#anyway I’ll probably still be active on here as a distraction

[sophisticatedswifts]

This week has been full of ups and downs

[0kayblue]

Choices

Choices 

A drunken kiss, unspoken feelings, and a nasty argument leaves Leon in a cracked state. Painfully stuck in the crossroads of realization that nothing is going to get better until he starts talking and actively takes the steps to come to terms with his past and his disjointed emotions. 

Word count: Almost 5k (not throughly proof read)

Angst. Language. Gun mentioned. Drinking mentioned. Happy ending. Partners to friends to lovers? The timeline is a little funky so let me explain: the events of Raccoon City take place in 2004 and that places this story towards the start of 2011.

A/N: Long time no see, huh? Things got heavy and they got heavy fast. Between vacation, moving, and the holidays; I’ve kinda fallen off the face of the planet. But it is what it is and I’m back for a minute or two. 

As far as requests are concerned I’m working on them, but I get distracted with other ideas. My google doc is full of rough outlines and unfinished works in progress. I don’t have any idea when things will come out, they just will. I apologize, but damn, life is stressful. 

Anyway, I hope you all are having a lovely day, week, month, and year. Please enjoy!!

“Hey. . .” Leon starts, his voice low and like gravel with uncertainty. A sense of deprecating self-consciousness following in the silence, before he lets out a frustrated huff. “You didn’t pick up, not that I’m surprised. . .but still, it hurts.” He admits as his grip on his phone grows tighter before it loosens and a conflicted sigh leaves him. 

“I’m. . .sorry.” He struggles with the apology as he shuts his eyes and another exasperated sigh leaves him, “Truly, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did and I shouldn’t have pointed the finger at you. It’s not your fault and it never has been. I need you to know that, I need you to know that I know how I’ve been acting lately is stupid and. . .” He stops as he opens his eyes and looks around the dim space of his empty living room, the loneliness of this moment threatening to swallow him whole. The numbing silence of the room mixed with the silence on the other end of the phone became too much to handle causing him to swallow the confession on the tip of his tongue. 

He licks the dryness from his lips as his other hand goes to massage his forehead in a stiff and irritated manner. He sucks his teeth as his hand falls while he lets out a disheartened sigh as the words fall from his lips, “I can’t do this without you here.” He admits with frustrated sorrow, “I need to see you. I need you to look at me. I need you to. . .I just need you.” 

The static of the other empty line cuts through silence like a rusted combat knife through brittle sheet metal. Leon’s lips part for another sigh to escape him, but it never does. The air stays lodged in his throat before he painfully swallows. 

“Look,” The word came out dry and somewhat short, before he clears his throat. “I’ve got some things I have to deal with, but if you could come over just for a moment—or at least call me back– it doesn’t have to be tonight; but sometime.” He can’t stop it from sounding like a desperate ramble; a plea for your silence to be broken.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back, but it probably won’t be until the early hours of the morning so if you could just at least call me back tonight. Let me know you’re okay. You don’t have to give me any other information and I won’t ask, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He explains softly, biting his tongue to keep himself from making the accusations that scream at him. 

He opens his mouth to say more, to at least say ‘bye’; but he can’t, so he pulls the phone away from his ear and he ends the call. A frustrated grunt leaving him as he peers down at your contact photo, his gaze softening as he studies the smile on your face. The photo one that he cherishes with every heart string he has; a moment he was able to capture without you knowing. The rarity of being able to capture a genuine smile on your face. He recalls the day fondly and for a moment a smile curls at his lips until he eyes glance at the time in the top left corner of the thin device. He locks his phone as he stands from the loveseat you often perched yourself in whenever you were over, the seat cushion practically molded to only sit your frame comfortably. 

Putting the phone in his pocket he makes his way through the kitchen and to the door that leads to the garage; grabbing his car keys from the key hooks by the door and opening the garage door. 

The dark of night not holding its usual tranquility as the earthy smell of the heavy rain floods his nostrils. It’s eerily fitting given his current circumstances and it makes his skin crawl slightly as he gets into the driver seat and starts the car. Putting the car in reverse he backs out of the garage, his ears starting to ring slightly as the quietness of the night floods the car. A slight scoff leaves him as he goes to shut the garage door and he heads north towards his destination. 

—------------------------------------------------------------

Leon drives for hours in silence trying to put his head together. Trying to string together what exactly he wants to say while also remaining focused on the road ahead. All his thoughts scattered and disorganized; any sense of pulling it together immediately wiped out whenever his phone buzzed. A thin line of hope is always shattered when he glances at it and it’s just another notification about god knows what. It didn’t matter and he didn’t care because it was never your name on the screen. 

It felt as if you were playing this silent treatment thing as if your life depended on it and it was killing him. Suffocating him. Each ping brings him above the tidal wave for just a moment before being dragged back under by the force of the freezing crisp waves. He could almost taste the bitter salt water with each defeated sigh of disappointment. 

His glare on the road sharpens as he sees the abandoned gas station, slows, and makes the sharp right turn into the parking lot. The sound of stray gravel gritting against the tread of the tires as the car reaches its destination, Leon on the other hand still has another hour until he reaches his. 

A single unmarked cruiser awaiting him parked perfectly in between two faded and barely visible white lines. He parks his own car a couple spots away from the cruiser before he shuts it off and steps out of the car, grabbing his phone and keys sliding them into his back pocket as he takes calculated steps to the cruiser. The rain only becomes more intense as he tries not to be affected by the cold laced into every drop that hits him, soaking his clothes slightly. 

“Should’ve brought an umbrella.” He mutters to himself as he opens the driver’s side door of the cruiser and gets in. He shakes slightly in an effort to get any excess water off before running a hand through his damp hair, the water slicking it back for just a moment before his bangs fall back into place. 

He leans over the center console and gets into the glove compartment on the passenger’s side. A single car key and a beretta 92fs pistol sit exactly where they were supposed to be. He opts for the cool metal of the hand gun as he picks it up and inspects the weapon briefly, leaving the safety on before he sets it in the passenger seat. He then takes the car key and starts the car, whereas his car was quiet the cruiser engine debates on whether or not to come to life and he almost took it as a sign to give up despite not being a superstitious man; but he digresses as the old cruiser decides that Leon is worth the ride. 

Just as he goes to put the car in reverse his phone pings and he immediately takes his hand from the gear shift and fishes for it with a grunt from his back pocket. A moment of relief leaves him as this time the contact that greets him is yours. Quick to unlock the phone he is greeted with a text of only one word:

 ‘Maybe.’ 

“Maybe?” He grumbles, “What the hell does that even mean?” He asks no one but himself and yet is met with the low rumble of the cruiser’s transmission. Before really thinking he goes and types a reply, staring at the message with a puzzled expression. 

‘Maybe what exactly?’ 

Surprisingly he barely moved before he got a reply.

‘Just maybe.’

He takes in a deep breath before letting it out in a shaky manner. Stubborn, you were always so stubborn. Of course he was too, but he was the one actively trying not to be this time. He was the one trying to get you to open up and not the other way around. Trying to get you to communicate with him, trying to get you to be vulnerable with him, trying to repair the rift between the two of you.

‘Can I get more than maybe?’

‘Please.’ 

He knows it’s his fault. He understands that regardless of how you left he still hurt you and you still had every right to be upset with him. Neither of you made anything official, never committed to anything, and he was a fool to think that a drunk kiss meant that his feelings were reciprocated and defined you both as an unit. He should have known that your avoidance of him the next day meant that something was off, but he convinced himself that you understood everything. That you knew everything he’s wanted to say for months. So, when he was informed of you being around someone who clearly was no good for you; he snapped.

‘I’ll be by.’

It wasn’t much, but it was something. A crumb that would subside the ache he felt. He lets out a sigh of relief as a small and soft smile finds his face. It was confirmation to him that he hasn’t lost you completely. He hadn’t lost you. 

‘When?’ 

‘Tonight. Please.’

He stares at the screen waiting for a reply he doubts he will get; so he isn’t surprised as agonizing seconds turn into minutes. Glancing at the time he knows he needs to move, and he will. Just a minute more. 

A minute passes, then two, and still no reply. He runs a hand through his hair before it finds the steering wheel, gripping it with force. Trying to let out some of the agitation he felt in the least harmful way possible. He tosses the phone into the passenger seat before taking his leave. 

—------------------------------------------------------------

Leon pulls up to the agreed upon meeting spot, the headlights of the cruiser reflecting off of the multiple ‘WARNING’ and ‘DANGER’ signs. All signs informing the public to stay clear of the abandoned wreckage that was the nightmare that started his adult life. 

He clenched his teeth as he parks the cruiser and before killing the engine he scrutinizes the rusted, faded, and graffitied sign that read: 

‘Welcome to Raccoon City

Home of Umbrella’

He can’t help the cold unforgiving glare that hardens his features as he stares intensely at that damn sign. A sign that he once was looking forward to seeing, a sign that was supposed to harken in a new beginning for him. A chapter of his life that he never got to write the way he intended too. 

He forces himself to look away as he kills the engine. All that anger and contempt in every movement he makes; the emotions barely subtle as he grabs the pistol and makes his leave from the cruiser. Uncleaned debris crunching under the harsh step of his sturdy weight. The former storm subsided to a gentle drizzle. As if the weather was deciding to be gentle towards him, to be kind as he faced the location of so much of his trauma. Dulled screams and flashbacks of all the things he saw that night flashing throughout every corner of his brain. He grits his teeth as he slams the door of the cruiser shut, the heavy bang ceasing the noise. The memories. 

He keeps his focus trained ahead as he strides closer to the steel chain fencing with sturdy steps, the dim yellow light from aged street lights illuminating his path with a dull hum. Unclenching his jaw he puts the pistol into the tight waistband of his jeans as he starts to climb the rusted fence that murmurs whines underneath the weight of his body. 

Getting to the top he throws one leg over before deciding to make the jump to the other side. A grunt leaves him as the soles of his shoes make contact with the pitch black pavement, a sharp yet brief pain shooting up his legs. Standing up straight he pulls the pistol from his waistband, shuts the safety off, and proceeds forward. Acutely aware of his surroundings as his stomach starts to turn and bile threatens to creep up his throat. 

