#getting really sick and tired of my important pages not being read

[numinously-yours]

Pick a pile: Where will you be in 3, 6, and 12 months?

Looking back at my poll from a couple of weeks ago, there were three topics tied for second place. One of them is this one: Where will you be in 3, 6, and 12 months?

For this reading, I looked at your current energy. If you're not sure which pile is for you, please feel free to read that part first! Then, I went through and provided insight on where you'll be/what you'll be focused on at the 3-month, 6-month, and 12-month increments of the next year. The write ups are a bit longer than usual, so I apologize in advance for pile 3 & 4 for having to scroll a bit longer lol

Current Energy: The Moon

At this current time, it feels like you are in an energy of “almost”. You have something in your mind that you think makes a good idea/proposal. Your gut tells you that you should go for it, but your anxiety is holding you back from taking the leap. You may be remembering a time in the past where you went for something big and it didn’t work out. You’re worried this may happen again and you don’t want to set yourself up for disappointment.

3 – Page of swords, Knight of cups

In three months time, you’re going to be on an enthusiastic, creative, and passionate adventure. There is something you are hoping to share with the world! In the months leading up to this, new ideas are going to be brewing. How can you best share your passion with others? What is a fun and new way to present your idea? Continue brainstorming these ideas and you’ll have a good basis of where to start when the time comes.

6 – Eight of wands

After a few more months of getting your idea up and running (6 mo. total) , you are really going to see movement and action. There may have been a few bumps along the way as you perfected the execution of your ideas above, but things seem to be smoothing out. I think that around this time, you’ll have a really solid foundation of where you want this project to go. As you see the rewards of your work, you may even want to begin expanding.

12 – Four of wands, Wheel of fortune

Finally, a year from now, you’re going to feel really fulfilled. What I love is that the wheel of fortune came up in this time frame specifically. The Wheel is about karma and life cycles – it makes me think that at this time next year you’re really going to feel like you’ve come full circle in whatever project you’ve just taken on. The four of wands is all about celebration, harmony, and relaxation. An amazing and overwhelming sense of “I did it!” is definitely coming through here. Congratulations on whatever you’re up to, pile 1. It’s going to be amazing 😊

Current energy - Knight of pentacles rev. and Seven of cups rev.

You are feeling a bit overwhelmed right now. Based on the cards that came out for your timeline, I think it likely has to do with your social circle/relationships. Maybe you’re the foundation of the group and you’re starting to become tired of being everyone’s support (like, actual exhaustion, not just “sick of it”) or you feel like you’re the one who is continually left out. You are trying to figure out what to do about it but feel stuck. I also can’t stop thinking that some of you are students – either graduating HS this year and starting college in the Fall, transferring schools, or starting a new career closely after graduation. This might not be all of you, but I was called to make that note.

3 – Three of cups reversed

You’re going to venture on your own pretty soon here, number two. Where the three of cups upright is about community, celebrating with friends, etc., the reversal indicates that you need some alone time. It’s okay if you don’t feel like you’re really clicking with your people anymore. Even though it can suck, you must do what is best for you. And I think that means seeing who you are, without the influence of others. There is a small indication of overindulgence, specifically when it comes to lifestyle changes. While it’s important to find yourself, please remember to do it smartly and healthily.

6 – Six of cups, page of cups

Taking the time to find yourself is going to bring you to your six-month point. At this point in time, I think you’re going to have a pretty good idea of who “you” are. You’re going to be more in tune with your intuition & higher self. You have a clearer idea of the future – or at least you are getting more and more comfortable with the unknown. Taking this time for yourself was really important and I’m happy that you’re going to do it. It is going to teach you the beauty of curiosity, it’s going to remind you that your inner child is still within you and deserves fun, and it’s going to teach you that the past is the past and the only way forward is continuing to move ahead.

12 – Ten of coins, The Devil

The main message from these two cards comes from the ten of coins. This next year is going to teach you SO much about yourself. At this time next year, you’ll look back feel like your personal journey was absolutely worth it. You feel more abundant and much more confident that your future ahead is bright. The Devil, I think, is here as another reminder to not get ahead of yourself or start to feel conceited because of your journey. You may feel tempted to rub your success in the faces of that social circle you left, but that is not going to be beneficial to you. Let your success make YOU happy. You can absolutely share the success, but not as a way to shame the others who had previously let you down.

Current Energy – The Emperor and Playday rev.

Playday is a specific card to this deck and, for some reason, there’s not any info on what the card was meant to represent. But hey, that’s all part of the tarot reading process! Since it came into reverse, my initial thought is that you haven’t had many opportunities to have playday. I asked the deck for a standard tarot card to clarify and the Emperor came out at that time. In your current energy, you feel an obligation to take of others and be a foundation for them. Some of you are likely parents or caretakers. Others feel like you have to be “the strong one”. In your eyes, there is no time for play because there is too much to be done and there are too many people who need you.

3 – Three of coins rev., Five of cups

I think it’s been your goal for some time to focus on self-care. And I think that you’re going to continue to try for the next three months. There is this sense that you wish others would take care of you for once, but you’re “stuck” taking care of yourself AND trying to take care of them at the same time. You wonder why you have to be on the journey of self-care alone. You might get to this three-month period and wonder what the point of self-care is if you don’t even feel better.  I’m here to remind you that ANY progress in taking care of yourself is good progress! The fact that you are THINKING about how you deserve to be taken care of is a good thing! It means you know your worth. Unfortunately, I don’t think the three-month period is going to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside but!! (see your six-month overview for more)

6 – The Chariot

Although the road to self-care has been HARD, you really WILL feel your rewards soon. By the six-month period, you’re going to feel some success. You’ll see that you have the willpower to take care of yourself instead of dropping everything to help everyone else, you’ll have the determination to hold your boundaries, and you’ll have the strength to remember that it only gets better from here. Boundary setting is coming out the strongest as the thing you’ll progress with the most. There will be tests that challenge this and sometimes the boundaries will come down, but you will more consistently BELIEVE you deserve the boundaries. It’s going to be an empowering time for you, group three! I’m just sorry it has to be the six month check point lol

12 – Five of swords rev., Ace of swords, Eight of swords (clarified by Sunrise, also a deck specific card!)

At this time next year, you’re going to be so proud of yourself. This makes my heart happy <3 There are still some times where people challenge your boundaries and try to take advantage of your genuine heart, but you’re finally at a point where you feel confident saying no. If/when this happens, you’ll reflect over this past year and see how far you’ve come. This will remind you of all of the hard work you did to get here and that it is not worth going back to feeling the way you did before (aka right now). You can ABSOLUTELY still be a person who provides a solid foundation for others, but not at the expense of yourself. Your mental state is going to feel soo much more clear. Each day you’ll realize something new about yourself, your needs, and how YOU can help yourself get there. This is really going to be a turning point in your mindset. AH I’m just so excited for you! Finally, with the eight of swords – I wanted to pull a clarifier because the eight usually represents negativity and victim mentality. I don’t think this will be your energy in a year. So, I pulled the Sunrise card. I think it’s AWESOME that you got 2/3 unique cards from this deck. This card is different than the Sun card, though, in my interpretation, it has a lot of the same energy. In the times that you feel guilty for setting your boundaries or taking care of yourself first, there will be a sunrise in the back of your mind. You will see the light of the rays and the warmth of this bright star. It will be a reminder that the sun always rises and it doesn’t mean you’re reverting back to your old tendencies to forget your own needs.

12 month column is ace of wands & moonlight ; apologies for the hard to read text. in retrospect, I shouldn't have picked that photo background.

Current energy: The Devil reversed.

Right now, you are going through a personal transformation. I bet there is a sense of unknown and you’re a bit resistant to that (consciously or not). The future is scary and not being able to plan for it doesn’t help the anxiety. However, you understand the importance of your transformation and are trying your best to optimistic of the outcome.

3 – The Hierophant, Temperance, and Four of cups

In three months, it looks like you’ll still be on the journey of self-discovery, but you’ll be a little more patient with not knowing. In the time leading up to this three-month mark, you’ll discover tools that help you remain present. You’ll do a lot of introspection which will allow you to feel more comfortable about still being in land of the unknown. Around the three-month mark, you’ll redirect your thoughts to a different pathway than you’re currently thinking. The four of cups represents meditation and re-evaluation of your situation. You may have a moment of panic feeling like you have to start over AGAIN, but the tools you’ve learned were meant to be learned so you could get through this. You KNOW you’re not starting over because you have new insights that weren’t even in your reality three months ago (aka now). You may start delving more into spirituality to help you on your journey. This could include going to church more often, researching new religions, picking up tarot, or simply continuing meditation to get a bigger understanding of the world around you.  

6 – The Sun

By six months, you’re going to feel like the sun won’t stop shining. Even on the coldest days, you feel the warmth of the sun because you know you have a purpose. In the time between three months & six months, you’re going to figure something out. Something is going to click and it is going to propel you to work on something great. You’ll feel revitalized, group four, and I think it’s a feeling you’ve been looking for for awhile now.  You’re going to inspire others with your newfound light. You’re going to feel confident expressing yourself (beliefs, needs, ideas, etc.). I’m really happy for you!

12 – Ace of wands, Moonlight (specific to this deck; different from The Moon)

This time next year will truly feel like a new beginning. The sun has set on this particular part of your journey and the moon is coming out to light the next path. While the moonlight is less bright than the sunlight, I think this card is here to represent that, no matter day or night, the universe is here to provide some light even in the darkness. As you look ahead to new opportunities, the unknown doesn’t scare you as much. You know the sun will always rise again and provide you clarity on your path. And you know based on this journey that you’ll always feel the sun’s warmth, no matter what part of the journey you’re on.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

hi again so I was thinking about the vampire au and I think I have an idea of a yandere vampire parents gambit and rogue [ the animated series ] x baby vampire reader.now in this au story is that gambit and rogue have been alive for centuries and have everything they can ever want wealth, power a happy loving marriage...everything explanied for one thing....child so imagine one night gambit and rogue realized that she's pregnant with their baby...their very own flesh and blood , a gift from the gods .so 9 months later when reader was born. they just can't help but love their baby even more. and they made a promise that they would love and protect their baby always.so what do you think.

That sounds really good, @roxanndrummond! I think it's kinda sweet, with a bit of darkness to it. I'll try a few headcanons for this (I haven't forgotten your other requests! I'm on a break from most requests right now, but I can do asks, and a few requests that catch my eye in particular). Let's do this!

• Being alive for so long can lead to many new and strange ways to pass the time.

• New ways to hunt for prey, new games to play, mew members to add to their coven, new powers to discover... Yet out of all of these new things, they craved the one thing they hadn't had yet- A child.

• The two tries for several years, decades, even a century or two, and finally, after all that time, they were successful... They finally brought into the world a healthy, happy baby. And the two were in love at the first small cry. Of course, having a vampire baby is not an easy task...

• Trying to feed Reader takes gentle hands and gentle words. They need blood, but they need their parents' blood at such an early stage of life. Drinking another vampire's blood, especially from their parents, helps dilute the richness from pure human blood, that could make Reader sick before they've built of immunities. But they make such cute noises when they eat, and their little hands are so soft, so small, when grasping their parents' fingers...

• Getting their baby to sleep is also it's own task. Baby vampires and fledglings need lots of sleep, yet sometimes they aren't tired enough to do it on their own. Lullabies can help. So can gentle rocking and soft humming. A dark room and soft bit of noise is always good, helping them feel calm and secure when they struggle to sleep peacefully. Of course, simply sleeping with their baby between them always seems to do the trick... And neither one wants to leave them alone, afraid they'll be gone the moment they leave...

• Having a coven to help them is a blessing. Plenty of members, all joyful over a new little one, and who would kill and die for them, each one ready to watch them if their parents can't. That earns them the titles of Aunts and Uncles amd Auncles... And their baby seems to enjoy the company, babbling away and cooing when their tummy is tickled, or their hair is stroked.

• Playing games is a good bonding activity. It creates positive emotions and a feeling of safety and happiness. It's important for little bèbès... Peek-a-boo always earns a few giggles. So do stuffed animals and soft blocks. And reading to their baby usually makes them sleepy, so they always finish their play with a baby book, letting their little one touch the pages and see the colors...

• They'd do anything for their baby. They'd hunt down every last vampire hunter, and they'd let a hunter kill them if it meant their baby lived. They'd never abandon them, they'd never leave them, if they could, they'd take Reader everywhere with them... In the end, they'll do their best for their baby, be the parents they need, keep them warm and happy and fed. It's the right thing to do, and it's what they want to do. Even if their baby tries to leave when they're older, they won't let them. How could they? This is their baby... And Mama and Papa would never let them down...

[heterophobicdyke]

We need to make sex a convo in lesbian spaces, yes!! Idk about the male gaze sex stuff but it sounds disturbing af! I mostly ran into asexual you’re-cute-but-let’s-be-friends types. And that made me feel weird personally about my own desires and that sucked as someone who had gotten over my internalized homophobia, “lesbians are predatory” issues. I wish this issue of de sexualizing lesbians was talked about more than fake lesbians (just saying). 

I agree that there are cases of trauma/dysphoria with some of these touch me not and pillow types. However, the “queers” are tryna to normalize this, giving pillow princesses their own queer flag, etc. I read a good think piece about it back in April I can link. I didn’t think it was that big of an issue, but people are tryna spin it into a good thing. I also don’t think not wanting to do certain sex acts or being uncomfortable with xyz is a problem it’s more of, we shouldn’t normalize sex where one person is not getting pleasure. It should go both ways where everyone is comfortable/happy and want to please their partner & vice versa. 

Honestly maybe I am letting the queer weirdos get to my head into thinking this is a bigger problem than it actually is??

ah yeah i have witnessed the let's be friends stuff for sure. i probably was like that before i was sexually mature enough tbh like i went on dates when i was 18-20 with girls my age and idk i just wasnt ready for sex enough to be fully confident about moving it to the next stage (sex). but also im into older women and was only dating these girls to try and be more normal lmao so i wasnt super into them enough to want sex

i think all flags besides the gilbert baker rainbow one (meaning gay and lesbian, not queer) are kinda redundant tbh so i agree w that. i dont use any lesbian-specific one either really. the labrys one is ok ig but feels a bit political (and feels connected to polilez like the lesbian feminism movement kinda is - like the flag is used in the lesbian feminism wiki page and the first sentence is pretty polilez).

i think stones and pillows make sense if they date each other (which i've seen they often do) because then both are getting pleasure because that's the sex they both want (one only giving one only receiving). i also think ppl can have fun/get pleasure in many ways we might not understand

but i definitely think you're within ur right to be sick of the million micro identities in the community, even if i dont personally see the issue with stone/pillows simply bc if i did have an issue w it then i feel like id be encouraging ppl to push their boundaries to prove their lesbianism.

i think where the distrust of pillow princesses come from is that there are so many non-lesbian women who holiday in the lesbian community when they're tired of men, and they don't care to take any active role in sex ever because they see lesbians as some mechanic servicing their car while they temporarily avoid men. like a masturbatory tool. and that's not on.

however i have interacted w actual lesbians (and i do trust they're lesbians) who are pillows, or who are with stones so have sex in a pillow way despite being fine with touching their partner otherwise, and yeah like i said i just dont feel comfy judging it bc regardless where it comes from (natural preference or trauma) it still is a hard sexual boundary that shaming it might make them have sex they dont want

i guess on the topic of whether they should be actual identities or not, i mean it makes sense for stones and pillows to find each other? which would be important bc they are rare preferences after all. i dont think it's so common that it needs to be a central part of the lesbian community or anything and i understand ur concern that creating flags and speaking as if theyre more common than they are might make esp young lesbians feel like they must fit into one or the other but ime they're not common enough to have major influence to the point that every lesbian will identify as either as stone or pillow. and if they did there would def be questions ab that

[samueldays]

A friend recommended Deadworld Isekai to me the other day. To damn it with faint praise: it was good enough that I finished reading all three volumes, and the author has a solid grasp of spelling and grammar.

It has the usual LitRPG problem of re-reifying abstractions to produce weird round-trip-translation nonsense that has become the heart of the LitRPG genre, one of the most finely polished turds in the world.

The thing that stood out to me as the most 'fixable' problem, though, was the fake suspense and the fake threat. Oh no, the protagonist is in over his head, however will he survive? Oh no, the protagonist is on the verge of death, what asspull deus ex machina is going to save him now?

The cast is too small and the premise too specialized for there to be a serious threat of replacing Matt as protagonist, and once you've introduced CRPG Healing you can't threaten injury short of death, so I roll my eyes at every new danger, confident he'll be perfectly fine (and powered up!) a chapter later.

I want to contrast this with Lord of the Rings, which looms over the wider fantasy genre so much that it gets taken for granted, and I sometimes see people thinking of it in terms of the popular cliches that were copied the most. But I feel it's pretty good about threatening Frodo, and that's less copied.

At some point in The Return of the King, the reader has seen Gandalf die and Boromir die and the Fellowship broken, and then parts of the Fellowship met new cool people, and then those cool people started dying too, with Theoden bravely dead on the battlefield and Denethor horribly dead in attempted murder-suicide.

It starts to look like Frodo might die, IMO, it's genuinely plausible that Tolkien will kill off another major character at this point. The deaths are mounting, Frodo's psyche is fraying, and the savvy reader sees Sam is right there to take over if Frodo dies. The main protagonist will probably still survive because that's how stories go, but it's not all that obvious.

It looks like death when Frodo is stung by giant spider and carried off by orcs, but it's much less of a deus ex machina to hear that the spider was using paralytic venom to save a meal for later. Frodo isn't getting a sudden powerup or new ally, it's just a spider being a spider.

With no magic healing, several magic items lost, and Frodo increasingly traumatized, the quest gets closer to Mount Doom. Here Frodo puts on the Ring, which is not how these stories normally go! No heroic last-minute surge of willpower. Frodo is sick and tired, looks at the Ring of Power, and decides that in fact, he would like Power for himself.

Gollum bites Frodo's finger off, falls into the lava, and the Ring is destroyed nonetheless. Tolkien again makes it look like Frodo might really die in the resulting volcanic eruption, now that his importance to the story is over and the Ring is destroyed and the rest looks like cleanup from the army marching on Mordor in the other plot thread.

But the book isn't over yet. If you're reading Lord of the Rings in print, you can feel there's another hundred pages left to go at this point. Frodo is saved, Aragorn is crowned, our heroes are victorious, there's celebrations and marriages and vacations and songs.

Then Frodo heads home at long, long last and finds Saruman got there first and started polluting the Shire.

