darry—and you felt a fierce protectiveness for the man who had spent so much of his life taking care of everyone else.

“You don’t have to carry it all alone, Darry,” you said softly, reaching over to take his hand. “I’m here for you.” He looked at you, his blue eyes filled with an emotion so deep it took your breath away. His hand tightened around yours, and he let out a quiet sigh, as though he’d been waiting for someone to say those words all his life.

“You’ve already made it easier,” he whispered, his voice carrying a quiet gratitude. “I never thought I’d find someone who’d want to stay, who’d see me… for more than just what I do for everyone.” You moved closer, your hand resting on his cheek, your thumb brushing gently along his jawline. “You’re so much more than that, Darry. You’re kind, and strong, and you deserve to have someone who sees all of you.”

He held your gaze, his expression softening as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a gentle, lingering kiss that spoke of promises and unspoken feelings. When he pulled back, he smiled, a quiet warmth filling his eyes as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest.

The two of you lay there in silence, wrapped in each other’s embrace, staring up at the stars as the night stretched on. It felt as though time had slowed, each second a moment suspended between the past and a future that you could finally see taking shape. Here, under the vast expanse of the sky, you both found something rare and precious—a love that was as steady and enduring as the stars above.

After a while, Darry broke the silence, his voice low but filled with a quiet certainty. “Y/N… I want to build something with you. A life, a future… something that’s ours.”

Your heart swelled, and you turned to look at him, finding only sincerity in his gaze. You could see it, too—the mornings, the late nights, the laughter, the quiet, steady love that would carry you both through whatever life had in store. In his arms, you felt a sense of belonging you hadn’t known you were missing.

“I want that too,” you whispered, your hand still in his, your fingers entwined. “More than anything.” He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead as the two of you settled back onto the blanket, wrapped in each other’s warmth. The night sky stretched endlessly above, and you knew that, no matter where life led, you would face it together. This was your new beginning, a chapter of love, belonging, and the quiet assurance that you had finally found your home in each other.

And as you lay there, side by side under the stars, you felt a quiet certainty settle over you—a knowledge that this was just the start of the story you’d write together, a love that would last a lifetime.

[hellohiyoko]

Danganronpa 4: Second Chances at Renowned Hope

Hope and Despair clash yet again in what the 48 participants pray to be the only and final killing game to end all killing games.

In an attempt to defeat despair once and for all, the Future Foundation's latest objective is to target the source, Junko Enoshima, before she strikes. With a newly functioning time machine in their grasp and other technological advantages, Junko Enoshima's despair can be prevented and the irreversible damage that the Tragedy had caused internationally can be remedied. But before their plan is put into place or even agreed upon, an unknown resistance group takes advantage. Mending the past few years into their utopia, they've recaptured the 48 participants for an Ultimate Killing Game that their leader hopes to never be forgotten. Hope versus Despair, Past versus Present, Good versus Evil, the final showdown begins!

So this is my idea for a 48 character, killing game. This was inspired by quite a few fics and fangans I've seen where the characters we've all come to love (for the most part) have been placed in yet another killing game. To have some of these characters be presented with a second chance, specifically killers and victims (whose memories from their original killing game are still mostly intact), is a rather tempting idea that's just brimming with character development potential.

But how would this work exactly? Glad you asked.

For starters, we need a location to hold all 48 characters. While New Hope's Peak Academy would be the main residence, the location for the killing game would take place in Towa City. The mastermind has managed to take over Towa City in this timeline, leaving the 48 participants and the citizens trapped. Everyone in Towa City has been forced to wear Monokuma bracelets, much like in Ultra Despair Girls where if anyone wearing said bracelet leaves the city limits (or breaks a rule), they die. Another feature that was introduced in UDG to be used in SCRH would be the different types of Monokumas to lurk in the streets at night. During the day, the city operates as usual, but once "the curfew" is in effect, a blaring siren goes off and the different types of Monokumas come out to play. While exploring the city at night isn't prohibited, it is rather dangerous. Safe zones are the only areas where the stray Monokumas are not allowed. These areas include New Hope's Peak, Towa Hills, and a variety of different landmarks in Towa City that will be unlocked after each class trial. Whatever damage the city takes will be fixed the next day by the very familiar Exisals from V3. Any participant to die from a Monokuma will trigger a Body Discovery Announcement, but a class trial will not be held.

Speaking of class trials, 48 characters in a class trial would be extremely hard to write, read, and contextualize. Who said all 48 characters would have to participate?