Luckily he doesn’t have to travel far as the person he is set to meet waits in the shadows, the click of her heels against the damp pavement making Leon fully aware of her presence as he points the gun at her out of fear. It isn’t until she steps closer that he lowers his weapon. 

“Leon.” Ada says as she looks at him intently. Giving him a once over before she speaks again, “Someone is jumpy, I see.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s the location.” Leon says as he stands up straight, his shoulders remaining tense. Ada nods in a sense of understanding. 

“You went through it to track me down and I’ll admit I’m impressed; but I have to ask: why?” Ada’s voice is smooth and low, clearly guarded. 

“There’s something I have to talk to you about. Something I need to address.” He admits. 

Ada studies him, the tension he carries nearly slapping her across the face; and she knows all the blame can’t just be put on the location. The rubble on the street is a physical representation of the crumbs of trust that was shared between the two of them. 

“So, then why go through the trouble?” She inquires, her brow raising slightly, “I’m certain whatever it is you are here to-.” 

“No, I need you to hear what I have to say.” He says cutting her off. Clearly uncomfortable, unfamiliar, and direct with her; this whole situation reeking of a rotten smell that they could practically taste. 

“Different.” She simply states, very different from their previous meeting six months prior in the rural misty mountainous region of Spain. A change that was lost on her is now clearly present. It’s rough, jagged; and not something she is used to when it comes to him. 

The two stare at each other in silence, trying to piece each other together. A clear lack of communication ringing out into the night, something that wasn’t uncommon between the two. 

“Do you-.” Leon starts but suddenly stops the question in its tracks. He knew the answer and it was pointless to even ask; so he opts for the next question, “Why didn’t you try and reach out?” 

The question takes Ada aback and it shows physically as her eyes widen just slightly before returning to that uncaring gaze. She ponders on how to approach this. On what to say. Coming up short she decides not to say anything regarding the subject; so she changes it. 

“Is this about them?” She asks and immediately Leon plants his feet. Knowing that her them meant you; and the feeling didn’t settle well in his bones. His teeth gritted together as his jaw locked. Yet, the fact of the matter remained: she was partly right. 

“It is, isn’t it.” Ada states as she crosses her arms, a sense of pride finding her as she figured him out so quickly. 

“And if it is?” Leon asks, hoping in vain to throw her off the scent by playing this with a harsh coyness. 

“You’re still hung up over a kiss?” Ada asks, the question slipping from her lips without thinking. A rarity from her, so much so that it takes her aback as the harshness of her words hits Leon with a pang of disappointment. 

“That’s not what I’m hung up on.” Leon answers, bitterness clinging to each word, “I’m hung up on the fact that after everything I—everything we—went through you didn’t even try to tell me you survived that fall. That you survived and you didn’t bother to at least leave me something to show you were still alive; and don’t even try and say you couldn’t find me. You could have. Easily.” His voice grew stronger with every word he spoke, his conflicting emotions present in each syllable. 

Ada is stunned by his candor, the hurt that she caused him present leaving her baffled and grasping for straws. He was being raw here, he was showing her his cards that he held so tightly to his chest. 

“That night was the ending to so much. That night—to me— was an unimaginable horror I was not prepared to face; and you…you were right there. You knew so much more than I did and you remained cryptic.” Leon states with a defeated and heavy breath, “It’s easy to direct my anger there; but I know that’s not where it belongs. That isn’t where my heart places it, even though it probably should be because you played it like a fiddle; but that’s not it. Not the way you used me. Manipulated me. What it is in all honesty is the fact that I couldn’t save you. That you slipped from my grip, but yet you still cling to me.” 

Silence falls between the two again, but this time it’s different. It’s not a burden even though it remains heavy.  

“So you tracked me down to tell me this?” 

“I tracked you down so you can let me go.”

The statement left Leon in one breath as he looked at her with a softness to his eyes. A vulnerability in his gaze that swallowed Ada whole. The lack of light behind his eyes shadowing her in a darkness she never expected to feel from him. Her own emotions are becoming hard to keep in check, as her insides start to simmer with an almost forgotten feeling. 

The silence clings to their clothes as the night time air becomes lodged in Leon’s throat. Nearly choking him as he examined Ada intently, trying to guess her next move. Trying to put himself in her shoes long enough to figure out what she might be thinking; but all of this was so foreign. So he retreated back into his own head and just decided it was best to let her move from here. He decided it was best to just stop; and that decision flooded his body with relief. His jaw relaxing, his shoulder falling slightly, his knees no longer locked; the utter relief he felt just voicing how he felt was something he least expected.

“Okay.” Ada said, breaking the silence. This newfound development changed something in her that she couldn’t pinpoint. Something half of her refused to pinpoint. This growth she sees from him changes her perception of him. 

“Okay.” Leon repeats with a small nod as the subtle rain drops that have been hitting him start to increase. They stand in a tense awkward silence as the wind starts to pick up and begin to howl a broken howl that wavered like a gasped sob. Leon turns to leave before the rain starts to heavily pour again, but the question that falls from Ada causes him to stop. 

“Are you doing this all for them?” She asks, crossing her arms. While Leon looks at her with confliction, still not pleased with her need to keep you in the conversation. 

“Not completely.” He answers; and that is the truth. He needed this for himself, he knew that; but it would be a lie if you didn’t inspire him to take the leap. That you didn’t assure him that he didn’t have to constantly be fighting this inner turmoil, that he could form some type of peace with it; and most importantly that he didn’t have to do it alone. He deserved to care for himself, something he never considered until he felt the gentle warmth of your care. 

“I’d prefer if you would leave them out of it.” Leon says, a protective pitch in his tone that packed a subtle bite. It didn’t catch her off guard, it was him she was dealing with; and she knew that regardless of the strengths she had briefly seen from you in Spain that Leon would still be protective of you. 

So, Ada just nods, turns, and takes her leave,“Goodbye, Leon.” Ada says as Leon watches her walk back towards what he assumed was her entry point was located. 

As her form disappears into the black of night Leon lets out a deep breath with a slight shake of his head; his limbs heavy from the strain of the stress he carried in them.

“Goodbye, Ada.” 

———————————————————--------------------------

It was nearly four in the morning when Leon pulled into his garage. Your vehicle was nowhere in his line of sight as he pulled up to his house. Not that he was surprised, your answer was just a maybe, and he didn’t want you to push yourself out of the realms of something you weren’t comfortable doing just yet. At least he let you know that you weren’t ignoring him completely and that was enough for the time being. 

He shuts off the car as an exhausted sigh leaves him while his hand runs down his face. His head starts to gently pound as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The emotional rollercoaster he has been on starts to churn his stomach, reminding him why he didn’t bother with this stuff for so long in the first place. It hurt. Everywhere. 

He closes the garage as he gets out of the car and makes his way inside. Placing his keys back on the hook, kicking off his shoes, and starting to remove his jacket he stops as he hears the muffled sound of a sitcom laugh track coming from the living room. His chest swells with hope as he quickly disregards his jacket and shoes and with large gentle strides he makes his way into the living room. His heart nearly stops when he sees you asleep on the couch. 

Stopping in his tracks he watches the soft rise and fall of your chest, you were completely and utterly lost in what he hoped was a peaceful slumber. Your arms tucked close to your chest. Your hair fanned out over the couch cushion and the arm of the couch. He fought back how he wanted to run his hand through your hair. How tempting it looked, how he knew nothing brought you more comfort than the feeling of gentle fingers working their way through your hair. He wanted to do that for you, he wanted to comfort you. He wants to give you whatever your heart desires. 

His breath hitches in his throat as he carefully sits on the edge of one of the couch cushions. His heart swells with so much love that it is overwhelming and for the first time within all of this his eyes start to glass over. Tears threatening to spill as a shaky hand slowly makes contact with the warmth of your scalp. His fingers intertwined with your hair as his thumb gingerly brushes the top of your head and a small breath of relief leaves him as he watches your body relax. He stifled a sob with a scoff as a smile found his face while he fixed his gaze on you. The person he holds the most dear. The person he would do whatever it took to just have by his side. 

A craving to show you the utmost love and affection, a craving to care for you so much deeper than what the two of you already had. He hoped with everything that you wanted more. That the ghost of your past hadn’t swallowed you up. That you would choose him. 

He finally sniffs, the sound of distress pulling you from sleep as your eyes open and find his piercing blue ones glassy with tears. You move to sit up as even in your groggy state your arms wrap around him to comfort him.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” You coo as your torso presses against him while one hand rubs his back and the other makes its way into his hair as you rest your chin in the crook of his neck. “It’s okay.” You soothe while Leon takes in a strangled breath his arms wrapping tightly around you as he pulls you into his lap. 

“You came.” He utters, his voice breaking slightly. 

“You called.” You answer softly. 

Leon’s grip on you tightens as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, fresh hot thick tears starting to roll down his face. You gently mumble sweet reassurances as you rub his back, allowing him to cry, allowing him to let go of all the shit he has been holding onto. The fight. The end. The struggle. He’s letting go of all of it as he keeps a firm hold on you, clinging to you as if his life depended on it. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed anything and I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you for- for being with them. I- I shouldn’t have yelled. I should have told you how I felt. I should have-.” He chokes out his apology, the saltiness of his tears finding the pallet of his tongue.

“Shh, Leon, it’s okay.” You coo rubbing his back, “Don’t force yourself to speak when you aren’t ready. Take your time.” He fists the soft fabric of your shirt as he wonders what he ever did to know the comfort of your patience. 

As Leon begins to calm down his grip on you loosens, his breathing returning to normal as his chest no longer hitches with quiet sobs. You feel him start to relax and in turn your body loses its own stiffness. You continue to hold him to you, trailing the tips of your nails gingerly up and down a patch of his back. You had no idea where Leon had been, but whatever he did has obviously left him worse for wear. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask in a quiet whisper, concern ever present in your soft voice; and Leon can’t help himself.