The last surprise is that Saruman dies really fast. The rest of the book is appendices. What, you expected a hundred pages of Frodo fighting the Shire Wizard War? Nope, we're done here! Also Frodo has to leave, Sam takes over at the very last. It's a good series of plot twists, without being a plot swerve.

[zanyzendraws]

JULY 22 2024 ZENLOG: First Time's the Charm!

Hihi everyone! Welcome to my first ZenLog! Er, first official one! If the layout's a bit rough, apologies! We'll learn as we go along.

This one's a bit of a doozy so here's a neatly color coded table of contents! Depending on what you wanna read, please look for the following colors as you scroll! (Unless you wish to read the whole thing -- in that case, be my guest!)

CONTENTS OF THE ZENLOG

PERSONAL UPDATES

PROJECTS

WHAT TO EXPECT

BEFORE I GO...

With that being said, click "keep reading" to read all of this!

PERSONAL UPDATES

So, unfortunately, I got sick. It's really funny because I didn't feel anything at first, so I didn't think of it.

Turns out that compared to the rest of my family members, I had the most swollen throat out of all of them. I didn't feel anything for a couple of days, so I luckily managed to get some stuff done.

Unfortunately, the symptoms somehow worsened despite taking the antibiotics and mouthwash-gargle thingy. It's hard for me to speak, and I get tired hella easily. Which is inconvenient.

As a result, I've been cooking significantly less, RIP.

I mean, I've managed to cook. Just not as much as I wish I did.

On another note, here are some pics of food that I've been eating...

Salivate!

PROJECTS

There have been multiple projects I've been working on left and right due to my brain being unable to focus on just one. These will be blunt lists of what I've accomplished (accomplishments are in pink).

Hanashima's Advanced Class

Ongoing interviews with discord mutuals and contacts are being conducted to ensure the accuracy of certain scenes. I'm aiming for approx. 15 at least to be included alongside findings from online research. 2/15 have been completed).

Working on character sheets regarding character writing to ensure consistency in the work and I've finalized names for characters I've previously struggled in naming.

Working on bits and pieces of the actual document where the full story is being written. A scene for later down the line has been completed.

[Unnamed WIP Psychological Horror]

Concepts have been written down so I know what I visually want, alongside some sketches of character designs being completed.

I have a rough idea of what I want and the routes I wish to take but I still need to work on an outline- other than that, I have a list of all important characters. More will be added later down the line but they will be minor at best, irrelevant otherwise.

[WIP audio project]

Lists of characters have been completed.

Three characters excluding the main cast (who I plan to redesign) have been drawn in my sketchbook (uncolored but I have a rough idea of what the color selections will be in my noggin).

MISC.

A short comic strip has been completed.

Another comic strip has been in the works; the inking process is completed, though it is yet to be colored and shaded.

Lineart for an animation asset has been completed.

Songs have been compiled and edited for a music-based video.

WHAT TO EXPECT

More updates on said comic scripts and Hanashima's Advanced Class.

Upcoming animation involving a character I've previously shared on this blog.

Playlist video based off of characters I've previously posted about on my channel.

I really wish to focus on Hanashima's Advanced Class so I'll do my best to further buckle down and write, and hopefully I'll message some more of my discord mutuals for the needed interviews (as this interview is for one of the first scenes in the series). Expect a word or page count regarding the writing I've done for the series next time, if not a list of how many scenes or 'episodes' i've written.

I'm reluctant to post about the psychological horror project that's been on my mind admittedly. I don't wish to give too much away (and at the moment, I have no way of coding it... or any coding knowledge).

BEFORE I GO...

I'm gonna do my best to update weekly while I'm on this gap semester, and even once I start going back to college/university/wherever I get my education!

And I'll be fully honest: I hype up these projects from excitement but the reality is that me making them is hella slow despite my attempts to be efficient. So it'll probably be a while before I release anything.

But I hope you guys will have some fun in reading these ZenLogs and will stick along for the journey! If you're not interested, that's okay too! Just enjoy your time on the internet and come back soon!

Take care! <333

-ZanyZenDraws (Zen)

[mysticstarlightduck]

41.  Any advice for new/beginning/young writers?

42.  How do you feel about love triangles?

43.  What do you do if/when characters don’t follow the outline?

Thank you so much for the tag, @clairelsonao3!

41.  Any advice for new/beginning/young writers?

Hmmm. I think my advice, if any, would be this:

Don't get too caught up on what others tell you to write, or what you "should be writing because its popular". Write what you want to write, write the story that ultimately makes you so excited about writing it that you can't imagine getting bored, writing something you love. Because, even if it doesn't seem mindboggling original at first, or if it feels just too weird, or if you feel like no one will read it, loving what you write is the first step to writing any good book, no matter the genre, and when it comes down to it, having fun is one of the most important things a writer should strive for, for you own happiness. And if you do have fun while writing your book, your readers will feel it, and if they are your target audience, they will love it too.

No writing is bad writing in the first draft. Those first few iterations of your story aren't meant to be perfect, they aren't even meant to be extremely cohesive - they're meant to make your story finally exist outside of your mind. It's meant for you and you alone, as the writer of the book - your first draft is yours, and you can make as many mistakes as you need to in order to improve it! If you get too caught up on being perfect on something you still need to practice, you won't be able to write anything. Needing practice isn't a bad thing - it just means you have still a long road of interesting things to learn, and that every single word you write down on that formerly blank page will be another step on the ladder to achieving the writing your dream of making. Don't beat yourself up if it doesn't come out perfectly in your first, second, third, or even tenth time - those "imperfect drafts" are each improving your own writing skill in one way or another, and one day, you'll look at your writing and see how far you've come after finally pushing through all that self-doubt.

TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!!! I mean it. A healthy mind is a MILLION times more creative than a tired and stressed-out mind. Find the sleep schedule that works for you. Eat healthy things according to your personal dietary needs. Go for a walk. Be responsible and proactive when it comes to your scheduled activities, don't procrastinate. Follow a schedule of your own. Get things done. Watch a movie with popcorn and relax. Laugh, smile, have fun. Do the things that make you happy. Talk to your friends. Enjoy some sunlight. Talk to a therapist, if you need to! All those things that make you feel refreshed, happy, and ready to take on more challenges. As someone who battled quite a few physical and mental health problems this past couple of years, I find that self-care is the root of any productive writing session and that I write much better now that I am happy, rested, and healthy than when I was really exhausted, sick and depressed and had to force myself to write. I really, really mean it. Take care of yourself, and practice self-compassion. It may not be easy at first, but you'll see how much it makes sitting down to write much more easy and joyful in the long run <3

42.  How do you feel about love triangles?

I already got that one, here! (:

43.  What do you do if/when characters don’t follow the outline?

Good question! Especially since I'm constantly dealing with this, as my outlines turn into drafts. My latest experience with characters rebelling against the outline has been Ambrose Prosper - I had a specific, detailed idea of what I wanted his past to be, but then I wrote him, and he started to develop and change until the character was basically like "nope, I do what I want" and I had to revise his whole backstory to fit this new version of his character - but honestly, it was for the best. I like this new version of Ambrose's character and backstory way more than the original one!

What I do in this situation is to let it flow - I realize that, if a character isn't following the strict outline, it's because of specific personality details, intricacies and growth that have happened thus far, and that is good. I tend to then bend the outline for the character. I think "Well, if this character wouldn't do this specific thing, then what would they do in this situation?" and 9 times out of 10, the answer to this question is more original and truthful to the character than the initial outline, and so I go with this new version! I find that being flexible with your characters makes for way more organic and meaningful stories than breaking characters to fit a specific scene just because "it needs to happen" - if a character doesn't work with a scene, I'm always positive that it's the scene that needs rework and change, not the character! (:

[kalmeria]

hey kori! how's your cold? are you feeling any better?

soo if you're in the mood to answer... what about 4, 5, 11, 14 and 21 from the enstars asks? sorry for asking so many, but i'm curious, haha ^^'

hello!! i’m feeling better, thank you for asking. still a bit sick but the brain fog is mostly gone at least~

answering these is fun so i might ramble on a bit haha

okay i ended up talking a lot a lot. so much that i’m putting a readmore here lmao

link to the secret codes that enable me to ramble about ensemble stars (aka the ask game)

4. what got you into enstars?

short answer is: wanted to play a new rhythm game!

long answer (i have a whole timeline lmaoo): my first encounter with enstars was watching the first episode of the anime when it came out (summer 2019). but honestly i didn’t enjoy it. the fact that anzu, who is such a central character, felt like a prop the others talked at… it was weird! i get that it’s because of her being the player character so to speak, but it still bothers me, and i find stories where she shows up a lot difficult to read.

fast forward to early 2021 when i followed a person on here who later turned out to be a big enstarrie. through them i was exposed to some wataei edits that made me go “wait this is gay?” but i mostly tuned it out as stuff on my dash i’m not that interested in. one mention of vampires did get my attention, and i ended up reading the tv tropes pages for a bunch of characters? the oddballs, valkyrie, switch, alkaloid. i could not understand what this “war” thing was.

then last autumn i got tired of the power creep in starira, my previous gacha game, and decided to try bandori garupa. found out i really enjoy rhythm games, so then i started playing d4dj and project sekai as well.

and then, around new years i think, i was sick and lying in bed, and ran into some enstars music related videos. notably one that was rating different rhythm games. and then there was a video of a bandori fan playing enstars for the first time that really sold it to me because of the shared point of reference.

i was still fighting my curiosity because enstars fans scared me, and i knew the immense amount of lore could easily suck me in and i didn’t really want that. so i decided to just watch the anime and see what the whole deal is… and then i did binge the whole thing and soon after downloaded the game (there was a minor setback of figuring out how to get an app that isn’t available in my region). i read the main story in like a week in february, and now i’m here!

(btw enstars replaced bandori in my mobile gaming, which i had kind of lost interest in at that time, and had just had the worst gacha luck trying to get a 4* moca card)

tl;dr (which is totally fair): wanted a new rhythm game to play, have heard about enstars and seen people be really into it, watched the anime -> it captured my interest

5. what's your favorite headcanon about the character you produce?

umm well this is not a fun one but it’s kind of an important one to me. i see tatsumi as someone who has dealt with being suicidal in the past, especially during his hiatus after the reimei incident, but before that as well. i think he processed it through his faith and through devoting himself to others, but it is also wrapped up in feelings of guilt about not respecting the value of a human life (his own) properly.

11. do you have a least favorite character?

i don’t really actively dislike any of the idols. the ones i like less than others are the ones i don’t really know well because i haven’t really read their stories. either because they didn’t manage to capture my interest, or in the aois case, i’ve just found that a lot of the ways identity and self comes up in their stories makes me uncomfortable, so i kind of don’t like reading them.

but i love seeing people who love these characters i’m not too focused on talk about them and why they love them. it’s really nice how everyone has their devoted fans!

that said, no one has managed to make me care about the two teachers.

14. what card are you currently saving for?

funny story!!!!!! (it’s not)

i am. saving for getto spectacle tatsumi.

and fs1 kohaku.

which will happen at the same time.

(pained smile) i know there is months to go until then, but in the meantime we’ll have fs mayoi, aira and hiiro, as well as ibara event scout. so i will have to make some decisions. oh and ariadne is right around the corner too….)

21. do you have a favorite story?

well. obbligato might be an obvious answer. and it is very high up there.

but i think in general i prefer the shorter stories? because the pacing of the long ones can be absolutely all over the place!

i quite like princess kaguya and ariadne. they do both have that typical enstars thing of having a central conflict that gets dragged out for quite a while and then very suddenly solved in a previously unforeseeable manner. but i’m giving these a free pass for having that conflict be interesting, as well as the character dynamics they explore.

oh and shoutouts to feather touch! i hadn’t considered it before as a favorite but as i was thinking about this question i realized that it’s a pretty solid story.

and i do just really love reading idol stories! they have a lot of fun casual interactions in them! (jun kohaku hiyori teatime, rinne praying to kanata, the runrun calamity, the ones where tatsumi and koga hang out, hiyori giving idol advice to kohaku, etc!)

[silkiemae]

Kingdom of Ash by Sarah J Maas

My Rating: 3.25

Well, this book did not need to be a thousand pages long. Holy god, did this thing drag. Honestly, if I hadn't read the ACOTAR series before this, my opinion on this book might be much different, but unfortunately, I am very unimpressed. SJM seems to have a habit of recycling plot lines a lot. Making incredibly powerful women give up their power to save everyone, a nameless villainous king, and a big war where every time you think they're going to lose or die, another army shows up just in the nick of time to save everyone. And because I know that's something she does already and because she did it a crap ton in EoS and in ACOWAR, it was unsurprising and infuriating to see her do it about a thousand times in this book. Like, you really couldn't think of anything new? I understand she wrote these books simultaneously, so my theory is either she was getting tired of writing this and just thought, 'oh well, I'll just do the same thing I did in ACOWAR,' or she was on a time crunch and couldn't think of anything else, so she just ripped her own book off(and of course Helm's Deep from LOTR). Not to mention repeatedly making her villains rapists. Amarantha, Erawan, Maeve, the kelpie, Lanthys, Tomas, etc. I am sick of SJM using rape for shock value purposes. Because she never once has a discussion about the aftereffects of rape. It just is thrown in like 'oh btw Erawan has a girl chained up in his bed, eheheh.' 'oh btw, Maeve forced Fenrys and all of her other cadre to service. her'. I was also recently told she intended to make Amarantha bisexual so that she could have her rape Feyre. Like...come on, Sarah. 

I feel SJM has a bad habit of not killing people and that this book suffered greatly for it. If half the people who should've died kicked it, this book would probably be half the length. I stand by the fact that I think Chaol should've died in place of Nehemia, and she would've brought far more to this story. I think that Lysandra should've died during her battle with the sea wyverns(don't get me wrong, I like her and am glad she lived, but she still should've died). Everyone keeps miraculously recovering or surviving, and it feels like a cop-out. Another person I feel should've survived, though was Kaltain. I feel like her character was so wasted because this bitch ate a demon that possessed her and was clearly powerful as hell, but then she kills herself. And just it's irritating to me because I feel like she could've been such a valuable addition in helping defeat the Valg. Still, unfortunately, nobody can be more powerful than Aelin. This book promises war and death, but aside from some side characters, no one truly important dies. So as I talk about the book below, I'm going to tell you who I would've killed because I am ruthless and evil. 

So Aelin has been imprisoned by Maeve for a little under three months. She is being repeatedly tortured by Cairn(I hate this name because all I can think of is a little pile of rocks), and then healed so that there is no evidence of her injuries. Maeve is also messing with Aelin's mind so that she can't tell reality from a dream. Fenrys is chained and forced to watch this whole thing in his wolf form. At some point, Maeve summons them and makes Fenrys' brother kill himself in front of him, and then they're both sad and grieving. They both survive this and get out physically unscathed. Fenrys manages to break his blood oath and is almost dying, but Aelin saves him by giving him one from her. Now, personally, I would've let Fenrys and Aelin form this bond together. Fenrys is her only lifeline, the one thing she has to hold onto. And then I would've killed him in front of her. Then Aelin would've been alone, and she would've truly had no one, and her breaking and losing it and the mad dash to suicidal freedom would've had so much more emotional meaning behind it because she truly feels abandoned. 

Lysandra and Aedion are fighting with the Bane in the North. They're mad at each other, Lysandra is still pretending to be Aelin, Aedion is still mad about that whole situation. I don't blame him tbh, I would be pissed too but at the same time he needs to realize that Lysandra probably hero worships Aelin for rescuing her from a life of prostitution. Of course she's going to do anything that bish asks. When he threw her out in the snow butt ass nekkid I was done with him tbh. But then naturally, she forgives him. The part where she refused to run to safety because she wanted to stay with him was so aggravating because girl...you are in charge of a small child. She didn't think to get her out then at all but suddenly towards the end of the book she's like 'oh yeah! Evangeline should abandon the town!' I would've killed off Lysandra after she tried to rally the forces as Aelin and then fell.(when she shifted back to her true self how did she even know it was her true self since she said she couldn't remember her true face in EoS) and I would've killed Aedion when he got stabbed by the Valg prince. It would be sad and shit but like...THEY SHOULD'VE DIED. 

Manon, Dorian and the Thirteen are trying to find the Crochan witches and rally an army to fight against the Valg. Dorian wants to find the other Wyrdkey so he can forge the Lock and Manon is slowly accepting her place among the Crochans. I really enjoyed Manon's story arc tbh. She was probably my favorite character in this book. I would've loved to have Manon and Dorian never be a thing though and have Manon kill Lord Lorcan Lochan so that she and Elide can go rule the Wastes together. RIP Asterin and Narene. :( Poor Abraxos. 

No one cares about Chaol and Yrene. I'm sorry. I loved their story in Tower of Dawn but here it was so dull and I just...don't care. I would've rather read more about Nesryn and Sartaq but they fell to the wayside here to focus on everything else. She might as well have just killed them all off for all the attention she paid them. As I said, Chaol should've died ages ago. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Eventually, Aelin goes to Anielle to meet up with Chaol and the others and she helps them fight the Valg, a big wave shows up at Helm's Deep because a dam broke and Aelin expends all her magical fire energy to stop the dam. I really don't understand anything about how powers work in this series tbh. How is it that Aelin can warm an entire camp full of bathtubs without even being there? Like the limitations of her abilities are inexistent it feels like. She can exhale a breath and crumble a man to ash. How? She can control the heat of her flames? How? 

Speaking of powers that don't make sense. Dorian has raw magic right, and he's able to do basically anything magical. So he starts learning to shapeshifter and turns himself into a woman and then 'explores his new body' which is something only a man would write so I wonder if SJM's husband told her to include that. But here's my question. Why doesn't Dorian teach himself to become invisible? Or teleport? Or astral project? He literally goes to Morath for a whole WEEK looking for those keys. Just think if he learned to astral project he could search the place without anyone even knowing he was there. He could walk through walls like a phantom and then when he finds it, he can teleport into the room, snag the key and teleport out. Boom. Instead, he just chills with Maeve and flies around like a gnat. Honestly, how is it no one else sensed him? 

The way SJM writes people sensing/smelling things in this series makes absolutely no sense to me. There are so many times that I’m thinking to myself that somebody should’ve been caught because they are with a person with heightened senses. Like let’s think, Maeve should’ve been able to sense that Aelin didn’t have the Wyrdkeys right? Considering they are of her world and she seems able to sense everything else. Why couldn’t Erawan smell Dorian in Morath but Maeve could? They’re both Valg, does Maeve suddenly have different sense than Erawan because of her fae body? Why wouldn’t Erawan also choose to wear a body with heightened senses? 