In the Ultimate Killing School Reunion, the class trials work as a jury duty. Monokuma will summon the blackened and fifteen random students to participate in the trial. The others are to watch in the audience of the colosseum, where the class trials take place. Should an account/fact/tidbit be needed from a student/participant who is not chosen to be in the trial, the said person in question can be called upon as a witness and temporarily participate. All of the surviving participants will be asked to vote at the end regardless.

While this fic has a very obvious theme of second chances (Redemption vs Condemnation), with the typical and subtle Hope vs Despair that's always a constant in any Danganronpa content, another hidden theme that this fic tackles would be the notion of sequels and reboots in today's media and the conversations surrounding that notion. And while I'd love to expound upon this, I can't. It's a major hint to the mastermind. 😉

[caelenath]

UsaMamo Week 2023 - Day 4: Beach

For @usamamoweek2023 day 4, my contribution is a preview of this untitled WIP that I thought would be done by now. Foiled again! 😅

Big shoutout to @random-mailbox who both inspired this piece and is helping with the pro photography tips (and is helping to run this wonderful event). 👏💖

~ * ~

Summary:

The whole situation was any red-blooded man's dream—nine gorgeous women in swimwear, a dreamy sunset, and a legitimate excuse to ogle them from every angle.

But he had eyes for only one...

~ * ~

Even before he arrived, the gig was pretty ideal–short, paying double his normal rate, and it gave him an excuse to go to the beach. He felt a little guilty for charging the extra money since he wasn't exactly a pro, just a guy with a hand-me-down camera trying to pay his tuition. But it was the client who had insisted because she was trying to book him so last minute, and university tuition wasn't cheap.

So he accepted the job even if it meant having to get Kobayashi to cover his TA session in the evening, and he was rewarded with a high-pitched squeal of gratitude that nearly blew his eardrum over the phone. She told him to "look for the one wearing black and white", then hung up before he could ask her to be more specific.

He arrived on the beach in the late afternoon, and was greeted by a brilliant, soul-soothing cobalt blue sky. Wispy clouds in the distance along the horizon promised a dazzling sunset backdrop in a little over an hour. Fifty-six to eighty-four minutes, to be exact, depending on what color sky his client wanted. He had a disturbingly accurate internal clock when it came to the sun's movements.

Feeling the heat of the day captured in the sand, he wished he'd been able to arrive earlier to have some extra time to enjoy the getaway. He had tried, but unfortunately, his lab partner chose this day to forget the boiling chips, and instead of accepting a lower mark for the failure, they chose to stay after class to repeat the experiment. Or rather, he chose to stay after, and his partner grudgingly followed suit to avoid looking inferior by comparison to their professor. It had been a risky decision, but with a little help from another disturbing ability of his, one that controlled the heating far better than boiling chips or the isomantle, they were able to redo the work in time for him to catch the train to Atami.

The cloying smell of artificial banana finally left his nose as he inhaled deeply the briny air. He couldn't wait to chuck his shoes and dig his toes into the warm sand. He needed both hands for now to carry his kit, but once the shoot was underway, he could happily traipse barefoot wherever his client wanted to go.

The beach wasn't as crowded by this time of day, and all along the water's edge, he could see the divots and partially melted sand castles left behind by families who had already gone home. The people who remained were mostly couples making eyes and PDA.

His client had said this photoshoot was for her and her friends, a celebration of their last year of high school, but gave scant specifics besides that. None, in fact. Still, as he looked up and down the beach, he discovered he needn't ever have worried about not being able to spot them. Rather, he knew them instantly.

Fifty paces or so to his right, beneath a cluster of palm trees, nine of the most beautiful women he had ever seen were gathered together, arranging each other's hair and swimsuit straps and chatting gaily like they didn't have a care in the world. They were such a striking group that he stood rooted in place for at least a minute, slack-jawed and unable to tear his eyes away. What were the odds they were a mirage? 

After the initial shock wore off, he was intrigued by how different they looked from one another. Tall, short, light hair, dark hair, sporty suits and sexy cutouts–their individual looks ran a wide gamut.

With that unavoidable ogling out of the way, his recovering neanderthal brain finally noted something useful. The two blondes in the group were the ones wearing black and white suits while the rest of them wore mostly black ones. Some had accessories, also in black. They must have agreed on that being the theme in their photoshoot. The contrast against the sky would be stunning, like them, no matter what moment of dusk they caught.

He adjusted the strap of his kit bag on his shoulder nervously…and froze. He'd had every intention of just walking over to them a millisecond ago, but it suddenly caught up with him how intimidating it was to approach nine drop-dead gorgeous women, even if they were the ones who had hired him in the first place.

He admonished himself that this was a professional engagement and strode forward using a silly mental game that was childish, but nevertheless worked. In moments like this when he needed confidence he didn't have–and those moments increased relative to the number of people around him–he pretended he was someone important, someone who had reason to walk around with their chin held high and their shoulders square. A victorious superhero, a successful CEO, a powerful leader of a nation. 

He would die of embarrassment if anyone ever found out about his game because he was the absolute opposite of those people–a struggling college student with no family and one shot at making something of his life. He didn't see any prospects outside of academics, and that was why he'd lived and breathed his schooling since he was a child. His camera had been an unexpected gift, a castoff albeit a very nice one from his friend's little sister when she decided she wanted to upgrade.

As he neared the group, the blonde in the center turned around, and all breath left his lungs as surely as if someone had punched him. She had huge blue eyes, wide azure pools that he found himself drowning in instantly, and not quite unwillingly. She seemed similarly shocked by his appearance, though for the life of him, he couldn't imagine why. Just a moment ago, she had been talking loudly and very animatedly, but now she stood stockstill, looking back at him as if he were a ghost.

Those enormous eyes blinked at him and he mirrored the reaction reflexively. They were getting close to the time when it would be considered rude to stare at someone for that long, but he was overwhelmed by the feeling that he knew her from somewhere. It wouldn't have been so strange considering how big and populous Tokyo was. Maybe they'd passed by each other somewhere, on the metro, in a conbini, at the library. 

Except, if that were true, he would have remembered her. Aside from her breathtakingly perfect face, she had funny hair. Her almost knee-length golden locks were arranged in two pigtails that flowed from two, perfectly round odangos on top of her head. They were weird, but fitting somehow.

No, he was sure he had never seen before in his life. Yet he knew her. How was that possible??

After much too long, he was finally able to drag his eyes away from her face and look at the rest of her–which, in retrospect, was probably even less polite. But she was wearing the two colors he'd been instructed to look for. Specifically, a tiny white bikini with tiny black straps and tiny black trim. Everything about it practically begged him to look at her, from the way the pure white emphasized her creamy peach-pink skin to how the black edges formed triangular outlines that pointed at things he really shouldn't be looking at. 

Luckily she recovered first and offered him a dazzling smile. It was full of unreserved welcome, something that was foreign to him, and he wondered how much confidence that took. The only word he could use to describe the glow around her was love, but that was preposterous because they were total strangers.

He searched hard for his tongue so he could stop being such a deer in headlights and speak. "Minako?"

The bright look on her face fell, and he winced inside at having done that to her, with the very first word he ever spoke to her, no less. He'd only been hoping she was the one who had called him. If she wasn't Minako, then he owed the real Minako a great debt for having created this opportunity for them to meet. Even if he had already screwed it up.

Keep it professional, his brain scolded him again. He was here to do a job, not meet a girl.

"No, that's me!" a voice chirped to his right, and he turned to the other blonde. She was wearing a bikini with broad black and white stripes, as well as a black hat and sunglasses with thick white frames, which she slid down her nose before introducing herself. Like all her friends, she too was incredibly beautiful, but something about her look said "drama" to him. Or at least, something less innocent than the odango girl.

"I'm Minako. Thank you again so so so so much for doing this."

"It's nothing," he said, feeling a little embarrassed by her effusiveness. It took more than a little effort to ignore the glint of gold hovering in the corner of his eye. "Where should I set up? Did you have particular shots in mind?"

"Yes!" Her response was instant, but from the way she paused afterward, he guessed the real answer was no. "Sunset? Is that too generic?"

"Not at all," he lied. "Your timing couldn't be more perfect. You'll have your pick of lighting for it, assuming we can get set up fast enough." He was glad for the excuse to look out over the water again, to regain some equilibrium as he stood in the midst of any red-blooded man's dream.

"We're ready to go," Minako said, sweeping a stern look across her circle of friends like a captain surveying his battalion.

"This isn't one of your volleyball games," the tall brunette said with a roll of her eyes. "You could at least introduce him if we're going to be working together."

"Fine, all right." Minako accentuated her words with a dramatic huff, and he was gratified to know his instincts about her were right on the nose. "Everyone, this is Chiba Mamoru, who is an absolute darling for agreeing to do this at the last last minute."

The two dark haired beauties in the back of the group leaned in to confer about something together, and from the glances they threw at him, he guessed that something was him. His face warmed a little from the attention.

"I'm pleased to meet you all." 

Minako clapped her hands. "Great, now we all know each other." Someone in the group snorted, but he didn't catch who. "Let's get some gorgeous pictures taken!"