“I love you.” He responds as he places a strong hand in between your shoulder blades keeping you pressed against him as he screws his eyes shut trying to commit this moment to memory. The feeling of your body pressed flush against his, the addictive pleasant scent of your perfume, the soft gentle flesh of your neck pressed against the scratch of his stubble. 

“I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have yelled. I should have talked to you directly. I should have seen everything.” He says as he regretfully pries himself away from you to look at you fully, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and hold your face gently in the palms of his hands. He watches the gears in your head start to turn through sparkling big doe eyes and his heart starts to melt. The realization that he wasn’t the only one that needed improvements becoming ever present as he brushes the side of his thumb over your cheek. 

“I love you and I am unbelievably sorry. Please, please, don’t shut me out.” He pleads as he studies your face, noting the way your bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. 

You both sit there in silence as he admires the sad beauty that are your features in this moment. He allows you to just sit there and feel, and think, and breathe. With all the patience in the world he waits for you. 

“I love you too.” You finally say quietly, the words falling from your lips in a hesitancy before you speak up again; but with more strength and convection, “I love you too.” 

A soft wide smile finds Leon’s face as he brings your lips to his in a soft, but desperate and passionate kiss. The taste of your lips are so much sweeter without the bitter taste of alcohol on them. Your arms snaking their way around his neck as you kiss him back the way you wanted to the first time he kissed you. His hands move to your waist to pull you closer to him as his tongue ghosts over your bottom lip. 

You part your lips allowing him access to explore the warmth of your mouth while crooking your head to the side as his tongue makes its way into your mouth. His tongue runs briefly over your teeth before it coils with your own and he sucks slightly causing a deep moan to reverberate from your chest and up your throat. 

The sound causes a smirk to curl at the corner of his lips as he parts from you regardless of how badly he wants to continue. He couldn’t help it, he had to see you; and the sight was worth it. The blissful peace on your face as you opened your eyes to look at him was worth it. A smile plastered on his face as he noted the tiredness in your eyes, the slight bags underneath them, and his hand finds your cheek as he places a kiss on your forehead. 

“Let's save the rest for tomorrow, okay? Let’s get you to bed.” He says as he moves to pick you up bridal style. He stands from the couch as your grip around him tightens as he makes his way to his bedroom.

“Leon.” You scold him slightly, but with no real seriousness to it. 

“Tomorrow.” He assures with a little nod, a playful smirk on his face. 

“Tomorrow.” You repeat with a little roll to your eyes.

[oldhalloweentape]

🪨Venture (OW II) x (fem) reader ⛏️

(Gamer Girl Reader Edition!)

(Picture’s not mine!)

(Request here! Yeah so, here’s this! Not much to add, I’ll probably start working on the Junkrat headcanons now there aren’t any more asks for Venture at the moment)

- I think the idea of Venture, a very outdoorsy and adventurous person with you, a girl who is more inclined to stay inside and play your games could be really cute :))

- Despite their keen interest in getting out of there and exploring they’d happily stay inside to spend some time playing games, especially with you!

- In their opinion, it’s like exploring whole new world’s without the hassle of exerting themselves physically (they like doing it nonetheless ofc) besides giving themselves a hand cramp or two.

- If there’s a game you especially like in particular, they take notice and either play it with you or play it later if it’s single-player only— 80% chance of them becoming obsessed with it as well.

- Lore??? Yes please, they want it so bad that they can make a billboard of everything so they can try to “crack” the game franchise.

- 100% buys merch for you AND themselves, cause I feel like they’d do it either due to them wanting to be supportive or partaking in the games fandom themselves.

- Specifically, I think they’d like certain games such as:

- Tomb Raider: I mean, look at it— It has artifacts, parkour, and a badass main character (I can see them crushing on Lara Croft as a little kid, can and will die if you ever cosplay as her). Self-explanatory.

- Minecraft: Endless possibilities, worlds, scenarios, they can make blocky replicas of real-life historical architecture— “…You wanna put our Minecraft beds together?”

- Spore: A little more niche with this one but this game is all about literally building up an organism and giving them culture and civilizations, come on they’d totally love a game like this… Dig it even.

- Assassin's Creed Unity: This game literally helped with the reconstruction of THE Notre Dame— THAT’S how accurate and intricate the amount of detail that went into the world-building of this game is. It’s like a love letter to them.

- Stardew Valley: As much as they like adventure (and Stardew provides that in the mines anyway) it’s nice to play a game that’s focused on something as simple yet intricate as this… That and I know a clueless player who still has fun regardless when I see one.

- BG3: It has adventure, mystery, a medieval aura, great character dialogue, and animal companions that are all so different and so charming… A large, HOT, silly tiefling woman (again if you cosplay as her they will not recover) who could throw them against the wall like they’re a bag of half-empty chips. 10/10.

- ANYWAYS, back on you two, if you make time to do what they like they’ll do so in return. Making an effort as they try to get a few pointers from the Queen of gaming herself— D.Va.

- Helps happily of course thinks y’all are adorable and reassures Venture that when she’s done with them they’ll know everything there is to know when it comes to dating a gamer girl. It’s so fucking stupid but the intent that Sloane had for wanting to impress you is still apparent.

- The information helps surprisingly, to woo you successfully, which D.Va actively boasts about whenever she can after asking how y’all are doing.

- For sure goes on mall dates with you to get gaming stuff, prefers it over online shopping. Buying things like shirts over your shared favored games, and sharing them. Loves to be able to smell you on them (not in a creepy way) while away at work for a prolonged period.

- Loves to distract you from playing your games, sitting behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as they lean against your back, head either on your shoulder or the top of your head.

- Sometimes feeling a bit flirty and kissing the back of one of your ears, rubbing your sides, mumbling honeyed and lustful words, things like “You look gorgeous to me right now mi corazón, how about you put that controller down and let me prove it?”

- They’re like a spoiled cat when it comes to your attention, I would know because I have three, and one is currently making my other arm fall asleep.

(There!! Sorry if this came out a little later than it should’ve, I’m a little exhausted from some real stuff, and I stayed up over midnight for this one. The Venture effect lol)

[halfhissandwich]

What your favorite Sanders Sides episode says about you because I’m binging the series rn and I wanna do this. All of this is a joke, I’m just being silly

My True Identity: Wow look at the fun little identity crisis series! Would be a shame if this goes downhill, right? Yeah, that’s what denial of the inevitable sounds like.

Way Too Adult: I’m willing to bet you’re a fan of the Unsympathetic Patton stuff. Just the vibe I get.

Taking on Anxiety!: I’m so sorry for the atrocities that have occurred in this fandom regarding Virgil. All you wanted was a sassy little emo boy and the fandom made him the embodiment of uwu, I’M SO SORRY-

A New Year of Lying to Myself… In Song!: You just like the song. I feel you, I like the song too.

The Dark Side of Disney!: We meet again, prinxiety shippers. :)

I’m in a Disney show!: Your favorite character is C!Thomas.

The Mind vs. The Heart: I won’t say you’re a logicality shipper… but if they got married, you definitely wouldn’t complain.

Dad’s Big Game Day Tips: … Daddy issues. I’m sorry, it needed to be said.

Alone on Valentines Day: I don’t have a joke here, but I’ll just say that my first thought was “aromantic”, so take that as you will.

Losing My Motivation: Oh my gosh. We get it. Logan is wonderful. That’s the 5th PowerPoint you’ve made today. Please just let me go home.

Q&A: You want an updated one. Me too, buddy, me too.

Am I Original: Going back and rewatching this video after POF makes you cry every single time.

My Negative Thinking: Hey analogical shippers, how are you doing? Still starving? … anyway let’s do some more logicality and prinxiety, shall we? :)

Growing Up: You’re everything that the people who’s favorite episode is “Losing My Motivation” are, but for Patton, and you don’t understand why the fandom thinks he’s kind of problematic.

Making Some Changes: *obnoxious chanting* LAMP LAMP LAMP LAMP LAMP LAMP LAMP LAMP LAM-

Becoming A Cartoon: … I won’t say anything. I won’t crush your dreams. I’ll just observe, smile, nod and just move on.

Accepting Anxiety: I don’t blame you, a lot of work was put into that episode. By the way you know you can ship prinxiety platonically, right? You can like it platonically without liking it romantically, I-I hope you know that-

Fitting In: You’re actively choosing to ignore drama online and I’m impressed with that, also you are aware that it’s messed up to bash Thomas for making a Harry Potter video 6 years ago, IT WAS SIX YEARS AGO AND HE LIKED HARRY POTTER, DON’T YOU DARE CANCEL THOMAS FOR THAT-

Moving On: Sorry, I’d write a joke for this one but I’m too busy crying-

12 Days Of Christmas: holy wow- no thoughts, head empty. You saw the colorful and festive little Christmas special and you actually said “:D” out loud.

Can Lying be Good: THEATER KIDS, ASSEMBLE!

Why do we get out of bed in the morning?: You probably said one thing in support of logince at one point in your entire life and you got chased with pitchforks by the prinxiety shippers and then Roman started bullying Logan, I am so sorry for this fandom’s sins :(

Crofters the musical: You’re basically Roman in this episode. “But look at him now! (Cue Logan chugging jam like a fucking madman) He’s just so COOL!”

Learning New Things About Ourselves: Your motto is “angst doesn’t exist if I can’t see it.”

Embarrassing Phases: I… completely forgot this episode existed. This is your favorite? I’m not judging your taste or anything, but what’s with your taste?

Selfishness v. Selflessness: Your favorite design? Janus. Your favorite personality? Janus. Your favorite ship? A Janus ship. Your favorite side? … Logan.

Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts: Remus’ abandonment issues aren’t canon. But if I say that too loud, then you people might stab me, so nevermind.

Are There Healthy Distractions: Apparently this episode’s plot of Thomas forgiving his previously homophobic friend is an analogy for Thomas forgiving Virgil for having been a dark side. That’s the connection! I missed it too! I thought it was a silly Frozen episode too! IT’S ABOUT VIRGIL!