Also, another thing I’ve been wondering. Why is it that none of the Fae seem to be able to tell when anyone is lying? Like they can tell by the cadence of someone’s voice or just like by knowing that person but these people have super hearing and smell. Can’t they hear a shift in heartbeat that might betray someone’s lie? What about a change in scent? Most people with supernatural smell can always smell fear. Like…?!??!?

I totally loved the scene where Elide goes to rescue Lorcan on Hellas. I liked the mad dash to the finish the line vibe of it but I do think it would’ve been a really fitting tragic end if Lorcan did sacrifice himself to save Elide. At the same time, I’m not mad about Elide being like UH NO I DID NOT SAY YOU COULD DIE. That’s probably the only time I have not been mad at a character’s failed sacrifice in an SJM book. I also want to thank SJM from the bottom of my heart for not disgusting me with a sex scene of these two. Not only are her sex scenes some of the cringiest things I have ever read in my life but if it was between Elide and Lorcan it would’ve felt DISGUSTING because of the way she repeatedly had to tell us that Elide just became a woman and how keenly aware of this fact that Lorcan was. Not to mention Elide is a virgin and Lorcan is like 'anything you do will be enough to please me'....sir, your pleasure is not important here. Elide should be the focus considering it's her FIRST TIME. I really wanted to like Lorcan and Elide but the way SJM writes men ruins it for me constantly. 

Now, I would not have been so mad about Aelin having to give up her power if I hadn't read ACOTAR before this. I think it's set up much better in this series and like you can see that that's what it was always leading up to. But the fact that she reuses the same exact plot device in ACOSF and ACOWAR is so LAZY. Like come oN. 

WTF was the point of the first book, guys? I’m just sitting here thinking. Why did they ever do that King’s Champion thing? What did Erawan want a Champion for because I know he had something to do with it. What were they looking for there? I am so confused about that whole situation because like even with Aelin they never did anything with her except send her out to kill people. What was the point of any of that??

Also, WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH FLEETFOOT. I AM ENRAGED THAT THIS DOG IS KICKED TO THE CURB CONSTANTLY. Aelin never once throughout this entire book series thinks to herself ‘man I miss my dog’ and like…WHHY? In 980 pages, this dog is mentioned 4 times and it is not ever as a 'I miss my dog' thing it's like 'oh yea I have a dog'. Like you're telling me not once during this big war, not once when Aelin was being tortured did she think about her dog. Not even when she was going to die did she feel bad that her dog was never going to know where she went or what happened to her. Aelin never deserved that poor dog. 

This book could've ended like 300 pages earlier if Aelin had just kept her mouth shut and let the gods take Erawan as they promised. Then they wouldn't have had to risk the pregnant woman. But no worries, she magically kills this guy that we've spent 7 books building up as this undefeatable creature in five seconds. I think the fight with Maeve was much better done aside from the whole wolf people showing up. Because like once again, Aelin magically has an army come to save her that none of us was ever aware of. 

There were 124 blinks in this book. And that is 124 too many. I know that blinking is a natural part of being a human being but I don't need to read about every time a person blinks. Like Sarah, why are you so obsessed with blinking. 

Aelin sucked on a tooth. ….Just one tooth? Which tooth was it? Does Aelin have a little snaggle tooth that she sucks on when she’s being contemplative? Does she have a tooth necklace that she sucks on for nerves? WHAT IS THE TRUTH?

There are so many repeated phrases in this book that had me rolling my eyes out of my head. “She opened for him” (in reference to kissing???) “She said softly, but not weakly” (literally please stop) “She gobbled up the book she was reading”(if I have to hear the word gobbled one more time I am going to lose it) 

Everyone is just blinking at each other. Saying ‘holy gods’ anytime something wild happens. Eyes are guttering and throats are bobbing. Sarah, I'm going to buy you a thesaurus. 

I kind of spiraled and got off track on my kill list so I'm just going to write it here. Chaol Lysandra Aedion Fenrys Lorcan Nesryn and Sartaq(sorry guys) And Aelin because I hate her.

[wandixx]

I like the idea of deified Batman, but I also thought 'hey, Wonder Woman is a demigoddess, she would be perfect for that!' I think Raven could also work but I don't feel like I know her enough to write her yet.

So I've written a story about sick and tired Danny doing emergency mentor summoning and ending up with Diana. I mean, she had at least two proteges and I haven't heard a thing about her being awful at that so she is probably more than fitting for the role.

So, yeah, just. Danny and Diana. I hope I haven't messed up characterisation too badly.

Feel free to point out my mistakes, English isn't my first language so I'm trying to convince myself it's actually educational and I'm not wasting my time instead of learning to ✨most important exam in my life✨

Anyways...

***********

Danny was having a week, one of the worst weeks of his life at that. Vlad was being a creep again, Sam and Tucke had no-talk days, Jazz was pestering him about his grades and emotions, his parents created new weapons, upping the security system, ghosts were coming around like it was going out of style and on top of that, sleep deprivation finally took the tool of his immune system and he caught a cold. He was exhausted, he had a fever and he didn’t even have enough time to cry over it. He was desperate. He needed help like a normal human needed air.

He needed a mentor.

Someone who could teach him how to use his powers better, how to deescalate conflicts (this would be useful to him both as Phantom and Fenton), how to balance hero and civilian life, how to improve his PR, how to keep civilians safe during his fights, how to lower property damage, how to patch himself up…

Yeah, he needed one heck of a competent hero.

Good thing Ghost Zone was big and he recently borrowed an occult book from Sam. There had to be at least one ghost out there that could help him. His luck couldn’t be this bad. He just had to draw a good circle and think of the right offering. Would it be blood? He kind of didn’t want to deal with someone who required blood. But what else he had? Oh, right, Mom made a fudge earlier that day, there still has to be some left. Mom’s fudge was great, it should be enough. He just had to snatch it from the kitchen without getting too injured. Easy enough.

He returned from a successful hunt with half a batch of fudge, a knife, a few plates, and little nicks on his cheek and arm. He put it all down on the floor next to his bed. He opened the book, which was big enough to be used in self-defense, searching for a chapter about tools. He covered himself in the thickest blanket he owned. God, why was his room so cold?

He almost fell asleep three times while reading and even his energy drink had trouble keeping him awake. But he understood enough. Chalk was often used to make summoning but it wasn’t necessary. A tool used to write had to be infused with magic, whatever that meant and chalk was easiest. There was even contact info for the guy who had been selling this stuff. Danny just hoped that the ecto-contamination of his house infused itself with his pens enough for it to count. Shiver went down his spine s he fixed his blanket. He would kill for something warm to drink but he wasn’t willing to face the kitchen again. He considered wrapping himself in a comforter but chose against it. It would restrain his movement too much and he would like to not fall asleep before he finished. It would be really awkward to explain to his parents what he even tried to do if they found him like that.

Never mind, let’s get down to business. If it worked and if making a deal didn’t take too long, he could even catch four hours of sleep and that’s a treat. So with all the enthusiasm he could muster, he tore a page from the middle of his notebook and drew basic circle as accurately as he could manage. There a little problem appeared. He had to personalize his summoning but he didn’t have an exact person on mind, so it wasn’t like he could just slap their name and some titles on top. Thank god, Sam’s book came with a little rune dictionary and it seemed like his ghost side instinctually knew some of this stuff. He could make it.

He opened his pen and immediately wrote two symbols.

Hero. Mentor.

He bit the end of his marker. What else should he put?

Reliable. Kind. Patient. Safety. No harm from summoner and sumonee. Warrior. Diplomat…

Quite some time and over two dozen runes later by leaned back with a satisfied smile. This should be good enough. He really couldn’t think of another loophole he should look out for.

He put paper that was almost more blue than white on the floor next to fudge and rolled to get candles he borrowed from Jazz (without her knowledge but he planned to give it back) with matches. He didn’t trust any lighter in his house.

From there, it took only a few moments to set everything up. He started chanting, hoping against hope that this would work. However, it seemed to do work. When glow arose, he had passing thought that he should stand up and drop the blanket so he didn’t look pathetic, but choose against it after almost eating shit during the first try. Maybe his ghostly mentor would be more willing to guide him if he looked as miserable as he felt. It didn’t matter. The shine of the circle dimed, the figure of a high, muscled woman becoming clearer in a poorly lit room.

Danny was glad he was sitting because he wasn’t sure he could keep himself from scrambling and falling if he was up.

In the middle of his little, messy room, in all her Amazon warrior glory stood Wonder Woman.

*~*~*~*

Diana had quite honestly great week. There were no world-ending threats, villains in her city were quiet (which was suspicious but she liked her off time and wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the teeth), tasks at her civilian work were going smoothly and other members of the Justice League also didn’t have big problems, so their bi-weekly, mandatory meeting quickly devolved into a gossip session. It was so calm that even Bruce let himself be dragged into more unofficial conversation and shared a story of his kids’ most recent shenanigans.

Probably that’s the reason why the sudden hit of nausea and blurring vision caught her so off guard. Then world faded for no longer that single beat of heart. One moment, she was laughing at Clark’s parental struggles, sitting in a brightly lit, spacious room of Watchtower and next she was standing in a quiet, dark space in an unknown location. In front of her was a window, through which street lamps shone. There were other, less stable sources of light, which she quickly recognized as candles. As her eyes got used to darkness she was able to make out the shapes of things around her. It looked… innocent. Like a civilian bedroom. It took her way longer than she was willing to admit to realize that the shapeless bundle in front of her was a teenage boy covered in blanked, looking at her up and down with wide, glowing green eyes.

She shifted her weight and moved her head to let some of her hair fall on her face. She raised her hand to fix it, discretely turning on comm in the meantime.

The boy winced at that, pulled out of the shocked haze that just got him. He tried and failed to get up, twisted in the folds of his blanket. He tried again, this time slower and succeeding. He was short. No more than 5 feet 6 inches if she was guessing correctly.

“It’s not a kidnapping!” he whisper-yelled which was a concerning thing to say but was also relieving. The boy seemed honest and even more shocked at her appearance in his room than she was. It was promising.

“Alright, young man. Let’s say I believe you. Can you tell me where are we?” she asked with calm confidence. She shifted again to lower her face closer to the boy’s eye level.

“FentonWorks, Amity Park, Illinois, United States. First floor” he stated, voice hoarse. He moved under his blanket. Good thing he wanted to cooperate at least “I’m so sorry Miss Wonder Woman, ma’am. I didn’t know this could work on living people too. I’ll send you back, just give me a moment to find the right rune” he added, already picking big, old looking book from the floor. He sat back at an unmade bed, muttering something.

She could work with that.

However the comment about ‘living people’ was a little concerning. But first, she needed better light to asses her situation accurately.

“It’ll be easier with the light turned on” she proposed with a gentle smile. Boy raised his head to look at her with a slow, blank blink. Only after a moment, realization dawned on his face.

“Right sorry, sorry” he muttered, stumbling on his feet.

“We confirmed your location. He was right. We’re sending help. Give it ten minutes.” Bruce announced over the comm.

She tapped her bracelet once to let her teammates know she heard them but couldn’t talk and then did the same thing three times in rapid succession. She squinted her eyes when the boy turned on a lamp.

“What do you mean ‘no’?!” Bruce sounded exasperated. She ignored him instead looking around the messy room she was in and the boy who managed to summon her. He didn’t look well.

“Tell me, could you hold on to my lasso for the rest of our talk?” Of course, she could bind him with it without his consent but it always made things easier. Additionally, she had no idea what he was capable of. She better play it safe until she had a better grasp on the situation.

Boy was clearly hesitant (understandably so if he knew what her weapon did) but with a sigh far wearier than a person his age should manage, he outstretched his hand waiting for Golden Perfect.

“I dragged you all the way here, it’s only fair” He admitted still quiet, grabbing lasso before picking his book back up. He seemed adamant about getting her back.

"What is your name, young sorcerer?"

“Daniel Jack Fenton. Please call me Danny. I’m really not a sorcerer this is my first time summoning someone and I probably won’t do it again. I’m sorry for getting you here I really didn’t want it to happen” newly named Danny almost pleaded. Now that she could see him properly, she realized that he looked sickly. He was pale like dead other than an ill blush that graced his cheek accompanied by a bleeding cut, bugs under his (now mundanely blue), bloodshot, glazed, unfocused eyes were so dark they almost seemed to be bruised. He was shivering under his thick blanket despite how warm his room was even without it. He should be in bed with a warm drink, not summoning unknown entities. Diana was suddenly very glad she got dragged instead of something possibly hostile boy wouldn’t be able to stop.

“Thank you, Danny. I’m not mad at you, it’s clear you didn’t want me to get here in the first place. But you don’t look too good, how do you feel?”

She heard her teammates stop planning for a moment.

Boy for his part, looked at her absolutely baffled. His shock grew even stronger when he answered “Bad” against his will. He covered his mouth with wide eyes, lasso still twisted around his left palm.

She wanted to press a little more but she wasn’t Batman. She understood when interrogation was a bad idea.

“Alright. Why don’t you put your book down and go to rest then? My friends can be here in a few minutes.”

Boy stared at space vaguely around her head, clearly considering pros and cons, tempted to take her offer. However before he could answer, mist left his mouth in a way that was normally impossible in such warm room. Danny jumped on his feet, dropping his blanket in the process, ready to fight. His feet were too far from each other, raised hands positioned in a way that left his almost entire torso unprotected. His whole pose screamed lack of proper training. Diana tensed and readied herself too, promising herself to teach Danny some proper combat after everything was settled and he healed.

“Do you know what we will face?” she whispered but before she was answered sound of high high-powered laser gun erupted from the room under them and no longer than a blink later, at least a 7-foot-tall robot with a mohawk phased through ground.

“Skulker” Danny sighed “Can we do it another time? I’m kinda busy” he tried to quip, still quiet, vaguely gesturing towards her. She doubted that whoever it was would care that by was busy if they attacked him so sick and exhausted. On the other hand, her presence could be enough of a threat to make the assailant go away. Naïve, but she could understand this line of thought. She put her hand on her sword, trying to look both imposing and non-provocative.

The robot laughed in a surprisingly organic way. Danny prepared to jump.

“You’ll not trick me like that, Phantom!” the robot announced loud like a cannon “I, Skulker, the Greatest Hunter in the entire Ghost Zone will have your pelt in my lair. Today days of your running come to an end.”

That sounded really, really bad. League was aware of the existence of a hero called Phantom and was meaning to reach out but because he was amazingly effective but showed no interest in things outside of his city, it wasn’t too high on their list of priorities. However now, it turned out that said hero was fourteen years old, clearly an overwhelmed kid doing his best.

“What a shameful being you are to attack a child at a time like that.” Skulker looked at her with a studious gaze.

“Amazon. Your bunch is such a rare sight. Not as rare as halfa but-”

“LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS!” Danny screeched, talking the robot to the ground. Soon boy was thrown to the wall, not letting as much as a whimper at the impact. Even more, he tried to get up and continue fighting like all heroes tended to do. Hunter flew towards him with a low chuckle. Gods help her, she was not going to let him touch this child ever again.

She beat Skulker and tied him up before Danny managed to stand back up. It was nice to see pure awe in his eyes when he looked at his tied up rogue. It took even less time to trap this monster in one of the containment devices boy had lying around. She couldn’t get over its resemblance to an actual thermos, especially after the young hero used words–  

“Soup time”

As a catchphrase.

"Sorry, I'm usually better than that."

Obviously, he was sick and exhausted. 

"You did as well as you could"

There was the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door.

“Danny, honey, are you alright? I heard those ghost scums again, don’t worry Mom’ll be there in a second” the middle-aged woman said, getting closer. Diana looked around for a potential hiding spot. Neither she nor Danny (probably) wanted to explain her presence there.

“Sorry Mom, I was watching one of older fights and my headphones unplugged. I didn’t know it would wake you up, sorry”

“It’s alright sweetheart. Don’t stay up for too long, you have school tomorrow and tell us if you find anything on ghosts” Mrs. Fenton answered with a soft, motherly tone. If Danny wasn’t clearly too sick to function, it would be picture perfect family moment.” Especially on this Phantom scum, we need to get rid of him soon, people are starting to believe his manipulations” addition oozed with hatred, successfully destroying last bits of illusion. Diana almost winced. Danny didn’t suppress this instinct.

“It wasn’t Phantom’s”

“Alright. Good night Danny.”

“ ‘Night Mom”

As soon as they heard the door to presumably a woman’s bedroom closing, the boy turned to her with wide eyes.

“They don’t know and they are ghost hunters.”

Phantom was often called a ghost. Oh.

It just kept getting worse.

“They are a good parents and love both of their kids. I’m sure they’ll accept me I’m just not ready to have this talk.”

Diana nodded silently. She really didn’t know how to go about it, especially since she just saw that his parents weren’t really as good as he thought they were. Though it was nice that they weren’t bad enough to kill his hope for acceptance.

Only then did her eyes land on a paper sheet more ink blue than white that got her summoned. She got it from the ground and started reading. Her skills in this matter were a little rusted but she had spent far too much time learning this to ever forget. Her eyes widened just the slightest bit when she deciphered the two biggest symbols.

“You tried to summon help. A mentor” she whispered. It wasn’t really a question but Danny nodded anyway, eyes locked on the floor. All of a sudden, he looked embarrassed.

“I honestly hoped I’d just have to strike a deal with a heroic ghost, sorry it got you instead.”

Diana smiled.

“How about we meet next week when you’re healthier and well-rested and you tell me what help you need?”

Short DPXDC Prompts #926

There’s so many “Batfam/Justice League summons Danny” ideas out there. What if it was the other way around? Danny, desperate for a mentor and wisdom in defending his small town, summons a Being of Justice to help teach him how to be a vigilante.