Putting Others First: … guys, you can stop fighting the moceit vs roceit war, neither of them will ever be canon. ALSO HOLY WOW PATTON IS A FROG AND HE’S RIPPED FOR SOME REASON, WHAT THE FU-

Flirting With Social Anxiety: Your number one headcanon for the season 2 finale is a direct Frozen quote where Patton is like “Thomas you can’t marry a man you just met” and Roman is like “you can if it’s true love! >:0” (also hi again prinxiety shippers!)

Working Through Intrusive Thoughts: You have anger issues and you relate to Logan. Or you’re just happy to see the silly, goofy, demented Duke with fandom-inflicted abandonment issues!

[tar-maitime]

if you stay by my side

Rating: T Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekano Relationships: Maedhros/Fingon, fem!Maedhros/Fingon Additional: War of Wrath, reunions, major character injury, angst, indefinite but hopeful ending WC: 1k

Direct follow up to the last part of "talking to the air"

Fingon has been fighting to get back to Russandol for years, decades now - in some ways since the moment he died, and actively since word came through the tapestries that a fresh army was being sent to Beleriand. The news of two new kinslayings, though they horrified him, did not stop him. The incredulity of his family, dead and living, once he made his course known to them, did not stop him. Nor did Námo’s remonstrations, nor his uncle Arafinwë’s attempts to keep him from the host, nor the slews of orcs and worse monsters that he’s been battling his way through since he landed.

None of it will stop him getting back to her.

And now - now - he happens to glance over at the second force that’s pinned the current batch of orcs in place for his people to finish off, and he sees crimson banners and cloaks and hair like flame, and he nearly freezes. Gray eyes lock with his across the battlefield in disbelieving recognition. He can almost feel the embers of a familiar fire in the back of his mind where the remains of their bond lie, shattered upon his death.

Then an orc chieftain comes up behind Russandol while she’s distracted by him, and plunges a black spear into a gap at the side of her armor.

(It’s at a place that is difficult to manage with one hand, an obvious weakness. She used to have him or Maglor or a trusted aide help her with it. How long has she been letting this slide, why has she been letting this slide...)

(He doesn’t have time to think about any of this in the moment, but later - later, he will.)

He doesn’t even think before cutting his way to her, fighting so fiercely that he’s there before her knees even start to buckle. His sword rams through the throat of the orc who dared touch her, and then Fingon isn’t paying attention to the battle anymore, because Russandol is staggering and falling and he moves to catch her and follows her to the ground, cradling her in his arms.

(Their respective troops have little to no idea what is going on, but they do their work well anyway, fighting past them and driving the orcs back, leaving the two of them relatively safe.)

Russandol’s breathing is shallow and shaky, but she still gazes up at him like he’s the greatest wonder of the world. “Finno,” she murmurs. “It’s you. You’re really here.”

“It’s me,” Fingon chokes out, his hands shaking as he fumbles with his free hand at his cloak. It’s filthy, and the spear probably did damage that staunching the blood flow won’t help, but he presses the fabric against Russandol’s side anyway. “I’m here, Russë, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay. You’ll be all right.”

“How...”

“Ssh, save your strength, all right? I’ll tell you all about it once the healers have fixed you up. We’ll have time.” He can’t lose her. Not now. Not when he’s just found her again.

Russandol laughs weakly. “Again with the...trying to bribe me to...see a healer.”

“Well, this time you will,” Fingon says firmly, then twists to look back towards the support lines and yell, “Medic! We need a medic!” Someone will hear. Someone has to. “The healers will get you taken care of and you’ll be fine. And we’ll be together again.”

“Now I know...you’re making things up,” Russandol says softly. “You wouldn’t want me. Not anymore. Not after...”

“I do,” Fingon says, absolute as granite. “Always. There is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you.” That had taken some working through in the Halls, but all of his agonizing seems very far away now. “I love you and I want you and I will get you help - medic! - and when you’re better and this is over we’ll--” He searches frantically for something to keep her eyes open and on him. “We’ll finally have a home together. Like we used to talk about. Just stay with me, Russë.”

Her eyes flutter. She reaches her hand up shakily to cup his face. “Tell me more, Finno,” she whispers. “Can we have Gil visit us there? He’s king now...wouldn’ be able to stay all the time.”

“Of course he’ll visit,” Fingon promises. He’s seen their son since arriving on these shores, gotten to talk with him some. Gil-galad is deeply conflicted about his mother’s kinslayings, but they can reconcile. It just needs time. “He’ll visit all the time. And so will Maglor, he’ll drive us mad...”

“And the twins,” Russandol says, and for a moment Fingon thinks she means Ambarussa, now dead, but no - “Elrond. Elros. Adopted them without you - ‘m sorry.”

“They’ll be there, too. I already know I’ll love them, Russë. You’ll have to introduce us - they’re my niece’s grandsons, too, aren’t they?”

Russandol nods weakly. “You’ll take good care of them.”

“We both will,” Fingon says desperately, holding her just a bit tighter. “Russë, please, stay with me, hang on--” He thinks he can hear running footsteps in the distance, prays to anyone listening that they’re healers. “Please, I came for you, I was looking for you for so long, through this whole stinking war; you can’t go now when I’ve just found you.”

“Finno.” There are tears spilling out of the corners of Russandol’s eyes, but she tries to smile. “Finnonya. It’s okay. You’re here with me. I got to see you one more time. It’s enough.”

“It is not,” Fingon says, forcing back a sob and turning it into stubborn fury instead. “You don’t get to leave me alone, Russë, it’s not fair, I don’t care if you want to get me back for the Nirnaeth or whatever this is, pick something else.”

It’s telling, he thinks with a sinking feeling, that she doesn’t argue about the Nirnaeth. She just settles herself in his arms like she would settle into a bed at the end of a long day. “Love you,” she murmurs. “You don’t have to wait for me. If you don’t want. Or if I go to the Void. Can find an Indis. You should be happy.”

“I should,” Fingon agrees sharply, “and I need you, so stay with me, Russë, so help me, if you die I will come and drag you back from Mandos or wherever else they throw you. Don’t make me do it, Russë, meldanya, please, just hang on.”

Her hand against his cheek goes limp, and Fingon has time for a single second of bright, pure panic before a trio of healers with Fëanorian red armbands descends on them and pulls Russandol out of his arms, working over her and bundling her onto a stretcher to carry away. It all happens so fast that for long moments he simply kneels there, staring after them as they run with the stretcher. He doesn’t know what happens now. He doesn’t know what to do.

They didn’t cover her face. They were still trying to help her; when they took her away, they were hurrying. There’s still hope.

Fingon picks himself up and takes off running after them. Whatever comes next, he needs to be there for her.

[good-beanswrites]

Could I request "cooking is an art form" with mahiru and presumbly orekoto? I read your Night drabble of those 2 and now the idea of a potential friendship has been stuck in my mind for days, that was probably the sweetest interpretation of him I've seen! Mahiru can't cook in the current state she's in though so I guess orekoto could act as her hands...?

Ah thank you so much!! I was so worried about doing Orekoto justice, that's so exciting you enjoyed 😭 We still don't have a ton of characterization for him, so bear with me, but I absolutely loved writing this. Thank you so much for the request -- with food playing such an important role in Mahiru's story/symbolism, and the pair's unique relationship, this made me so crazy to think about !!!

The knife twirled through Mikoto’s hands. He brought it down with a grunt. Emotion pulsed through his veins. He went back for another swipe, much harder than necessary. He wiped spatter from his face.

“You’re making a mess.” Mahiru observed from behind. 

He glanced back to find her scowling at the tomato he was taking out his frustration on. “Who gives a shit? We’re not on cleanup duty.” 

He wasn’t supposed to be on cooking duty, either. It was Mahiru’s night according to their usual rotation, but she was in no shape to do any physical activity. Mikoto must have volunteered, and also gotten into some fight about it, because now there he stood: angry at an unknown source, full of adrenaline, and worst of all, in charge of tonight’s curry.

“I suppose…” Mahiru said. “I think that’s Muu tonight, I’ll apologize to her later.”

It was unsettling, how she remained positively cheery as she walked him through each step of the recipe, despite her current condition and his bad attitude. Not that he’d ever turn his anger on her. Mikoto approved of her, and that was enough for him. She’d been going through so much at the hands of their common enemy, he wouldn’t say a single thing against her. Even as she tested his temper with her cooking instructions.

“No, no!” With her good hand, she tugged on the side of his uniform. “You have to turn the carrot as you cut it. Like -- yes, like that!”

Mikoto rolled his eyes as he did what he was told. “It’s all going to get cooked together anyways, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is! You have to take your time with things like this.” She placed her hand over her heart. “It’s about the process, not just the final product. Cooking is an art form!”

“It’s about the final product to me. I’m fucking starving.” 

She was briefly distracted with the next set of instructions, telling him how to combine everything over how much heat. When she returned to the topic, her lighthearted voice was laced with a bit of desperation. “I mean it, there’s something magical about pouring your heart into something for someone else. Putting in your time. A little finesse here and there.”

“I know what it’s like to do something for someone else -- and there is absolutely no finesse involved. Or potatoes.” He gestured to the cut pieces before dumping everything into the pot over the stove.

“One of the most universal love languages is food, you know? People make meals and treats for their loved ones in every culture, in every time.” 

“They do a lot of other things, too.”

“You went to art school, you understand. This is an expression of yourself!”

“It’s a waste of time.”

“It’s the surest way to help someone!”

“That’s a load of bullshit.”

There was a pause. Then a nervous laugh. Then, “yeah.” As she dropped into more uncharacteristic silence, he stole a glance at her. 

Tears poured from her eyes. 

“Mahiru?” Fuck, he didn’t mean to make her cry.

“It is.” she hiccuped. “I thought… I thought it could save him. I made this big meal… I thought… But I was so stupid…”

She buried her face in her hands, offering weak apologies for the sudden outburst. He threw the lid over the pot before stepping back to her.

“Hey, hey. Come on. Don’t cry.” It was a command rather than a comfort. 

She didn’t listen. She just continued sobbing and blubbering on. “It was all stupid, worthless… I should have known…”

He crouched by the wheelchair. There didn’t even seem to be anything wrong, they’d just been talking about food. Why was she such a mess? He gave an impatient sigh. No reaction. What was Mikoto’s nickname for her again? “Listen, Mappi --”

She snapped her head up to look at him. 

Her teary eyes flicked all over his face, making him scowl. “What?”

“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed, though her breath still hitched. “Sorry. You said… and well… I thought you’d gone away. I want you to stay.” She took his hand. “You.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Because you understand me.” 

He did not. Like, at all. But he kept his mouth shut.

Thankfully, she was too talkative not to explain herself. “You love someone very much. That love turned out to be dangerous -- deadly. And you weren’t forgiven for it.” She pressed her lips together, suppressing the wave of emotion that almost overcame her. “And now we’re both getting what we deserve for it.”

“Like hell we are.” He felt the spark of rage again. “Neither of us deserve any of this shit, okay?”

“But --”

“No.” He glared at her. That familiar fire rose up inside him. “I’m tired of all your speeches and optimistic crap. You’re always falling over yourself for others. You’re pathetic. This place is hell, so you need to get your shit together and act like it. You might be willing to forgive the others, you might be able to treat them with that stupid sweetness all the time, but no one’s going to do the same for you. Stop letting them fuck with you.”

She gaped at him. He realized he’d leaned in very close. He prepared himself for more tears, or maybe some cowering away from him. Good. Mikoto didn’t need people like her who would convince him this verdict was deserved. He didn’t need any of these people. It was fine to push them all away.

Mahiru surprised him by leaning over. Her head rested on his chest. “It’s hard. It’s so hard, Mikoto. But… I’ll try.”

His attention was quickly ripped away by a hissing behind him. He yanked himself away from her to run to the curry, which was bubbling and burning and spilling out of the pan all over the stovetop. 

With an outpouring of profanities and clattering of dishes, he cleaned the sad remains of dinner off the burner. When he looked back at Mahiru, she had dabbed at her eyes and composed herself slightly. 

“It’s okay,” she said, “I’ll pick something easier you can make instead.”

“Nah, I’ll make more curry. Tell me how much of everything again.” 

“A-alright.” 

His agitation slowly faded as she began her gentle instructions again. Though he had just tore her apart for it, he was grateful for her patience with everyone around her. He probably could have left, then, seeing how calm the kitchen became. But he wasn’t risking ruining the meal a second time with an unexpected switch. 

And maybe Mahiru’s words still played through his mind.

The food was back on the stove in no time. He stood diligently next to it. They’d lapsed into a content silence. He still didn’t know what had set her off earlier, but wasn’t about to ask questions.

Mahiru had regained her usual bright smile. “Hey, when I get better, I’ll cook something for you, okay? I think you don’t appreciate cooking because no one’s made something special for you before. I want to do that.”

He sneered. “Heh, sure. And I’ll let you in on my preferred art form.” His words were layered with sarcasm. By now, she could guess that included destroying things by putting all of one’s might behind a powerful swing. 

But she giggled, completely unfazed. “Well, friendship is about give and take, right? I’d love to try.”

[dont-doubt-dopple]

A Ghost May Have Just Joined the Polycule

My gift for @savviathan as part of the @mcytblrholidayexchange that I was apart of. It was such a fun time writing these dorks and I'm so happy how this turned out. I hope you enjoy it.

AO3 Link

Word Count - 1,853

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tango looked at Joker. Tango looked at Impulse. Impulse was giving him the same look he was pretty sure he had on his face. Tango looked back at Joker. 

“We are not bringing the Tripods.”

“Why not?!” Joker whined, clutching one of the five tripods sitting in the truck. “They are invaluable tools in a ghost hunting exposition.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve tripped over those things?” Tango exclaimed. “Cause I’ve lost count at this point.”

“I haven’t.” Impulse added. “It’s 145 times”

“I hate your inhuman memory sometimes. But yeah, I trip on them. A lot. And there’s plenty of perfectly good surfaces to put the cameras on.”

“We’ve done over 145 hunts?” Joker asked, ignoring the objections to his precious tripod. 

“Probably at least double that, yeah. Though I haven’t been keeping track.” Impulse confirmed. 

“You don’t keep track of how many times we’ve hunted ghosts, but you do keep track of how many times I fall and embarrass myself over Joker’s Tripods??”

“Well what are we still waiting in the truck for? Let's go hunt some ghosts!” Impulse grabbed a spirit box and some salt and pushed open the doors of the truck. The winter air hit quickly, making him shiver. He could never get used to the cold.

“No, you’re not dodging that!” Tango yelled as he grabbed the journal and crucifix from the wall of the truck and followed Impulse out. “Get your demon butt back here!” Joker simply smiled, since the tripod denier basically got distracted from their objections, and followed his friends out with the camera and his invaluable tripod.

The house they were hunting in was a modest little home: a light blue two story high ranch with a basement according to the owner. They also stated that the last owner was apparently murdered there and is still haunting the place and it was really annoying to the college kids that were renting the place. 

“Alright let’s find this ghost!” Impulse exclaimed, still ignoring Tango who looked like smoke was about to come out of his ears any minute. “Who wants upstairs, downstairs or ground floor?”

“You still never told me why you remember all the times I failed spectacularly.” Tango asked, moving around to block Impulse from going into the rest of the house. “And I’m not moving until you do.”

“You do realize he could just … pick you up?” Joker pointed out as he caught up to the two. “Like very easily.”

“Principle, Joker. Just … answer the question please or I will annoy you and be unproductive this entire hunt.” 

“I do it for everyone, anyways, so you’re not special.” Impulse sighed. “Plus wouldn’t you keep track of something embarrassing that happened to your friends?”

“One, I am very special, thank you very much.” Tango puffed up his chest a little, making the others snicker a little. “Second, that is very much a true statement and I don’t like the feeling of being called out like this. Third, I’ll take upstairs. Always the least haunted of the floors.”

“Wait … how many times have I tripped over the tripods?” Joker asked as Tango headed upstairs.

“Seven. I’m going downstairs.” Impulse stated. “Also I'm 39, if you're curious.”

“Wow, we really trip over these things a lot.” Impulse nodded at the statement as he made his way into the basement. The place was mostly empty with not much more than a washer, dryer and boiler. There was some storage under the stairs and some shelf space but not much otherwise. Besides, empty space didn’t rule out a ghost.

“Any luck with you guys yet?” Tango radioed through the walkies they all had. “Upstairs is kind of dead right now.”

“You’ve been up there a total of 60 seconds max.” Joker rebutted.

“Yeah, 60 seconds too long and too silent. I feel like I’m going to trigger a hunt any second. Did these kids say where the activity and stuff was usually located?”

Impulse was about to respond when he heard something fall onto the concrete floor. “Just heard something in the basement. Give me a second.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. Basement is always the most haunted.” Tango added, and Impulse could practically hear the man grinning at him through the walkie. He ignored it though; he had a ghost to negotiate with. 

“Hey there, uh, Ghostie. Really should have done more research if you just … happened to be murdered here to at least, like, know your name or something.”

“DONT BRING THAT UP!” The Spirit cried out, the small lightbulb hanging from the ceiling flickering from the outburst. Then, in a much quieter voice, “Sorry, I’m kind of sensitive about my death.”

“You good down there, Impulse?” Joker called down from the top of the stairs. “Seems you might have triggered it a bit. Lights were flickering up here.”

“Fine, I’m fine. Takes a lot to hurt me anyways. You guys can come down if you want.” Joker nodded as Impulse turned back to where he assumed the ghost was. “Hey, we’re not here to hurt you. We just want to help you pass on and stop haunting these kids, okay?”

“What does it matter?” The Spirit complained. “You can’t understand what I’m saying anyways.” A vase fell off the shelf, rolling into view from behind the stairs as Tango met up with them. 

“Do we have an angry ghost here?” He asked, gripping his flashlight even harder than he already was. 

“Not yet … he’s just frustrated we can’t understand him and thinks him talking to us doesn’t matter.” Impulse relayed. 

“Does he know you can hear him because you’re a demon?”

“No, I haven’t gotten to that part yet.”

“Hold On.” The ghost floated out from behind the stairs, showing himself to Impulse for the first time. He had spiky black hair and a slight stubble framing his chin. The sleeves on his shirt were ripped, showing scarring on his arms all the way down. It was hard to tell the color of his shirt and tie from the pool of blood and stab wound present in his ghostly form. His legs were faded because he was a ghost, but based on how he held himself he looked to be about slightly taller than Tango. “You can hear me??”

“And see you, yeah. Hi, I’m Impulse. I am a demon who lives in the Underworld so I’m able to see things that are supposed to be there. These two accidentally summoned me …”

“Best accident ever, by the way.” Tango interjected. “You give the best cuddles.”

“Second that.” Joker added. “Also should I pull out the spirit box to see if we can hear the other side of this conversation?”

“Nah, that thing only really gives us every other word at best anyways.” Tango said.

“How did you accidentally get summoned?” The spirit asked. “Also I miss cuddles. Wish I could prove if what those other guys are saying is true.”

“Long story involving a garage sale, lack of common sense and lots of screaming.” Impulse said. “But that’s besides the point. The reason we’re here is we want to help you move on to the Afterlife.”

“But I don’t want to move on. I like it here and there’s a lot I haven’t seen and done. Well, can’t really do much here anyways. Kind of stuck in this basement.”

“What’s he saying?” Tango whispered, but Impulse waved him away. 

“You can’t stay here though. Other people live here and they don’t want a ghost haunting their home.”

“Well, I can’t leave this place anyways. I’m kind of … attached to my murder weapon anyway. But I like life and people and I’m not ready to go into the light yet.” Impulse sighed and walked towards the storage under the stairs.

“Oh I think we have a tough one.” Joker commented as him and Tango moved to get a better view of what Impulse was doing.

“Pretty calm though for a ghost that seems unwilling to leave.” Tango added, and Joker simply nodded. Impulse pulled out the weapon from behind a false wall after a few minutes of searching: a battle axe still covered in dried blood with the words Red Winter carved into the handle. Impulse held it up cautiously, silently asking for confirmation.