[agenderashswag]

a retrospective:

around 6 months ago, i've arguably posted one of the most important fics for me, personally

i started writing in it in november, on the couch at my school, and in that ending i just. poured out my soul. thought about my friends and all of the feels and just channeled it into a few paragraphs. because i was thinking about my friends, about how much i loved fandom, and how badly i wanted a hug. i just took all of those feelings, distilled it to the very basics of what i was feeling, and poured it all onto a page.

i think it's one of the best endings i've written. tired, wanting to be held, and yearning for someone to love me unconditionally, that scene where it was just a hug in an apocalypse because you love someone so much and you don't know what to do, and having coffee in the morning because you'll always hold your promise. and that you love them. did i mention that you love them? you really do love them.

as i started working on it during november and through december, i'd started getting out of my shell and start talking to people in my fandom without being explicitly invited to things (wowie!!!)--and that's one of the best decisions i've ever made. instead of constantly being on the sidelines, i'd started to interact with people more. started laughing with them. shared my insane au ideas with them. and started being friends with them. friends who i hold dearly in my heart because they're lovely people to talk to.

mostly because the first friend i made in the fandom was off of another fic, a fic where i commented, mentioned the basic idea of the fic i was working on, and reached out to dm it on tumblr. where it invited me to a server where i'd meet new people and start talking to them.

i really thank it for it, and i really appreciate it as a friend. and if i never commented on how much i loved its fic, i would have never became friends with it and so many other people. i really do think its one of the things that's kept me sane even despite everything

but onto the actual fic, i think it's the fic I've put the most consideration in. thinking about every line, every bit of dialogue, how to get the emotions even stronger. and doing something that i still value to this day: having my friends read and rip apart my work. without their help (esp aj's: hi if you're reading this!!!), i don't think i would have finished it the way i did, working on countless edits until i thought it was the best thing i had ever written.

eventually, as the fic started to become done, finals were coming up and i was preparing for that--until i got sick. i got sick with a sinus infection and i couldn't take my finals in time. throwing all of my studying plans down the gutter and forcing me to stay cooped up in my room all day.

so as i started to finally feel the sinus infection start to fade away, my fic on the backburner, it ends up my entire family but me got covid, forcing me to quarantine from everyone else in the house. alone in my room again, just as winter break was starting, i was forced to go crazy in my room with only an internet connection to keep me enterained.

i didn't vc anyone, so it was really, really, lonely. i didn't tell anyone outside of my irl friends, but i was really, really lonely during that time. i could only really open my door to see the outside of my house a few times before i shut my door.

during that time, i finally put my head down and started working on other fics. started working on that one fic again, slowly adding and editing to it as i saw fit.

eventually, it was christmas day, and my entire family was celebrating except me. where for 15 minutes, i had to watch my family celebrate on my phone screen without me, and when i finally posted my fic that i had spent so much time on.

and the reception i got was wonderful. i'd spend so long working on it, and to see so many people appreciate my fic was wonderful. someone even wished me a happy christmas, which i really appreciated considering the situation.

no one but me will really know that whenever i re-read that fic, i'm reminded of all of the friends i'd spend late nights texting and the quarantine, but i know it when i read it. i can see the feelings i felt when i was writing it, and i'm delighted it serves as a time capsule for my feelings, even if i'm the only one who can read it

a few months later, as things started ramping up in my personal life, in the car ready to drive to prom, i saw the email notification that the same person who had wished me a happy christmas re-commented again. and how this fic helped them on a bad day

and that's always resonated with me, you know? in that moment where i felt that i was so tired and i couldn't catch a break, i was suddenly transported to being stuck in my room in quarantine, but staying sane because of my friends. and how i needed that pick-up during that time. so to see proof of that working for someone else? it was amazing

and that's always resonated with me. as i started to feel my writing stagger, i started zooming out of my situation again and resisting my old work

and when i got to that fic to fix up some formatting, i read over it again and realized it's been 6 months since i've published it. and i realized truly, how much has changed since i've written it. but even then, i could still relate to the words i wrote on the school couch.

and i'd figure i'd write my feelings about it. my life is still a whirlpool and some of my friends i've made from fandom have left or have been busy, but i don't regret making them. i still miss them sometimes, but i just really want to say that i hope they're safe and they're having a good (or at least, better) day. because even though i haven't talked to them in months, i still love and appreciate them and i could, at the very least, wish for their wellbeing <3

[inhvmanmind-blog]

to the anon in my inbox that sent me six messages and obviously did not read my canon divergent page or my about page and has not paid attention to any of my interactions or other posts aside from one ( or understand that one post you DID manage to read ); i’ll answer you later, after i finish what i need to do around the house and some other things. for now you are being ignored. but maybe next time.. pay more attention, yeah?

[cursedwriter]

Dancing with your Ghost - Fushiguro Megumi

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist 

Warnings: Deals with death, Megumi has various breakdowns, it’s just really sad over all... sorry for making you cry in advance! 

Words: 4.9k

Author’s Note: Kind of inspired by this song: Dancing with your Ghost - Sasha Sloan // Also, when they dance, I kinda imagined them to dance to this: Technicolour Beat - Oh Wonder 

“Is he still in there?” Yuji pointed at the door by the end of the hallway. Gojo was walking in his direction, his expression unreadable.  

“No matter what I tell him, he won’t come out.” His voice sounded tired, almost worn out. The sight must’ve been hard for him to bear. Itadori gulped. He wasn’t sure if he could take it. “You should try talking to him. Maybe he will listen to you. We both know he would regret it if he missed the ceremony.” Gojo patted Yuji on the shoulder, hand lingering for a few additional seconds in silent comfort.

“I’ll try my best,” Itadori nodded, though, he sounded more hopeful than he was. This was going to be rough.

Soon after, Gojo disappeared behind the corner and out of sight. His shoulders were slouching and his head was hanging low as if he couldn’t walk upright. This was hard on everyone. But the person who had it the worst of all was…

“Fushiguro, can I come in?” Yuji knocked on the door three times. No answer. He tried again. This time more forceful. “Hey, Megumi! It’s me, Yuji! Do you mind if I come in?” Still no answer. Itadori sighed, but he pushed the door open anyways, peering into the dimly lit library of the Jujutsu Tech High school. Admittedly, he’s never been in here before. Yuji wasn’t really the non-fiction reader… or anything that wasn’t manga, really. But upon entering the room, he couldn’t help but gawk. The shelves were stacked to the max, piling up above his head in a seemingly endless supply of books. There were books everywhere. The amount of knowledge that was stored in here was immense. And all about curses and jujutsu? Incredible! Maybe he should’ve come here sooner. He bet that there had to be at least a dozen books about Sukuna here somewhere.

“It doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make any sense.” Itadori was pulled out of his thoughts by the repetitive mantra that was coming from somewhere behind a shelf. He followed the sound that was mingled with quiet sobs and he had to force himself to keep walking. This was more terrifying than facing all the curses of this world together.

“Megumi?” He peered around the shelf, finding his friend sitting on the old wooden floor, frantically flipping through a book with yellowed pages that seemed to be falling apart at the seams. It must’ve been ancient.

“No sense, no sense, no sense,” he repeated over and over again as if that phrase was the only thing keeping him sane.

“Megumi?” Itadori tried again and finally Megumi’s head snapped up and he looked at Itadori like a deer caught in headlights… only way worse. His eyes were bloodshot with dark purple circles underneath them. A stark contrast to his sickly pale skin. Briefly, Yuji wondered if Megumi had slept at all since it happened. Tears were streaming down his face and it felt like they would never stop. An endless river of sorrow and despair. Yuji was sure he heard his own heart shatter in his chest as he looked at his best friend. He wished he could take some of the pain away. Even if it was just a little, but of course that was impossible. “The ceremony will start soon and-“

“That’s stupid!” Fushiguro cut him off harshly, his voice hoarse and quieter than usual. “Why would there be a freaking ceremony when she’s coming back?!”

“Megumi, she-“

“No! Stop it!” He yelled, throwing the book he was reading against the opposite wall. “Stop it! Shut up!” He pressed his palms against his temples as if he wanted to crush his own skull. “I’ll do it, you’ll see! All of you! You’ll see! I’ll bring her back! I’ll bring her back, okay?! I will – I will!” He repeated it over and over again and it was apparent that he wanted to proof himself right more than anything else. Maybe making him believe would help ease his pain? Should he encourage him? No. Despite wishing that he could provide some words of comfort right now, Itadori knew that false hope would be the cruelest thing he could offer. No matter how much it hurt, but Megumi couldn’t go on like this… searching for something that wasn’t real.

“Megumi, please. You’ll regret it if you don’t come,” Itadori tried again, picking up the book that Megumi had thrown away. He flipped through the first pages and he could already tell that the answers Megumi was searching for weren’t in this book. It was mostly about how sorcerers could reincarnate as curses if their dead bodies weren’t handled properly. If they died you had to make sure that the last hit was infused with cursed energy. Usually, that took care of things. However, if they died of natural causes, diseases or accidents there was a special ritual, a ceremony that made sure their bodies were put to rest accordingly. Kind of like a funeral, but then again, not quite. This was the ceremony Fushiguro refused to attend, even though it was highly valued among sorcerers. It was a way to pay your last respects, value their accomplishments and thank them for their sacrifice. He probably refused to go because that would make her death final and he would be forced to move on, no matter how hard it would be… and it was going to be very hard.

“SHE’S COMING BACK, DAMMIT!” Megumi yelled at him, reaching for another book that was stocked in a pile he’d built himself. The tower crumbled with the way he yanked it out, dozen books falling to the ground, scattering to their feet. It was eerily quiet for a second, Yuji didn’t dare to speak. The atmosphere so thick, he doubted even Maki’s demon blade could cut through it. And then, right when he wanted to say something, anything really to get rid of the suffocating silence in the room, Megumi started sobbing. Not like before. Impossibly, it was even worse. His whole body shook with the action, hands that were clinging onto the book were trembling and despite him hanging his head low, Yuji could see the frequent tears that were hitting the old worn out pages of the book, blurring the ink further, making it almost unreadable.

Hesitantly, he took a step forward, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Should he hug him? What could he even say? Should he call for someone? Gojo-sensei? Would he know what to do? Or Nobara? Or, wait! Y/N always knew what to do when it came to him… Oh, right…

Yuji slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. How could he forget?! It really didn’t feel real yet, huh? Itadori tried to swallow the big lump in his throat as he crouched down and gently took the book out of Fushiguro’s shaking hands. He looked so fragile, as if a single slap to the wrist could break his arm.

“I just don’t get it,” Megumi whispered. His voice sounded far away, as if he was underwater or as if Yuji had cotton in his ears, muffling his voice to a point where it was almost incomprehensible. “It’s just so unfair.”

Yuji placed the book on the ground beside him, skipping over the title “Resurrection and the balance of the world”, it read. He gulped again. Could it be possible?

“I know it is.” He laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and another muffled cry escaped Megumi’s mouth. Yuji had seen a lot over the course of just one year, but not once has he witnessed such utter despair. The sight pulled on his heart strings in ways he couldn’t even explain.

“She fought against the most heinous creatures every day and you’re telling me she died because some fucking asshole thought it was a good idea to drive while being absolutely shit faced?!” Some of his words were swallowed by his sobs, but Itadori understood him well enough. “I refuse to believe that! I refuse to accept that!”

Momentarily Itadori was thrown back to the moment they got the call, he remembered it all too vividly. The shock, the confusion and his scream…

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the nurse led them into the room. The air was chilly and it smelled like disinfectant.  The stench so unbelievably strong, Megumi thought he might throw up. It burned in his eyes and nose and he distantly felt his cheeks getting wet. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the smell or of what was to come… at this point, it still felt like a sick joke, some twisted game or prank. Just not real, like a dream, a nightmare he would wake up from any second.

There was a single bed in the middle of the room, the body underneath covered by a white cloth. Gojo, Nobara and Yuji gathered around it, hands clutched together in front of them as if they were silently praying. Megumi hesitated. He stood in the doorframe, looking at the scene in front of him and nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Everyone was crying. Even Gojo seemed more tense than usual and he was sure he saw a stray tear slip from underneath his sunglasses.

The room was silent, except for the door falling shut behind him as the nurse left them to mourn in peace. This was a dream, right? A nightmare? How could it be anything else?

Megumi’s footsteps echoed off the walls as he hesitantly approached the bed covered in white sheets.

This is just a dream. This is a nightmare. You’re going to wake up any second now. Just wake up. Wake up! Wake up, dammit!

But he didn’t wake up. Not even as he reached for the white cloth. And he didn’t wake up as he slowly lifted it up. He didn’t wake up when everyone sucked in a sharp breath. And he didn’t wake up as Nobara’s knees buckled and she fell to the ground sobbing. He didn’t wake up as he laid his eyes on your peaceful but lifeless face.

Megumi didn’t wake up. But God did he wish he did.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity. Studying your features. How your hair was softly flowing on the pillow, how your lips were slightly parted as if you would wake up at any given moment and tell him something important. But he also noticed that your cheeks lacked their signature pinkish tint and your lips were more blue than their usual vibrant red.

His hand inched closer to your face, connecting to your cheeks and adoringly caressing it. It was cold underneath his touch. Your skin feeling more like wax than it felt alive.

No one said anything, the only sound was Nobara’s quiet sobs that she tried to stiffle to the best of her abilities. Everyone watched Megumi and no one knew what to do. Neither of them has ever felt so helpless. Even Gojo was rendered speechless at the heartbreaking sight in front of him.

And then, everything slowly started to sink in…

She’s gone.  She’s gone. She’s really gone! You’re not waking up! Why aren’t you waking up?! Wake up!! No, no, no. This can’t happen. This can’t happen. This isn’t happening! Tell me this isn’t happening?!

Didn’t I just talk to her this morning? Didn’t we talk about going to the beach as soon as it got warmer? Didn’t we make dinner plans? Didn’t she boast about a new recipe she wanted to try? Didn’t this just happen? And you’re telling me that all of that is just… gone? Just like that? In a moments notice… poof?! Evaporated into thin air? You’re telling me that?

“Wake up, dammit! Wake up, dammit! WAKE UP!”

Everyone stared helplessly at Fushiguro. At first no one knew if he was talking to himself or you, but then he started desperately shaking your shoulders, repeating the words over and over again. “We wanted to go to the beach, remember? You told me you couldn’t wait! Come back, and I’ll drive us right now! Come back! Come back to me, please! Please!”

Gojo couldn’t bear the sight anymore. The way he shook your body as if that would change anything. With a few long strides he closed the distance between him and Megumi and pulled him away from the bed. He was thrashing at him, screaming in his face to let him go, but Gojo didn’t listen. He gladly took a hit or two if that meant Fushiguro could get at least some of his frustration out of his body. To Gojo, the room itself was a hard place to be in – for obvious reasons. The energy here made him feel uneasy and on edge. The amount of cursed energy gushing out of Megumi was immense and almost unbearable. He had to get his emotions in check or else…

Megumi continued to yell and thrash. “Let me go, you bastard! Let me go! I need to see her! I need to see her!”

“I understand that this is hard for you, but you need to calm down!” Gojo’s voice was stern. This was probably the first time ever that he actually put on the façade of a responsible adult. Nobara and Yuji watched the two with wide eyes, but didn’t interfere otherwise. “If you keep this up, you might end up cursing her! Do you want that?!”

“Let me go! Let me go!” Megumi wasn’t listening.

“Megumi, snap out of it!” Gojo’s palm connected to Megumi’s cheek, his flesh burning hot where it had connected. For a moment, the room was silent again. Only Megumi’s labored breaths broke through the thick tension.

“You bastard!” Megumi launched himself at Gojo with all his strength, but that was exactly what Gojo intended. It was better if he directed all his energy towards him than having it leak out of him uncontrollably. Otherwise he had the potential of manifesting a new special grade curse that neither one of them wanted to deal with, especially if you were to be reborn as said curse.

Megumi stopped his relentless attacks, knees buckling under his weight as a single agony filled screamed echoed off the walls…

Megumi slowly opened his eyes. His head was aching, blood soaring in his ears. What happened? He looked around himself. The room was dark, only illuminated by the moon light that peered through his partially closed blinds. He was laying in his bed, the room a mess just like he remembered. That was unlike him. Well, ever since that day he hasn’t been himself at all. Now, he more or less felt like an empty shell, existing but not alive.

He groaned, sitting up while he rubbed his temples, hoping to get the relentless throbbing to stop. Ah, that’s right. A few flashes of the previous events reminded him of what had happened. Megumi’s frustration and anger had gotten the best of him and he started throwing books, ripping them out of their shelves and even tearing some of them apart when he couldn’t find the answers he was looking for. Yuji had to call for Gojo and he in turn had knocked him unconscious.  

Megumi huffed. Great. Now he was probably not permitted to go to the library again. He should really start thinking before lashing out like this. No, matter, though. If push comes to shove he’d find a way in and if it’s the last thing he did. He didn’t really care anymore anyways. What’s the worst that could happen? Expulsion? That was nothing.

He peeled the covers back, his shirt sticking to his body uncomfortably. Maybe he should take a shower before he went back again.

Reluctantly, he got up and walked towards his bathroom, mindful not to trip on anything that was scattered on his floor.

Once he was there, he turned the shower faucet on, letting the water heat up while he stripped out of his clothes. His head was still killing him and his whole body ached. He shivered, even as he got into the shower and the hot water burned his skin. He was still cold. For some reason he didn’t seem to be able to get warm anymore, as if you took all of his warmth with you, when you left him.

“Ew, stop doing that,” you laughed wholeheartedly as Megumi shook his wet hair in your face after coming out of the shower. “Seriously, are you a dog?”

“No, but I love hearing you laugh.” Megumi wrapped his arms around you, pressing your back against his naked chest as you both watched your reflection in the mirror. “I really love you, Y/N. So much,” he whispered in your ear, not taking his eyes off the mirror. He could see the faint blush on your cheeks and he placed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck to emphasize his words.

“I love you, too.” The smile on your lips and the way your eyes sparkled with joy, filled his heart with warmth and light. He could bask in it for all eternity and he would never get tired of it.

Megumi turned the water off, still shivering. It was to no use. His skin was burning red, though, and the whole room was filled with steam and yet, he had goosebumps all over his body. His teeth started clattering as he dried himself and he put on new clothes.

The clock on his bedside table told him that it was three in the morning. He felt like he forgot about something… something important. What was it again?

And then his eyes widened in shock. No, no, no.

“Hey, look!” Megumi felt your slender fingers wrap around his wrist, your warmth immediately warming his cold skin. You tugged him gently and he followed you. It didn’t take long for you to reach your desired destination and you stopped, eyes shining with awe in them as you watched over the city, lights sparkling and illuminating the darkness. Megumi couldn’t deny that the view was breathtaking, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from constantly looking at you instead. The way your face lit up, the way the lights danced on your face and how your cheeks were always tinted in their usual pinkish color, made him fall for you all over again. His heart hammered in his chest and his pulse picked up. Butterflies assaulting his stomach in the best way imaginable and he felt like he was floating above ground. Never has he felt so happy. “There! It’s starting!” You beamed at him as the first flash of light painted the night sky in a bright blue color, then it changed to red and then green. The sound of other fireworks being set off rang through the otherwise silent night. Here, on top of the mountain away from anyone, it was the most peaceful place he could imagine. But he wasn’t sure if it was only because of the view and the fact that no one was around or if it was because you were here. Whatever it was, he didn’t dream to fight it. The feeling so foreign yet so welcomed.