“Yep, that’s the one.” The ghost confirmed. “That’s what killed me.”

“Why does someone just have that in their house?!” Tango exclaimed, seeing what Impulse found.

“I don’t know.” The ghost replied.

“Ghost doesn’t know.” Impulse repeated, before his hands and eyes began to glow yellow as he channeled the little spiritual magic he knew. “Dimitte spiritum tibi appositum.” A faint glow only Impulse and the Spirit could see glowed on the axe snapping in their ears.

“What was that?” He asked, floating closer to Impulse.

“This weapon holds no power over you anymore. You are free to do whatever you want.”

“I … I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had this kind of freedom since I died.”

“What’s happening now?” Joker asked. “What was that axe that you were holding?”

“That’s what killed our ghost here.” Impulse replied. “Now he just has to decide what he wants to do now.”

“And we’re just going to leave the murder weapon here? And just let whatever psycho did this get away with it?” Tango said, the anger apparent in his face and words. “We’ve got to find who did this and get justice.”

“Tango, we’re ghost hunters. Not detectives.” Impulse pointed out. “The two of you can’t just take on someone who is willing to kill when someone gets in his way.”

“I don’t need my murder solved.” The ghost said, floating between Impulse and the others. “I know what happened and have accepted that. I’m just … I want to stay here on Earth and pretend to be alive just a little longer.”

“Well, you can’t pretend to stay alive here. You need to go somewhere.”

“Can I pretend with you guys?”

“What?” Impulse said, before explaining the situation to Joker and Tango.

“First a demon, now a ghost.” Tango joked. “We’re just collecting all the supernatural entities into our friend group.”

“So guys are okay with this ghost just coming along?”

“My name is Skizzleman, by the way. Kind of rude you never asked that.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, the more the merrier.” Joker said, and Tango nodded in agreement. “I mean, it might be a little weird have a ghost hunting ghosts …”

“And that we can’t see this person.” Tango added.

“...And that we can’t see him, but we’ll figure it out.”

“There’s probably something in one of the supernatural books you picked up researching me about a spell to see ghosts.” Impulse concluded. “But I guess that’s that. Welcome to the team, Skizzleman.”

“Glad to be a part of one again.” Skizz said as he followed the group out of the house he’d been stuck in for the last several years. It may not be a new life, but it sure did feel like the start of something incredible.

[princess-of-anons]

Okay my last post for Metamorphosis AU got an “OwO” from somebody so I’m gonna assume that means there is Interest.

So here’s some lore for the aliens and alien-adjacent characters for the AU

Benrey and Gordon

Benrey (and by extension Gordon) isn’t technically part of a species, but there are/were others like him. A lot of them were captured by Black Mesa and subsequently “pulled apart” for whatever materials made up their bodies while the vast majority fled for greener pastures after the fact.

He doesn’t have a true form either, at least not one that can be properly “rendered” into the simulated world they live in without crashing the game.

He wouldn’t be able to shift into a true form if he wanted anyways, Black Mesa kinda messed up his head and one of the things they broke was his shapeshifting ability, so he’s kinda stuck looking like Some Guy, but he can still fuck around with proportions and add extra limbs.

That “change in his DNA” that Coomer sensed was Benrey trying to shift out of human form. It didn’t work but it was still freaky so he counts that as a win.

When Gordon’s alien powers start blossoming he and Benrey can share dreams (very important for the plot) and Benrey can shapeshift into whatever Gordon’s brain imagines to be a True Form for Benrey, which happens to be a massive worm-thing, both inside and outside the dream; this has the accidental effect in that Gordon can ALSO become a Worm now. Whoops.

Benrey can be easily nullified by blue light, which is pretty much everywhere on Earth. Extended exposure to blue light will cause it to be less effective with time; the only consistent way to keep Benrey at bay is with TV and video games since the movements on screens is distracting.

Gordon can, with time, do everything Benrey can but with more clarity and intent since he didn’t get his brain scrambled by Black Mesa AND grew up on a planet filled to the brim with blue light.

Yes I’m going back to the worm thing. Gordon doesn’t know WHY his brain imagines Benrey’s true form to be a giant worm, Benrey doesn’t have thoughts about it he just likes turning into a worm to bother Gordon. He has intentionally blocked the front door 15 times within 3 days of unlocking Worm Mode and he cannot be stopped, he’s just so happy to not be stuck as Some Guy forever.

Yes, I do have pictures of The Worm. They will arrive with time.

G-Man and Tommy

Mr. Coolatta/G-Man, unlike Benrey, is part of his own species, most of whom have taken the form of the exact same middle-aged human man. They have knowledge of multiple timelines and dimensions, and the ones that decide to go into “work” are often tasked with a specific timeline to keep watch of.

Tommy is biologically G-Man’s son, but whether he spawned via budding or was born to a human mom is intentionally left undiscussed. Tommy doesn’t know, and he doesn’t want to know.

Tommy grew up human and his DNA is 100% human.

The Resonance Cascade activated Tommy’s G-Man powers. Unlike Gordon, whose powers are coming to him slowly and with time, Tommy’s were immediately activated. He simply hasn’t used them yet outside of having a scarily good aim.

G-Man is actually young by the standards of his species.

Members of G-Man’s species that go into “work” are bound by the laws of the universe to follow the orders of their employers. If given an order, G-Man would not be able to disobey it even if he REALLY didn’t want to.

Only G-Man knows who his employers are, and he cannot tell anybody about them unless they also work for his employers.

Okays that’s what I have so far, the rest I either cannot remember right now or is probably spoilers

I have no clue what people might want tagged so just let me know and I’ll tag as needed

[running2reanimation]

Wonder

What if…

King tried not to get lost in imagination, in the what could haves and what should haves. It usually only hurt, but today he was alone. With Purple gone and nothing to distract him…

Imagine if the machine had worked and Gold had just walked out of the game after his allotted time. King imagined that he would have chattered about the game the entire train ride home. King wouldn’t quite understand his son’s enthusiasm but he would nod along as his son explained mechanics that he knew all too well now.

King doubted that would be the last he heard of Minecraft. His son never did anything in half-measures. Would he have turned to criminal activities just to get a chance to play again? …Probably.

Maybe there was a secret group of underground teens who had a portal much like he did now, that seemed believable.

Gold probably would drag Aqua with him, since they did everything together. Hard to say if Aqua would like Minecraft though, maybe the building aspect. King could see her building a farm.

Would Gold and Purple meet? Now there was a thought. King doubted they would get along, Purple probably would find Gold grating. Especially Purple as he was when they’d met.

Or Purple would have tricked Gold into doing something dangerous for Purple’s personal gain…

Gold would die in Minecraft all the time, but that would be okay because he’d just respawn in a bed.

Would Gold bring him into Minecraft? King doubted it. To never have set foot in the game… was a strange thought that filled him with emotions he still didn’t want to look at closely.

Gold probably would have spent that summer obsessed with the game, then gone off to college in the city. Gold had never been sure what he wanted to pursue and honestly King figured his son would become a stay-at-home dad.

King might even be a grandfather by now, though maybe not; Aqua would still be in veterinary school. He could picture the greenish baby stick, though and his son’s tears the first time he got to hold them… so like King’s own, though hopefully Gold’s tears would be pure joy and not half sorrow like his…

But… what was the point of imagining all this?

None of it was real. It hurt to do it. Made his chest ache in longing for a reality that could never be.

He was in his house alone. Sitting in the dark. He should probably go to bed, but the thoughts and feelings wouldn’t make that easy.

King pulled out his phone and checked the time before send a text to Purple anyway, “Are you up?”

Purple’s reply took just long enough that King thought maybe Purple had gone to bed, “Ye just finished the movie. Was about to head back.”

“I thought you were going to stay over there?”

“If you think we’re bad at sleeping, they are way worse. Except for orange, he fell asleep during the movie. I want sleep so I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

Maybe this wasn’t all he’d dreamed of. But, that didn’t mean it wasn’t still good. That he didn’t have things to look forward to here. That there wasn’t still hope. That he wasn’t still grateful what he did have now.

Purple was going to get one hell of a hug when he got home.

[kyluxtrashpit]

For a he WIP game, I’d like to hear about both Braids and Renben 7

Oooh of course! Thanks for asking!

So Braids is a renben fic that’s been rattling around for a long while (and people who’ve been my rubber ducks before probably remember it lmao). The concept of it is basically an attempt at a bit more of a “soft” dynamic for them, at least softer than I’ve written before. The idea is that Kylo, given his mom is Leia, probably has some experience braiding hair (both his own and Leia’s - I headcanon she taught him a lot of traditional hairstyles from Alderaan, which in this headcanon involve a lot of braids, with some being very intricate). Ren, as we know, does braid at least part of his hair. So what if Ren broke his hand in a fight? And his hair, braids included, is all fucked up from said fight? Well, normally he’d just wait for the expired bacta patches to take effect and deal with it later, but now he has a new recruit who is absolutely desperate for any sort of intimacy and approval (and may or may not be in over his head and seeking something familiar and calming). Anyway, that’s a lot of words to say that new recruit Kylo helps an injured Ren with his hair and there is ~emotions~ and ~intimacy~. Talking about it makes me think I should look at it again someday soon cause I do still love the idea

Now for Renben 7, that ones technically a misnomer as the active relationship is kylux and renben is in the past, but it’s about Ren and Kylo with Hux not even appearing so lmao, I still called it Renben 7 (even though I have far more than 7 renben fics posted). To give full context, for anyone who doesn’t know, the first 8 parts to my Renben series on ao3 are intended to tell a story together (though they each stand alone too). That’s Know Your Shadow through to Distraction, with the other 6 being just one offs. The idea here was to tell the story of how renben became kylux in a largely canon-compliant way, with Ren being alive as the key difference. Unfortunately, that proved too ambitious and the other missing pieces are probably not happening but it is what it is

(For full info, there was supposed to be at least one between Test Run and Distraction, about kylux finally getting it on but not becoming emotionally attached yet, just a casual thing. Then Distraction shifts more to a kylux dynamic, and then there probably would’ve been one more after that locking in the kylux before we get to Renben 7, which was supposed to be the final piece. Though more one shots, such as Braids, could’ve been added too)

So Renben 7 itself is basically a time skip happening and Ren comes to visit Kylo on the Finalizer after they haven’t seen each other for a while. As such, there’s some catching up to do, Ren commenting on how Kylo is getting stronger, looking more grown up, but Ren’s still gonna call him ‘kid’ and stuff. Ren’s a little older too, but he’s still the same as he always was. It’s sort of like. A bonding moment for them. They talk about how Kylo is firmly committed to Hux now (so no more casual rolls for him and Ren) and there’s some teasing and stuff. This is basically the closing, where Ren moves to more of like. A mentor figure rather than a sex partner kind of thing. I guess it’s soft too, but in a different way lmao. I’d still really like to write this one too, cause even without the in between bits, I think it closes off the continuous part of the series quite well. It’s closure, the kind of closure with Ren that neither Kylo nor we, the audience, got in canon

But yeah, those are the two! I still hope one day to get them done. I’ll have to take a look at them someday soon cause maybe talking about them will make the words juice happen lmao

[iguessitsjustme]

Deep Night Ep 5 Thoughts

Oops. Got distracted by Stardew Valley and also the return of my headache. Here’s hoping the meds kick in soon. But also I got the Stray Kids merch I ordered! Now I’m living in my new hoodie. Anyway it’s time for Deep Night 5: Rae Blogs Live. Wait no that one is too easy. Deep Night 5: Jealousy Dive. Yeah that one sounds right:

Who is hiring these unfluencers to talk shit when the police come? That’s a typo but I’m keeping it. Cause there’s no way they’re not in on it

I don’t know what Freya pays Dai but it is not enough. 

I don’t think I talked about the opening vocals when I liveblogged episode 4. So here’s me gushing about how absolutely fucking amazing they are. I do not think this would be an easy song to sing. It sounds easy but that’s because of the sheer talent and skill its being performed with. Like, I’m a passably decent singer. I can carry a tune. I am not the most impressive vocalist in the world but I have had multiple people ask me if I sing professionally or as a hobby somewhere. I would not be able to perform this song without HOURS of practice. Vocals are also an instrument that requires practice and technique and I am just so damn impressed with these vocals. I think the song itself is okay, but the singer does so much. The singer is actively carrying the melody and I cannot. I’ll stop talking about this now but if you want my thoughts on how the opening fits the show, let me know. Cause I do have some thoughts there but I think I should probably actually continue watching now

Freya and unnamed gorgeous woman are so cute. What is her name? I need to know for reasons. 

Unrelated to anything but I am having an excellent hair day and I am annoyed that only I will see it. 

Seiji. You can love both of them. I promise. It’s okay. They’re gonna fall in love with each other too. I don’t know if they actually do in the show but don’t worry about that. Semantics. You’ll all be in love.

Ken can be the one that tucks them both into bed at night. 

I need Khem to apologize to Wela so bad. He very clearly actually feels bad and wants to apologize.

Honestly, I don’t think I could say no to Khem’s face. I mean just look at how cute he is

Awww he apologized. Now make it a good one.

I love them????

Now boys. You’re on the roof. Not even gonna lay down a towel or nothing?

Ooohhhh here comes his mother. Oh she got distracted. Seems Wela knows his mother well. But still. The roof? Boys. 

Khem is very good at apologizing. It’s because he thinks about how his words and actions have hurt the people he loves. And he cares more about not hurting them than he does about being right. And I think he will not make the same mistakes twice. 

Obsessed with this. More please. 

Khem and his mom are so cute. 

I’m sure someone else has talked about Khem giving Wela his watch and how that was so good for both of them. Khem can lay a small inconspicuous claim on Wela and when Wela is working he can use it to show Khem that he’s thinking of him so no need to get jealous. Its beautiful and brilliant. 

My man don’t do drugs in the bathroom. This isn’t the club for that.

Of course the cops showed up. Good for Khem knowing someone hired that man to do drugs. 

Honestly are the cops not bored?

I know what pink milk is. But what is red soda?

Is Ken gonna rat them out? Trying to make Seiji number 1? Got bad news about who Khem is and how his mom already knows. But I still see how that could be an issue. 

I mean, Seiji makes a good point. These issues did start when Khem started. It’s not his fault and it’s obvious who it is but he has no way to know that. 

Ken’s a bitch. I actually don’t like him. There was no reason for him to do that.

Yeah somehow I knew Seiji wouldn’t like that.

Get him Seiji. Get im.

I am so surprised that that woman showed up with the cops. Shocked I tell ya. Picking my jaw up off the floor. 

Time to watch episode 6 I guess. I don’t really care about this plotline but I’ll watch it anyway. But only after this commercial break (I caved and subscribed to dropout so i can watch game changer so that is what i will be doing for a minute between these episodes)

[nordic-language-love]

Language Learning Log 2023 (Week 12)

I’ve started using productivity grids again, although I’ll probably only use them intermittently. I’m not sure how much I’ll post these kind of language logs because honestly I don’t like using tumblr that much at the moment. I’ve half a mind to just delete my account tbh. But it’s an archive of my progress, so I won’t do that. Still, I think my days of being a super active langblr/content creator are over. Maybe that’ll change in the future (probably when I’m back in the UK), but we’ll see.

Anyways, about my progress this week:

Japanese

I’m still constantly fluctuating between “omg I’m making progress, how exciting!” and “fuck, I’m getting nowhere with this”. I’ve had a bit more of the former recently, but I still think I need to do more. My TV’s working again now so I’ll be able to watch grammar videos on Youtube again rather than my laptop, which will help a lot. Doing things on my computer means I inevitably get distracted and end up scrolling mindlessly on tumblr, which I really hate and don’t want to do anymore.

Anyway... I understand more and more, although it’s still mostly just occasional words here and there rather than full sentences. And I still don’t understand the kids, which is incredibly frustrating for everyone involved. They try to tell me things, they try to be friendly with me, and I’m just like “haha, yeah, totally”. And eventually they clock I don’t understand and they always ask me dejectedly, “sensei, wakaru?” And I have to say “only a little”. I want to connect with these kids and build relationships with them but it’s impossible when I don’t know what they’re so eagerly trying to share with me. So I have to study harder, every single day, until I understand.

Norwegian

Honestly, I barely study Norwegian at the moment. Sure, I read Good Omens a couple of times a week and have an italki session once a week and I keep a journal, but that’s kind of it. I’m okay with that; my priorities are different right now. There will probably come a day when I want to study Norwegian more intensively again, but at the moment I want/need to focus on Japanese. It’s still kinda frustrating not being able to remember vocab though.

Still... it’s nearly påskekrim season, and I’ve just seen there’s a new season of Exit out, so maybe I’ll get back into watching some Norwegian TV soon (although a part of me will probably feel guilty and like I should be working on my Japanese, soooo we’ll see).

[lakesbian]

Sorry, I’m the one who asked the awakening question. You posted some thoughts about the start of 1.7 a couple of days ago, so figured you had finished the chapter by this point. Again, sorry about that, I’ll be more careful in the future.

ohh fair assumption. yeah i didn't think he was gonna do it that soon i thought he was going to get into some more silly shenanigans with the gang (rose) first. and also i am the slowest reader on the planet at times due to comical amounts of executive dysfunction and propensity for distraction. it's no prablem. anyway here's my thoughts about their different metaphorical assignments 2 the items as per requast:

the dagger: "war" is an obvious and common concept 2 ascribe to weaponry, nothing much interesting to note about this one. if i really wanted to read into it i could suggest that they went for "war" instead of "murder" or whatever because war/mass-scale conflict is already on the mind due to they sort of just got dropped into the middle of of a magical battlefield + have nukes to cold war w/ on hand.

hourglass: to quote blake, "Something we didn’t have enough of, something dangerous, foremost in our thoughts, with its association to Laird."

dreamcatcher: blake picks like. the most basic-level interpretation possible (dream), whereas rose's "fate" read indicates that fate has already been smth on her mind. i'm not great at reading into rose yet but there is the whole thing where blake actually has a life outside of The Horrors, despite still being fated to experience 'em, but rose exists pretty solely because of The Horrors. i think she's feeling the pressure of fate much more than blake is + is more concerned w/ the future overall than him and subsequently brings it up here

skull: "doom" from blake and "death" from rose are largely synonymous but i Can get something out of this. i've mentioned before that i don't think blake has fully processed the consequences for a misstep--he's aware of them, but he hasn't genuinely processed them imo. he's very "one step at a time" about everything and very prone to making hasty decisions when he feels trapped, immobile, or like he's not doing anything, and he explicitly counts "sitting down and researching" as "not doing anything." every time he wants to make a rapid decision--or just goes ahead w/ one w/o rose's consent--she's the one to express outright fear of death*, whereas he's more concerned with reducing his immediate psychological stressors (i.e feeling immobile). i think this indicates that he's thinking in significantly vaguer terms (i.e "doom") whereas she's extremely concerned about concrete possible outcomes (like Literally Dying if blake runs off and gets himself killed).

*i think death will probably seem like one of the more pleasant things that could've happened to them later on but i digress

coin: this one is p straightforward. while they obviously both have the same shitty family, blake is a man who subsequently didn't actively fight for the inheritance as a child, so he already doesn't have the same negative association w money rose does. in addition to that, he already absconded from his family when he was 17, and after time spent being homeless + being in very poor financial shape even after he gets an apartment, he associates the idea of money significantly more with positive emotions and good luck than with the inheritance. rose, however, never left home like blake did + was a girl who was expected to fight for it. she witnessed firsthand everything the promise of the money did to the family. hence: blake associates money w/ fortune, rose associates it with ruin.

rose: this one is. exceedingly straightforward, to blake a rose means his grandmother + rose (family), to rose a rose means herself. adding this one to my brain soup alongside padraic's rose metaphor and stirring but i'll need more data points to write anything coherent. I Am Remembering though.

also someone wanted to know my thoughts on maggie so far. i don't really know anything abt her i only saw her for 2 seconds but i think it's so fucking funny that wildbow made Her the part of pact that gets referenced in worm and not blake. like blake is so sopping pathetic that despite being the protagonist he doesn't even get a feature when his own damn book is being easter-egged somewhere else. sorry blake you're just not personable enough. maggie is all plucky and charming and says things like "drat." all you do is stumble around cursing and bleeding. you don't have being a YA protagonist in you.