Suddenly your hand appeared in his line of vision and he didn’t hesitate to take it. What he didn’t expect was you starting to spin around. It took him a moment to catch up. “C’mon, Megumi, what are you doing? Don’t just stand there so stiffly! Dance with me!” You urged him on and Megumi felt his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He could only hope that you couldn’t see it.

“There’s no music, though,” he said, trying to find an excuse to not make a complete fool out of himself. You see, Megumi wasn’t a dancer. Give him a choreographed fighting formation and he could do that no problem, but moving his feet to the rhythm of a song? Nope. That was sure to end in him tripping over his own feet and in the worst case break his leg or arm.

You rolled your eyes at him, but instead of saying anything, you reached into your back pocket to get a hold of your phone. It didn’t take long and the sound of the fireworks was mixed with the soft tune of a song that he didn’t know. “Better?”

Well, not really… Megumi scratched the back of his head, unsure. Better to come clean, I guess. “You see… I can’t really dance… like at all,” Megumi stammered.

“So what? I can’t dance either,” you laughed, spinning around and jumping up and down like it was the most normal thing to do. The smile on your face never faltered and you did another spin, throwing your hands up in the air, moving them around awkwardly. Megumi couldn’t help but laugh at your awkward movements. You looked so silly, it was hilarious. “See? Now it’s only fair that you make a fool out of yourself, too. You can’t leave me hanging like this!”

What the hell, right? Megumi started moving his feet, still super stiffly and anything but graceful, but he did it. He looked at you, following your movements and it didn’t take him long to get the hang of it… well, somewhat at least. He still looked really awkward and helpless, so you reached both your hands out for him again and he grabbed them without hesitation, just like before. You started spinning both of you in circles, giggling at the way his face lit up slightly. He joined your laughter, looking at you with the most adoring smile in the world. It felt… so easy. Everything with you felt so easy.

So now it was just the both of you, spinning around in fast circles, laughing at the night sky filled with stars while in the distance the sound of fireworks slowly died down. The music playing softly in the background, but you didn’t even care that the rhythm of the song didn’t match with your movements at all. Nothing mattered in that moment. Just the two of you. Together. Forever.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d show up.” Gojo scratched the back of his neck, smiling apologetically. “Maybe I was a bit too rough, when I knocked you out. Sorry about that.”

Megumi stared at him sitting in the front row of lined up chairs. The room was only dimly lit by the candles at the other end. The soft light they cast illuminated a picture of you in a black frame. It was the same one he had saved as his phone background. Megumi gulped, feet moving on their own as he approached Gojo, though, he felt his knees wobble unsteadily. The air became thicker and thicker with every other step he took. It felt excruciatingly hard to breathe. It was suffocating.

Megumi sat down on a chair next to Gojo, forcing himself to tear his eyes off the framed picture in front of him. If he didn’t he was afraid he might break down again. So he shifted his attention to the man in the chair next to him. He was already looking at him, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, as usual. There was a slight frown in his features, though, and his mouth was pressed into a thin line, a stark contrast to his normally giddy self. So Gojo could be serious, huh? Who would’ve thought? Bet you would’ve loved to see him like that…

“Megumi,” Gojo broke the silence first, his tone soft, but there was a certain sternness behind it that Megumi didn’t know he had until now. It left no room for interpretation. This was going to be a serious talk and Fushiguro didn’t know if he was ready for that yet. “I know that losing someone you care about is not easy and I’m not trying to pretend that I know exactly what you’re going through right now, but I’m telling you as your sensei and as a friend… you have to move on. And that means you have to stop looking for ways to bring her back.”

Megumi opened his mouth to tell him off, but Gojo just held a finger up to show him he wasn’t done yet. The crease between Megumi’s brows deepened, but he kept his mouth shut regardless. “The world works under a few distinct principles. Rules that cannot be broken, if you will. Like we know that after the sun sets, dawn will come. With darkness, there is light and no matter how harsh a winter might be, spring will always come next. And the pinnacle of those rules will always be that with life there comes death. We don’t get to choose when this’ll be or how it’ll happen, but from the moment we’re born we know without a doubt that we’ll have to leave this place at some point. Death is certain. It’s but one part of life and disrupting that cycle, breaking one of the unbreakable rules, would cause the whole system to fall apart. It would level the ground for mayhem and destruction, nothing would make sense anymore. The world would crumble. As sorcerers you know that we protect the ones who cannot protect themselves, but we also maintain balance and Megumi… while I do understand your desire to see her again, I have to warn you… even if there is a chance, I won’t let you do it at the expense of everyone else’s life.”

Silence fell between them again. Megumi had a hard time believing that these words really just came out of Gojo’s mouth. Deep down, he knew he was right. He knew it was a futile plan to bring you back. It was selfish and irresponsible, but he was so… desperate. So desperate to hear your voice again, so desperate to listen to you laugh or complain, so desperate to feel your delicate and warm touch on his cold skin. He was so desperate for these things; he couldn’t think straight. His mind felt foreign to him without you there. He didn’t know who he was, who he would be without you by his side. He didn’t know if he wanted to be in this world anymore with his source of warmth and comfort gone. They said, time healed all wounds but as of now that seemed impossible. Just a thing people told themselves to keep moving forward. A lie that was supposed to protect oneself from the cruel and harsh truth that the world didn’t stop spinning, that time passed by and that dawn always came… no matter what. The world moved forward regardless if you were here or not and it felt like a cruel joke to him. Nothing seemed the same. He didn’t recognize anything, looking at the world with different eyes. How could there be a world without you in it? Why was everyone moving forward while he was left behind? And how could they? How could they move on? Why didn’t the world stop spinning? It should. Because nothing felt right. Nothing was the same. And yet… that only held true for him.

Megumi wiped away his silent tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “But I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” he croaked out. It was the first thing that came to his mind. He replayed the morning with you over and over again and he couldn’t remember if he said goodbye to you when you left that fateful day. Did he? Did he not? In any case, he would’ve never thought how final of a farewell it would’ve been in the end. “I don’t even remember the last thing I said to her,” he sobbed.

He felt beyond guilty for not being able to recall it clearly. Did he say ‘I love you’? Did you say it back? He wanted to believe he did, but he just wasn’t sure and it drove him insane.

“She knew that you loved her very much, Megumi. I’m sure she knew until the very end.” Gojo patted his shoulder a few times, before he got up. “Take all the time you need.” He left the room, closing the door behind him, but not before he turned around one last time, looking at Megumi with worried eyes. “But remember, Megumi… You have to move on eventually, no matter how hard it is. For her sake and your own… Just know that you have people in your life that you can rely on any time, okay?”

Megumi nodded and Gojo let the door fall shut behind him. The silence that ensued was almost deafening. Finally, Megumi let his tears fall freely, sobbing like a child and sucking in air after shallow breaths.

Everything hurt with you gone. How could he ever move on? How could he ever love again? Megumi was scared he might break in half. How much pain could someone even bear? Though, deep down he knew that he didn’t have a choice… He had to try. And he would try his hardest to keep moving forward, holding on to that tiny glimpse of hope that one day he’d see you again. And when he did, he swore to himself to never stop telling you how much he loved you. Always and forever.

[scrabbleknight]

I wanna study aerospace engineering, any tips for me?

Aerospace engineering is very different from my field of studies (Mechatronics). Plus, it really depends on where you want to study.

But I guess I can try. Here are some tips I could think of:

Internships, internships and internships: Engineers are valued by their experience so having a lot of internships is a good way to bolster your resume. I personally wasn't able to because I took my semester breaks to visit my family, but you should try it if you can. Plus, the extra experience definitely helps with building up your skill set. Oh, and if you have any personal/work projects, put about 3 of the most relevant.

Your first few semesters are your most important ones: These help build the foundation of your studies. Everything else in the future is dependent on what you study then. A lot of material from previous semesters end up being relevant in other courses, so they all link up! So master your foundations and future classes become way easier.

Get a good high-specs laptop: A lot of engineering fields nowadays utilize resource-heavy applications to do the bulk of the work. CAD programs, mechanical and fluid simulations, programming, etc. need a really good computer. Although a home PC would be great, I don't recommend one because you'll be carrying that laptop everywhere so keep that in mind.

The amount of hours to spend studying after class is not static: A lot of professors will say "For every hour in class, spend 3 in studying" and I will say it's utter bullsh*t. The amount of hours spent is dependent on well you digest the information. Some course are harder and you'll spend more, while easier ones spend less. It's your responsibility to figure out which and alter your schedule where is necessary.

Have a social life: What no college ever tells you is that a social life is vital in ace-ing your exams! Yeah, you heard me! Your mental and emotional health will affect how well you understand the material. So if you're sick, tired or depressed, you'll do worse at studying even if you spend so many hours on it. DO NOT IGNORE YOUR MENTAL HEALTH!

Pick your college carefully and read up on the rules and regulations: This is one of the most important ones. Depending on the state, country and institution, colleges have different rules and regulations. When I first studied in Germany, I learned that I needed to do a preparatory internship to proceed with my studies after the 2nd year. Thankfully, I already did it before enrolling but a lot of my friends had to delay half a year just so they could do it! Yeah! So know your rules! Also, not every college has what you want to learn and every college is different even if they do have what you want. Syllabuses are publicly available online so you can always look at those before picking.

I've run out of colours but this is the gist of it. I can't give you any engineering-specific tips because really, it's no different than just learning any other degree. I've worked with other people in social studies and for the most part, we're pretty similar outside of what classes we take.

Oh and don't buy expensive textbooks. Just borrow from the library or get one from the year or two before. Textbooks don't change much from year to year. Otherwise, even the professors would have to buy a truckload of books all the time. Any professor that tells you you have to buy a textbook is profiting from it, and it doesn't take much to look for their names on the front page.

[after-witch]

Emotional Loan [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Emotional Loan [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You shouldn’t be this nervous about telling your boyfriend that you want to transfer to a college out of state. Ransom is nothing if not generous with you--so why is your stomach in knots?

Word Count: 3144

notes: yandere, sexism, emotional abuse

You shouldn’t be this nervous. Really. Ransom has been nothing but generous with you, and in turn you’ve been patient--maybe too patient, maybe too forgiving, sometimes--with him. It’s only fair that he extends that patience to you, especially with something as serious, as important, as your future.

So why does the thought of telling him about your plan to switch to a new college make you feel like you’re going to throw up?

You puff out your cheeks and stretch your arms across the breakfast table, leaning down and wishing you could ask someone else to tell him in person. But the thought is ridiculous, and you push it away in favor of rehearsing what you’re going to say for the millionth time since you made up your mind.

You will tell him about the need to change your degree if you want to ever be in the contending for a museum curator position in the future. You will tell him about the fact that the best place to get this specific degree, the one that will put you right in the open arms of the internship that leads to your dream curator field, is in California. You will tell him about the apartments you’ve already inspected. You will tell him about the fact that he can visit anytime, that you will visit him, that you can text and video call and vacation together. You will tell him that you love him and you want to make this work.

You will tell him all these things… and yet. Yet while you can rehearse the words, rehearse how you’ll push your printed out papers showing exactly what you need to do and why towards him so he can see you’re telling the exact truth, you can’t rehearse how Ransom will react. You try to imagine, but all that comes up is a blurry, grey blank.

Is he going to freak out? Get pissed? Or worse--not care at all? Maybe you’ve overestimated how much Ransom has invested in this relationship. Maybe he’d rather cut you loose than deal with a long distance relationship. Maybe the second you mention that you’ll be moving to California, he’ll be mentally checking a list for someone local to hook up with the minute you’re gone.

You’re not sure which reaction would scare you more.

But you don’t have much time to think about it, because you hear him padding down the stairs, hear the din of some video he’s still watching, probably whatever he put on while he was in the shower. You can’t bear to look up, and you thumb aimlessly, nervously around your phone’s apps while you listen to the sound of him scraping the eggs and bacon you’d cooked onto a plate.

He plops down in the seat across from you and you glance up. He catches your eye and gives a tight-lipped, tired smile. He was out late. But he’d texted you about staying out late earlier in the evening, so you didn’t feel you had the right to be mad--that’s the condition you’d given him, after all, when he’d accused you of being controlling. When he’d called you a nag and accused you of being jealous of other women, women he had no feelings for.

“I just want to know when you’re going to be out late so I don’t stay up half the night thinking you’re dead somewhere.” And so he did--let you know--and you swallowed down your feelings of suspicion at his late night adventures.

Maybe… maybe this is a bad time to tell him. Maybe you should wait for a day when he’s had more sleep. Maybe you should run your thoughts by someone else, get a second opinion. You’re focusing on the table, on the light from the phone screen, anything to avoid looking up and starting the dreaded conversation.

“What’re those papers for, babe?”

Shit.

Your hands tremble just a bit when you set the phone down, and the way it vibrates against the table mimics the way your stomach feels right now. You suck in a breath and look up, but you can’t make eye contact just yet and you push the words out, stumbling and breathy and rapid, without stopping to breathe until you’ve said your peace.

“Ransom this is really hard for me but we need to talk about something and I don’t want you to be mad but I need to change schools if I’m ever going to get a shot at a curator position and the best school for this is in California and I know it’s going to be hard but I love you--I love you and we can make long distance work if you want and if you don’t want well--well I don’t know what I’ll do then but I just wanted to let you know now because I’ve got to turn in my application next week and please please try to see this from my point of view because it’s all I’ve ever wanted and you know that.”

You take a shaky breath and hold your hands together on top of the table, clasped and shaking from the adrenaline and anxiety coursing through you. You look up at Ransom with trepidation, hoping that he’s not mad--or indifferent.

But he’s neither. He simply looks… confused.

He simply stares at you for a moment, a dumbfounded expression on his face as he processes all of the words that just came rapid-fire out of your mouth.

“California?” Is all he says, finally.

You take the opportunity to push the stack of printed papers towards him. “These are… it’s… well, emails from people in the industry, some important articles about getting positions at museums. About where you have to go. Oh, there’s apartment listings there, too.” You even printed out detailed information about the qualifications for acceptance, and put them in a neat little table next to your own academic and experience record. You were a shoo-in, and you didn’t feel the need to be humble about it.

He grabs the stack and starts thumbing through, not saying another word as he seemingly thoroughly reads everything you’ve printed out. Your stomach feel like floating lead, heavy and flipping. You can’t tell what he’s thinking or feeling, and he’s not giving you anything but a concentrated look at he looks through the statements, the listings, the plan you’ve outlined so neatly.

He finally sets the stack back down and simply stares at it for a few moments. Taking it in. Taking his thoughts in. Finally, Ransom looks up at you and the intensity in his eyes makes your stomach drop. He doesn’t look mad. He looks--and you hate it--disappointed, sad even.

“Look…” He sighs, eyebrows lifting as his gaze drifts away before settling back on you. “I’m not going to lie and pretend I’m okay with this. I’m not. Jesus, babe. California? Four years?”

“It’s no--” you interrupt, but he holds up his hand and you stop.

“But. But, but,” he lightly pounds his fist on the stack of tables, an almost nervous gesture in your eyes. “It’s what you want? What you need for your career? There’s no other way for you to get this--” he waves his hands around, “museum gig you’re after?”

You nod, unable--no, afraid--to speak, in case your voice is too tight with emotion.

“Then I guess I can deal with it.”

“What?” You blurt the words out.  You expected… an argument. Or for him to blow you off, make it seem like you weren’t serious. Or, as you’d admitted to yourself earlier, for him to throw you away and find someone who wouldn’t make him wait around. Not… acceptance.

He laughs at your reaction and your stomach feels lighter, the tension in your body starting to fizzle away. “

“It’s not like I have to worry about getting the money to come visit, right? And hey,” he continues, “if you need someone to put in a good word to this school… maybe throw some cash at a dean or something…” He raises his eyebrows, wiggling them a little in a way that makes you snort.

You lean forward and nab one of the lukewarm pieces of scrambled eggs from his plate and pop it into your mouth. “Since you’re offering to help, I could use someone to check over my application…”

**

The envelope is too small. It’s way too small. Why did they make the envelope so damn small? Maybe the acceptance letter was sent on its own, and all of the other information--the giant packet telling you where to send payments and sign up for courses--would be sent to your email. But the thought of checking your email and seeing nothing makes you feel sick, so you keep your phone next to you on the table.

“You gotta open it,” Ransom says, soft and casual. He doesn’t move from his place beside you on the sofa, watching you with a neutral look. He probably knows why the envelope is too small, but he won’t say the words out loud--just like you won’t. If you say it out loud, then it’s true.

There's nothing else for you to do except confront the truth, and you rip open the envelope and pull out the folded paper with far too few printed words on the page.

Rejected. Outright. Completely. Not a fit for the school or the program.

If you weren’t sitting on the couch, you would have fallen over. As it is,  you feel like the world is collapsing, like the sofa underneath you is melting into the floor and taking you with it.

“I don’t understand.” You can only manage to whisper, voice small--reflecting the way the rest of you feels. Small and falling and stupid.

Ransom takes the paper from your hand, and you don’t bother keeping a grip on it. You register the fact that he’s put an arm around your shoulders, but you can barely feel it through the numbness of rejection.

“What the fuck,” he says, voice louder next to your ear. It makes you shrink in more, even though his anger isn’t directed at you. “What the fuck.”

It’s you want to say, what you would say, if you had the strength. The energy. But the absolute, complete way that your future has suddenly become an unknown blank has left you stuck and heavy.

It doesn’t make sense. Your transcript was perfect--should have been perfect. You should have gotten in. You got top grades and references from professors and a list of relevant experiences that most students wouldn’t have until the end of their degree.

“I’m going to call them and find out what-the-fuck,” Ransom says suddenly, getting up with a jerking motion and walking towards the kitchen, where his phone rests on the counter. “No,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Better yet. I’ll call my grandfather. He’ll know how to convince this so-called top school that they made a big mistake.”

The thought makes your head spin. “Ransom, don’t.” You’re not a child. But you feel like one, like you just failed a math quiz and your dad is calling to find out why the teacher doesn’t know the quiz answers from his ass. “You can’t just call a school and make them accept someone.”

Your legs feel wobbly when you stand up, and Ransom practically swoops back to your side to hold you steady. He leads you back down on the sofa and you feel yourself accepting the loss, accepting that your dream is gone, or at least altered.

He squeezes an arm around you when you finally begin to cry, and for the moment you feel better, less worthless, less hopeless. It was just one rejection. One egg. You can’t put every egg in one basket, as they say.

You rest your head against his shoulder and sigh into it, enjoying the warmth and closeness. A feeling of luck pings at your heart. You’re really lucky to have a guy like Ransom. He’s not perfect, and sometimes you fight, and sometimes he does things that hurt you, but--are you perfect? Do you do things that hurt him, too? Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

With comfort comes clarity. The world isn’t ending. Your future isn’t blank. There are other options.

You feel almost perked up when you speak: “I guess I can apply to other schools. Maybe it won’t be the exact one I wanted but… there’s some in Chicago, even Michigan, that might work.”

Ransom’s arm tightens around you, slightly but firmly enough to notice.

“Babe, you’re not serious.”

You pull back enough to look up at his face.

“What do you mean?”

You can see Ransom fighting with his annoyed expression, trying to soften it up. You dimly recognize that you should be grateful--you know how snarky he can get with others when he’s not putting on a filter.

“Your transcript was fucking impeccable. I saw it! I sent it in for you! And you still didn’t get in. You think these other schools are going to accept you….” He trails off, leaning his head back, looking disappointed of all things. Disappointed in you? Or the school?  You can’t tell. All you know is that it makes you feel low again, like you’re nothing, falling into the floor with a sense of worthlessness.

“I’m not tryin’ to be an asshole,” he says, and there’s a flicker of doubt in your mind about the truth of that statement. “I’m just trying to be honest. I don’t want you to have to deal with getting rejected from all those other schools, too. You know what I mean?”

You swallow down against the tightness in your throat. “Their standards might not be as strict. I know they’re not as strict. I could get in.”

He looks down at you, the same intense gaze from the morning that you told him about your plan on his face. The gaze that let you know he believed in you and would do anything--even go long distance for almost half a decade--for you. A gaze that let you know he was serious, honest, giving you his thoughts with an open heart. “Keyword. Could.”

It’s like a slap to the face.

“Are you saying I’m too stupid to get in anywhere?” You start to pull away, but his arms don’t let up and so all you can do is turn your head away, cheeks hot with humiliation. “Don’t you support me?”

“Jesus, no--and Jesus, yes.” Annoyance is bleeding into his voice and you wish you’d just ripped up the envelope and avoided the entire conversation. You keep your eyes on the floor, humiliating tears blurring your vision as you stare at the sliver of a stain from soda that you never got out of the cream colored rug.

“You are the smartest chick I know,” he says, voice a little softer, now. At least he’s trying to stop being an ass. “Seriously, you are. Maybe you’re just a--a different kind of smart. A  kind of smart these schools don’t give a shit about. Do something here with that smartness, then. Stay where you’re at. Fuck, talk to the dean and tell them you want to to an independent degree or something. But don’t get your heart broken a million times when you could just make the most of what you’ve got here.” He squeezes, affectionate. “What we’ve got here.”

It’s not what you want. It’s not viable. You can’t get to where you want to be if you stay where you are. But he’s right--he’s right, isn’t he, because if you can’t get into a school with a nearly picture-perfect record and recommendations and experience oozing out of your ears, will there be any school that accepts you?

And if you stay here, Ransom is here, and you’re already in school here, and maybe you won’t get anywhere near a curator position (but you want to, it’s your dream, why give up on your dream?) but you can do something else, surely. Ransom will help you, like he always does. You might fight and argue and sometimes it gets intense but he always lends you a shoulder to cry on, doesn’t he? He’s always honest with you, even when it hurts. Even when it hurts like this, crushing and disappointing and sharp.

He pulls you closer to him, and this time you don’t fight as you rest your head back on his shoulder.

“So?” He starts to gently stroke your hair, the way he knows you like it.

You nod, sniffling against the last of the tears, unable--afraid--to say anything. 

“That’s my girl,” he says, before gently flicking your forehead and reaching for his phone. “Hey, let’s go see a movie tonight. My treat.”

You nod against his shirt, unable to do more than mumble back, “Okay.” Okay, okay, okay. It’s a soft, unceremonious end to your California dreams.

[greenninjagal-blog]

The Rumor Mill Game (pt4)

I swear I didn’t forget about this au. This chapter is just....long.

Welcome back to this mess of an au :) If you need a refresher, you can find Part Three [here!] Or if you’re new check out the first part [here!]

Summary: Logan is...dealing with the fallout of him and his coworker, Remus, having created a rumor about them being married and now apparently having a kid except not because Logan screamed at the top of his lungs that Virgil wasn’t his kid. His boss has a different definition for what “dealing” actually means. 

Words: 8292 (Holy shit remember when this au was 2k words)

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up like this.

Granted when he hadn’t exactly been expecting anything. He hadn’t been looking ahead, hadn’t been making plans, hadn’t been thinking at all. Which was most likely how he ended up outside the bar in the first place. 

Logan could, of course, count the number of times he had been drunk on one hand. College had been a time for experimenting, and of course for his twenty-first birthday his friends at the time had been insistent that he needed to imbibe an unholy amount of alcohol in one night. They had turned it into an experiment, where Logan documented exactly what he was feeling after each drink and he still had the notes in his desk at home, despite the fact that his handwriting had become illegible after the fifth drink and someone had spilled an orange soda based tonic on the third page. The notes themselves were worthless, but they served as a memoir to people who he no longer associated with and a younger version of himself who had still been learning.

And Logan did have a soft spot for that imbecile: Twenty-one-year-old Logan Ackroyd who still believed in the goodness of people and who wanted to change the world and who could fall in lov--

Logan pitied him-- that kid he used to be-- which he was certain that his younger self would be indignant about. Logan always did hate when people pitied him. Those emotions had rarely ever been genuine, rarely ever been helpful, rarely been productive. What was he to do about people feeling bad for him? About others being disappointed? About others making assumptions about him and how he felt?

He didn’t need pity, and he didn’t want it. Not when he got rejected to his first three colleges, not when flunked that English class and had to pay to retake it the next year, not when he had bought that ring and gotten down on one knee and made a whole carefully edited speech and--

And he’s not nearly drunk enough to deal with these types of thoughts. Or any thoughts for that matter. Wouldn’t it just be great to stop thinking? 

Then he wouldn’t have to remember the looks on his coworkers faces when he storming into the office less than fifteen minutes after initially leaving for lunch and demanded that Beatrice turn in her overdue spreadsheets in twenty minutes or he’d have her fired before slamming his office door hard enough to crack that frosted glass, or the look on Remus- fucking- Prince’s face when he tried to act like everything that had happened was not his fault and that Logan had taken the game to far by himself without any sort of prompting from Remus, or the look on Virgil’s face when Logan lost his self control.

Like an idiot. Like an asshole. Like someone who doesn’t think before he acts.

Like someone who should be alone for the rest of his life, because he can’t seem to get a hold of those useless emotions of his. 

And Logan wanted so very badly to blame Remus Prince for this whole endeavor, the whole production, the whole catastrophe. He wanted to say that without Remus he never would have gotten that angry, wouldn’t have had that conversation, wouldn’t have even gotten Thai today. 

Logan wanted to say that, but really it's his own fault. If he had just dismissed Remus’s rumor in the beginning, if he had just told Jen and Quin that his personal business was his own, if he had just ignored the urge to get coffee and finished the spreadsheets without getting up that last night.

His fourth finger itched around the base, the area where that little silver ring had been sitting for less than a day. It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, because Logan had never worn a ring before and now suddenly the absence of it caused his skin to crawl in a most unpleasant, unproductive way. 

Distantly Logan realized that by gifting Remus such a wonderful present, he had also thrown away four hundred dollars. And perhaps ironically Logan noted that he feels annoyed about it-- four hundred dollars had been sitting in a pocket of a dress jacket in the corner of his office for over nine months and he had tossed it aside in a fit of impulsive anger.

Logan had not been hurting for money recently, with how decently he was paid, and the amount of overtime he worked, and how little time he had taken off since that disastrous night.

But perhaps he might have been able to return it to the jewelers and weathered the terrible, awful pitying looks they would give him when he requested about their refund policy or a location where he might be able to sell it himself. It was a ring that was worth four hundred dollars and he had given it to Remus, and isn’t it funny that that’s farther than he got with the one for whom the ring had been originally intended?

And as Logan downed his next rum and coke of the night, he hoped that Remus found a better use for it. Newton knows it hadn't done any good for Logan. 

(Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that he had screeched “He’s not and never will be our son!” Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that Remus had hummed mischievously “I think I enjoy being fake-married to you, Logan." Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the the way his last partner had said “We should see other people”. Its stupid, stupid, stupid--)

“Hmmm,” A voice behind him said, “I thought I would find you here!”

Logan didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he heard the voice and felt every atom in his body figuratively threaten to combust. He wasn’t drunk enough to be thinking about him, and he most certainly wasn’t drunk enough to turn and look at the incessantly, perky man that had decided to sit down next to him.

Logan waved at the bartender and ordered another rum and coke and watched his freshly emptied glass disappear like the handful of others he didn’t bother to keep count of.

“And I’ll have two waters, please!” Patton Hart added with one of his peppy, happy, insufferable laughs, before turning to face Logan. “Hiya, Lo! It's been so long since we’ve seen each other!”

“Not long enough,” Logan disagreed, with a rueful smile that should very clearly, very precisely detail how much he does not want company at the current moment. “Don’t you have things to be doing tonight, Mr. Hart?”

Patton hummed, pressing his lips together as he thought-- a monumental task for someone like him, surely. Logan was partially convinced that if he removed his glasses he might be able to see the squirrels beginning to run on that rusted wheel in the other man’s brain. If Logan was of a less logical mind he might even be brazen enough to call this the first time Patton had used his brain all week.

“Well,” Patton said, carefully settling himself on the stool next to Logan. “I was graciously informed by my son that he would be enjoying the perks of being a teenager with no bedtime tonight and along with where exactly I could shove my homemade lasagna.” He laughed lightly, “Kids, these days! He really does keep me on my toes!” 

Logan did his best not to roll his eyes. “I do not know the whereabouts of your son, Mr. Hart.”

“Patton,” He said easily, “And I’m not here for my son. I’m here for you, Logan.”

“If this is about the glass in my door, you are very capable of taking that out of my paycheck.” Logan told him.

The bartender placed Logan’s new rum and coke in front of him and he reached for it almost immediately, only stopping when Patton’s hand landed on his forearm.

“Mr. Hart--”

“Patton,” Patton corrected with that smile that Logan suspected was the worst thing in the world. Worse than Virgil’s blank expression when he told them to get out, worse than Remus’s smug one when he suggested that Logan did indeed enjoy the ability to manipulate his coworkers, worse than Beatrice faulty excel sheets, than broken glass of his door, than a ring he never wanted to see again and yet he still felt like it was missing from his finger.

“Mr. Hart,” Logan said again, “I am going to get horrifically drunk tonight, and I will be calling out sick tomorrow, regardless of what you say. So my advice to you is, say anything of importance now, before I am too incoherent to register and respond accordingly.”

“That doesn’t sound too smart there, kiddo!” Patton said, like he was any older than Logan was.

“I do not feel like being smart right now,” Logan said snippily. Because being smart involved thinking, and Logan had done quite enough thinking for the day. He was tired of thinking, tired of memories, tired of the lump in his chest that had formed during his lunch break and hadn’t dissolved in the eight hours since. He was tired.

“Would you like me to be smart for you?” Patton asked.

Ah.

Yes, Logan remembered suddenly with just a few words why he hated Patton Hart so much. Why he hated those too-wide brown eyes, those stupid freckles, that soft smile. Why he hated the way that Patton had tracked him down despite the fact that he had turned off his phone, the way that Patton had ordered two waters, the way that he hadn’t taken off his jacket. The way that he had taken out his keys and put them on the bar counter between them and Logan could pick out his own house key from the jumbled mess of bits and bobs.

“I heard something pretty interesting today,” Patton said, when Logan didn’t reply because he was too busy remembering why he hated Patton so much.

“Please don’t pretend like you didn’t know about my so-called affair before I did.” Logan snapped. “Honestly, Patton!” Logan dropped his arm from the glass and instead pressed his knuckles to his forehead. “Playing dumb about your own company is my least favroite thing about you.”

“I thought you hated my laugh the most.” Patton looked at him, letting the smile slip into something more serious.

“I hate everything about you.” 

“Pay for the drinks, Lo.” Patton told him, “And I’ll take you home. We can have some of my lasagna and watch a space documentary, like we’re twenty years old again.” 

Logan hated Patton and hated the way his chest ached at the offer. His knuckles bore into the side of his head, jabbing the frame of his own glasses into this temple. He hated the way that Patton was looking at him, soft and sweet and naive.

He hated the way his fingers itched to take Patton’s hand and go home.

“And after all that,” Patton continued so lightly, “You can tell me all about how Remus Prince got under your skin.”

 Logan’s hand slammed on the counter, so suddenly he surprised himself. Patton, however, didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink, didn’t react other than to hold that smile. 

“I am not drunk enough to be talking about Remus Prince,” Logan spat. “Especially not to you, Patton.”

Patton was quiet and at first, Logan really had thought that he had won something-- he thought that perhaps Patton would grant him mercy and let him drown his sorrows alone and miserable in a bar until he forgot his own name. But Patton was too good of a friend and Logan really should hate him less for that.

“You know,” Patton said with a cold type of humor that doused Logan with awareness. Bad awareness. The type of awareness that sunk it’s metaphorical claws into Logan’s chest and pierced straight through his heart before Patton finished what he was saying. “I think….yeah that does sound familiar. Do you remember the last time you said you weren’t drunk enough to tell me something?”

Logan did.

Logan couldn’t forget if he tried. 

And he had tried so very hard for so very long-- except that Remus Prince had waltzed into Logan’s life, had called him a Robot, had smirked at him and run their coworkers around like cattle with pretty little words. Except that Remus Prince had gotten bored and decided that the only logical next course of action was to mess with Logan’s personal life. 

Except that Remus Prince had played along with the rumor game, and smiled at him, and kissed him, and---

And Logan had started thinking---

And Logan’s mouth had started moving--

And Virgil face had--

Logan reached for the glass in front of him, reaching for the cool ice and the spritzy carbonation and the burn of the rum.  

Patton watched him, blinking in the long, slow, dumb way of his that had fooled just about every person that he had come in contact with. With the goofy smile and the habit of deliberately misunderstanding key phrases and making puns and jokes when things were tense, it was hard to see him as anything other than a rich son who became CEO via thinly veiled nepotism. 

Logan knocked back the drink, blinking back the burn behind his eyes that were from the alcohol and definitely not from the lump in his throat that had started dissolving.

He didn’t want to close his eyes, because he knew what he would see when he did: a nice suit, a fancy dinner, a walk to the bridge dotted with fairy lights of all things. He’d see that stupid ring, that stupid face, that stupid end of the night that everyone had told him would be nice, and perfect, and everything he would ever want! 

And he didn’t want to think about how it had not been nice or perfect or anything either of them had ever wanted!

He didn’t want to think about how years ago he had come to a bar just like this, and tried to get so drunk he could pretend that it hadn’t happened, and Patton had shown up then and offered him a job and--

“He wants to go by Janus now,” Patton said, picking up one of the waters and taking a sip.

Logan squinted at him and tried not to be happy about the distraction from his own thoughts, “Who?”

“My son,” Patton said, like it was obvious he had switched back to a neutral topic. “He told me earlier during our phone call he wants to go by Janus, now. He said he’s hated the name Dante for forever. Can you believe it, Lo?”

Logan couldn’t actually. Because he had known Patton since they themselves were teenagers, since before Patton had brought up how empty being a CEO was without anyone to come home too, since Patton had first invited him to Sunday brunch and introduced him to the child he called “son”. Logan had babysat Dante when Patton had business trips and Dante had always been proud of himself, of his better-than-the-status-quo lifestyle, of his name that held power and prestige and weight.

Dante had been practicing saying his name in the mirror since before his voice cracked. Dante Hart, future CEO. Dante Hart, son of Patton Hart. Dante Hart. 

“He’s a teenager,” Logan said, “He’s rebelling.”

“Maybe so!” Patton laughed, and it dwindled down to something that was easier felt in the air than definable in terms Logan was familiar with, “Gosh, I love him so much, Lo. My baby! He’s growing up so fast now! The other day he told me he had a boyfriend. He’s at that stage where he doesn’t want me to help him anymore!”

And despite the buffoon having not had a single drop of alcohol, Patton was tearing up. Logan gritted his teeth at the implications of a weepy, teary, so-full-of-emotions Patton. He had spent enough time in college trying to console him as he figured out the whole “Why does it always have to be about sex? Why can’t I just love hugging someone, Lo? Why does everyone make me feel so broken?” Logan hadn’t been any good back then, and he definitely hadn’t gotten better with time. 

After that disaster with the last guy, Logan had decided that feeling things, frivolous things, emotion-like things, were not something he was into anymore.

Logan learned from his mistakes, after all.

Even the mistakes that started with “R” and ended in a $400 ring being thrown away.

“Is that why you’re here, Mr. Hart?” Logan asked, in that way of his that told even Patton with his squirrel run brain that it wasn’t actually a question at all. “You can’t baby your son anymore so you’ve moved on to the next best thing?”

Patton stuck his tongue in his cheek and set his water back down. “Patton.” He stressed. “And I’m not here to baby you, Logan. I’m here to be your friend.”

He said “friend” like it was a word in the dictionary Logan didn’t know. It was infuriating: the insinuation that Logan had never cracked open a dictionary before, that he was so unknowledgeable about the concept of a friend that Patton was about to show him the online Oxford dictionary definition, like someone who played dumb all day and peppered his windows with sticky notes in the shape of a game of Frogger knew more about something than Logan who had clawed his way up from nothing and was constantly needing to prove how he earned his position.

Patton nudged the second water in Logan’s direction.

Logan stared at it, at the condensation on the glass, at the ice cubes, at the refraction of the low lights from the bar counter. He stared at it like it was a portal back through time that would allow him to slam some sense into poor, pitiful twenty-one-years-old Logan before he let himself fall in Love.

Before he bought a ring or stopped taking days off unless Patton tromped down to his office himself. Before Remus Prince borrowed his cup and before Logan got it in his head that he was serving revenge rather than idiocracy. Before he let himself think too little and say too much and hurt a kid that had never deserved to be upset before in his life.

“If my son wants to be called Janus, I’ll call him that,” Patton says softly. “Because even if it doesn’t make sense to me, it means something to him. And even if my friend is struggling with emotions that don’t make sense to me, I’m still gonna try to help him, Lo.”

Patton ducked his head just a little, just enough that he managed to catch Logan’s strategically averted gaze and make something out of it: a swell of guilt, a sense of hope, a pinch of safety and unadulterated kindness.

His throat was dry, but it was the type of dry that couldn’t be fixed with a glass of water.

“I made a kid cry,” Logan said, because self loathing is a coat he had thought he’d outgrown but he can still fit his arms in the sleeves.

Patton nodded. “Yeah, I heard about that.” He sipped his water. “I think we all have at one point or another.”

“See, the distinct difference that you are missing here, Patton, is that you are a father.” Logan snapped, “And your son will cry at the drop of a hat if he thinks he can get something out of it. And you would never harm a child! Not for any reason in the entire world!”

“And you would?”

“I did.” Logan felt himself sink into the chair, sink like an anchor in the ocean, sink like the floor below him had turned into a blackhole. “I did, I did it. What type of person does that make me?”

“I hate to break it to you, Lo,” Patton said, as kindly as he could, which Logan knew was truly, sickenly nice. He wanted to choke on the sentiment but he found that he couldn’t quite make his chest hurt the way he wanted it too when it came to Patton’s pity.

 “But that just means you’re a normal person.” Patton smiled dumbly, tilting his head and shrugging. “Everyone says things they don’t mean sometimes.”

“You don’t.”

“I do,” Patton countered gently, “Like when I hired Beatrice before realizing that she had lied about knowing how to use Excel.”

“Fuck, Beatrice,” Logan agreed, because if he closed his eyes too hard he thought he might still see grid patterns as much as he might see Virgil’s hurt expression and he hated it so much. So much. 

“I also told-- Janus once that I would get him anything he wanted for his birthday, and he asked for a snake.” Patton shuddered, almost comically, “And you saw how that turned out.”

“I’ve always been impressed with his ability to sneak things into the school buildings,” Logan sighed. “I doubt anyone has ever forgotten that Show-and-Tell.”

Patton chuckled quietly. It was almost lost in the buzz of the other patrons in the bar. He drew a smiley face in the condensation on his glass and Logan reached over to wipe it away, like he had done a hundred seventeen times since college.

“So….Lasagna?” Patton offered. “We can make some garlic bread too.”

“I regret ever meeting you,” Logan said, even as he picked up the keys on the counter between them. He wished that Patton didn’t look so self satisfied, so pleased, so smug when the words tumbled from his lips, but Patton had never been one to pertain to the wishes and whims of Logan like that.

Settling his tab was quick; a pile of bills from his wallet that he didn’t actually check, but decided the bartender deserved anyway and then Patton linked their elbows together so that Logan couldn’t walk off the way that he used to when he would agree with Patton just to get him to shut up. Logan snagged Patton’s glasses from his head and fogged them up with his breath, before taking on the tedious task of cleaning the fingerprints off the lens meticulously while walking in a wobbling straight line. 

Patton laughed like silver bells and it alone brightened the entire street with a type of magic that Logan had long since given up on trying to scientifically explain. The poet in him that Logan had buried under Calculus classes and Statistics courses and a Business degree and only let out when the alcohol out weighed the blood in his system, whispered that it was because it was Patton and his aloofness, and his kindness, and his generosity that never made any sense, and wasn’t that reason enough for the universe to lighten up?

It was drizzling outside, scattered raindrops and dark heavy clouds that whispered of a thunderstorm later. Patton skipped, Logan rolled his eyes and let himself be dragged towards the familiar pale blue punch buggy. It was the same exact car from their college time together, if one ignored the frankenstein replacements of just about every single component in it. Patton clung to the car the same way he had clung to the delusion of Logan being a good friend; sticking close through every breakdown, excusing every letdown, and spending far too much money on it when economically it would have been more beneficial to just let them go.

A wave of self loathing wrapped over Logan again when he pulled on the car door. Patton was genuinely a good person, a good friend. He was stupid at times and he made decisions that made Logan was to strangle him, but he cared so much more than other people. He offered fourth and fifth chances when Logan would have stone-walled his offender at one. 

Not to mention, he had come out in the rain to find Logan specifically, probably traversing through three other bars to find the one that Logan had chosen to be his misery echo chamber.

By some sort of lucky happenstance, Logan had originally walked far enough to hail a taxi  to get to this bar, leaving his car in the safety of the parking garage where Patton’s company paid a nice sum for security. Logan had tried to argue about that expense with him back in the day, but Patton had pulled out a picture of his toothy grinning son-- Janus-- and said “Lo!! What if my son comes to visit when he learns to drive?! I don’t want to worry about him getting attacked in the parking garage!” 

Logan had brutally pointed out that his son would never visit him during work, and so far he had been correct in that assessment, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the slightest bit guilty about his bluntness even so much time later.

Patton had always looked for the best in people, had more strength than most of humanity, had more hope in happy endings that Logan had trust in fact and numbers.

“Is your son okay with me calling him Janus? I’m unsure of etiquette on this. Should I wait until he tells me his preference or should I just make the switch and not bring it up to him?” Logan asked with a sigh as Patton pulled out of the parking spot and set them towards Patton’s house on the other side of town. Unobstructed and following the driving laws, it would only take them about fifteen minutes, and yet Logan wondered about the possibility of Patton having Advil in the car.

The back of his head was already aching from the days events: banging his head on the keyboard all morning leading up to his disastrous lunch date, Remus, Virgil, squinting at spreadsheets until he couldn’t make out the numbers anymore, and the of course stumbling his way to the bar and dealing with Patton.

Patton giggled. “Oh yeah! I asked him earlier if it was okay to tell you. He said he wanted you to call him Janus now. He also said to tell you, you can take a hike.”

Knowing Janus, it was probably something more volatile than “taking a hike”. Most likely it had been something that might have required him to put a full five dollars in the swear jar that they kept on the counter next to the cookie jar. Not that it would matter much. Logan had stayed over at their house dozens of times and every single time he had come across Janus taking that money back out of that swear jar.

As far as Logan was aware, the swear jar had never actually been full. Patton must have noticed at some point-- probably that very first time Janus had taken the money back out-- but he was irritating insistent that he play dumb about it. Thus, Janus continued to swear in excess, Patton continued to make him put money in a swear jar for no real reason, and Logan continued to never understand either of them.

The radio in Patton’s car had been broken fifteen times since Patton had gotten it, but Logan assumed from the silence of the drive that it was now sixteen. He rested his elbow on the window and watched the drizzle turn into a steady rain and the windshield wipers flutter across their vision to occasionally bring them clarity.

The night life was somewhat dreary. The driving pace was slow, and they hit every single stop light in the city because that was just Logan’s luck. There were a few people running around in the rain: a family with a small child who was jumping in every slowly forming puddle on the sidewalk, a couple sharing an umbrella walking so close together they appeared as if to be one misshapen form, a group of friends chatting outside a 24 hour dinner in raincoats, and a few smokers huddled under an alcove with embers burning just enough for Logan to make out their forms through the downpour. 

Logan realized almost immediately that the pit in his stomach was much more bearable if he instead focused on the raindrops on the window that are much easier to look at, much less representing something that Logan had always expected he might one day have, much less accusatory in wondering what is wrong with him that he can’t act like a normal human being, this isn’t working, who wants to marry a robot like you--

That was the reason why he wasn’t expecting the sudden jerk of the car coming to a hard stop at a yellow light that they absolutely could have made. 

“PATTON!” Logan yelled.

The car behind them blared it’s horn and Logan rubbed his neck and reset his glasses from the sudden movement, ready to question what exactly Patton thought he was doing, because truly of all the things Logan was not in the mood for, this was one of them. 

Except that before Logan could get any words out, Patton had put the car in park and whipped off his seatbelt to kick open his door. A wave of rain came pouring into the car as the man threw himself from the driver's seat like there was something wrong with the car, and for a second Logan entertained the absurd idea that they were going to blow up.

Which truly, would have just been a fitting end to his horrific day.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, grabbing after the other’s coat to pull him back inside before the rain soaked into the seats. “Get back in th--”

The other man ignored him, frantically waving to someone in the rain. “REMUS!! MR. PRINCE!! OVER HERE!!”

If Logan knew slightly less about human biology he might have been inclined to say that his heart jumped straight to his throat and climbed its way up his esophagus to strangle him. He wouldn’t have recognized the figure on the street corner on his own: Remus Prince was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans with holes in the knees. He was soaked to the bone, without an umbrella, and his usual bouncy brown curls were matted to his head, as if he had been walking out in the rain for much longer than the rain had been sweeping through the city.

He was standing with the smokers under their minimal tarp, although he, himself, was without a cigarette at all. When he turned at the call of his name, there was only confusion and exhaustion in his face. None of the smugness, or the ego, or the energy that he usually had.

Logan didn’t know why that bothered him. He was hurting from earlier; that was good. 

After all, it was Remus’s ridiculous game that he had dragged everyone else into. 

((Logan’s finger itched and he dug his nails into his skin so deeply he was afraid to glance down in case there was blood pouring off hands.))

Remus ventured out to meet them, dodging across the lanes of traffic without a care in the world, or perhaps with a death wish. Remus didn’t seem particularly like he would mind getting run over by the way that he opened the back door, climbed in, and shook the excess water out in the interior of the car like some type of undomesticated dog. 

“Is this a kidnapping?” He asked, rain dripping down his face. “A murder? Do I get to know your name before you dismember me, cutie?”

Patton laughed joyfully, even as Logan felt his face screw up at the sound of Remus calling their boss “cutie”. It was beyond unprofessional, even if Remus was apparently unaware that his career hinged entirely on not insulting Patton. It took a lot to make Patton angry enough to fire someone-- his patience was the best and worst thing about him, as Logan had been reminded every time they interacted-- but once Remus crossed that line, not even a cockroach like him would be able to drag himself out of the metaphorical wasteland Patton would make out of his life.

Cutie, honestly. Who calls anyone they’ve just met cutie. Logan could understand Remus having called him Lovebug and Lolo, but cutie? 

For Patton?

Patton climbed back into the car, snapping on his seatbelt and managed to get out of park at the very same moment as the light turned green. He wiped his sleeve along his glasses, and brightly said, “I’m Patton! And you already know Logie here!”

“Logie?” Remus repeated, sitting back against the seat taking in Logan for the first time. “Oh shi--”

“Do not call me that,” Logan said. “Patton, you can drop me off at the next corner. I will walk home.”

“Don’t be silly!” Patton said, in the same tone that he had used during their college days to coax Logan into driving him to the nearest grocery store after he had successfully managed to pull two all nighters in a row. Logan hated that tone, and Patton knew that well.

“If you do not stop the car, I will throw myself from it while it is still moving.”

“I can get out, actually!” Remus said far too loud for the small car. Logan resisted the urge to turn around and scowl at him. Surely, his pea-sized brain had managed to figure out that he was the point of contention here and that his best move would be to shut up, so why had he decided to open his mouth? “I need to get home anyway. Big day tomorrow and everything.”

“Oh?” Patton said delightedly because Logan would not ever play into subject changes willingly. “What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m getting fired,” Remus said with a nonchalant shrug.

Patton blinked for a moment-- his squirrel-run brain jamming at the sudden twist of the words because whatever he was expecting from his visitor it was not that. Logan resisted the urge to reach over and give him a shake at the shoulders: of course he wouldn’t be able to expect anything with Remus Prince. The man was insufferable and illogical and he wrought chaos for fun. 

With everything that had happened, did Patton really think that there was an exaggeration in there?

Remus wanted attention. And he said whatever he needed to in order to get it: a fake affair, a fake divorce, a fake child-- Of course he would say he was getting fired tomorrow if it got Patton to have to use all of his meager brain cells to figure out how serious he was.

“Is that something to celebrate, Mr. Prince?” Logan cut in coldly. “Getting fired?”

“And here I thought that you would be happy, Ackroyd,” Remus said. “Unless you think you’re going to miss me.”

“If only I would be so lucky,” Logan said, digging his phone from his pocket, and turning it back on. The screen was blindingly bright and Logan’s eyes ached just glancing at it in the corner of his vision. “Patton, pull over. I am not doing this tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever again.”

“I’m not going to let you walk home after however many rum and cokes you had, Logan.”

“Patton,” Logan snarled. “If you continue to treat me like you treat your son, I will tender my resignation tonight. Pull over now.”

Patton opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was swallowed up in Remus’s empty voice speaking. 

“You went drinking?”

“Do not talk to me, Mr. Prince.”

“You’re not even yelling.”

Logan wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, which may have irritated him more than the fact that he was so insistent about continuing to talk when Logan was liable to push the car to crash and kill all three of them. Remus was already staring at him, his expression dark and serious in the passing car lights and somehow Logan thought that he looked vulnerable. 

Logan gritted his teeth as his headache pulsed behind his eyes. 

“Shut up,” he said. “And put on your seat belt.”

“Or what? You’ll divorce me?” Remus pushed forward between the seats until he was just a few inches from Logan’s own face, grinning with all his teeth. It was at once the same smile that Logan had catalogued through every week of working with him and also something completely foreign.

Remus had pulled him into a kiss earlier that morning, and Logan remembered the taste of pickles on his lips just as well as the smirk he kept as Logan walked away. But this expression is somehow inverted, somehow shifted, somehow a weapon more than a challenge.

“Boys,” Patton said. “Please don’t fight in my car!”

“If you did not want us to fight, why did you invite him in this car?” Logan asked. “You, of all people, know my opinions on--”

“Logan, you’re drunk.”

“What does that have to do with this?!” Logan bit out. He glared at his phone: there were three missed calls from Patton and a handful of text messages from him that Logan couldn’t actually read in the combination of the bright phone light and darkness around them. His eyes were blurry even with his glasses on and the frustration of not being able to read only heightened as he made out the notification for his email which meant that Beatrice had managed to finish her work (allowing Logan to be able to go fix it) or that news of him yelling at a child made it around the office and now he was going to harassed by them as well.

All because of Remus Prince’s inability to shut up. 

 Patton threw a hand out and grabbed Logan’s phone from his hand and carelessly tossed it over both their shoulders to Remus.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, rubbing the irritated tears from his eyes. “Remus, give it back!”

Remus, however, was just staring at the phone in his lap like it was some type of bomb. Logan’s phone locked itself and the screen went dark, and still Remus sat inhumanely still in the seat, staring at it, with a type of blank expression that Logan oftentimes related to their coworkers when Logan asked them to perform any sort of math without a calculator.

“Remus,” Logan said again.

Remus jerked at the sound of his voice, snapping out of whatever fit the phone had put him in almost meekly-- if Logan could describe anything Remus did as meekly without it being a blatant falsehood. “Meekly” itself had never seemed to be a word in Remus’s vocabulary which was another irritating fact about him that made Logan break out in figurative hives.

Logan knew how Remus was.

He knew Remus.

It didn’t matter that he had never talked to Remus before today, that his thinly veiled contempt for his coworkers kept him from being willing to stand in their presence more than he was being paid to, that this fake affair was the first stupid relationship of any kind he had gotten outside of Patton and his son since his last boyfriend had dumped him on the night he was going to propose and hadn’t he thought he’d known him too? Isn’t that what led to all this? 

It didn’t matter. 

Logan was smarter, now. Logan was better now. Logan was--

“I don’t…” Remus said, trailing off as he stared at the messages popping up on Logan’s phone and Logan wondered why it felt like his lungs had shrunk right in his chest. “I don’t think you should be reading these right now.”

“He definitely should not!” Patton said, with a very convincing amount of forced happiness. “Hold that for him will you, Remus? Oh and why do you think you’re going to get fired tomorrow?”

Remus looked up at Logan and then at Patton and then back at Logan, like Logan was supposed to know what that meant in addition to every other stupid look he’d given Logan all evening. Logan shoved his glasses up to his hairline and rubbed his aching eyes, and yet somehow that still didn’t fix the pounding in his head or the exhaustion hollowing out his bones. It also didn’t make Remus disappear from the backseat, which was equally annoying, even though Logan hadn’t truly thought he was a shared apparition for him and Patton.

“You didn’t mention anything about today to your… what are you a fuck buddy?” Remus said.

And Patton laughed. 

Logan grabbed the door handle and yanked on it, but of course the ridiculous safety locks were engaged, and Logan had spent far too many sober years getting locked in this car to try to puzzle out the broken locking system in order to drunkenly throw himself out of the car. He was not in the habit of wishing for miracles, or even believing in deities, but he imagined that some powerful entity was finding ruining Logan’s life to be semi enjoyable.

“See this is why I can’t fire him!” Patton said through giggles and Logan thought maybe he was being addressed for this. Patton met Remus’s gaze through the rearview mirror and shook the last bit of water from his damp hair. “You make everything so entertaining!”

“What?”

Logan grit his teeth and yanked on the door handle again. “Remus, meet Mr. Hart, the CEO and your boss. Also put on your seatbelt.”

Remus blinked at them both, leaning between the seats and definitely not putting on his seatbelt. Logan counted backward from ten, reminding himself that one of the hiring requirements for Patton’s company has always been must be the stupid beyond belief. He’d known for a while that his coworkers were idiots on a good day, hazards to his health on bad ones, and yet somehow in the whirlwind of the day he’s had, Logan had forgotten that Remus counted as a coworker still.

“I’m not… getting fired?” Remus said, acting much like a computer after being turned on. “Why do you know my name then?”

Patton shrugged, flicking on his blinker to change lanes before the next light. “You have interesting ideas for your advertising strategy! Of course I would know your name! I’m sorry about vetoing that last one. I know Logan liked it, but I wanted to stick to the family-as-a-whole angle.”

“Patton,” Logan warned with an edge.

“Logan liked…?” Remus echoed, before turning towards Logan with a look of bewilderment that annoyed Logan far more than it had any right to. “You actually look at my shit?”

“Put on your seatbelt, Remus,” he said, because wasn’t it obvious that Logan looked at his things? Before the whole Robot incident Logan hadn’t had a problem with Remus at all: he was effective and efficient and the rumors were irritating but below him to indulge in. Before Remus had dragged him figuratively kicking and screaming into this mess, Logan approved the budgets that came with the projects Remus created.

He still did that, just with more anger than before. Petty feelings for Remus himself aside, his work was objectively good. 

Logan knew that about him.

“So!” Patton said over both of them, with his signature grin that Logan suspected he would still be wearing even if Logan decided to kill him right now. It must be the by-product of being controlled by rodents running on a wheel. “How was your volunteer work Remus?”

Remus froze in the back seat, going unnaturally still again. “Are you some kind of stalker-- uh sir?”

“Will you knock that off?” Logan snapped, which only made Remus’s shoulders jump straight to his ears. “And put on your seatbelt.”

“Just curious!” Patton said, ignoring Logan entirely. “Darlene is a good friend of mine! I make sure to send monthly donations to the organization since I don’t have a lot of free time to jump over and help.”

Remus didn’t say anything to that. He swallowed audibly and leaned back against the seat, dragging fingers through his wet hair and then tucked his arms in his own armpits. Logan pressed a palm to his forehead watching the street lights bend from behind his eyelids because that was easier than staring at Remus act like Patton was trying to pull his teeth out.

“You actually do volunteer work?” Logan said. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Ha,” Remus said without any inflection. Logan thought that was the quietest that he had ever been. Where was that stupid ass smirk? Where was the stubbornness that pushed back against everything? Where was that loud voice and that confidence?

“Put on your seatbelt,” Logan said again.

“Why do you care if I wear the belt or not?”

“Remus put on your seatbelt or, so help me Newton, I will climb back there and put it on for you, myself!”

The air simmered from the acid in his tone, making the silence figurative chafe against his ribs. Remus stared at him, blinking slowly, with the street lights casting roving shadows on his face. His dark eyes were just so-- so--

Logan dug his nails into his palm. Why was it Remus Prince could make him feel like this? What gave him the right?

“It’s okay!” Patton said, setting the car to park. “We’re here anyway!”

Logan reached up and pulled his glasses back onto his face properly, but it still took him a moment to realize that they were near a bunch of townhouses, double parked outside one that Logan had considered moving into all those years ago when he had first been looking for an apartment for after college.

Remus too, apparently needed a moment to recognize the area. “We… are at my apartment? Holy shit, you are a stalker.”

Patton giggled, flashing Remus with his blinding smile and reached back to pick up Logan’s phone from his hands. “Thank you so much, kiddo! We’ll wait until you get inside all safe and sound, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“You will not,” Logan said. “Tomorrow you have a business deal two hours away to complete and if you miss it--”

Patton stretched back in his seat and let out a hugely exaggerated yawn. “But they’re so boring! Maybe I should bring Janus with me. He always makes my business deals entertaining. I love when he sets his snake on people. He looks so happy and he laughs and--”

Logan squeezed his eyes closed and recited the first twenty digits of pi in his head to keep from grabbing Patton’s squirrel run brain and slamming it into the steering wheel.

“Homicide is wrong,” Logan said.

“I’ll help you vouch for insanity,” Remus said. “I mean, tied together through a murder, and possibly hiding a body is much more juicy than a fake marriage that’s falling apart. We’d be the talk of the office.”

“They would not find any body that I hid,” Logan said. “Nobody would.”

Remus opened his mouth to say something more, but whatever it is he decided against it. Instead he slid over the seats and kicked open the door right behind Logan and stepped out into the night air.

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Hart, sir,” he said, strangely formal, then squinted and added, “Daddy?” 

“I’m not firing you, Remus,” Patton said. “No matter what you call me!”

Logan ran his tongue over his teeth counting each and every one. Remus looked at him but ultimately finally adhered to that whole shutting up thing. He closed the door to Patton’s blue punch buggy and started towards the door to the apartments.

“Oh,” Remus said, and turned back at the last second. He knocked his knuckles on Logan’s window a few inches from where Logan’s gaze fixed itself on a light. Patton apparently knew more about what to do than Logan because he pressed the window lowering button and Remus reached his entire arm into the window to drop a small object right into Logan’s lap.

Logan caught it mainly due to reaction rather than skill and his skin tingled at the familiar item. Even in the dark, Logan’s fingers roll over the shape of the ring that had always reminded him of the worst day of his life. It was still warm from being in Remus’s pocket.

“I think that should stay with you,” Remus said, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. “You know… for the next boytoy you take to your sex dungeon or whatever nerds like you do on weekends.”

And then he turned around and fled towards the apartment building. Patton turned off the hazard lights and slipped back into traffic and Logan wondered if he would be polite enough to not comment if Logan started crying right then and there.

His throat felt swollen, his tongue too big for his mouth, and the headache thrummmmmmed painfully. 

Logan knew Remus Prince.

“You know that Remus Prince isn’t gonna be like him,” Patton said to fill the silence.

“Remus Prince isn’t like anyone.” Logan didn’t whine. To whine would be unbecoming. And childish. And embarrassing.

So Logan didn’t whine and Patton mercifully didn't call him out on his not-whining.

And neither of them mention the choked tone that Logan had for the rest of the night.

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up with him clutching that ring like a lifeline, but as he ran his fingers around the rim, he wondered if it had fit on Remus’s finger at all.

(Part Five)

[excitedlysuffering]

How He Hurts Your Feelings

Here’s some angst for ya :p wait is this even angsty?? Idk it’s the angstiest thing I’ve ever wrote XD

Masterlist Part 2

Naruto~

You sighed as you neared your second home, a ramen shop. You loved ramen, of course, but it was tiring having to cater to your boyfriend’s uncanny obsession with it. For once you wanted to have a choice. He never listened to your ideas anymore, recently he had made your relationship all about him, and it was beginning to eat at you.

You didn’t even necessarily want to eat. You just wanted to spend time with Naruto without having to eat ramen. Was that too much to ask?

“Naruto, we always go to Ichiraku’s for dates… maybe we could do something different?” The blonde turned to you with a pout. “Why? I thought you loved ramen?” You sighed, shaking your head.

“I do, but it’s all we seem to do these days.” His frown deepened. “But, I’m hungry!” You nodded, trying to control your patience. “Me too, but maybe we can go somewhere else to eat? I heard there’s a new BBQ place opening!” He was full-on scowling and his arms were crossed.

“Why are you being so disagreeable? You wanted to go out and here we are.” Your face fell at his hostile demeanor, but you refused to back down.

“I’m not being disagreeable, Naruto. You always pick out our dates without considering my opinion, I’m simply asking if we can do something different.” He rolled his eyes, his cerulean eyes burning with irritation.

“Fine, whatever. Go to your BBQ place. I’m going to get ramen.” Without another glance, he turned around and ducked into Ichiraku’s, leaving you alone on the street. Tears filled your eyes and blurred your vision as you ran back home, suddenly having lost your appetite.

Sasuke~

The Uchiha rarely got sick, but when he did he was more irritable than usual. You knew that when he did it was best to take his words with a grain of salt, as he was just trying to seem tough to make up for his perceived weakness at being sick. However, there was only so much you could take and you were slowly reaching your limit.

With every snide remark, you felt yourself grow a bit more upset. As it was Sasuke had tried to slam the door in your face when you had arrived, given you the silent treatment, complained about every little thing about the soup you made, he even griped about the tomatoes you’d brought him.

However, what was really pushing you over the edge was his ungratefulness. When you were sick, you let him take care of you, why couldn’t you return the favor?! You had been nothing but patient and gracious, and still, he had a problem with everything you did.

“For crying out loud, woman, I don’t want the medicine!” He snapped. At that moment, you snapped too. You threw down the spoon of medicine and a loud clang resounded. “FINE! I’ve done nothing but help you, same as you’ve done for me, but all you’ve done is treat me like some kind of pest! I get that no one is themselves when they’re sick, but I am not you’re personal punching bag, Sasuke!”

He seemed taken aback by your outburst, even to the point of silence. “You’ve made it clear I’m not needed here.” His eyes narrowed as you grabbed your bag. “Because you’re not.” You froze, trying to school your expression. “What?” He scoffed. “I said you’re not needed.”

Refusing to tolerate any more of his verbal abuse, you walked out his door without a word, not caring if he saw your tears.

Neji~

If you were being truthful with yourself, you knew you had been a bit neglectful of Neji lately. In the last two weeks, you had last minute canceled three consecutive dates. In your defense, you were so close to finishing the novel you were working on, and you had completely immersed yourself in it, excited for it to be so close to completion.

You had pushed him to the back of your mind and wrote day and night. You were just pages away from completion when you heard an obnoxious knocking at your door.

You were surprised to see your boyfriend, who looked furious, to say the least. “Oh, hey, Neji, what’s up?” You stepped back letting him in. His lilac eyes met yours and it felt like staring into a typhoon.

“It’s been three weeks since we’ve gone out, and all you can say is ‘what’s up’?” His voice was deadly quiet and you sheepishly avoided his eyes. “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been distant, but I’m so close to finishing my novel, and I just-”

He was in your face before you could blink. “Your novel?! You’ve been avoiding me for that stupid thing?!” Even though his words stung, you knew he had every right to be mad; you hadn’t been very considerate lately.

“I’ve been working on it for so long and I just wanted to finish it, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You insisted. He sneered. “I can’t believe you’re spending so much time on a pipe dream. I’ve read it, and it will amount to nothing.” You had no idea how to respond, you could feel tears forming. “Get out.” Your voice was quiet but firm. “What?” You looked him directly in the eyes. “Now. I won’t repeat myself.” He stormed away with a scoff, leaving you with new insecurities.

Shikamaru~

Much to your delight, Shikamaru had agreed to go walking in the park with you. He had been away on a mission for a month and had gotten back a few days ago. You had missed him greatly and you were ecstatic to finally have him back.

“What did you do while I was away?” You looked up at the Nara as you walked. “A lot of training, really… not much else besides that. I missed you a lot.” He threw an arm around your shoulder, a small smile on his face. “I missed you too, (Y/N/N). I’m glad to be back.”

You passed a few kids who were playing a game of tag and weaving in and around the area, laughing all the way. You smiled at the sight, leaning your head onto Shikamaru’s shoulder.

“Shika?” He looked down at you letting you know he was listening. “How come you didn’t want to go cloud watching? Not that I’m complaining, it’s just unusual.”

He chuckled, steering you around the rambunctious children as they ran by. “I’ve been gone for a while, I figure it’d be nice to walk around a little bit. Don’t get used to it though, this is special.” You giggled, not surprised in the least.

“At least some things don’t change.” He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What things?” You smirked. “You’re still as lazy as can be!” He dramatically rolled his eyes before letting a smug expression settle on his face.

“And you’re still abnormally short!” Shikamaru snickered. You rolled your eyes, punching him in the shoulder. You were about to reply when there was a plume of smoke. Shikamaru was no longer in sight.

You felt your mind blank for a second. A shadow clone. Your own boyfriend had rather send a clone than actually see you after a month of being apart. You felt an ache in your chest as you angrily wiped the tears from your eyes. Had he really not missed you at all?

Kiba~

You screeched indignantly as a bucket full of water rained down on you. Tears of frustration gathered in your eyes, much to your chagrin. This was the third prank today, and you were more than tired of Kiba’s antics.

You were going to your room to grab your jacket and was in too much of a hurry to notice the trap. Now you were in the doorway, soaked to the bone, shaking with anger and cold while Kiba just laughed.

First, it had been replacing the sugar with salt so your morning coffee had been spoiled, then it had been hiding every article of clothing you owned and then having to find each individual piece, one at a time. Now you were wet and miserable and Kiba looked like he was only just beginning your torment.

“You know what, Kiba, this isn’t funny! This is the third prank in as many hours! What is your deal?!” He looked confused as if he didn’t know why you were angry. “They’re just harmless pranks, babe, no reason to get worked up.”

They were harmless pranks, but it was your… not so special week and you didn’t have the energy to deal with it. “Look, I’m tired, okay? So can you please just quit it?”

He rolled his eyes as if he were exasperated. “You’re so boring (Y/N). Why can’t you just loosen up once in a while?” You harshly rubbed your temples, trying to push down your hurt. You knew you weren’t overreacting, you were sore and drained, and he was making it that much worse.

“I’m going back to bed. Please don’t bother me.” You waved a hand towards him and walked away and slammed the door behind you. “God, what did I do to get such a whiny girlfriend?”

Your mouth fell open as you heard his voice. Was that really how he thought of you?

Gaara~

You sighed dejected, as you stared at the empty seat your boyfriend was supposed to be. You knew that as the Kazekage, Gaara was a busy man, but he was the one who planned the date and he had promised to be there.

After thirty minutes of pity filled stares and waiting, you figured he wasn’t going to show up. This was the fourth time this month that he had stood you up and you couldn’t help but find yourself hurriedly heading in the direction of the Kazekage building to confront him.

By the time you had finally reached his office, you had calmed down, but that wasn’t to say you weren’t still angry. You knocked harshly on his door and waited for his response. “Enter.” You stormed your way in, your dress swishing behind you as reached his desk.

“Gaara. I was expecting you forty-five minutes ago.” Seafoam eyes met yours, before sweeping over your outfit. “Oh, god, (Y/N), I’m so sorry, I got caught up-” I scowled at the overused excuse.

“This is the fourth time! For goodness sake, this date was your idea!” He stood up, holding your trembling hand. “I know, and I’m so sorry. I’m going to make it up to you.” Your frown deepened as you turned away.

“Do you know how foolish I looked? Having a reservation for two, and sitting there for thirty minutes?” He sighed, but it didn’t sound remorseful. “I said I’ll make it up to you, okay? I was in the middle of something important.”

Your eyes hardened as they met his. “Important? So more important than me apparently? I know you’re busy, Gaara, I do, but this is getting ridiculous! Not only are you neglecting our relationship, but you’re also neglecting your own health!”

The crimson-haired Kazekage’s eyes left yours as he sat back down. “I’m very busy right now, (Y/N), can we finish this later?” He suggested emotionlessly.

Your fists were clenched. “Don’t bother, I have nothing more to say.” The slamming door had a note of finality to it as your left.

Kakashi~

You hissed as the peroxide touched the wound on your stomach. “You were reckless, (Y/N).” You glowered at the head of silver hair that was hunched over your bruised and bloody form, medical supplies in hand.

“I wasn’t reckless, Kakashi. My team was in shambles and we were outnumbered. I did the best I could with what I had and the mission was a success and everyone is okay.” Even through his mask, you could see his frown. “But at what cost? You should’ve waited for back up!”

I rolled my eyes. “Tsunade-sama was proud, everyone is fine. These injuries are nothing. I’m a shinobi and so are you. You know the cost and this can barely be considered a cost.” He shook his head, frustrated, as he wrapped your bandages.

“I get worried, okay? I know you, and I’m scared of the day you finally go too far and do something stupid-” You shot up, no longer being able to tolerate his attitude.

“Do you doubt my abilities that much? Even though I graduated from the academy, passed the Chuunin exams, and got my Jonin promotion the same as you?!” Kakashi simply crossed his arms.

“Well, I’m having to stitch you up, right?” You swatted his hand away from the cut on your shoulder. “That’s enough! I don’t have to take this! I’ve earned my place here, no matter what you say! The number of times I’ve patched you up and never complained and this is how you treat me?” Your words faded to a whisper hurt shining through your tone.

“That’s different! I can handle it!” Your eyes widened at the words. “Seriously? So what? You’re calling me weak now?”

“That’s not what I said, (Y/N).” You chuckled humorlessly, still in disbelief that you were even having this conversation. “You didn’t have to. It was pretty clear. I think it’s time you left.” The Jonin did just that, without another word or even a glance in your direction.

With tears dripping down your cheeks, you addressed all your minor injuries, trying not to think of Kakashi.

~Akatsuki~

Pein~

In hindsight, you knew it wasn’t the best idea to rip up the forest fighting Hidan. But the Jashinist had run his mouth a little (a lot) too far this time and you dismembered him. It wasn’t that big of a deal, almost everyone had done it at some time so you thought nothing of it. Pein didn’t have the same sentiments, however, and had wasted no time calling you to his office.

“What were you thinking?” He hissed. You simply raised an eyebrow, your lover hadn’t succeeded in intimidating you in a long time. “Hidan went too far and I did what everyone else has done in the past.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling. “That’s not an excuse, (Y/N). You’re being immature, and I will not stand for it.” You snorted. “Look, Kakuzu cuts off Hidan’s head like once a week and you’ve never had a problem, so what’s got you pissed about it this time?” He scowled, his Rinnegan becoming more prominent.

“I recruited you for your smarts and potential, not so you could bounce around doing whatever you wanted! I don’t have time to deal with your childish antics!”

You just snorted, trying not to show how deeply his words were cutting you. Pein was never like this with you, he always treated you like a goddess, and now here he was berating you over a minuscule problem.

“You don’t have to ‘deal’ with me, Pein! I’m not a kid, and if someone offends me, you’d best believe I’m not going to let it slide! Now I’ll ask you one more time. What. Is. Your. Problem?” He shot up, his hands slamming down on his desk causing you to step back, startled.

“My problem is that my girlfriend is being a fool and embarrassing me!” It really did feel like he had stabbed you through the chest this time. But you bit your cheek not to let it show. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “So that’s what it is, huh? You think I’m not good enough for the great ‘God’ Pein?” You mocked.

When he didn’t respond you waved a hand, walking towards the door. “I haven’t dismissed you yet, (Y/N).” Pein’s voice rang out. You shook your head as you reached the door.

“I don’t know about that, I feel pretty dismissed right now, actually.” With that, you left, not caring to hear what else he had to say.

Deidara~

You watched as Sasori and Deidara worked on their separate projects, while you yourself worked on your own. A large, half-filled canvas was before you, baring your newest artwork. It was an abstract graffiti painting, creating a 3D letter effect. You were quite proud of it actually.

However, you could feel eyes on you and you turned, giving Sasori a questioning look as you set your paints down. “What?”

His blank brown eyes ran critically over your artwork, before shrugging and going back to his puppets. You rolled your eyes at his typical behavior before walking over to Deidara’s table.

“Hey, Dei. Whatcha working on?” He turned to you, his smile wide as he held up a clay sculpture to you. It was a chibi version of you, causing you to blush. “Do you like it, hm? It’s my best one yet, yeah!” You handled it carefully, laughing a little. “Yeah, it’s adorable!” The blonde puffed up causing you to giggle more.

“And deadly, un! These are advanced, only for special circumstances, yeah.” You were just about to question what kind of special when you noticed the puppet master in front of your canvas, looking unimpressed.

“Um, Sasori?” He didn’t respond, just waved the two of you over. You sighed as you both followed him, slightly nervous about what he was going to say. “Look, brat.” You watched as the artist’s eyes looked over every line and color. “The strokes are uneven, and the shading is off. You call this art, (Y/N)?”

Your mouth fell open at his bluntness. “Okay, one it’s abstract so that’s the point, it’s not supposed to be precise! Second, yeah, I do call this art.” Deidara offered you an apologetic smile. “Sasori no Danna is right, un, it’s a little off…” You blinked twice not comprehending his words for a moment.

“Seriously?! I never speak badly about either of your pieces, so why don’t I get the same respect?!” Sasori just rolled his eyes, sitting back down at his desk. Typical. You turned your glare to your boyfriend. He crossed his arms, not looking at you.

“It’s fine, (Y/N/N), we all have bad days, un, nothing to get worked up about, hm.” You didn’t warrant his statement with a response. You just scoffed in disbelief as you stalked out of the room. Unbelieveable.

Tbh the pic has nothing to do with this but I found it and I thought it was hilarious?