[threadsun]

Oh !! I like that energy !! First time someone offered me a wheelchair I almost broke down !! Such fun times~

-fr i should be more positive about things, Im working on it tho, jda here-

I’ll let you keep the title just cuz you’re fun, so—

Assuming you don’t know what hollow knight is, is basically like a metroidvania game and it’s sooooo gooooood !! IM IN LOVE WITH THE GAME SINCE LIKE. Idk I think I discovered it in 2019 I think I can’t remember, BUT BUT, I had like this discussion with my sister telling her we should buy it and that I would pay for it and stuff and I finally convinced her, she liked the game, the one going crazy over it was me tho—

It’s got a ton of fun stuff and I mean a ton !!

You get lost really easily if you can’t find Cornifer to buy the map of the area but that’s the fun part !! Just exploring random places and memorizing stuff is just so nice !! ALSO THE BOSSES OOF, I love every single one of them !! Sure there are some that,,, aren’t that fun, but at the end of the day they’re still pretty enjoyable !! It’s got plenty of nice characters my fav being Quirrel whom I have a plushie of (also a plush of like the void version of the player, plus a silly drawing I made, I would buy more merch but I’m poor also I have more fandoms to attend to so— I have some merch here and there of other stuff so well that’s we’re my money goes to :]]) also also !! The name I use to sign my drawings comes form like the ship name I like from that game yes it’s gay bugs idk why they look cute ig

Okay to sum everything up or else this ask will be completed in three weeks, I love the game and the soundtrack is a banger I love it im waiting for Team Cherry’s next game so bad I’m very exited I just love hollow knight so much istg I’m not normal about that game I can count how many corpses are in the abyss I’ve played the game more than what I can count and I still haven’t gotten the 112% I’m very disappointed in myself but one day I’ll get it anyways if you have money I totally recommend getting it it’s a whole experience 10/10 would recommend okay that’s it thanks for letting me talk about the game I love it so much and I love you ok thanks again bye

Wheelchairs are so good tbh, like my stance (and the general disability studies/activism stance) is that if an accommodation makes your life better, you should use it. Doesn't matter if you could do [thing] without it, if it makes doing [thing] easier, you should use it!

Like I could just walk around with a dislocated/subluxated hip, but if I want to walk without pain then I need to use my wheelchair! The first time I ever used one was at a museum, and I realised it was the first time I'd ever enjoyed a museum cause I wasn't in horrible pain for once. After that, I started the process of getting my own wheelchair because it's so much nicer to live a life where I can focus on my surroundings without being distracted by pain!

Ooooh that sounds like lots of fun!! I know one of my friends plays it, but I've never actually seen it played. I may watch some playthroughs/streams of it or something to see if it'd be my sort of game, and if it is then I'll probably get it!! It sounds super cool from how you describe it, and I love the idea of gay bugs~

[alishamaybe]

Vignettes

Rating: Gen

Summary: Snapshots of Yamayachi's life, from crushes to marriage.

[Tags: Slice of life, dialogue-heavy]

Read on AO3

Vignette #1: Captain & Manager

The whistle blew. “Five-minute break!” Coach Ukai announced. Letting out ragged sighs of relief, the Karasuno players dragged themselves over to the sides of the gym. Kei and Yamaguchi immediately sat down and grabbed their bottles. While Kei took his time sipping, Yamaguchi turned his head up and squirted whole mouthfuls of water before springing back up onto his feet. Kei watched him stride over to Yachi.

Yachi passed her notebook to Yamaguchi. Turning each page carefully, he scanned them and made comments on their teammates’ development. “Wow, Yaotome’s progress is looking great!”

“If he keeps going with this rate of improvement, I think he’ll become even better than Nishinoya-san!”

Yachi and Yamaguchi were close enough to Kei that he could hear them without having to try.

“It’s amazing how detailed your notes are,” Yamaguchi said. “You know, I probably should at this point, especially as captain…but I still don’t really know how to do all these stats things. Thank you.”

Yachi laughed. “That’s what I’m here for!”

Smiling, Yamaguchi gently closed the book and held it out towards her. “I’m glad,” he said, looking towards his feet.

She took it—actually, it was more like snatched it—before hurrying away towards their manager-in-training, Morohoshi-san.

Kei checked the clock, took one last gulp of water and just sat in silence for the remainder of the break. (Well, he wished he could sit in silence, but certain people were making a huge racket. As usual.) It seemed like each time Yamaguchi spoke to—or spoke about—Yachi, his eyes sparkled more. Kei wondered if he should tell Yamaguchi that.

"Tch." Though Kei made that sound in embarrassment, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his mouth.

° ° °

Hitoka hugged her notebook and kept her head down as she headed towards Miji-chan. She barely heard the whistle when it blew again or Coach Ukai yelling "Break's over!" in his rough voice, but through muscle memory, she got into position for the next activity. And she definitely avoided looking in Yamaguchi’s direction while doing so.

“Hitoka-senpai?” Miji-chan said, trotting after Hitoka. “Are you OK?”

“Yamaguchi…said…” Hitoka whispered, warmth creeping up into her face.

“Hmm? Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Miji-chan said, this time using a louder voice.

“Huh?” Hitoka whipped her head round to find her assistant towering over her. Despite being two years younger, Miji-chan was much taller. “Oh! Y-yes, I’m OK.”    

“Really? Your face looks red.”

“Huh?!” Hitoka pressed a hand to her cheek. It felt even warmer now that Miji-chan had said that.

“Ah…I know.” Grinning, Miji-chan leaned closer and shielded her mouth with one hand. “You like Yamaguchi-senpai. Right?”

Hitoka slid her hand over her mouth. Miji-chan giggled.

At the sound of the whistle, the next practice match started. “Bring it on!” Hinata screeched.

Finally getting her voice back, Hitoka whispered to Miji-chan, “Is it that obvious?”

“Well…it is to me,” Miji-chan said, flipping the scoreboard they stood next to. “Probably to some other people too.”

Hitoka shielded her face with her book. “Ah, I’m so embarrassed.”

“But what’s wrong if it’s obvious?”

Hitoka’s thoughts raced, trying to find an answer, but found nothing substantial. She thought some more.

“It might encourage Yamaguchi-senpai to confess,” Miji-chan said.

Hitoka stared at her, heart beating faster.

“I mean, if he does like you. I wouldn’t know," Miji-chan clarified. "Anyway, come on, Hitoka-senpai! You need to start keeping track of the match. Oh, and look! Yamaguchi-senpai is serving now.”

Hitoka pointed a finger at her. “Stop it.”

“OK, OK. I’ll stop,” Miji-chan said, grinning.

No matter how much she tried to force it away, one particular thought kept distracting her for the rest of this afternoon’s training. Struggling to keep up with the game, Hitoka wished she’d have taught Miji-chan more so that she could take over this time.

Yamaguchi is glad I’m here.

[ellowynthenotking]

Mar 4 

Dear Dad

So, we're going to have a little bit more travel time, and by that I mean, actually a lot more travel time. 

I mean, I heard a rumor, well, actually, I think it was Reese who heard it, but when I went to talk to the others, everyone had already kinda known about it. 

It might have an easier way to travel, but it might also be much, much harder. 

And anyway, I think that it's just going to be something that we have to deal with. 

I really don't want to, I'd much rather get more sleep cause I feel like it's been forever since we got a chance to rest, even a little bit, but I know that there's not much that's actually going to happen, like ever again. 

So instead, I shall suffer, slowly lose more and more sleep, and feel my grasp on my sanity slowly drift away.

We're running out of money too. That's a real issue that we have to deal with because if we aren't staying in a temple, we have to pay to stay in an inn. And even if most of them are nice enough to let us stay in one room for cheap, they're still expensive. And food is expensive. And everything is expensive. 

Why is life so expensive?

We're going to have to make money somehow.

Zunair wants to play music in bars and stuff again to make money, which worked and made us a fair amount of money. But we don't have a lot of time. We need to keep going, but we need money.

It's a terrible, terrible cycle. 

Also, I think we're going to go insane if we spend too much more time together. We really will. 

Sometimes, when I'm feeling really irritated at Zunair, I can FEEL how much I sound like Grace in my internal monologue of yelling at them. Or like Willow with her words of disappointment.

It's really weird, I'm not going to lie.

But we're getting closer, I think, both to where we want to go and to each other. 

It's kind of neat. I'm learning things about them that I never thought I would, that I never wanted to know, but now I know anyway.

When there are no phones, minimal distractions, only each other. 

We can still ignore each other pretty well if we want to, but we're still talking even if we're actively trying. 

It turns out that when you don't have much to talk about, you find stuff to talk about.

Anyway.

I should probably go to bed. I'm sure there's some stuff that we'll need to learn more about. There's probably even more stuff that I'm not thinking of that I've learned. 

And I'm sure it won't be long until someone's kicking me awake on accident or on purpose so we can go to the next place. 

I’ll write to you when I can. Hopefully, it’ll be soon. 

I mean, I'm still hopeful that we'll get home soon, but that seems less and less likely every day.

But I'm still hopeful.

Love, Jack

P.S.

I might have accidentally, on purpose, said that we'd have a massive dinner when we all get home. And that we'd be able/willing to host everything. And that everyone and their families are invited. I probably shouldn't have done that, but I think you'll like everyone once you get to know them, and it'll be nice to see everyone interact. 

The hard part will be getting enough food for everyone.

It'll be like a feast! It'll be great!

Probably. 

I'm sure it'll be fine. Maybe the guys won't remember what I offered, and we'll be clear.

Anyway, it'll be fine. 

Probably. Hopefully! 

Anyway, love you! I'll write you again soon,

Jack

Read the rest of the series here: 

Or read more by this author here: