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hippiegoth97 · 1 year ago

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Diary of A Hawkins Hussy: A Stranger Things x Reader Anthology

Banner by me :)

Master List

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, alcohol use, groping, fingering, oral sex, age gap, grinding, mutual masturbation, mentions of suicide, mentions of death, grief/trauma, crying, LGBTQ+ references

Word Count: 13.6k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Diary Entry #2: Joyce Byers

October 31st, 1983

Dear diary,

Tonight is Halloween. I was stuck working in the store all by myself, while all the children of Hawkins ran wild around town asking every shop owner for candy. I'd been looking forward to going to Haley Durkis' party, a little booze and meaningless sex would've really hit the spot. But alas, Mr. Harris had other plans for me. It wasn't all bad, though. I got to play spooky music in the shop, and see all the adorable costumes while handing out treats. Ghosts, witches, little supermen and wonder women, the kids really had some great choices this year.

The highlight of the evening, though, was when Joyce Byers came by with her son Will. He was dressed up as a wizard, with a cloak and pointy hat and everything. I've seen them around a lot, Will and his friends love to come in the shop and browse around. They'repolite, and sweet, and try their best to buy something, even if they don't have much money. Joyce works across the street at Melvald's, so I see her quite a lot as well. She's such a beautiful woman, I've always admired her. Raising two sons all on her own, while single-handedly keeping Melvald's from falling to pieces. She is a force to be reckoned with, despite her welcoming nature.

Me and Joyce talk pretty often, I go over there to get a new romance novel every once in a while, as well as necessities I need at home. She asks me lots of questions, mainly about my adjustment to life after high school. And she seems to genuinely care about what I have to say. I can talk to her about anything, and she's never judgemental. Not only that, she gives the best hugs when I really need them. Her grip is firm, and nurturing. I can't help but melt into her when she holds me like that, while catching a whiff of her cigarettes and fruity shampoo.

So many times, I've wanted to pull back a little within her embrace and kiss her. But Ican't exactly do that. Not out in the open in a town like Hawkins. Plus, I'm not even sure she'd be okay with it. There's no real way to tell if she's interested in women, or me, without putting myself out on a limb. One can dream, I suppose. Who knows, maybe an opportunity will come up for me to ask her about it. Even if she isn't interested, I have a feeling she wouldn't be weird about it. She'd probably let me down easy, while also saying she's very flattered.

November 2nd, 1983

Dear diary,

I talked to Joycetoday. She came around the shop on her lunch break to browse, she's very partial to Barbara Streisand. She told me that Will is having trouble at school, and that him and his friends are being picked on a lot. Poor kids, they're far too sweet and sensitive for their own good. It's like bullies have some weird radar that points out optimal targets. I was never very popular in school myself. I mean, I did alright, and had a couple of friends. But most of the time, I was on my own. Shit, kids are fuckin' mean, and that's an understatement. But those boys have each other, and I can tell their bond is strong enough to withstand anything.

In other news, I've finally got my own car. When I moved out, Mom wouldn't let me drive hers around anymore. But luckily my apartment is downtown anyway, a couple blocks from work. I saved up whatI could and got a little junker from Carl's Used Car Lot. She's nothing special, and a bit rusty. But she gets me where I need to go, and Idon't have much need for anything else. It's a little sad to not need rides from Joyce anymore, but Ican't rely on her to cart me around everywhere. I am an independent woman, after all.

November 6th, 1983

Dear diary,

Something strange happened tonight. I had just locked up at Waxed Out for the night, and I drove home to my apartment. The streets were quiet, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I got home, put a TV dinner into the microwave, and changed into my pajamas to relax. But before my meal could be fully cooked, the lights started flickering, and there was a low humming sound in the entire place. I thought it was really weird, so I peeked out of the curtains at my window. Every house, building, street lamp, and car was blinking on and off, just like everything in my apartment. This went on for a good thirty seconds, before the power went out entirely.

The police have been patrolling around all night since the incident, reassuring everyone that the issue will be investigated and resolved through the speakers on their cruisers. I still don't have power, and had to resort to crackers for dinner. I don't want to let all the cold out of the fridge, and that TV dinner was still frozen solid. I'mwriting this now using an old flashlight I found in my closet. It's not working so well, the beam is very dim, and keeps threatening to go out altogether. But I definitely don't have any spare batteries for it. All I can do is wait for daylight to come, and hope that the power will be restored.

November 7th, 1983

Dear diary,

Will Byers has gone missing. I know, those words don't seem right, do they? People don't go missing in shitty little towns like Hawkins. There's no kidnappings, no murders, no robberies at gunpoint, no rape. Not here. Not until now, I suppose. Joyce has been a mess today, running all over town to ask anyone if they've seen him. She filed a report with Chief Hopper this morning, and then came right over to talk to me...

"Morning, Joyce! How are you?" You greet her as she walks into the shop, assuming this is another typical interaction between the two of you. But you notice her rapid pace, and the worried look on her beautiful face. Something is very wrong.

"I'm a bit worried, if I'm honest. I don't know where Will is. He wasn't at home this morning, and Mike's parents say he didn't spend the night after their game." Joyce says, her voice trembling. "Have you seen him at all?" She asks desperately, hoping just one person can tell her where her little boy is.

"I'm sorry, Joyce. I haven't. But I'll keep an eye out, alright? I'm sure he'll turn up soon, he's not the kind of kid to get himself into trouble." You do your best to reassure her, placing your hand over hers on the countertop. "And if you need anything, you know where I am. Okay?"

"Of course. Thank you, Y/N." She nods, gazing down at your hand touching hers for a moment. It's like her mind goes somewhere else, if only for a second. She snaps out of it, and looks up to give you a forced smile. "I should get going, I've got a lot of people to talk to today. And please, call me if you find out anything." She pleads, held-back tears staining her words.

"I will, Joyce. Good luck." You reply, and she heads out the door without another word. She steps outside, turning around frantically to figure out where to go next. She eventually turns left, towards the hardware store. "Poor woman." You say aloud, though no one is around to hear it. You hope Will is found, he's such a sweet boy. You can't possibly think of how he'd end up missing, or who would potentially hurt him. It doesn't make sense, bad things don't happen here. They aren't supposed to.

...I spent the rest of my shift thinking about Joyce. How scared she looked, how her voice was shaking. Shit, I just hope Will is alright. Maybe he skipped school with his friends, or just got a little lost in the woods. But neither of those things sound like him at all. He's not the type to ditch, or not know his way around. Will and his little group of friends are very smart, and extremely well-behaved. Ugh, none of it makes a lick of sense, diary. If something did happen to him, it would certainly be a town first. Look, I'm not saying any child should be a victim, but of all the children in this town, why him? Will is so sweet, and kind, the one least deserving of such an awful fate.

When it was time to close up shop, Ididn't spend a second longer on the street than I needed to. I gathered my things, locked the door the fastest I ever have in my entire life, and practically ran the couple of blocks home. My damn car got fried last night, so I had to hoof it. I almost dropped my keys trying to get into my apartment once I finally got there.. I know my fear was probably highly irrational. But for the first time in my life, Ididn't feel safe in my own neighborhood.

I felt this sinking sensation of dread in my stomach as I trudged through the night. Every little sound spooked me, and I was on high alert to make sure no one was following me. The darkness was suddenly full of things waiting to jump out at me, any dim street lamp offering slim slivers of refuge in between the thick blankets of pitch black. I can't explain it, but once nightfall hit, Hawkins became threatening to my senses. I'm sure I'm not the only one who's been troubled with these unfamiliar emotions. Fear, paranoia, primal survival instincts kicking in for the very first time in every last citizen of this shithole town.

To my knowledge, there's still no sign of Will. There's a search party combing the woods tonight, but Ican't bring myself to join them. I'm far too afraid. If someone took that child, they could very well be out there. Either hiding, or joining the search to cover their ass. But beyond that, I'm afraid of finding sweet little Will out there. I don't want to think it, I really don't. But what if they find his body out there? Mangled by an animal, or some maniac? Or drowned in the quarry, floating on the surface like a piece of driftwood?

I can barely stomach it, much less my dinner. Thankfully, the power has been restored at least. Although, the oncoming storm tonight could easily knock it out again. If these lights go out on me, I just know I'll scream. I can't be here all alone in the dark, with a storm roaring just outside the window. Not when someone could be out there, in the darkness, hunting for their next victim. Shit, maybe Iwatch too many movies.

November 8th, 1983

Dear diary,

Last night is a total blur. I was force feeding myself some crackers again, trying my hardest not to think of murderers and corpses in the middle of the night. I couldn't sleep, much as I tried, I'd even started drinking. I had some silly rented video on, something light to keep me sane. The rain was pouring down onto all of Hawkins, with clashing thunder and lightning whirling around in the air. I'd curled myself up in a blanket on the couch, hoping the soft fabric would protect me from anything lurking out there.

Color me surprised when I heard frantic knocking on my door. I practically jumped off the couch in fright, holding back a scream to spare the neighbors who were no doubt struggling to sleep themselves. I reluctantly got off the couch, blanket still bundled around me. I crept over to the door, looking through thepeephole. And who did I see standing outside my door in the pouring rain? Joyce Byers, soaked to the bone and shivering...

"Joyce?" You murmur to yourself in confusion. What is she doing here so late? You quickly open the door to let her inside. "Joyce, what are you doing here? Did something happen? Did you find Will?" You ask as she shuffles into your home. You close the door and lock it tight. She takes off her thick leather coat, draping it over your armchair. She crosses her arms over herself, trying to warm up.

"No, they haven't found him yet. But, I—" She starts to speak, fumbling her words. She gestures helplessly, trying to find her train of thought. But it doesn't come, and she bursts into tears.

"Hey, hey. Come here, sit down." You go to her, leading her to the couch as she cries. She's shaking like a leaf, and cold to the touch. "Shit, you must be freezing. I'll make you some tea, okay? And then you can tell me what happened." You say kindly, and she nods. You take your blanket off yourself, and put it around her shoulders. She holds it tight to her body, looking into the distance without really acknowledging you. You go to your little kitchen, and fill up your kettle with water at the sink. You put it on the stove, and take out two mugs and some chamomile tea. You open up the bags, placing one in each cup. You also put in some honey, and a splash of whiskey. You could certainly use it, and it appears Joyce could, too. Once the water is ready, you fill up the mugs and give them a good stir. You bring them both over very carefully, setting them on the table. "Here we go. They'll have to steep a minute."

"Thank you." She says meekly, tears rolling down her wet cheeks.

"Do you want to borrow some clothes? I can toss yours in the dryer for a bit." You offer, but she shakes her head.

"No, I'll be alright. I won't be here long. I just— needed to get out of that house. I walked right out the front door, and ended up here." Joyce sounds so afraid, far more so than she was this morning. It seems like there's something more that's happened since she last spoke to you.

"I can understand that. Sitting by the phone and waiting for the cops to call can't be very fun." You reply, and your words only upset her more. She starts crying again, quickly becoming hysterical. "Oh, my god. Joyce, I'm sorry." You move to sit with her on your sofa as opposed to the armchair. You'd wanted to give her space, but you're not sure that's what she needs now. You put an arm around her, watching helplessly as her head goes into her hands. "Can you tell me what happened?" You ask, though you don't want to push.

"You'll think I'm crazy." She whimpers, the words muffled against her palms as she shakes her head.

"Joyce, you're not crazy. You are one of the sanest people I know. You can tell me, whatever it is." You reassure her to the best of your ability.

She sighs, removing her hands after running them over her face to wipe the tears away. She turns her head to look at you, such a beautifully pained expression splayed across her features. "You promise you won't tell me I'm nuts?" She asks, letting out a small laugh. Not at the words, but at the idea of trying to convince another person that what she experienced tonight wasn't all in her head.

"I promise." You nod seriously. She takes a moment to gather herself, reaching for her tea that appears to be steeped enough now. She doesn't drink from it yet, but holds it in her icy hands to warm them up.

"Okay. I was at home with Jonathan tonight. We were waiting for Hop to call with any updates, and the phone rang." She starts, bringing the mug to her lips now. She takes a big sip, almost spitting it out at the discovery of the booze in it. "Jesus, is there whiskey in this!?" She forces herself to swallow as to not make a mess on your carpet.

"Yeah, I figured you could use it." You explain, and she nods. Joyce takes another large drink, and continues.

"You're damn right about that. Anyway, the phone rings, and I pick it up. I couldn't make out much, but I could hear—" She pauses again, her breath catching as another wave of tears threatens to spill out.

"Joyce, it's alright. Take your time." You say softly, rubbing her shoulders to comfort her. She hums quietly at your touch, her stomach fluttering at the feeling. She doesn't know why, but your warm hands touching her cold body is making her feel...really good right now. It must just be the alcohol, and the much-needed comfort of a friend. That's all. Isn't it?

"I know, I'm sorry. I just feel like I'm going insane!" She lets out another shaky laugh, and polishes off her tea in one final gulp. She sets the mug on the table, and finishes her story. "I could hear breathing...Will's breathing." Joyce says, looking into your eyes again. "And I could hear this weird noise, like something else, or someone else, was there with him. I kept calling out to him, trying to get an answer. But then, I don't know...lightning struck the house or something, because the phone shocked me and got completely fried." She gives you a look, like she's waiting for you to tell her she's a nutcase and throw her back out into the rain.

"I...don't really know what to say..." You speak apprehensively, absorbing her words for a moment.

"I know, it's crazy. I-I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry for keeping you up so late." She tries to stand up and leave, but you put your hands on her shoulders to stop her. Her eyes snap to yours, wondering what you're up to.

"Look, Joyce. I'm so sorry that Will is missing, and that it seems like someone has taken him. I don't have an explanation for you...but, I don't think you're crazy. Okay? Not one bit." You give her a warm smile, and she slowly returns it. She leans into you for a hug, her head resting on your shoulder. You wrap your arms around her sopping body, trying your best to warm her up. She's still so cold, and shivering violently. You hope she won't get sick, and you wish she'd let you lend her some clothes.

"Thank you, Y/N." She says quietly, the words sounding like music to your ears. You selfishly find yourself thinking about kissing her again. You know it's wrong to be focusing on your attraction to her, when what she needs right now is your support. As her friend. But you can't help it. She's here, in your apartment, her body pressed firmly against yours after she's been standing in the rain. It all feels oddly romantic. You don't expect anything to happen, she's too concerned about her son to think about you in that way right now.

"Should I make more tea? Or do you just want the whiskey?" You ask.

"Just the whiskey, please." Joyce answers, still clinging to you. The moisture in her clothes is transferring through yours, making your nipples show through your t-shirt. She slowly pulls away, eyes flicking down to your chest in reflex. She doesn't mean to look, but she could feel them hardening against her from the cold. You follow her gaze, realizing that it looks like you've just competed in a particularly misogynistic contest. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get you all wet. I'm probably ruining your couch, too." She says apologetically, not fully realizing how potentially dirty her words sound to you.

"No, no! It's fine!" You reply, a little too loud. A harsh blush creeps up your cheeks, and you snatch her mug off the table to get her a refill. "Let me get you that drink." You say awkwardly. You're thankful that the placement of the kitchen puts your back to her for a moment, giving you a break from meeting her eyes. Your shaky hand reaches for the bottle of Jack on the counter, and you struggle to open it up and pour it nicely into her cup. You spill some on the counter in your tremors. "Shit." You mutter, going for the dish towel to wipe up the mess.

"I'm sorry if I'm making you nervous, Y/N." Joyce says quietly, having got off the couch to assist you. She puts her hand over yours, helping you dry up the spilled alcohol. You can feel her shoulder brush against your back through the motion, which makes your breath hitch.

"It's fine. Really." You reply unconvincingly.

"I do that a lot, don't I?" She asks knowingly, causing you to gasp.

"Yeah." Is all you can manage to say in response. You turn around to look at her, finding a calm smile on her face. It's odd, really. She was so upset a minute ago, and now she's...flirting?

"Come on, sweetie. Let's sit and talk." Joyce says, grabbing her mug, and the bottle. You follow her wordlessly to the couch, sitting right next to her again. You're stiff as a board at this point. You never expected her to know that you like her in this way, let alone acknowledge it. "Relax, Y/N. It's okay." She says sweetly, which is still freaking you out.

"Joyce, we really don't have to talk about this right now. Your son is missing, and I don't want to take away from that." You try to shut this down. As much as you want to tell her how you feel, and possibly have her reciprocate, the timing isn't right.

"Y/N, please. I know this sounds weird and everything, but I need a distraction. We can talk about something else if you really want to. But, I'm going to lose my mind if I don't take a second to stop fixating on Will." She explains, sounding a bit frustrated. She's highly conflicted about the situation you seem to have found yourselves in. She feels like a bad Mom for wanting to not think about her missing baby boy for even a single moment. But what else can she do? The phone at home is fucked, Hopper is doing all he can, and Jonathan is holding down the fort for the time being. Stewing all night isn't going to help anyone, as awful as the alternative sounds.

"No, I— I get it. We can talk. What do you want to know?" You reply, fully understanding where she's coming from. If you were in her shoes, you'd probably do the same thing.

"Well, I already know you've got a crush on me." Joyce says with a laugh. You don't say anything, freezing up again. She gives you a look, and sighs before taking another sip of whiskey. You've totally forgotten about your tea, quickly picking up your mug to catch up to her. You've already had a couple tonight, but it wouldn't hurt to have a little more. "Y/N, there's nothing to be so afraid of. It's really flattering, actually."

"I'm glad you think so, but...I doubt you feel the same." You say sheepishly, refusing to look at her. This is all too crazy. You're thinking and feeling so many things at once, you're bound to short-circuit any second now.

"I wouldn't say that." Joyce replies softly, placing a hand on your trembling knee. Your eyes go straight to it, but you shake your head in denial.

"This is insane." You breathe.

"Why? You're very pretty, Y/N." She smiles, giving you a gentle squeeze.

Against your own interest, you try to convince her —and yourself— that this can't seriously be happening. "Joyce, please. You're killing me here. You're just tipsy, and upset about Will, and—" She interrupts you by lifting your chin up with her other hand. Her eyes meet yours, and she leans in the press a feather-light kiss to your lips. Before you can think to say anything else, or stop yourself, you grab both sides of her face to hold her closer to you. Your mouth moves with hers, earning another one of those light hums from her at your warmth. You both sit in this moment for what feels like hours, gently turning your heads and moving your lips together.

"You're a really good kisser, Y/N." Joyce says when she pulls away slightly. You keep hold of one another, catching your breath as you take in the gravity of what you've just done. "Have you ever been with a woman before?" She asks, very curious about your prior experience.

"Yes. Well, girls my age back in school." You answer, and she nods at this piece of information. "Have you?" You ask the question back at her.

"No. I never thought I could. Until now." She almost whispers the words, surprised at herself for uttering them at all.

"We don't have to do this if it's too weird." You say, giving her a way out. She can let this all go, blame it on the stress and alcohol and be on her way. You'll never speak of it again, and try not to let things be excruciatingly awkward between the two of you.

"It's not weird. It's...nice." She gives you a reassuring smile, wanting to kiss you again. "Please, Y/N. Let me forget for a little while." She pleads, a light whine lacing her tone.

"Okay." You say softly, pressing your lips to hers again. You take the lead this time, slowly helping her lie down on the couch. Her head meets the armrest, and you kneel above her as you continue to kiss. She makes the sweetest noises against you, which rapidly spreads arousal between your legs. "Can I touch you?" You ask.

"Yes." She answers breathlessly, and you immediately reach for the buttons of her Melvald's uniform. You pop them open one at a time, until the dark blue fabric falls open to reveal her bra. It's lacey and white, the typical mom bra. But it looks gorgeous against her alabaster skin.

"You're beautiful, Joyce." You compliment her, moving your head down to kiss her neck. She moans quietly, like she's trying to keep the noise down. "I wanna hear you, baby. Don't hide your noises from me." You speak lowly against her throat, before sucking on her flesh.

"This feels really good, Y/N." Joyce murmurs, her hands going to your hair to tangle inside it. Your own reach for her chest now, cupping her breasts. They're round, and firm, and you're so happy to finally be touching them. The amount of times you've thought about this is far too many to count.

"Sit up a little." You instruct, backing away slightly to let her up. She does as you ask, and you straddle her lap. You rid her of her soaked shirt, and latch onto her neck again as you reach around to unclasp her bra. The straps fall down her shoulders, and it joins her top shortly after. You back up to look at her chest, licking your lips at the sight. "Damn." You mutter, leading her to lie down once more. You waste no time in planting hot kisses on her chest, leaving a trail of saliva on your journey to her left nipple.

"Y/N." Joyce moans once your lips close around her sensitive bud. Her hips buck upward against yours, sending a flare of pleasure between your legs. She's already such a mess, and you've barely done anything to her yet.

"Are you enjoying yourself, baby?" You ask, licking purposeful circles around her nipple while looking up at her.

"Yes." She answers, making you smile. You move on to her other tit, wanting to give it equal attention. While you do that, your hand lowers downward to the button of her pants. "Wait." She blurts, and you stop. You cease your actions, checking with her to see what's wrong. "I just— I want to touch you, too. Please." Joyce says with intense need.

"Of course, anything you want." You smirk, sitting up. She watches you closely as you pull the hem of your shirt towards your head. You toss it to the floor, your tits bouncing at being released from their cloth prison. Her eyes boggle at your body, she's never seen such a beautiful young woman before.

"Wow, you're gorgeous." She says in disbelief, making you giggle. She brings her hands up, slowly moving them toward your bare chest. She pauses just before her skin meets yours, and she looks at you expectantly.

"Go ahead, Joyce." You give her an affirming nod, smiling wider at her polite apprehension. Joyce's ice-cold fingers meet your tits, making you gasp at the contrast in temperature. "Fuck." It feels so good, finally having the woman you've been pining after touch you in such intimate ways. She massages your chest, watching your expressions change as she caresses you. Joyce carefully rolls your nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, which makes you head fall back slightly. She's being so gentle with you, and it's better than you ever could have imagined.

"Is this good?" She asks, sounding very unsure of herself despite your sexy noises. All this excitement is making her very wet, while swarms of butterflies flap about inside her stomach. This is all so thrilling, and new. And she can't think of a better person to do this with.

"Yes, baby. You can use your mouth, too. If you want." You suggest with a cheeky grin.

"Okay." Joyce whispers, she leans in towards your chest, settling on sucking on your right breast. Her warm lips meet your pebbled flesh, and you're overcome with a wave of heat washing over you. You want her so badly, to fuck her and make her scream your name. But she's new to this, so you have to take your time.

"That's really good, baby. You can bite it a little, gently, of course." You offer, and she doesn't hesitate to try it. You gasp aloud at the sensation, putting your arms around her to keep her close. You let her continue to suck and nibble on your tits, rewarding her with praises and moans to help her feel confident in this.

"I want more, Y/N." Joyce murmurs, pulling her lips away from you now.

"Of course. Can you lay back down for me?" You ask sweetly, running your finger along her cheek. She does as you ask, and you scoot down her legs a little. You reach for the button of her pants again, flicking your eyes to hers to make sure she's alright.

"Go ahead. I want this." She insists. You slowly push the button open, and slide her zipper down its track. You keep your eyes on hers, watching her pupils widen as you slide a hand inside her jeans. You slip across her lower stomach, and underneath her panties. Your fingers brush against her clit, making her gasp. "Fuck." You keep going, still watching her for any objections. You slowly stroke her soaked pussy, teasing her bundle of nerves and entrance. "Y/N." Joyce moans, becoming more needy for you by the second. Everything you do feels so damn good, and you know exactly where and how to touch her.

"Does that feel good, Joyce? Do you want more?" You ask seductively, increasing your pace a little. She's so fucking wet, and it's all because of you.

"Yes, please." She begs. You slowly press one finger inside her cunt, making her eyes roll back into her head. "Oh, god..." Her hips buck again, making you chuckle darkly.

"More?" You ask again, wanting her to tell you exactly what she wants.

"More..." She nods frantically, her eyes fallen shut from the pleasure. You insert another finger, and start curling them inside her pussy nice and slow. "Fuck, Y/N. That feels so good." She groans. You love hearing her swear, she really doesn't do it all that often.

"You wanna touch me too, baby?" You question.

"God, yes." She instantly sits upright again, despite her pleasure rapidly building as you keep fingering her. Her hand frantically goes for the hem of your lounging shorts, and she slides right under the thin fabric to find that you're not wearing any underwear. Her hand stops in its tracks again, waiting for permission.

"It's okay, go ahead." You say softly, breathing heavily in anticipation. She nods in affirmation, and carefully drags her fingers along your slit. "Fuck—" You gasp, your breath catching in your throat. She takes this as a sign to journey further, mimicking your actions to bring her fingertips to your soaked hole. She keeps her eyes glued to yours, a sly smile forming on her face. Joyce pushes her middle finger inside your pussy, following your lead as she has done this whole time. You moan at her filling you up, begging with your eyes for another. She obliges, her ring finger joining the other. "Joyce..." You sigh blissfully, the both of you pausing a moment to catch your breath. You gaze at one another lustfully, waiting for the one of you to start moving again. You take the reins once more, pumping your fingers in and out of her cunt at a casual pace. Your knuckles curve just so to hit her g spot, drawing a muted whimper from her lips.

She mirrors you again, moving her digits inside you at the same speed and cadence. "Am I doing this right, Y/N?" She asks through a moan.

"Yeah, you're doing so good. Fuck, you're so wet, baby." You purr, speeding up just a little bit. Joyce does, too. She's a fast learner, that's for sure. You're still straddling her just above the knees, giving you both space to access one another. You're breathing heavily in each other's faces, a thick cloud of lust dizzying your heads as the air thins around you. You're sweating profusely, wound up to an unbearable degree as you finger each other. You can feel a large knot tying itself inside you, rapidly twisting and turning as Joyce fucks you with her hand. You start grinding your hips to meet the rhythm you've set, rolling against her fingers to build yourself up faster. Joyce follows your lead again, doing her best to keep up. She moans louder at the added stimulation, which makes you pump your fingers faster inside her.

"Fuck, Y/N...you're really good at this. I'm getting close." She whines, putting her free hand on your shoulder for leverage as she continues to grind on you.

"So am I, baby. You're doing so well, go a little faster for me." You command, grabbing hold of her as well. She increases her speed to match yours, and your head falls forward slightly at the feeling. Her long fingers hit your sweet-spot perfectly, and you can't wait to cum on her hand. "That's it— fuck, right there." You lift your head up to meet her eyes, and she takes this opportunity to kiss you again. Your motions become frantic and desperate, all teeth and tongues as you continue to touch each other. Your nails dig into one another's shoulders as you hang on for dear life, and your orgasms are waiting for you just over the horizon. "C'mon, ride my hand, just like that." You encourage her, knowing you're both so very close.

"I'm so close, Y/N...you feel so fucking good...I want you to make me cum." Joyce begs, still rolling her hips like her life depends on it.

"I know, baby...we're almost there. We can cum together, mm, I'm gonna make such a mess for you." You reply, just as fucked for her as she is for you. You continue to kiss, and expertly use your fingers, and roll your pelvises to your heart's content, doing everything in your power to bring each other down. You can feel her walls fluttering around your digits, and your own have begun to tremble as well. "That's it, cum with me, Joyce. Let it all go." You say as your own knot finally snaps. "Fuck!" You cry out, your insides clamping around her fingers. You keep up your movements through your high, waiting for her own to come to pass.

"Y/N, I'm gonna—" Joyce tries to speak, but she's cut off by an obscenely loud moan ripping itself from her lungs as you've brought her to climax. Her thighs shake violently, as do yours. You feel her juices spill into your palm, some of which runs down your wrist. You cum messily around her, soaking your shorts completely. You clumsily share another kiss, moaning and gasping as you force your mouths together. You ride out your highs, left sweating and panting as you eventually collapse against one another. Your hands go still inside each other's cunts, and your heads rest on one another's shoulders until you can catch your breath. "That was amazing." Joyce huffs, her entire being buzzing with satisfaction.

"It really was." You reply, pressing a tired kiss to her bare shoulder. You both sit in comfortable silence for a while, basking in your afterglow as the storm rages on outside.

"I should probably get going." She says abruptly, swallowing hard. She hates the idea of leaving you, you've made her feel so good, so seen. You're the one person who hasn't treated her like she's some whacko. But she's also quickly becoming overwhelmed with guilt. Having sex? While her son is missing? In what world does that make sense?

"Oh, yeah. It's pretty late." You respond, doing your best to hide your sadness. You don't want her to leave, there's so much more you want to do with her. But you understand, she has another kid to look after.

You reluctantly remove your fingers from her pussy, bringing them up to your lips while she watches on. You take the wrinkled phalanges into your mouth, sucking her arousal from them. She's musky and sweet, the taste drawing a moan from your lungs.

"Uh..." She contemplates copying you again, but she looks very unsure of the prospect.

"You don't have to do that if you're not comfortable with it, Joyce." You laugh, and she does too.

"Sorry, I just...I've never seen someone do that before." She blushes hard at this confession, which you find so goddamned adorable.

"It's okay." You say kindly, before looking down between your legs. Her hand is still inside your shorts, fingers sheathed in your pussy. "Um, Joyce? You mind?" You ask awkwardly, and she finally remembers that her hand is still touching you.

"Oh, right! Sorry!" She giggles nervously, taking her hand away from you now. You hold back a whine at the loss, getting off of Joyce to pick up her clothes for her, as well as your shirt. You slip it back over your head, and she takes her time to redress. When you're both fully clothed again, you sit beside one another on the couch to say goodbye. "I had a really nice time, Y/N. Thank you for being here for me tonight." Joyce says sweetly, cupping your cheek in admiration.

"I had a good time, too. And I'm always here if you want to do this again." You smile, hoping she'll take you up on that offer.

"I'd like that." She gives you a light nod, and leans in for another gentle kiss. You gladly meet her in the middle, making her melt against you for a moment. You continue to kiss for a solid couple of minutes, until she puts a hand on your chest to pull away. "I have to go, sweetie. But I won't forget this, and I'd like to do this with you again, once all the craziness is over." She talks like she knows you don't want her to go home. That you'd rather she stay here all night, kissing and touching until the sun comes up. And as much as she wants to do all of that, she has more important things to worry about right now. The distraction was definitely earned and well worth it, but the time for selfish wishes is over now.

"I understand, Joyce." You nod, the two of you standing together to walk her to the door. "I'm so glad I could be here for you tonight. Now, you go find your son, okay? And you know where I'll be when you're ready." You open the door, and she steps outside. "Goodnight, Joyce. Get some rest."

"I'll try my best. Goodnight, Y/N." She smiles again, making your heart soar. She's been amazing tonight, and you're hopeful for what the future may hold for the two of you.

...so, it's safe to say that last night was perfect. It's hard to believe that it wasn't all a dream, but I got up this morning to find the mugs we drank out of still sitting on the coffee table. God, she was amazing, diary. Her inexperience was so cute, but she caught on very quickly. I suppose it shouldn't be hard for a woman to know how exactly to please another one. That's not to say we're all the same, far from it. I just mean that, withsimilar parts and all, it's easier to figure it out.

I can't stop replaying how it all went in my mind. Her soft lips on mine, making me melt with every kiss. Her supple breasts in my hands, a thin layer of rainwater slicked over them, the cold making her nipples erect. The way her pussy felt under my hand, so slick, with a small amount of hair on the outer parts. Fuck, I bet she looks beautiful underneath those pants. I didn't get to see, thanks to our haste in the heat of the moment. But next time, I'll make damn sure to see her in all her glory.

And that's not even the half of it. Every little moan and gasp she let out, it's what I imagine an angel would sound like, if I was into that kind of thing. Our little session didn't last nearly as long as I'd hoped it would, but all the anticipation and rushed actions definitely heightened the experience. I've never had an orgasm so fast in my life, except maybe by myself. I just hope that all this stuff with Will can be resolved, I've got to have another taste of Joyce as soon as possible.

November 9th, 1983

Dear diary,

The police found Benny Hammond dead at his restaurant, with a gaping bullet wound in his head. They claim it's a suicide, but that doesn't seem right. It's extremely odd timing, given Will's disappearance. I heard some people talking about it when they came in the shop earlier, it appears the rumor mill is running wild with this one. They said they heard some of Benny's regulars claim there was a young kid at the restaurant the night Will went missing. And, ergo, that Benny did something to the boy. Out of guilt, he then shot himself, according to them.

But Idon't buy that bullshit at all. Benny was a nice guy, he always took care of us kids when we'd come around to eat and hang out. His burgers were the best in town, outselling the Burger King every single time. But I suppose that'sover now, Benny never trusted anyone else to make his food. He knew how to make it perfect, anyone else would've sullied the timeless quality he strived for.

This news has done nothing to calm everyone down. If anything, it's made things worse. Everyone is giving one another sidewaysglances, avoiding hanging around any one location for too long. It's like we've all collectively forgotten that we know one another, that we're classmates, neighbors, family, friends. Everyone is a suspect, and simultaneously suspects everybody else. It's an eerie feeling, and even more unsettling that this newfound attitude has taken hold so quickly.

November 10th, 1983

Dear diary,

I can't believe I'm writing these words down. I don't want them to be true, my hand almost refuses to put them to the page. But...they found Will. His body was discovered last night at the Sattler Quarry, floating in the water. I don't know what to say, it's honestly a big shock. I can't stop thinking of Joyce, and Jonathan. They must be completely devastated. My heart breaks for them, and for Will. I thought about calling Joyce, or going over there to give my condolences. But, Idon't know what I could possibly say that would be useful to her. Her son is dead, I'm sure no possible arrangement of words would make that fact any less horrible.

I wonder...does she at least have closure now? Has this dreadful discovery let her stop worrying about where he is, or who may have taken him? As terrible as it is, has her mind been able to just...stop? Can she stop toiling over the possibilities now? Can she work towards grieving and accepting this, and eventually move on? I'd like to think so. Otherwise, she might just snap.

November 11th, 1983

Dear diary,

Today was Will's funeral. I'm surprised the family got the arrangements in order so quickly. But, I suppose there's no use in keeping Will locked away in a freezer. I went, as did quite a few people. Friends and neighbors, some of Will's classmates and teachers. It was a bleak affair, and I noticed Joyce's ex, Lonnie, basically clinging to her side like a leech. She's told me all about him, and he sounds like a total shithead. I'm not surprised he's used his own son's death as a way to worm his way back into her life, though.

The whole thing with them was odd, like she didn't want to be around him, or even at the funeral at all. It's like she thought it was all a sick joke, a farce. I found that a bit strange, and it only got weirder when she managed to get away from Lonnie and talk to me alone at the reception afterwards...

"Hey, um...Y/N?" Joyce says as she comes up to you. You've been sitting at a table at Will's funeral reception by yourself, nursing a plate of cheese cubes and deli meat. You're really just picking at it, you're not feeling particularly hungry today. But you perk up a little when you hear Joyce's voice say your name.

You look up at her, finding that same nervous woman that showed up at your door the other night. She's dressed all in black, as is customary for this kind of thing. But, besides the awful reason why she's wearing her black dress, she looks absolutely beautiful in it. She's usually more of a jeans kind of woman, which you love. But you've honestly never seen her look better than she does right now. "Hi, Joyce. What's up?" You ask casually, feeling unsure of how mournful you should sound as you speak.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" She asks, shifting her eyes around to see if Lonnie is looking for her.

"Uh, yeah, sure. What about?" You ask, finding her urgency rather odd.

"Come with me." Joyce takes hold of your hand, pulling you out of your chair before you can protest. You try your best to keep up, struggling to not fall over in your heels. She drags you through the less populated areas of the house hosting this little event, and finds a spacious closet. She opens the door when no one is looking, and pulls you inside with her. It's pitch dark in here, and there's various coats and shoes stored on the rack and shelves behind you.

"Joyce, what's going on—" You try to ask, but she cuts you off by grabbing your face and kissing you. You grunt in surprise against her, before immediately melting a second later. You're surprised at her risking someone finding you both in here, but you suppose grief makes one do some really weird shit. She pulls away from you a moment later, the both of you left out of breath afterwards.

"Sorry, I've been wanting to do that from the second you showed up to the cemetery." Joyce says with a small smile, which you return.

"It's okay. I felt the same way." You cup her cheek, preparing to lean in and kiss her again. But her face falls when she remembers the real reason she brought you in here.

"Hold on, Y/N. That's not why I needed to talk to you." She stops you, taking hold of your hand.

"Oh, okay." You say sadly.

"I know, sweetie. I just— I need you to listen to me, okay?" She speaks seriously, drawing your eyes to hers.

"Okay." You nod, wondering what this is about.

"Good. Now, I know this is going to sound absolutely insane. But that body we just buried? It's not Will." Joyce says, watching your eyes blow out wide.

"Joyce, I—" You shake your head, unable to understand. She saw the body, and signed for it, and held a funeral for it. How can it not be Will? "I don't understand. How is it not your son?" You ask curiously.

"I just know, Y/N. I swear to you, that...thing is not my boy. You don't have to believe me, but a mother knows these things. Everyone is telling me I'm wrong about this, but I can feel it. I've seen him, I've talked to him!" She goes on, explaining her way of communicating with her son through Christmas lights, and seeing him in a hole in the wall, trapped with some monster. It all sounds fucking nutso. You have half a mind to shout for help during her explanation, it's honestly frightening you how sincerely she believes all of this. But nonetheless, you listen to her. Joyce Byers isn't one to lie, or give merit to make-believe stories.

"Joyce, you know I care about you. But this all sounds..." You trail off, failing to find the words. You don't want to call her crazy. She's been called that plenty, and clearly doesn't care. You don't want to hurt her feelings, but you're so very confused at this point.

"I'm fully aware of how this sounds, Y/N. But you have to believe me. Somebody's got to." She says emphatically, almost breaking down in tears.

"Okay..." You take a second to mull it over, though it's difficult to gather your thoughts. You eventually nod, deciding to at least humor her. "Alright, Joyce. If you say these things are true, then I believe you." You reply, doing your best to comfort her. You pull her in for a hug, which she gladly folds herself into.

"Thank you, Y/N." She says, muffled against your shoulder and neck. You stroke her hair as you hold her close, breathing in the lovely scent of her dark brown locks. Your eyes close for a moment, savoring her warmth. You're sure she has to get back soon, Lonnie is probably losing his mind looking for her right now. Joyce lifts her head up to look at you, finding your kind eyes waiting for her. She smiles, raising a hand to cup your face. "I keep remembering how pretty you are every time I look at you." She says sweetly, barely above a whisper.

"So do I." You reply, unable to stop glancing down at her lips. She leans in, and you follow. Your mouths meet once again, drawing muted sounds of satisfaction from you both. You keep things relatively tame, just heated kisses with a dash of tongue in the mix. But anything else is deemed inappropriate, given where you happen to be at the moment. "Mmm." You hum against Joyce, and you're left wishing to stay in this sliver of time for as long as possible. You know in your heart that this cannot be, that this will be over before you know it. Joyce has bigger things to worry about right now than making out with you in some random closet.

"Joyce?" You hear a male voice calling for her, Lonnie, you assume. She pulls away, wiping a single tear that's fallen from her eye.

"I have to go, Y/N. But I really don't want to." Joyce says, sniffing softly. You're like her little light in all this darkness. You make her feel happy, and safe, and warm. She wishes she could bring you further into all the chaos surrounding her. Perhaps your presence would help her figure all this shit out. But she knows she can't. It wouldn't be fair to you, or to her boys. They need her full attention, and she's completely obligated to them above all else.

"I don't want you to go either, Joyce. But I understand. Will needs you, and so does Jonathan. Like I've said before, I'll be waiting until you're ready." You say calmly. You're willing to wait as long as it takes to see her again. You know your patience will be worth it.

"Thank you, sweetie." She smiles, before reaching for the door to peek outside of it.

"Joyce, what the hell are you doin' in there?" Lonnie asks as he comes up to the closet. You think fast, hiding yourself against the other side of the door so he doesn't see you.

"I-I just..." Joyce struggles to think of any excuse. "I just needed a moment, away from everyone. It's been a long day." She says nervously, hoping he buys it.

"Alright. Let's get ya home then. You need to rest." Lonnie says with a sigh, rolling his eyes a bit at Joyce hiding away from everyone.

"Okay." Joyce slips out of the closet, closing it behind her to leave you in the darkness. You give it a few minutes before you take a look to see if anyone's around. Finding no one, you slink out, and get your coat and purse to go home. You've had enough of this saddening day, and Joyce's strange confession to you didn't make it any more palatable.

November 13th, 1983

Dear diary,

Well, it turns out Joyce was right all along. Will was found barely alive in a cabin in the woods, of all places. The body they initially found was some other kid, rapidly decomposed from being in the water for a couple of days. His parents made an appearance on the news once they were notified. It's so strange, how could the cops have been so wrong? And why was some other random kid wandering around in a place where he isn't even from? The family lives two towns over, that's miles and miles away. But I suppose, the truth is always stranger than fiction.

Speaking of fiction, Joyce called me from the hospital and assured me that everything she told me about the lights and the monster in the wall was all in her head. It's so odd, she was adamant about all of that shit being true just two days ago. And now she's chalking it up to grief and stress? I'm not so sure I buy that. But what else can I really think about it? Will is safe and sound, and the dead boy was properly identified. Case closed, I guess. I don't know, I suppose I'm just glad everything seems to have gone back to normal. People can stop worrying about going missing, and focus on the upcoming holiday season instead.

I'm certainly looking forward to turning my attention towards more happy things. Joyce, for example. Especially after how well my trip to the hospital went...

"Knock knock. I hear someone's back from the dead." You joke as you step into the doorway of Will's hospital room. You find his frail little body laying in a bed, hooked up to a few different machines. But he smiles at you all the same, as does Joyce when she sees you.

"Y/N!" Will exclaims, perking up at your presence. You go over to his bed, sitting beside him.

"I've brought you a little gift." You say, holding out a small rectangular package wrapped in red paper.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that, Y/N." Joyce says modestly.

"Of course I did! I've missed this little guy these last few days. He's my favorite customer." You turn your head to speak to her, and her smile grows wider.

"What is it?" Will asks, eager to open his new present.

"Well, you'll just have to use all your strength to tear open the paper and find out!" You chuckle, handing him the gift. He quickly rips it open, revealing the Combat Rock album by The Clash. He turns the tape over to look at the track list, his eyes lighting up at finding a particular song on it.

"This has my favorite song!" He looks at you in wonderment, thinking you're psychic or something for knowing that he loves "Should I Stay or Should I Go".

"Oh, I know. You hum it all the time when you come into the shop. You've got good taste, kiddo." You reply, your heart warming at how happy you've made him.

"Thanks, Y/N. I love this." Will says, sitting up to give you a hug. You do your best to be gentle with him, he's been through a lot this week.

"You're welcome, Will." You answer, giving his hair a light ruffle as you pull away. He giggles at you playing around, though it quickly turns into a violent cough. "Shit. Here." You act quickly, handing him his glass of water from the table. Will takes it, sipping through the straw sticking out of the top. "Better?" You ask.

"Yeah. Thanks." He swallows thickly, and lays back down. The poor kid looks so exhausted, which feels like your cue to leave.

"Well, I'm gonna let you rest up. Hopefully I'll see you back at Waxed Out sometime, okay?" You say as you stand up from the bed. He nods at you, and you turn to leave. You're about to walk out the door without another word to give the family some time together, when Joyce stops you.

"Y/N, can we talk for a minute?" She says, getting up from her chair to follow you.

"Yeah, sure." You answer, and she does the same as she'd done at the funeral. She finds some random supply closet, pulling you inside of it with her. "Jeez, you sure have a thing for closets, Joyce." You joke, which makes her laugh a little.

"Oh, I know, I know. I hate that we keep meeting like this. But I just need some time with you. I can't stop thinking about you, now that Will is safe. I'm so glad you came to see him, it means a lot." She speaks excitedly, which looks so damn cute on her. The talking with her hands, her animated expressions. It's all so unbelievably attractive to you.

"I'm just glad he's alright." You pause, her eyes finding yours throwing you off. "What about you? Are you alright? I know you said on the phone that everything you told me before was—"

"Stress. Just...stress." She cuts you off, insisting on her modified story. "But I'm fine. It's all over now, thank God."

"Fine enough for me to do this?" You ask smoothly, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek.

"Yeah, that's kinda why I brought you in here." She laughs breathily, waiting for you to kiss her. You grant her wish, pressing your lips to hers. "Mmm." She hums against you, and you gently bite her bottom lip. She gasps at the light sting, allowing your tongue to slip into her mouth. She moans quietly, and you lead her backwards until she's against one of the shelves of cleaning supplies. It creaks slightly once she makes contact, but she doesn't seem to mind your dominance.

"Is there a lock on this door?" You ask aloud, looking over at the knob. There appears to be one, so you quickly click it into the locked position. You return to your task of making out with Joyce, and your hands go to her chest to feel her up through her sweater.

"Y/N..." She exhales between heated kisses. You continue to massage her chest, but you don't think stripping down would be wise in such a populated place, locked door or not.

"Tell me what you want, baby." You purr, sliding your hand under the hem of her top as well as her bra to feel her breast entirely. She moans as you roll her nipple between your fingers, unable to think straight.

"I don't know, I just want you." She whines, her own hands grabbing at your ass. She keeps you close to her, continuing to meet you in the middle with her perfect lips.

"That's okay, Joyce. I can take the lead if you want me to." You reply. She nods, and you lower your other hand to the button on her jeans. You pop it open, and pull down the zipper. You slide your hand inside her pants, immediately finding her slick folds.

"Fuck." She whimpers once your fingers meet her clit, and you make slow, purposeful circles around it. She makes the sweetest noises as you touch her, all of which get you wetter by the second. You keep kissing her, on the mouth, and what you can reach of her neck. "So good..." Joyce murmurs. She finds herself wanting to participate too, so she quickly opens up your own jeans.

"Mmm, someone's learning..." You laugh lowly as she puts her hand inside your pants. You gasp at the coldness of her fingers on you, shocking your warm flesh with an icy touch. She gradually thaws, mimicking your actions to rub your bundle of nerves.

"I'm just following you, Y/N." She replies, going so far as to move you backwards now. Your back hits the shelf on the other side of the closet, Joyce appears to want to take control for a bit. She puts herself a step ahead of you, pressing her fingers inside your pussy. She wants to feel how wet you are, to make you moan and see your beautiful face when you cum.

"Fuck, Joyce." You copy her a second after, your digits filling up her soaked hole. You rapidly curl them, drawing more noises from her lips. You both try to keep the noise down, you'd hate for someone walking by to catch you. You decide that you want to try something different with her, to give her something more than just your fingers. You stop kissing her for a second, still pumping your digits inside of her. She follows your speed, which makes you want to scream from how good it feels. You look around the small room, finding a neglected set of filing cabinets in the corner. You carefully maneuver her in their direction, her ass smacking against them a little too loud.

"Careful, Y/N. We can't get caught in here." Joyce pants.

"Sorry. I just want to try something..." You say softly, pulling your fingers out of her. She does the same to you, and you swiftly lift her up onto the cabinets. Her legs dangle over the edge, and you take off your coat, it's far too hot for it now. You position yourself between her legs to kiss her again. She moans into your mouth, her own tongue coming out to play this time. "Have you ever had oral sex before?" You ask as you pull away, hoping you don't sound too formal. You just worry that Joyce might not understand any slang terms you might use.

"I mean, I've given it. But I've never..." She trails off, blushing harshly.

"Do you want to try it?" You question, your eyes filled with lustful hunger. You want to see her, and taste her, feel her hands tangling in your hair while you make her scream your name.

"Yes." She whispers. Without another word, you reach for the waistband of her jeans. You pull them down, along with her panties. She helps you out a bit, lifting herself up so you can get them all the way down. You bunch the fabric around her ankles, and duck down to kneel between her bound legs. You spread her thighs apart gingerly, and you fail to hold back a moan at the sight before you. She's got a beautiful mound of hair all around the outside, dark brown and loosely curled. Her clit and folds are shiny and wet, the dim overhead light catching the arousal spread around them. And her entrance, bright pink, and throbbing with anticipation. You've never seen a prettier pussy in your entire life.

"Wow." You exhale the word, unable to contain your awe of her. Your eyes flick up to hers, and she blushes harder at your admiration. She's never seen anyone look at her this way before, as if she's a goddess or something. "Scoot forward a little, baby." You order politely. She does as you ask, putting her glistening cunt right in front of your face. You can smell her, how turned on she is...it's so fucking intoxicating. "You ready?" You ask, confirming that this is exactly what she wants.

"Yeah." She nods confidently, anxious to see what your lips and tongue will feel like against her heat.

"Good." You start slow, leaving open-mouthed kisses from her knee, all the way up to her inner thigh. She breathes heavily as you do this, your teasing is driving her mad. You repeat these actions on the other side, before settling in front of where she needs you the most. Your shuddering breath fans against her, and you finally lean in to lick a long stripe from her entrance to her clit.

"Oh, god..." She moans at the sensation of your warm tongue swiping along her slit. Her hands lower to your head, fingers tangling in your hair just like you'd hoped they would. You let out a small moan against her, making her hips buck at the vibrations. "Fuck, Y/N...this is...so good." Joyce whimpers, and you proceed to flick your tongue against her sensitive bud, while also sliding the entire length of it inside her hole on occasion. You eat up every single noise she makes, and they push you to lick her harder and faster.

You grip her left thigh to keep her close, while your free hand lowers to give you some pleasure of your own. You doubt Joyce is up for reciprocating this particular activity, which you don't mind one bit. There's something about giving oral that's so much better than receiving it. Sure, getting head is pretty damned amazing, but you can't get over the intense rush you feel when you make someone else cum using only your mouth. It's like the ultimate exchange of power, to have any guy or girl you do this to in the palm of your hand. And once it's all over, their mind is thoroughly blown, and they're ever so grateful to you for your service. Strangely enough, it's actually highly rewarding.

"Mmm." You hum as your own fingers glide across your clit, though they quickly move towards your dripping entrance. You're unbelievably wet, so much so that your fingers slip right into your cunt. You continue to eat Joyce out to your heart's content, her hands digging further into your hair.

"I know this is my first time doing this...but you're really good at it, Y/N." Joyce praises, her words sounding like music to your ears. They come out low and breathy, but her tone is still sweet as can be. Just like the rest of her.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, baby." You reply, slipping your tongue inside her entrance again.

"Fuck." She gasps, her head falling back against the wall. You repeatedly press on her g-spot, and more muted moans fall from her lips. You also increase the pace of your own fingers pumping within your pussy. You keep this up for a while, taking your time to feel every last inch of Joyce's cunt with your mouth, and timing yourself to hopefully cum alongside her. Her nails snake further in towards your scalp as the minutes tick past, and her pelvis bucks into your face whenever you discover a new sensitive spot between her legs. "I'mgetting close, Y/N...don't stop." Joyce whines, her thighs jolting more and more with every stroke and flick you make on her.

"Wouldn't...dream...of it..." You pant out the words between licks, tightening your grip on her thigh. Her muscles tremble beneath your hold, you can tell it's taking everything in her not to thrash around or clamp her legs around your skull. You're not quite on the same page, orgasm-wise. But you're trying your damndest to catch up. You finger yourself as fast as you can, winding up an impatient knot inside your belly. You hate to rush this, but you've probably been gone too long as it is. It's a wonder no one has come looking for you or Joyce yet.

"I'm gonna cum...keep going...right there..." Joyce whimpers, sensing her high fast approaching.

"Mmm." You hum in response, repeating the motions that her moans say are working the best. Rapid swirls around her clit, interspersed with quick darts of your tongue inside her pussy. That's another thing you love about giving head, figuring out the different methods and speeds that your partner finds most enjoyable. It's like cracking a safe, using your tongue and lips as your tools, with their orgasm serving as the elusive riches inside.

"Y/N, I'm gonna....shit—" Joyce gasps, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle the obscenely loud moan that's ripping itself from her lungs. Her thighs quake, instinctively closing around your head. You lap up her juices as they spill out of her, groaning against her at the taste. She's even sweeter than the night at your apartment, and so warm. You're still not at your end yet, much to your annoyance. Usually it doesn't take long for you to cum when you do it yourself, but tonight is proving to be a challenge. Regardless, you continue to get yourself there, while licking at Joyce until her high dies down. "Fuck." She breathes heavily, slumped against the wall with her eyes closed and hands laying slack in her lap. "That was amazing, Y/N." She praises, taking her time to calm down. Sweat drips down along the side of her head, and the underarms of her sweater are completely soaked through.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Joyce." You murmur, pulling your mouth away from her now. You continue to finger yourself, gazing up at her exhausted body to get yourself off.

"Do you want some help, sweetie?" She asks, her eyes open now as she watches what you're doing.

"Yes, please." You answer, almost whining. You've become a bit frustrated now, needy for your climax. Hopefully Joyce can help you get it. You quickly stand up, still stuck between her legs. You take your hand out of your pants, which she immediately replaces with hers. "Joyce..." You whimper as the touch of her fingers on your clit feels so much better than your own. You can't look away from her, and the caring smile on her face. She keeps you close to her with a hand on your shoulder, and she gradually makes her way to your slick entrance. She slips one finger inside, causing you to moan as quietly as you can. She adds the other right after, which only makes you louder.

"Shh, quiet down. Let me make you feel good, Y/N." Joyce coos, pumping her digits inside you painfully slow.

"Go faster, baby. I need you." You beg in a whisper. She increases her speed, and you finally feel like you're getting somewhere. "More. I need more." You whine, almost in tears as you hold her gaze. She tuts at the pained look on your face, realizing what a hard time you're having.

"It's okay. I'll take care of you." She presses her lips to yours, and your eyes flutter closed. She takes the lead, slipping her tongue into your mouth and picking up the pace. Joyce goes as fast as she can, giving her best effort to help you get what you desperately want. You can sense it, all of her affectionate actions are rapidly building you up.

"Just like that, baby." You exhale between steamy kisses. You firmly hold her shoulders, waiting for the knot inside you to snap. You're extremely close now, thanks to her longer, more efficient fingers.

"You're almost there, just let it all go sweetie." Joyce says calmly, her thumb running over your clit to seal your fate. You kiss her hard to soften the scream that begs to escape you. Your knees buckle, and you almost fall over as your orgasm takes hold. Complete and utter ecstasy rushes through you, your insides pulsating wetly around her fingers. You continuously moan down her throat, unable to stop until the pleasure subsides. You collapse into Joyce, and she carefully takes her hand out of your jeans to put her arms around you. "There ya go. Feel better now?" She asks sweetly, stroking your sweat-dampened hair.

"Yes, much better. Thank you." You huff out the words, unable to think straight. Joyce lets you stay still like this for a few minutes, allowing the two of you to catch your breath. But as always, this content, happy occasion must be drawn to a close.

"I'd better get back, Y/N." She says quietly.

"I know. Ugh, we need a real night to ourselves one of these days." You suggest, pulling away from her embrace so you can get yourselves together. You duck under her legs again, and do up your jeans. She straightens out her own clothes, and nods.

"That would be nice. We could order in, have a couple drinks...maybe watch a movie?" You love every last word that passes her lips, and her eagerness to make actual plans with you.

"Sounds perfect, Joyce. Just tell me a day, whatever works for you." You reply, picking your coat up off the floor and slipping it on.

"I will. But I'm afraid this is goodbye for now, again." She jokes, making you both giggle lightly. She gets down from the filing cabinets, and meets you once more before she has to go. "I'll call you as soon as I can, Y/N. I promise." She gives you a small kiss, and she hesitates to pull away. You both let out a shaky breath, sharing a satisfied smile afterwards.

"I'll be looking forward to it. You'd better get back to your kids. It's getting late, so I'm gonna head home." You go to the door to leave first this time, poking your head out to see if anyone's around. The nurse's station is just around the corner, but you manage to slip out unnoticed. You make a beeline for the door, feeling really nervous that maybe someone saw you. But you know they didn't. You hope Joyce makes it back to Will's room alright, but you don't want to linger around to check.

...I walked the long way home, and it was probably one of the best ones I've ever taken. All the weight of the last few days melted away with every step. Hawkins finally feels safe again. There's no more fear roiling beneath the town's surface, no more paranoia between neighbors. Everything is the way it should be. Sure, we'll miss Benny dearly, and that other kid that drowned is unfortunate. But at least now we know that those incidents were self-inflicted, or accidents. That's the worst thing that can happen here. At least, I'd like to think so.

I spent a good amount of my walk thinking about Joyce, replaying every little detail of all our small meetings. I can't wait to see her again, and have some real time together. I'm not sure where this thing we have is going to go, if it does go anywhere at all. I don't mind a fling, but I wouldn't say no to a long-term relationship either. I'm unsure what Joyce wants, but I have a feeling that she can't fully commit herself to anyone. Not right now, anyway. As wonderful as it is that Will has been brought home safe, he still needs a lot of extra care and attention. He looked so withered and sickly in that hospital bed, I have no idea when he'll fully recover. I'm sure Joyce is going to spend her every waking moment nursing him back to health. She's such a great mom, I couldn't see her going about it any other way.

November 25th, 1983

Dear Diary,

Last night was my...date?...with Joyce. We did exactly as we'd planned at the hospital. She rented a movie, Breakfast at Tiffany's. She said it's one of her favorites, and I totally agree. We ordered in some Chinese, and ate and drank wine on my couch while snuggling up together. Ugh, she's so goddamn warm in the best possible way. It's like all this love and light radiates out of her, shining cozily upon those she cares about.

When we'd finished dinner and the film, we took things to my bedroom. We made out heavily for what felt like hours, I could've been satisfied by just doing that, honestly. But she wanted more, she was practically begging for it. And what kind of woman would I be to say no? We finally saw each other completely naked, and my god, Joyce is a fucking goddess. To see her all laid out on my bed like that, I swear I had to be dreaming. She was very pleased with my body as well, which was flattering. I don't know what it is, but being with an established woman like her caused a little self-doubt regarding my own appearance.

We did everything we've done before. The groping, fingering, and oral sex. She even went down on me this time. Joyce was a bit unsure of herself at first, but I gave her a little guidance, and she took to it like a fish to water. Shit, her mouth is something else, that's for sure. She even went so far as to lap up all of my cum when it spilled onto her face. She was far more bold than the other times, and it was unbelievably sexy. We also took things a step further, grinding our pussies together until we came at the same time. That was...a challenge, at first. The positioning is kind of awkward, and it's difficult to maintain a cohesive rhythm if you're new at it. But once we figured it out, it was unbelievable. Our sweating bodies rolling and grinding, the gorgeous moans Joyce made to harmonize with mine, being able to see each other's faces twist in pleasure with every move. I'll never forget it.

Joyce left pretty early in the morning, but not without waking me up to say goodbye. She didn't want me to wake up to her already being gone, which I appreciated. I totally would've burst into tears if that happened, convincing myself that it was all a dream. And I wouldn't have been able to bear that, not with how mind-blowing she was last night.

December 5th, 1983

Dear diary,

Well, Joyce came by the shop today. I wish I could say I was happy about it, but I'm really not. She came in with Will, who quickly ran off to check out the new releases in the corner. Joyce came up to the counter to talk to me. She said that while she adores me, and is so grateful for the times we've had, that she can't get into a relationship right now.

I get it. I'd already thought out every possible outcome of this short entanglement of ours. Most of which go exactly like this. She just doesn't have the time, or mental capacity to maintain something with me. She has to look after Will, he needs her more than ever right now. It's not personal, I know that. And as much as I thought I'd made my peace with that, and prepared myself for this to happen, it still hurt like a bitch.

I told her it was fine, even though my heart was sinking, and my stomach turned in the most unsettling way. I didn't want to stop seeing her, but it wasn't solely up to me to decide that for us. She took hold of my hand, reiterating that it hurts her to let me go. I did everything I could to not cry in front of her, and I managed to hold it all in until she walked out the door. Joyce did shed a couple herself, I know it pains her to disappoint anyone. But we said our goodbyes, and she made it clear that I could still come by Melvald's like I used to. For her support and comforting words, as a friend. And I will, once the heartache goes away. It'll just take a little time, and maybe a good rebound.

#smut #stranger things #writers on tumblr #joyce byers #hawkins #fanfiction #hippiegoth97 #joyce byers x reader #joyce byers smut #hawkins hussy #lgbtq #wlw smut

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balapann-blog · 2 months ago

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Day 32 - 7 October - Kars

Today is very much a chillout day! We woke up quite late and ambled down to breakfast, which was a nice buffet style things, i think the first one we have had since our Novotel adventure in Sarajevo. We then took some washing to a laundry and went to find our bus station that we will need to take to Hopa on Wednesday, which is a town near the border. On the way we saw some absolutely massive cabbages for sale, I have never seen a cabbage that big! Once we got that sorted (We tried to book but they said just turn up on the day) we walked to the post office and then to the Kars Cheese Museum!

This was a great little museum, about £1.20 entry and they had some really interesting facts about the cheese making process, which in Kars was kicked off industrially by the Russians when they annexed following the Russo-Turkish war of 1877/78 and the treaty of Congress of Berlin 1879 which we last spoke about when we were in Alexandroupoli. The Russians introduced the production of Gruyère cheese, which was solidified by a factory being made with the instruction of Swiss cheese makers in the middle of the 20th century. The museum was built into a cave and had vibey lights, but in some places seemed to be leaking quite badly.

We then went to Kars Castle (Kars Kale) and walked up the hill to it. It was free to go into but not much to see other than a couple of signs saying it had been built by the Seljuks and expanded on by a Pasha in the 16th Century. The view was pretty great though so we admired it for a bit. Walking own we spoke to a very nice man who was on a tour with people from Taiwan, or Taiwanese people who lived in the US or Canada. He was very chatty and we had a nice chat till he met back up with his tour group. We then walked home and went to the hotel.

I am liking Kars much more than I expected! The people are so friendly and welcoming. It has lots of stone buildings in the grey stone, I think mainly built by the Russians or Armenians in the early 20th Century. They also built it on a grid so it is easier to find your way around. I had read the book Snow by Orhan Pamuk earlier in the year (I actually had stopped with 50 pages to go but finished it in Montenegro), which paints it as a very conservative and quite hostile place where a Islamist political party is about to win elections, but it doesn’t really feel like that at all and definitely feels less outwardly religious than Konya or even Kayseri. Looking at the results of general elections, the top party was the Party of Greens and Left Future (which I think the pro Kurdish candidates ran on, due to the threat of a ban) then AK (Erdogan’s Party) then the secular Republican People’s Party and then some more conservative and right wing parties below that. So the politics seems much more heterodox than on the surface.

Back at the hotel, Nin was going to go to the hotel hammam for the ladies session but it turned out it was closed, so she went to the gym and I had a couple of teas and wrote up my diary from the Dogu. We then went back into the town to do some shopping. Amazingly beside our hotel there were 2 pharmacies that sold good quality sun cream, as it is not something that seems to be high on peoples agendas here. I had run out of body sun cream in Cappadocia, only having the face stuff, and with skin like mine that is playing with fire, so not knowing when I might get the chance again I got some more face stuff as well. We then went to this really nice cig kofte place and a little snack. We then went back to the hotel and had a little drink in the hotel restaurant.

We then went to dinner at this restaurant that had good reviews. The things we had were this lamb shank and chickpea stew that was probably a little under seasoned but when you salted it was really good and a sort of ribbon pasta with yogurt and caramelised onion. Both were really nice and we then walked the 5 or so mins home and went to bed.

Where we ate - Adıyaman çiğköftecisi Murat usta, Hanimeli Kars Mutfagi

What we liked - Love a cig kofte! The other stuff was good too!

Day 33 - 8 October - Kars

Woke up and had breakfast and then walked to the bus that would take us to the ruined city of Ani. The bus was quite interesting, as there were lots of birds of prey either sitting on rocks and the ground or circling round in the air. I wasn’t sure exactly which bird it was as it didn’t look massive like and eagle so might have been a kite. They were also drying turf or dung for burning, which, when taken with the dry stone walls and the hills covered in grass and made it feel slightly like the west of Ireland. It definitely feels more verdant here than in other parts of Anatolia. There was also a checkpoint on the road for Jandarma (Gendarme), as we were coming up to the border with Armenia.

We then got to the Ani center which was a small complex of one story buildings in a sort of piazza set up, which were mainly deserted. It was 6 euro in and then went through the big gate of one of the ruined walls and entered the complex. Ani was an Armenian city that had been first mentioned in the 5th Century, and by the start of the 11th Century had a population of over 100,000 before being mostly abandoned by 1735, after repeated capturing from the likes of Timor (Tamerlane), the Safavids, and the Ottomans.

Apparently lots of the buildings have been ruined by earthquakes and there is repeated statements that it is being left to collapse due to Turkish neglect. It does feel slightly illustrative that the only thing that was consecrated and working was the mosque, which had a carpet in it and a loudspeaker in the minaret. The information given, definitely looked to underplay or even erase the role of the Armenians in it, and buildings that are churches were called mosques and some inscriptions, for example the symbol of an Armenian royal dynasty was attributed to the Seljuks, which aligns to other things that we have seen in Turkey, when the monument is not Muslim or Turkish. It is very sad, particularly considering the scale of the magnificence of Ottoman monuments, and the diversity of the Ottoman Empire, like why do they see the need to do it! This website I found gave me more context.

The ruins go up to effectively a sheer cliff with a gorge and a river in it, on the other side of the river is Armenia, with a watch tower and a big Armenian flag. The border has been guarded by Russian border guards since 1992. The citadel stands overlooking the cliff and there is a building on a ledge on a meander that sticks out into the valley. One church we went to, which was the best preserved of them had these amazing frescos in them (although apparently Turkish officials had whitewashed them to cover over graffiti! After walking around for a bit, we went back to the entrance and the bus, as we had seen most of it and the wind was picking up, creating a bit of a dust storm.

We got the bus home and when Nina went to the hammam and the gym I went to get a really tasty lamb donner from a place nearby which was really nice. They cooked it on a charcoal fire and they kept bringing more squewers to me, I think I had 4 before I realised they were going to keep bringing them to me and I had to say stop! I think it was £9 in the end. I then went to the hammam after Nin in the mens session, the hammam was nice and i was the only person there so I lay on the hot stone for a while and went to the sauna and steam room.

We then went to dinner at this pretty fancy place where you could get Kars’ special dish, goose! We had a dish of goose liver and then a delicious goose leg, and hands down the best salad we had in Turkey. We also had some nice wine, the place was quite fancy but really worth it and not very expensive in London prices! And it was a lovely way to end our time in Turkey. After that we went back to the hotel and packed and went to sleep before a big day of travelling.

Where we ate - Tortum Caag Kebap, Han-i Hanedan

What we liked - Kebap was delish,

Day 34 -9 October - Kars > Batumi

We got up and went to the gym! Very unlike me, but it had a treadmill which I used. We then checked out of the hotel and went to the bus station and got a ticket for the bus to Hopa, which is on the Turkish Black Sea coast. We got there quite early and had a cha (Turkish tea) by the station then got on as it left.

The journey included going over some very high mountain roads and then having to descend even further into valleys as we were leaving the highlands. Thankfully the bus took the roads slow and the views were pretty spectacular. On the way I saw some very large flocks of sheep and some very large Anatolian Sheperd dogs, who if they are anything like the Albanian Shepard dogs we saw walking are not to be messed with. A couple of times I saw flocks with no Shepard at all and just four or five dogs menacingly watching for any threat. There was also one time a pack of three dogs that looked wild came up in front of the bus and just barked at it, making me happy I was inside! Interestingly the cow dogs were shorter like corgis which I knew were cow dogs but it seems interesting that for bigger animals you have smaller dogs, but I guess they are doing a different job. The street dogs you see in Turkey are generally one of those two types or at least partly.

At one stage we went under a huge cliff and then a tunnel that went through it, there were a couple of tunnels, particularly at the end of the journey that must have saved hours in driving! We stopped for lunch and had nice lentil soup, our last in Turkey! And then witnessed a small altercation over a low speed car collision, all the men in the vicinity walked towards it and then all stood discussing it, clearly loving the drama. We then went past a massive damned lake complex that went on for miles and miles with towns dotted around and what looked like fish farming in some of the lakes. The rivers look pretty polluted with sewage but also mining runoff, as there are lots of quarries and cliffs that have been sliced in half to make the roads which have exposed cliff faces and you can see all the minerals in the rock and the discoloured water beside the cliff faces.

It had been getting progressively greener as we went through the valleys, going from grassland to deciduous forest, and then we then got to the last massive tunnel and came out into a valley that was very lush and green with houses on the side in small villages. They all seemed to be growing a quite short bush in their gardens and fields, which on closer inspection (and a bit of googling) I realised it was tea! The Black Sea coast has a sub tropical microclimate, due to its seaside and high hills and it seems to be where Turkey’s massive tea production is cantered.

We then got out at Hopa and Hopa(ed) on a mini bus that took us to the border. At the border the Georgian border guard gave me a bit of a grilling about my passport, I think because she didn’t think I looked like my (quite recent) photo, and because she did not see many Irish passports. To make matters worse the only other photo ID I had was my driving license which has a slightly different name which really confused things. She let me in eventually! And we then took a local bus that very slowly made its way to Batumi, it was very hot, but we did talk to a friendly Chinese man at the end.

We then walked to the ‘residence’ we were staying at and were greeted by our host who is a very chatty, larger than life character. He recommended us a restaurant, close by which was very nice and we then walked around the old town and got an ice cream before going back and slumping into bed exhausted from a long and sometimes stressful day!

Where we ate - Yildiz Restaurant, Cafe Adjara Old House

What we liked - Adjara was really nice as I was pretty hungry by then!

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diary-of-a-teenage-cultleader · 1 year ago

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Diary Entry #5

Today's Date is Sunday Oct. 15th, 2023. Current time: 12:42 a.m.

Dear Diary, and to anyone who reads this,

So, I'm back, maybe for good, maybe not.

Let's start our story with what's happened in the last 2 years...

J and I fell in love, and we've met twice in person now, even visited his country. He asked me to be his on December 1st, 2021. Our 2 year anniversary is coming up, though he did reject me in the beginning between fear of commitment and my mental instability, which in retrospect, I understand. Which I will explain now.

I've been diagnosed with Bipolar type 2, the type of Bipolar where your depressive episodes last longer than your manic episodes. My emotions fluctuate heavily and I tend to switch up daily, though I've been stuck in a depressive episode since I've returned from Europe.

Doll, Leaf, GT and I have started work as sex workers, though GT is taking a step back due to a traumatic event that I'd rather not explain, even if no one reads this.

I've made at least $150 in the last year from sex work alone, and even gained a sub, he's friendly enough but I'd rather not talk about that right now.

I've moved in with my biological father, I basically have the apartment to myself since he's never here and frequently leaves me on my lonesome. I have to learn new hobbies and activities to keep myself from losing my mind.

I've learned to play ukulele, which I'm very proud of, and I've learned to paint, and wood carve. I've discovered a passion for language I never knew I had. I've grown an interest in DnD and hope to create a group soon.

I believe I'm non-binary, I've been having these feelings for the last year and a half now, dressing and flipping between gender presentation really makes me happy, but I still don't relate with the girl identity enough to be genderfluid, though I may be overthinking it.

But enough about me, well, at least talking about random things. I'll tell you about today, if you're still listening:

Today, I chatted with J for a short time today after I woke up late, he seemed reasonably stressed since his mom tends to randomly dump her feelings in random breakdowns recently, making my boyfriend feel as though he needs to constantly do better and he has to help her, I can't tell him that he might be traumatized from always being the emotional step stool for his mom.

So, I've been holding in my emotions about everything I've been feeling lately, as to not burden him, both good and bad. I don't want to be overbearing with my love, and I don't want him to worry about my mental breakdowns over missing him so much. He was upset that I didn't suggest something I should do for him when I left, I think he was stressed about wasting time because I was busy getting ready to go carve pumpkins with my dad's girlfriend's family. I felt terrible since he cancelled his family plans for me, but I even offered to stay and he said no, I just don't know how to help him sometimes, I accidentally got really blunt with him about needing to go to therapy, I just feel like I'm supposed to be his emotional support but he doesn't tell me upfront what he needs sometimes. I get it, it's annoying if you have to do it all the time, but I'm trying my best, and still learning. I'm just scared he's gonna realize that I'm not the best possible partner and leave. Everyone who was important to me left without a word of why. I know I can be problematic sometimes but I swear with every fiber of my being that I am working to make a better man of myself. Especially to him. I even wrote a little poem explaining my feelings over my life at the moment.

I know it may be a bit harsh to read but it's the truth of how my life has been so far, I recognize to others, I will be a burden. I hope to fix this, but if not, I'm not even sure what I would do with myself.

My boyfriend said he wanted to make me feel bad, to help him, I'm not sure if it's toxic or not. I feel like there's some toxic traits from both ends that need to be worked on. I need to stop changing myself for him, I've before put my whole schedule around him, defied my parents for him, nearly abandoned my friends because he didn't like them. I wanted to spend so much time with him. He makes me feel bad sometimes, that I keep him from having friends because I can be a bit jealous, but I told him that I'm not worried about it anymore, I've grown over it. I'm scared I traumatized him. I'm scared that I manipulate him. I don't want to do those things. I never want to hurt him... I'm just so stressed with the idea that I'm a terrible partner. I apologize, this was meant to be a diary entry, not a vent. But back to the entry, I went pumpkin carving and talked with my dad about stuff and it went about as well as talking to my dad usually does, he over shares, but at least I made a cute pumpkin and got s'mores. Which was nice. I'll include pics here:

So I suppose the day didn't end too bad, it just hurt that my bf left me on delivered. He may have fallen asleep. I'll talk to him in the morning but hopefully things can be talked about. Thank you for listening to my rant, whoever could get through this whole thing.

Thanks, Diary

STRD:

RIIST:

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raccooninaraincoat · 5 months ago

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Here comes the promised rant, on why William Birkin (and the rest of the Umbrella employees in the NEST in the re2 remake) are even worse disgusting filthy scumbags than you had thought:

So, you know how the virus actively running rampant in raccoon city is the T-Virus, yes? And in the NEST, they also experimented on the G-Virus.

According to the file "Report: About G" (Not sure where specifically it is anymore but somewhere in NEST) the intelligence of a subject declines rapidly upon infection, and, which is where it gets interesting: they are driven only by the need to survive and reproduce.

It will instinctively search out Humans with the closest match to it's DNA and implant an embryo in them. Which is already disgusting in it's own right, since it means that the g-virus is badically a breeding machine with super strength (and absolutely no care of perception of consent or anything of the sorts).

AND IT GETS WORSE. Because, and I quote: "[...] the only ones who might be a close enough match would be any biological children of the subject, tough..." (-Report: About G)

If you play the Claire Route, and eventually end up in the Orphanage, then you'll find diaries of a few of the kids that previously lived there. One of them is quite important for my little rant here, and that is Tom's Diary.

On the first entry, Feb. 5, he expresses disappointment that his friend Oliver hadn't written him any letters since he got adopted 2 months back, which seems to happen whenever a kid is adopted. Still it upsets him in this very case because he thought he and Oliver would be friends for life.

On the next page, the entry of Feb. 8, he mentions that today Ann came to the orphanage and told them that the kids that get "adopted" are actually turned into food for the "boogie men". He dismisses it as just a story, but it's quite clear what is implied here: They send literal children into the NEST and infect them with the T-Virus for research purposes.

This is further enforced in Tom's Diary, Page 6/6, Feb. 19:

"Oliver came back in the middle of the night, all messed up, screaming help me and stuff. I didn't even recognize him at first; his face was all peeling and melted off. [...]"

which by itself would only imply that Oliver got infected with the T-virus. However in NEST, in the file "Research diary", Page 4/4 "T-Virus resistance experimentation" we get this nice little text:

"We administered G-Virus to subject 628, who had shown resistance to the T-Virus. The Virus was then introduced to subject 639, with whom 628 had had a close friendship. 628 showed some signs of resistance, but had been implanted with an embryo after 24 minutes. T-Virus resistance does nothing to stop the mental detoriation caused by the G-Virus."

Now, it's quite easy to identify that these subjects are most certainly Oliver (628) and Tom (639) because of what is mentioned in Tims Diary entry Feb. 5.

The difference in their subject numbers makes sense too. between Olivers "adoption", and Toms first diary entry, roguhly two months go by, and by the time that Tom gets "adopted" too, which he writes about in the entry of Feb. 14 ("I'm getting adopted. Me. Most people go for younger kids, so I figured I was too old. [...] I say goodbye to this place on the 20th. [...]") So, if Oliver got "adopted" in early december, and Tom in mid/late february, then it makes sense for there to have gone other kids inbetween.

Funfact, the reason Tom is adopted is most likely because in Feb. 13, he's getting suspicious of the orphanage because of how isolated they are, and how they seem to get a lot of shots (probably T-Virus desensitisation for further experiments, or immunisation in case of contamination like when Oliver escapes NEST and seeks help in the orphanage)

The conclusion of all the stuff I just quoted is severely less fun. Because the picture that all these bits of canon info paint is a quite disturbing one.

William and Annette Birkin (Who, as I'd like to remind you, let their daughter stay up there in that orphanage) and the rest of the NEST scientists experiment on Kids. With the G-Virus, amongst other things.

And that is so SO fucking disgusting. The entirety of thsoe experiments is inhumane and absolutely vile, but dragging literal children into it, especially to implant them with Virus embryos (which I needn't elaborate on further), makes it so so much worse.

and unfortunately, it's not even surprising, because the "Chimeras" from the first Resident Evil, were created by picking homeless women of the street and forcefully impregnating them with modified embryos made from grafting t-virus strains with animal DNA.

Conclusion: Umbrella is beyond disgusting and even worse than most people even realise, and I have nothing but absolute hatred for their scientists.

I wonder how many people play re2r and just do not realise what abhorrent vile things went down in that lab-

It's pretty easy to miss, but if you're like me (autistic and severely hyperfixated on resident evil) you go out of your way to find collected archives of all in game file (there's an app that has all the files, items, characters and mobs from the respective games, it's called Resident Evil Comoanion and I love it dearly) then you realise the full weight if what you read/skim trough while playing the game.

And I mean- obviously things down there are gonna be morally wrong and absolutely terrible, but the extent of that- dear god. William Birkin and everyone else that worked in that lab are absolutely disgusting. But like, especially him Annette. Like, they have a DAUGHTER. They have A CHILD OF THEIR OWN. A CHILD THAT LIVES UP IN THE DAMN ORPHANAGE, WITH THOSE VERY CHILDREN.

(I will probably add a more elaborate post going into more detail for just what I'm talking abt at some point but I had to get this out of my system for now cause literally noone I know is into Resident evil and I cannot stop thinking about how disgusting the G-Virus experiments are.)

#resident evil #re2 remake #umbrella corporation #william birkin is scum and i hate him

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shortprince-cos · 3 years ago

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An analysis of Darius' feelings towards Hunter:

because I have nothing better to do than think about this

Any Sport In A Storm spoilers ahead!

(Note: This is just my opinion and thoughts on Darius. It might not end up being canon, but this is how I'm observing the dynamic in this and previous episodes.)

I think the way Darius' feelings shift in this episode is so very interesting (and so sweet) that I feel the need to write about it for who knows how long. So, let's dive in!

The Annoyance

This could all be chalked up to his personality being vain, arrogant, and slightly rebellious, but I like to overthink things, so let's just use his personality as more evidence.

Its first shown (or, well, stated) in Hunter's diary entry how Darius and Hunter usually interact; Darius being annoyed, and ignoring Hunter while Hunter doesn't seem to mind much (probably because he was brought up with this being normal, but that's a whole other issue).

I personally believe that Darius feels and acts this way because all he knows about Hunter, the new Golden Guard, is that he is Belo's right hand man. A puppet. Someone who only follows orders, and who most likely didn't even have a face for most of the time he's known him.

"You're very good at doing exactly what you're told."

Another reason is the fact that Hunter replaced whoever his predecessor was, the other or original Golden Guard. Someone who Darius seemed to revere with high respect and admiration.

Obviously, seeing someone you look up to get replaced by a bratty teenager just because he's your boss' nephew would make you kind of hate him, wouldn't it?

It makes sense that Darius would dislike Hunter because of this, even going so far as to call him "Little Prince" as a clear sign of why he detests him.

He also doesn't take Hunter very seriously, telling him to "go play arts and crafts" when they canceled the meeting, something that Hunter was supposed to lead.

Darius ignores him because he thinks Hunter is just Belos' annoying kid, who took the place of someone he considered better.

The Change of Heart

Darius' feelings towards Hunter changing in this episode is SUPER interesting because I didn't think that Darius would become an important figure in Hunter's character development AT ALL, so I think it's important to talk about why Darius' feelings shifted so quickly.

Throughout the episode, Darius is continuously being exasperated by Hunter, just saying things to get him to leave him alone on his day off, and hoping that Hunter wouldn't take this "mission" seriously.

However this all changes the minute Hunter rebelled, something that Darius didn't expect from him.

He's surprised, and in his own words, impressed that Hunter is becoming his own person, and finally making some friends his own age outside of the coven.

He's even proud that Hunter is learning to stand up for himself and be stronger.

Clearly, Darius is someone who values life outside of the coven, and that's why he is starting to view Hunter in a higher regard.

He's learning that Hunter isn't just "the new Golden Guard", he's just a kid trying to live up to the title, and in a way, it makes Darius see him as more of a human (metaphorically) rather than an entitled soldier.

TL;DR: Darius is a dad now.

#maybe im digging too deep but i cant stop thinking about them #i love uncle darius sm #toh #the owl house #toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers #any sport in a storm #toh darius #darius toh #hunter toh #toh hunter #character analysis

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starshine583 · 3 years ago

Text

New Girl on the Block (19)

(Hey, everyone!!! Thank you so much for your patience while I was away. It’s good to be back! I hope you all enjoy this next chapter!)

Ch. 1 / Ch. 18 / Ch. 20 (ao3)

Chapter 19: A Date with Misery

“Marinette, you are.. an incredible person.”

“You don’t need anyone to validate how amazing you are.”

“You are talented, kind, and capable all on your own.”

Felix’s words from the night before played over in Marinette’s mind again and again, an endless loop that she found herself incapable of escaping, and with each echo, her heart seemed to melt further than she thought possible. The comments were simply too honey-sweet, too sincere. She couldn’t help reveling in them. How long had he thought of her that way? How long had he placed her on such a high pedestal that she wasn’t aware of? Marinette knew that Felix had a tendency to make unexpected comments every now and then, but last night truly caught her off guard.. and perhaps made her just a tad bit love-stricken. Had he always spoken to her in that soft manner, the one that made her believe she could be the very stars in his night sky? Had he always possessed the ability to send her heart fluttering the way it did last night, when he allowed her to pull him onto the dance floor and hold him incredibly close? She had no way of knowing, and certainly not enough nerve to ask aloud. But, oh, how her mind ran rampant with fantasies anyway. Will she ever be able to dance with him like that again? Would he look at her the same way he had then, with eyes that felt soft as a cloud in the moment? Did he go home last night and think about her too, endlessly turning on his bed and glancing at his diary- if he kept one, that is -and thinking maybe just one more entry-

“Marinette?”

Marinette jumped, nearly falling off of the ladder that she’d been balancing on, and felt a blush explode across her cheeks.

“Nothing! What? I mean-” She flailed her arms a bit to regain balance, then peeked down at the person below, the very boy she’d been fantasizing about “-Did you need something?”

Felix stood at the base of the ladder, his brows furrowed slightly. “..No. I just wanted to know if there was something wrong with your heart.”

Marinette sputtered, her blush deepening considerably. She couldn’t have been that obvious, right? What expression was she making before he came over?

“M-My heart?” She asked- or rather, squeaked.

Felix pointed to a stream of hearts on the wall, the ones she was supposed to be taking down. “You were staring at one of the hearts for quite a while. Is it ripped?”

“Oh.” She said, staring blankly at the wall. The paper hearts. He meant the paper hearts hanging next to her. Not her heart specifically. That made a lot more sense. “No, sorry. The hearts are fine. I was just, uh.. you know.. reminiscing. We had a lot of fun times with these decorations.”

“Ah,” Felix tilted his head up in a slight nod, “my apologies for interrupting you then.”

“Oh, you didn’t.” Marinette assured hastily. “It really wasn’t anything important.”

Definitely wasn’t anything important..

She plucked out the pin that held the hearts and started down the ladder to move to the other end of the stream. Felix offered a hand to help her down in the process, and she took it, strongly ignoring the tingling sensation that came from doing so.

“If you’d like to keep one as a memorial, I’m sure Allegra wouldn’t mind.” He remarked. “I doubt she’s going to keep any of these things herself after all the parties they’ve had.”

Marinette hummed. Keeping a heart streamer as a memorial, huh? That didn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Thanks. I just might do that.”

Felix gave her the tiniest of smiles, the kind Marinette was used to catching at this point, and slipped his hand out of hers when her feet hit the ground. She clasped her hands together afterwards to compensate, also ignoring the fact that it might have been nice for him to hold her hand just a tad bit longer.

“Would you like help moving the ladder?” He asked, to which she shook her head.

“I’ve got it, but if you could move the box over to the other round table while I move the ladder, I would be grateful.”

Allegra had given her an empty box to put the decorations in as she took them off of the wall. So far, Marinette had exactly.. zero decorations in the box. Gosh, how long had she been staring at that heart? Was she going insane? Why would she even be thinking about Felix this way? He’d just told her last night that he wasn’t interested in romance. Falling for him would be guaranteed heartbreak! It would be completely ridiculous! It would.. It would..

It would probably be inevitable.

Felix was just too sweet to her, too kind. He was always looking out for her and supporting her, always sharing his quiet laughs and amused smiles, and he said too many things that made her head spin for her not to start liking him. There was just no escape! It was going to happen eventually. The only question now was when.

And maybe today was her answer.

Stop it. Marinette scolded herself as she picked up the ladder to walk it over. It’s just some butterflies in your stomach. How many of those did you digest around Adrien?

Marinette froze midstep, an immense sense of horror washing over her. Oh, gosh, this wasn’t going to be another Adrien situation, was it? It couldn’t be. She refused to go through that again. At least not this soon.

Marinette continued walking, if only to avoid Felix’s suspicions, and set up the ladder under the next pin that was holding up her stream.

When you think about it, this really can’t be another Adrien situation, right? With Adrien, she had no idea whether he liked her or not, but was hopeful despite that and used her friends in an effort to gain his attention. With Felix, she already had her answer. She knew for a fact that he didn’t like her romantically, that he wouldn’t ever like her romantically, and she also hadn’t asked any of her new friends to help her gain Felix’s attention. (Though, in all honesty, she probably wouldn’t need help even if she was looking for his attention, because he already gave it to her willingly on a constant basis, but that thought didn’t exactly help her cause.)

“Is here alright?” Felix asked as he set the box on the end of the round table.

Marinette nodded, scaling the ladder to pluck the next pin. “Yep. That’s great, thank you.”

“Of course. If you need anything else, I’ll be wrapping the candles and putting them in boxes.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” She said, pulling a smile.

No, this wasn’t going to be anything like her crush on Adrien. This time she at least had closure before she began, and although it might be just as heart-shattering in the long run, she won’t be wasting her time wondering “what if” or tripping over herself to become his dream girl in an effort to be ‘chosen’. She’ll simply be his friend, as he’s been to her, and if she’s lucky, this sort-of-tiny-little crush of hers will wither away before it grows into a bigger problem.

After all, it’s like Felix said: She’ll find someone new who appreciates her eventually. It just.. won’t be him. The sooner she took this lesson to heart, the better.

Marinette plucked the next pin out of the wall, watching the stream of hearts fall into the box below, and started back down the ladder again. That’s one down. Five to go.

She paused at the bottom of the ladder, ready to pull it together so she could pick it up and move it again, when her phone started buzzing in her pocket. She quickly shimmied it out to check what the buzzing was for, only to be met with the flashing words “Adrien Agreste - Café”.

It was her alarm clock telling her that it was time to go meet Adrien for lunch. And it couldn’t have picked a worse time. She still had five other heart streamers to take down, and at this rate she was going to have to run half way across town just to make it on time. Ugh- why didn’t she set her alarm clock earlier?

“Hey, guys?” She called out to the group, tucking her phone back into her pocket. “I hate to say it, but I actually need to get going. I’m sorry I couldn’t help out more.”

If she hadn’t stopped every two seconds to daydream about somebody-

“Oh, don’t worry about it!” Allegra called back with a smile. “You’ve helped out plenty.”

“Yeah,” Claude agreed. “This was our party anyway.”

“I know, but I only managed to get one of the streamers down.” Marinette sighed.

“But you also helped fold all of the tablecloths and put them away.” Allan reminded her.

“And you swept the room after the trash was taken care of.” Allegra added.

“Go have fun at your appointment thing or whatever. We’ve got everything covered here.” Claude assured, emptying the water from another flower vase.

Marinette smiled as she grabbed her purse from one of the round tables. Her friends were so great, each and every one of them.

“I’ll see you guys later then.”

“See ya!”

“Bye, Mari!”

“Do you want me to call my driver for you?” Felix asked, briefly setting his candles aside. “It’s quite a walk from here to your house, isn’t it?”

“Thanks, but I’m good. I can have Maman and Papa come to pick me up if I start running late.” Or she can transform into Ladybug and swing right over to Adrien herself, which was exactly what she planned on doing. “I’ll text you guys when I get there, though.”

That seemed to satisfy Felix, because he nodded and continued placing his candles in the box. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you then.”

Marinette pursed her lips and spun towards the door, hoping he didn’t notice the fresh blush that was creeping across her cheeks. Gosh, how was she ever going to survive this boy? Maybe Adrien’s presence will give her a good slap in the face and bring her back to her senses.. She highly doubted it though. With her track record, she’ll probably end up falling for Adrien again too, and then she’ll be stuck between two unrequited crushes! Great!

..Why does she always have to fall for the people who don’t love her back?

~~~~~~~

Wind rushed past Chat Noir’s face as he raced across the rooftops, his grin stretching wide from ear to ear. Today was the day! It was finally the fifteenth! In just a few short blocks, he was going to meet Marinette at their agreed café, and they were going to have a whole lunch together just to themselves! It made him buzz with excitement at the very thought, because finally his plans were progressing. Finally he was gonna have a long, drawn out chat with Marinette as Adrien, and perhaps, if he had gained even the slightest bit of luck from his partner, he would be able to convince her to transfer back to Dupont. Or at least have her consider it. She probably shouldn’t come back right this second.

Chat Noir landed on a rooftop and slid down the tiles with glee, but before he could leap to the next rooftop, a red and black-spotted figure flew out in front of him. He stumbled back with a yelp, staring at the person with wide eyes as they sailed onto the rooftop across from him. Was that..?

“My Lady?” He called out, pushing himself back onto his feet. What was she doing out at this time of day? It wasn’t like her to be out and about during daylight when no akumas were present.

Unless there is an akuma. Chat realized with horror. He glanced around the city, looking for explosions or destruction of some kind. Please, let there not be an akuma. That would mean he’d have to skip out on his lunch with Marinette! And he’d worked so hard just to get her there!

The spotted figure turned around- proving that it was, in fact, his wonderful Ladybug -and flashed him her signature, Lady-Luck smile. “Oh, Chat Noir! I didn’t realize you would be out today.”

Chat Noir returned her smile and hopped over to her rooftop. “I could say the same to you, Bugaboo. Is an akuma on the loose again?”

“No, not that I’m aware of.” She assured, to his relief. “I just had some free time and thought I would do a small patrol around the city to make sure everything’s still in order.”

Chat Noir chuckled. That’s His Lady for you. Never ceasing to protect Paris. Could she ever become more amazing?

“Sounds like a great idea. I’d be tempted to join you, but I’m actually on my way home already. I’ve been out for a while.” He said, though none of it was true. He hadn’t been out for a while, and he certainly wasn’t running home, but Ladybug was extremely strict on the ‘keeping identities a secret’ policy. If he let something about his civilian life slip- like, say, meeting someone at a cafe about five minutes from now to talk about school transfers -she’d get upset and scold him for divulging too much information. It wasn’t fun lying to the person he was supposed to trust the most, but this was the set up that they’d decided to use.

“That’s alright. I wasn’t planning on staying out long anyway.” Ladybug replied. “I’ll see you during our next patrol?”

“Or attack.” Chat Noir agreed, giving her a little wink before he took off again. This time he turned to the left of the café, moving in a direction that was somewhat opposite of it. He didn’t want Ladybug seeing where he was going- again, secret identities -but, he also didn’t want to stray too far from his and Marinette’s meeting place, or else he was going to be late. So, he figured he could find a comfortable alleyway about a block or two away from his destination and simply run the rest of the way on foot.

Thank goodness he did, because as soon as he turned left, Ladybug swung off in the exact direction he’d originally been heading. Can you imagine if they’d started going the same way? The explanation for that one would have been awful, he’s sure.

Chat Noir dropped down into an alleyway a few minutes later, just as planned, and detransformed back into Adrien. Running around Paris in his civilian form probably wasn’t going to be any easier than jumping rooftops, but at least he didn’t run into any problems with His Lady. That was a plus, right?

“Ugh,” Plagg groaned as he swirled back into the air, “remind me again why we had to waste my precious energy on a lunch date?”

“Come on, Plagg, you know I hate having Gorilla hover over my shoulder.” Adrien said, offering his kwami a slice of cheese. Gorilla does his best to give Adrien as much space as possible, but still, when you know someone is there specifically to watch you.. “Besides, it’ll give Marinette and I more privacy while we talk.”

Plagg gave a dismissive sigh as he snatched the cheese from Adrien’s hands. “Oh, that’s right. We’re still on pigtails.. I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with her. It’s not like she died or anything.”

Adrien frowned. “I’m not obsessed. I’m just trying to be a good friend. She’s always been there for all of us. So why shouldn’t I be there for her?”

“Mm.. Does this really count as being there for her, though?” Plagg asked as he shoved the first half of the cheese into his mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re trying to be there for her by bringing her back to Dupont, right? Well, she seems perfectly happy at her new school to me. So why not leave her be? If you want to be there for her, don’t you think you should be supporting her decisions?”

A bit of guilt festered in Adrien’s chest, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I.. get what you’re saying, but I want her back too. I want to hang out again and talk like we used to.”

“You’re about to talk with her right now.”

“You know what I mean. I want to talk with her daily, like we do at school.”

“Then, why don’t you transfer schools?”

Adrien let out a small chuckle. “And leave Nino? I couldn’t do that to him.”

“Okay~, but don’t say I didn’t warn you if things don’t work out the way you want them to.” Plagg said. He then shoved the rest of the cheese into his mouth and zipped into Adrien’s shirt pocket.

Adrien furrowed his eyebrows, but didn’t reply, instead starting for the cafe. Why would Plagg say something like that? Of course everything was going to work out! Yes, Marinette was happy at her new school, and yes, getting her to come back to Dupont might be a tad tricky (especially since he had to deal with Lila first) but that didn’t mean his plan was going to fail. He simply needed to remind Marinette that she loved being at Dupont too! More so than Rosemary even! It’ll be alright. Plagg will see.

With little time to spare, Adrien booked it to the café, careful to keep his head down and not catch the eyes of the media. Thankfully, he made it there in one piece, albeit five minutes late. It should be fine, though. If anyone were to understand missing the mark for an appointment, it would be her, right?

Adrien slipped his phone out of his pocket as he walked inside to check for any new messages from the ravenette, then silenced it when he saw that there were none. He didn’t want this precious time to be interrupted.

The bell on the café door jingled above him when he entered, reminding him of a certain bakery. He glanced around the room for Marinette hopefully, then lit up when he caught sight of a pair of ravenette pigtails at a table in the middle of the room. Yes! She was here!

Adrien wasted no time strolling over the table, tapping the top of her head to get her attention. She jumped- as she usually does -and whirled around with wide eyes.

“Hey, Marinette.” He greeted with a smile.

“Adrien!” She said, letting out a nervous laugh. “Y-You’re here.”

“Yeah!” He chirped, slipping into the seat across from her. “Sorry I’m late. I ran into a bit of traffic on the way here. How have you been? Did you have a good Valentine’s Day?”

Marinette settled back into her chair as well, pulling a small, tight smile. “It’s alright.. I’ve been pretty good, and my Valentine’s Day was wonderful. How was yours?”

“Oh, you know,” Adrien shrugged, “same as always. I got some cards from a few fans and did a special photoshoot for my father, but that was about it. I tried to go see Nino or something, but he was with Alya, so..”

“Aw, I’m sorry. I wish it could have worked out better.”

“No, it’s fine.” He quickly assured. “I’m used to it. Besides, Nino and I have actually been hanging out a lot more during the winter break.”

“Oh,” Marinette said, “That’s good then. You deserve the free time.”

Adrien smiled. What a very ‘Marinette’ thing to say. “Thanks. Have you ordered anything yet?”

She shook her head. “No, I figured I’d wait for you.”

“Then let’s go get some food.” He said, standing from the table again. “I’m starving.”

Marinette stood with him, and they made their way over to the line that led to the service counter. It wasn’t long, thankfully, only holding about three people or so. They should be back at the table in no time.

“So, are you enjoying your new school life? I heard you transferred to Rosemary.”

“Yeah, I’ve been having a great time,” Marinette said, a bit too cheerful for Adrien’s liking, “but I do have a question. How did you know I transferred to Rosemary?”

“Oh, uh..”

Would she accept ‘my good friend Chat Noir’ as a proper answer?

“..Mlle Bustier. She announced to the class that you had transferred, and when I asked about it afterwards, she told me that you went to Rosemary.”

A hum came from Marinette, the corner of her lips tugging downwards. Why was she frowning? Did he say something wrong?

“Is that a problem?” He asked.

“Oh! No.” Marinette replied hastily. “Well.. sort of. I’m just worried that if she told you, then she’d be willing to tell other people.. Like Lila or Alya.”

Ah.. She made a good point. Her whereabouts could be spread around easily if Mlle Bustier was being loose-lipped. Although he doubted that Lila would come after Marinette since she’s not trying to out her anymore, Adrien wouldn’t put it past the girl entirely, especially since she was still spreading rumors about Marinette on a regular basis..

Granted, this only mattered if Mlle Bustier actually told him where Marinette went to school, which she didn’t. So they should be perfectly safe for the time being.

“I’m sure everything will be fine.” He insisted. “I was the only one that asked, anyway, and I made sure we were alone.”

Marinette nodded, but she didn’t look any less unsettled. “You’re sure you were the only one that asked?”

“Positive.”

“.. Okay.” She muttered, fiddling with the tip of her black jacket. Oh, she was getting anxious now! He needed to fix this. Change the subject!

“Anyway, you said your new school was great?” He asked as he stepped forward in line. “That’s good to hear. Have you made any friends there yet?”

Of course, he already knew that she’d made new friends- several, in fact -but hopefully talking about them would help her relax. Plus, it would give him more information on her new environment. So it’s a double bonus.

Marinette took the bait, her hands quickly falling back to her side as she said, “I have. I was fortunate enough to run into a whole group of friends on my first day, and they took me in without hesitation, which was sweet. They even gave me a tour of the school and everything.”

Adrien plastered a tight smile onto his face in an effort to show support. She already had an entire group of new friends? That was gonna be hard to pull her away from.

“Wow, they sound really nice. You’ll have to introduce me to them sometime.”

“Maybe I can,” Marinette agreed, “but it probably won’t be for a while. We all have schedules and things that we’d need to work out, and I’ve been working on this fashion project lately that I was hoping to get done by the end of next week.”

“No worries. I definitely understand having a busy schedule.” Adrien joked, stepping forward in the line again. “Dupont’s been a little crazy since you left too. We had to pick a new vice president and everything.”

“Yeah, I heard. Lila had to come by and grab the books.” Marinette said bitterly.

Adrien winced. “Really? What did she say?”

“Gosh, I don’t even remember anymore.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “I try not to worry over stupid people. I’m sure she just rubbed her ‘victory’ towards me leaving in my face.”

Adrien chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I bet.. Lila aside, though, we all miss you. Dupont isn’t the same without you here.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at him as they took another step forward in line. “You all miss me?”

Adrien frowned, partly because she doubted him, but mostly because he knew her skepticism was justified. They didn’t all miss her. Some- if not everyone besides himself -seemed to be happy that she was gone. It was a true tragedy.

“Well.. I miss you.” He said, his heart dropping further when she gave a satisfied nod. She’s already accepted the tragedy as fact, something unchanging, but he was going to work to make things different.

“Can I take your order?” The cashier cut in, grabbing the pair’s attention.

Adrien and Marinette gave the cashier their order and walked back to their table to wait for their names being called.

“So..” Adrien trailed off as they took their seats. “Do.. you miss us?”

He knew it was a risky question, especially since she’d firmly told Chat Noir a month prior that she did not, in fact, miss Dupont, but maybe her opinion had changed since then?

Marinette shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable. “I.. I’m not sure how to answer that, Adrien. How can I say that I miss the people who treated me like a monster for no other reason than the fact that I decided to stand up against a liar? I get that Lila twisted their views, and that everyone has their own version of a story, but it still hurt for them not to believe me even though most of us have known each other since childhood.”

“Do I miss the fun times and the people they used to be before Lila came along? Sure I do, but they’re not the people they used to be. They’re not the friends I grew up with anymore, and I’m not going to regret leaving a situation that wasn’t good for me.”

Adrien sighed. “Alright.. That’s a fair answer.. But what if they did come back? I mean- like - What if they realized that Lila was lying and came back and apologized and everything went back to normal. Would you come back?”

Marinette frowned. “.. I don’t know. What you’re suggesting is extremely far-fetched, and even if everything did go back to ‘normal’, it still wouldn’t quite be the same. They abandoned me for a foreigner. You can’t really come back from that. Plus, I think Rosemary is a great opportunity for me. It’s a prestigious school with extensive classes on the fashion industry and many other things, and although there can be some snooty, rich students, most of the people I’ve met there are really nice.”

Adrien hummed. Her answer was, once again, disheartening, but he took comfort in the fact that she said ‘I don’t know’ instead of just a straight up ‘no’. That was at least something, right? He could work with an ‘I don’t know’.

“Was this all you wanted to talk with me about?” Marinette asked. “Whether or not I would come back to Dupont?”

Adrien winced. “Well, no-”

Yes.

“-I also just wanted to catch up in general. We haven’t really seen each other in over a month, ya know?”

Although she appeared to be hesitant towards his answer, she gave a small smile anyway. “Yeah, it’s definitely been a while.”

Adrien chuckled. “You know, I actually tried to go visit you at Rosemary one time before this, but when I asked a student where you were, he said that you didn’t even attend the school. Had you two just not met yet?”

“Uh.. Can you describe him? There’s a lot of people at the school.”

“Sure. He was about my height, maybe a bit taller, with pale blonde hair and light eyes- I think. He was kind of just pale in general.”

Marinette snorted. “Do you know the amount of people at the school that could match that description?”

“Okay, okay, uhm.. I think he was wearing dark colors that day. Like, greys or blacks maybe.”

“Wears dark colors, but has light hair and eyes, and is tall. Got it.” Marinette smiled. “Sorry, Adrien, but I’m just not sure. That could be Devin or Caleb or Eliot or any other number of boys. It could have even been someone who’s not in my classes.”

“Right, that’s fine. I was just curious.” He said casually, though it was really eating him alive. He knew that they knew each other. They had to! No one gets that upset during an akuma attack and calls the person their friend without knowing them. The guy even mentioned that their mutual friends were waiting for them! So who could it be?

“Order for Adrien and Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

Adrien stood. “I’ll get it.”

Honestly, he didn’t need to know the guy’s name. It was a bitter inconvenience, to be sure, but in the end, finding out the blond-haired dude’s name isn’t the objective. The objective was to get rid of Lila, then get Marinette to come back to Dupont. She might be hesitant about it now, which was understandable, but once she sees the changes that he’s gonna make at Dupont, she’ll be more than happy to come back. He simply needed to open her up to the idea again.

Lucky for him, he had a whole lunch date to do just that.

~~~~~~

Lila slowed to a stop on the sidewalk, panting and out of breath. She searched the city streets from left to right, but was only met with the scenery of a regular, Paris afternoon. Where were the screaming fans? The paparazzi? The bodyguards holding everyone back? Did they all disperse already? That post was literally made five minutes ago! How did he run away so fast?

She pulled out her phone to unlock it, watching as her social media popped up again. It was a picture of XY standing next to a downtown café, the very café Lila was standing next to right now.

“Chillin’ at the Café Aroma today!” The post read, but there was no XY in sight. There were hardly even any XY fans here looking for him. Was the post just a ruse to get rid of the paparazzi for a while? Don’t tell her she got up and ran all the way down here for nothing!

Lila let out a groan, slumping against the café. If XY or any of his lackeys bothered to answer their dang cell phones, none of this would’ve happened! Why would they even put out public numbers if they weren’t going to tend to them? It was really a jerk-ish thing to do.

Nevertheless, she still needed to find a way to contact him. XY was the only celebrity in Paris that might be willing to show up at Dupont per her request. Jagged Stone was a close second, but if she brought him to school, Lila was certain Adrien would ask about her stupid, kitten-saving story. Then, Jagged would get all confused and say that he never had a kitten, and Lila would have a lot more explaining to do. That was too much of a hassle for her to deal with. She needed someone she hadn’t lied much about, someone who could also quiet her whining, soul-sucking classmates. Ergo, she needed to find XY.

But where is he? Lila thought, scrolling through her phone for more recent posts. XY clearly wasn’t downtown, meaning he could be just about anywhere in Paris. He could even be outside of Paris. How was she supposed to find him when she had no special contacts to do so? It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

And yet.. Marinette managed to find and reign in every celebrity she needed while she was class president. On. Her. Own.

Lila scowled and shoved her phone back into her pocket. Curse that goody-little-two-shoes for making her job harder. Curse her for somehow being perfect at everything and forcing Lila to enhance her lies to compete. Curse her for leaving to another school and making Lila suffer the consequences for it. Why couldn't Marinette have been a normal class president, hm? Why did she have to constantly outdo herself with the grandest of gestures and the most important of people? Why did Lila have to be so stupid as to try and fill an impossible roll? She should have convinced Alya to run for president instead. At least then she wouldn’t be blamed for the sudden budget cuts or the mismatched class trips. She would be able to continue lying in peace and not have to worry about delivering on all of her false promises. In fact, if she weren’t so busy trying to keep up with Marinette’s ‘legacy’, along with her own big mouth, she might have been able to take care of Adrien by now.

Lila heaved a heavy sigh and massaged her temples as she stood up from the café wall. XY wasn’t going to be found anytime soon, so she might as well take a break and grab a coffee before moving forward. Perhaps the caffeine will spark her creativity for a few lies that Adrien can’t dig into should her plan to find XY fail.

She walked over to the café door and pushed it open. The bell attached to the door jingled, reminding her of that incorrigible bakery, but she ignored it and continued inside. A little music toy wasn’t going to get in the way of her espresso.

Her eyes grazed over the room, hoping to find an empty table.

What she found instead, however, made her stomach drop.

There, sitting at a table near the middle of the room, was Adrien Agreste himself, and sitting across from him was none other than Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Lila yelped and ducked back outside, pressing herself firmly against the wall where they couldn’t see her. What were they doing there? What were they doing together?!

Carefully, she crept past the door and slid over to the large window at the front of the café, where she could watch the two from a safe distance. It probably looked suspicious to anyone passing, but she hardly cared at that point. If Adrien and Marinette were getting together like this, Lila was going to have much bigger things to worry about.

She peered through the glass, noting the near-empty plates on their table. They must be having lunch together. Did they do that often? Since when? What could they possibly be talking about?

A smirk tugged at the corner of Adrien’s lips, and Marinette snorted, putting a hand on her mouth to hide her laughter. Ugh, why did she look so cheery! She was supposed to be miserable!

Lila scoffed, digging her fingernails into the brick at the base of the window. What happened to the endless tears and the defeated, sagging posture? What happened to the shriveled up nothing that Lila watched leave the school? Was she really enjoying herself now that she wasn’t attending Dupont? More importantly, how long have Marinette and Adrien been meeting up like this? Was this the reason Adrien suddenly decided to fight back against her? Because he’d rekindled his friendship with Marinette? No wonder the man was out for blood! Marinette probably set him up to the task herself! She must have planned all of this from the very beginning!

No, Lila thought, digging her phone out of her pocket again. She refused to be made a fool of. If they thought they were going to pull one over on her this easily, they were gonna have another thing coming.

She snapped a photo of them together, making sure to get a moment where they were laughing hard, and tilted the angle of the camera to make it seem like she’d been passing by. Lila then got up and walked back into the café. A picture of Adrien having a grand time with Marinette should be enough of a set up for her to build him a bad reputation, but she needed to know what they were talking about specifically. The more she knew about this meet-up (and previous ones) the better, and if she were anything close to lucky, they would talk about their plans for her while she was there too. That would give her plenty of time to find a way to prepare.

Or, perhaps, strike first.

As casually as possible, Lila slipped into an empty seat near the pair, not too close, but not too far away that she couldn’t hear them. She then snatched the menu on her table and propped it up so her face couldn’t be seen while she listened.

“Okay, wait. So you’re telling me that they threw an entire Valentine’s Day party at the Mandarin Oriental by themselves?” She heard Adrien ask. He sounded immensely impressed. Who were they talking about?

“Yeah!” Marinette replied, the smile clear in her voice. “They’re parents paid for it, of course, but they arranged everything themselves, including the caterers and reservations. We actually made some of the decorations by hand too.”

“Wow, that sounds like a blast. I bet they all looked great.”

“They did! Especially when we finished the lights and stuff. Everyone loved it.”

Lila scrunched up her nose, equally confused and annoyed. Someone threw a party at the Mandarin Oriental for Valentine’s day? Who? Why was Marinette invited? And why did she get to personally help with the decorations? This wasn’t another one of her “chummy celebrity friends”, was it? It better not be.

Adrien chuckled. “If all of those rich kids at Rosemary enjoyed it, I’m sure it was something.”

Lila froze. Did he just say “all” of the rich kids? Meaning multiple? Why was Marinette hanging out with multiple rich kids? How was she hanging out with multiple rich kids? Were they inviting her to the parties they were throwing? Why? What did she have that was so freaking special?

Wait a minute.

Her raging thought finally caught up with the rest of Adrien’s comment, specifically the one about Rosemary. Wasn’t that the stuck-up school near the middle of Paris that was famously known for hosting either incredibly rich or incredibly gifted students? The one that barely let you breathe in their direction if you weren’t considered “worthy”? How did Marinette end up wandering around there long enough to catch some rich friends? No one’s allowed inside except for students or staff, and their policies are extremely strict. (she should know, considering she’s tried to weasel her way in there several times.) The only way she would be able to get inside was if-

Lila gasped, nearly dropping her menu in the process.

No.. No, no way Marinette got transferred from Dupont to Rosemary. That would just be absurd! She didn’t have any money! And she certainly didn’t have enough talent to be accepted despite that!

But as Lila listened to the conversation more and more, she had to endure the horrible realization that Marinette had, in fact, been transferred to Rosemary. Not only that, she was thriving there. She was making new friends who gave her rides in limos. She was going to fancy restaurants that cost more than Lila’s house for an afternoon snack. She was having slumber parties in mansions. Mansions! Entire estates that were apparently just as big- if not bigger! -than Adrien Agreste’s!

Lila had finally gotten rid of Marinette and won Dupont, only for Marinette to gain the new life that Lila had always dreamed of having! How was that fair? How was any of this fair!

Lila drew in a long, deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She couldn’t blow her top just yet. Marinette may be winning right now, but once Adrien is out of the way, Lila will make sure that Marinette suffers the way she deserves. Rosemary isn’t going to save her for long.

She pulled out her phone to unlock it and clicked on the messaging app, scrolling down until she found her favorite minion: Alya Cessaire.

~Hey, you’ll never guess what I just saw!!~

Lila smiled as she sent the text. With a message like that, Alya won’t be able to help her curiosity, and when Lila sends the picture of Adrien and Marinette together, the journalist will fall headfirst into a pool of rage.

In other words, that pampered little rich boy won’t know what hit him.

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

(Hey, everyone! This section isn’t quite part of the story, but it’s going to be part of the updates from now on. Two weeks ago, I visited a Bible camp, and the Lord really spoke to my heart through the messages. So, from now on, I want to make Him the center of my life and glorify Him in everything I do. At first, I thought of not writing anymore fics or chapters, since doing so would really take my focus away from Him, but instead, I decide to start writing little devotions at the end of each chapter I post. That way, you all won’t have to suffer through an incomplete story, and I get to share the wonderful gospel with you all!

The first devotion I want to post is the message of salvation and how you can know that you’re going to Heaven when you die. The Bible (King James Version) says in Romans 3:23 “For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.” and the first part of Romans 6:23 says “For the wages of sin is death”. We have all had a moment in our lives where we know we’re not supposed to do something, but we do it anyway. That breaking of rules is called a sin, and because of that sin, God says that we are not fit to be in His presence, for He is a just and holy God. So, due to this, our souls are condemned to the fiery prison known as Hell, where it is pitch black around you, and the only thing you can hear is wailing and weeping and gnashing of teeth. Your soul will be alight with fire, but your body will never actually burn, so you will be faced with that pain for the rest of eternity. Can you imagine that? Being in that kind of torment forever and ever and ever and knowing that it will never end? I can’t wrap my brain around that kind of pain, and I certainly don’t want any of you to have to endure it. So that’s why I’m telling you now that there is a bright side to all of this!

John 3:16 says “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.” and the other part of Romans 6:23 says “but the gift of God is eternal life”. Do you realize what this means? It means we don’t have to go to Hell! God has provided a way of escape for us!

2,021 years ago, God sent his Son, Jesus Christ, down to earth to die for us. He was a perfect man, with no sin about Him, but he became sin for us and sacrificed himself so that we could be saved. People beat him and mauled him to point beyond recognition, then they nailed him to a cross for him to die. The pain he had to endure was excruciating, but he did it for us, because he loves us.

Then, three days after the Son of God passed away, he arose from the grave with new life! and because of that, we now have a way to join Him in heaven! All we have to do is admit that we are a sinner, repent of our sins, and accept Jesus Christ into our hearts as our Lord and Savior. We must believe on Him, and believe that he died on the cross for us, then we won’t have to go to Hell! It’s that easy! And those who believe on the Lord Jesus not only don’t have to go to Hell, but they also find a new home in Heaven with the very person who created us and loves us so much to the point of sacrificing Himself for our benefit. It’s a win-win scenario!

I know this isn’t a normal thing to do for fics, but this is something extremely important that I need all of you to know. So please, if you read through this, I implore you to get saved and accept Jesus as your savior. What do you have to lose? If you don’t, you’ll be doomed to an eternity of pain and suffering that you can never escape, but if you do, you will be guaranteed a place in paradise, where Jesus will be waiting for you with open arms. Please trust Him with your life and your heart. You know he will keep it safe.

Thank you all for listening to this and I hope you have a wonderful day!)

Tag List: @sasstrashforlike5fandoms @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx @miraculous-ninja @miraculouspenta @swiftie-miraculer13 @justafanwarrior @all-mights-asscheeks @ira-sairain @lookatthestars1 @dahjokester @blissful-passing @solangelo252 @canivialemonsquints07 @derbygracie @pleaseignorejustheretoread

#felinette #Marinette #Miraculous Ladybug #New Girl on the Block #Rosemary AU #Felix Culpa #Quantic Kids #miraculous #ladybug

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citydreamgrls · 4 years ago

Text

the empty diary - part one

fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: it had appeared out of the blue, a diary that contained an odd power, one which would backfire and reveal her true feelings to the one she wished to hide it from most.

an: this is the first part in a new mini-series, i hope you all enjoy !!

words: 4,051

warnings: smut in later parts

The book had appeared on top of her cases when the girl had arrived in her dorm the previous day, its crimson red cover sticking out amongst the dark wood trunks. It had been a small surprise, the pages between all empty to her eyes as she scanned through it quickly. But something had drawn her to the mysterious object as she felt the leather slip between her fingers as if it was somewhat familiar.

Since it was empty, and there was no one who was asking after a lost diary, the girl decided to use it as just that. Spending most evenings of the first few weeks back at Hogwarts hiding herself away to spill out those nagging thoughts; thoughts that she’d never before had the idea to write down.

Most days she could time it so that Hermione was busy helping Ron with transfiguration work and not sitting around watching her write furiously, doing her best to not interrupt. As much as she trusted Hermione, she knew how curious her best friend could be at times and wanted to keep this one thing private for as long as she could manage.

It wasn’t long, however, as she’d imagined.

“y/n-” Hermione had burst into the room, catching the girl off guard, who had learnt to zone out all noises while she wrote. Which meant she hadn’t noticed the rushed footsteps pounding up the stone steps to their room before it was too late. “What’s that?”

The girl did her best to act casual, her little desk which she was sitting at normally gathering dust, and slid the book beneath some forgotten homework from last year.

“Oh… nothing.” She panicked, and blurted out, knowing full well that no excuse would satisfy Hermione’s interest more than the truth.

“Show me,” A hand reached past her, pushing papers away to reveal the red leather standing out amongst the white sheets.

“It’s really- Hermione!”

No amount of body blocking could have stopped the girl’s friend when she was determined, regardless of how much she tried; Hermione was a surprisingly strong girl.

“Stop it!” Y/n cried out, laughing when she felt the girl hovering over her reach down to tickle her. Grinning at the way she crumbled beneath the feeling, whining out about foul play.

Hermione’s hands had already grasped the book, frowning at its blank cover and holding it heavy in her hands. The other girl, now released from the temporary torture of tickling, stood beside her friend and tried one last time to reclaim her new diary.

It, in a clumsy turn of events, fell to the floor. The pages audibly flicking through themselves, as they watched it cascade to the ground as it was slower than time.

Y/n silently prayed, begged and wished that it would land with the covers closed over her intimate thoughts, fearful of how the girl beside her would react to something so personal. But as two pages laid out before them both, and the girl held her breath, it seemed as if fate heard her call as the pair stared down to see a blank response.

She let out a little breath, forgetting that she needed to reclaim the book before Hermione got a chance. The girl in question, however, seemed confused by the book before her.

“What?” Y/n scoffed, following her eyes to see what had made her speechless in the last ten seconds or so. Joining the silence as their jaws dropped agape at the sight before them both.

“Am I going mad?” Hermione asked, seeing the ink appear slowly on the once empty page, words coming into view in the form of sentences y/n had curated herself only moments before her friend had burst into the room. She just shook her head at the empty question, too amazed by what they were witnessing to bother talking.

Shaking hands reached for it, worried it may combust between her fingers as the girl held it tenderly. Hermione’s name was printed in bold amongst the rest of the words, something she herself hadn’t done.

“Did you write about me?”

“Only good things,” She smiled, trying to avoid her prying eyes, but it was no use.

“I think it’s been charmed… but by who.”

There was a silence between the two girls as their mind’s whirred for a moment, the faint echo of passing owls sounding amongst their breaths. Y/n was close to a scream when Hermione lunged towards her, taking the book from her and throwing it onto the bed with a panicked look, a thought having plagued her mind suddenly.

“We shouldn’t trust it, not after what happened to Ginny in second year.”

“Oh come on Mione, you-know-who isn’t going to try the same trick twice.”

“Well, where did you find it then?” She demanded to know, her hands resting all too comfortably on her hips like an angry mother.

“It was just… onmycases.” The girl mumbled, now understanding where the hesitance was coming from.

“Where y/n?” Her voice was stern.

“On my case, it was just laying there for me.”

“Well then we definitely can't trust it!”

“I’ve had it for weeks already, and still nothing bad has happened, I think I'm safe.” A laugh sounded from her mouth, more to reassure herself as she picked it up again, the leather still feeling natural between her skin.

Her friend didn’t seemed convinced and took it from her yet again, making y/n groan out in annoyance as Hermione paced the room, trying to study it for herself.

“Give it back Mione!”

“I just want to try something-” “It’s private!” “I’m not interested in your crushes y/n,” She scoffed, but noticed the entry she had dedicated to how good Oliver Wood had looked at the first quidditch practice.

“Oh come on it’s not a crush- what are you doing?”

Hermione held her wand out, muttering as many spells as she could think of to try and reveal the whole book to her, having noticed the stray empty pages between entries.

“I wrote on those, what’s it doing?” The girl asked, peering over her friend's shoulder as she refused to stop walking round their dorm.

“I think it’s charmed to the reader, here, you hold it.” “Well, it’s not like it’s mine or anything.” She huffed, finally taking it back and flicking between pages. Where Hermione had seen blanks, she watched the words reappear. “See, now it’s coming back.” “Not for me, that one’s still blank.” Her friend furrowed her brow, thinking intently as the girl placed the book back down on her pokey desk.

“I think it’s been charmed so that whoever reads it only sees entries in which they’re mentioned. You can see all of them because you wrote them, but I could only see the ones which you had written me into.” Her brain spilled out this theory so confidently that all y/n could do was nod in agreement, seeing no flaws to what she was stating.

“That seems, risky, right?” She offered up, unsure of what else to say.

“Very, but somewhat safer than muggle diaries at least.” Hermione giggled, laying back with a sigh. “I only came up for a textbook, but it seems like Ron’s troubles are nowhere near as interesting as this is.”

“I’m glad I can at least entertain,” The girl rolled her eyes, “Hey, maybe we should test this out a bit more.”

“That way we can know whether what I think is right, great idea!” Hermione seemed excited at the prospect of an experiment, regardless of how mundane or easy it was.

“We can use Ron and Harry!”

The two girls peered around a bookcase, spotting the redhead and four eyes struggling to think of an original thought between them as they waited for Hermione to return. She rolled her eyes, knowing they’d get nothing done without her.

“Give it here,” Y/n took the red book from her friend, spotting how possessive they’d both become of it.

“I was keeping it safe for you, this could be bad in the wrong hands y/n,” She hissed, not wanting to draw the boys’ attention until they were ready. “Now, write Ron’s name in here and Harry’s on another page. That way we can see which one they can see when holding the book.” The top student explained simply, the girl beside her just nodding as she scribbled quickly, their sneaky stances now garnering a bit of attention around them.

“Done. Let’s try it out.” She smiled, holding the book amongst others she’d brought down with her, hiding their plan behind the lie of another outstanding essay to complete.

“Finally!” Ron huffed, seeing the girls arrive after enough time waiting.

“Well, if you actually listened to Mcgonnagall during class then you wouldn’t need to wait for me to come and hold your hand.” Hermione snapped, taking her seat beside the boy as y/n joined Harry.

He seemed unfazed by the bright red leather slipped between her plain school books as she placed them down, he was too preoccupied by a girl making eyes at him from across the library.

“I just don’t get why I need to know all this, I don’t even want to take Transfiguration next year so it doesn’t matter, it’s a waste of time.” Ron was groaning as Hermione watched her pull out the diary subtly, sighing and flicking open the pages. She hushed the boy beside her as y/n began further writing next to his name, he watched her with a scowl before she held up the page to him.

Ron, Mcgonnagall’s in here you git! Be quiet.

“Is she, oh bloody hell.” He put his head down after reading the words she’d written out for him, Hermione nodding to her when she hadn’t been able to see it herself. It was a lie of course, the Professor’s very rarely spent time in the library, and Ron probably knew it deep down, but it was enough to prove that their theory was right. The girl’s friend stared at Harry, who was still distracted from the rest of them, signalling that she should still try it with him.

Harry, is she your new girlfriend? ;)

She wrote, sliding the message over to him, and nudging his side with a giggle. It made the dark haired boy blush but still he scoffed and denied that he’d been making eyes at anyone. Ron had seen the quiet exchange and frowned, seeing a blank page from his point of view.

“Was there anything on there?” He whispered to Hermione, who dismissed his question with a sigh and quickly changed the subject to keep their little secret.

The two girls sat awake on their beds that evening, having proven the true powers of y/n’s diary and agreed that something this simple was unlikely to be dark magic. They had tested as many spells on it to show if it was capable of more, but it seemed that hiding irrelevant entries was all it could do.

“You should keep a locking spell on it, and probably keep it safe, if someone managed to get it open that would be awful.”

“Who do you think would be the worst person.” Y/n inquired, her brain worn out from all the possibilities she��d run through.

“Oliver Wood.” Hermione teased.

“Shut up! I don’t like him.”

“There’s someone though, right? I saw some words about a boy.”

“Not really.”

“It seemed like you were interested in them.” She let out a small laugh in the dimly lit room at her friend’s blatant lie, knowing that when she liked someone she would deny it for the rest of her life until she too believed it not to be true. “It’s not a bad thing to like someone.”

Hermione did her best to reassure her friend, but the girl seemed caught in her thoughts as they welcomed the silence between them, her wand spinning between her fingers mindlessly. She decided to drop it, seeing how uncomfortable it had made her, but surprisingly it was y/n who spoke up.

“I don’t think they would feel the same way, that’s all.” Her voice was quiet, and reserved. A world apart from how she usually acted around her best friend.

“Who is it?” Hermione asked, seeing the hesitance on the girl’s face as she thought about how to answer.

“You really cannot tell a soul, I mean this.”

“I promise y/n, no one will know.” She placed her hands into the girl’s, squeezing tight to try and relax her as best as she could.

“Okay, well, it’s nothing big it’s just an interest that’s it. And really, I’m not too sure about it myself.”

“Okay, go on.”

A few days passed, with Hermione and y/n successfully keeping the diary a secret between them. Not that Ron and Harry would have ever been that bothered by it, or its powers, at all.

It was yet another night spent studying in the library when things went wrong. The girl had been there for a good few hours now, her diligent friend always one to motivate her whenever she needed it. The diary had been forgotten amongst her other books, its locking spell casted safely over it.

Still, that spell wasn’t completely safe and they had done all they could to strengthen it, but someone would most likely be able to crack it open after some research into counter spells.

They had chosen a small table by the windows, the beginnings of a storm crashing against the glass as hushed voices floated around the large room. It was private, and not many people seemed to pass by, so when Hermione went to find yet another book to help with her latest essay, the girl decided it would be a chance to write in the red bound book for a little while.

She held her wand and whispered the words to open it up to her, its pages flittering to the next empty piece of paper within. The quill in her hand danced around as she wrote all about her day, about the storm, about the people in her classes and about the boy she was learning to like with every second spent in his presence.

Beyond the castle walls the wind blustered against the stone, the howls tunneling through the hallways and creating a small breeze at her feet. She shivered, ignoring the cold as best she could and focused instead on the words she wrote.

“God that rain sounds awful!” A voice boomed nearby, dragging her away from her thoughts hurriedly.

“Do you think quidditch will be cancelled?” Another droned on, obviously annoyed at this prospect. She recognised the twins immediately as their footsteps reached her side.

“I hope not- oh y/n you’re still here?” George asked as they both stopped. She shut the book quickly, looking up from where she sat to smile politely. Both boys towered above her as they stood with hands in their pockets.

“We saw you earlier with Hermione, but you looked busy so we didn’t dare interrupt.” Fred laughed lightly, peering over at her work beside her. “You got much to do?”

“Uh not too much, Hermione is here somewhere but she’s-” “Off being a goody two shoes?” Fred teased.

“Hey, that’s mean.”

“Sorry, I should have included both of you in that statement.”

The girl had wondered how long it would take for the twins to start annoying her again, their greatest pleasure in life was seeing someone bothered by them and that never excluded herself.

“At least I don’t fly around like a maniac every other night,” She huffed.

“Hey, quidditch is very respected.” George snapped back.

“Yeah, for teenage boys that is.” She scoffed, ignoring their grimaces and pulling out her potions book.

“Yeah well-” Fred was cut off by the sound of glass smashing somewhere else in the library, the storm from outside flying in with no regard for the panicked students. Screams sounded out as more and more windows caved into the growing pressure, and the girl stood up to see if she could spot Hermione amongst them.

“We need to go!” George cried out to his brother, who grabbed the girl’s arm. She took it back, needing to find Hermione first before getting out.

“Y/n!” Her friend called out over the howls of wind, appearing from behind a stack of books and taking her friend’s hand. “Come on!” She dragged her away from the table.

“Wait, what about-” SHe started, remembering the red diary laying unprotected on the table. She hadn’t had time to cast the spell over it, and now as they ran through the small crowd of students she had no chance to turn back.

“Y/n come on!” Fred yanked on her arm again, giving her no option but to follow as he overpowered her protests easily.

They weren’t allowed back in until the next afternoon, once the room had been cleared of smashed glass, and the windows were repaired. It was quiet now, the storm having been and gone, and the sun shone in calmly as if nothing had happened.

“Over here, this was where we were yes?” Hermione asked, spotting her pile of textbooks stacked neatly on their table. A few pages had been ripped at the edges, and she could see obvious signs of water damage. But mostly, it was salvageable.

“I can’t find it!” Y/n said, rushing to shove everything out of the way. The diary was nowhere to be found.

“It’ll be here, just keep looking.”

The girl threw herself to the ground, crawling beneath the table where she’d had it last and looking in all the dark corners. But no matter where she looked, the red leather was missing.

“I’ll go ask Madame Pince, she may have picked it up if it looked important.” Hermione told her friend as she slumped into the chair, her head falling between her hands in despair.

It was open, unlocked for anyone to look inside. Whoever had it may not be able to read anything, but if it got passed around to someone mentioned then it was over. The girl collected the things that had been left in the midst of the storm and remembered how adamant the twins had been to get her out, especially Fred.

They could have easily taken it while she was distracted looking for Hermione, not to mention that they would revel in knowing her every secret. But that was the last thing she wanted to believe, as it would mean she would need to drown herself in the black lake out of embarrassment.

Since she learnt of the diary’s power, she had been careful not to mention him by name, knowing that it would immediately reveal itself to him if found. But, what about the ones before when his name was repeated over and over, when she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to write about him, or her feelings towards him. It just felt right.

Now, it was all wrong. What if there was more, what if the power stretched to intention too. If it knew that the person reading it was being written about, without blatantly stating their name, would that mean it would still reveal itself. She hated that her and Hermione hadn’t thought of this idea until now, when it was too late.

“It has to be the twins!” Y/n stated, when her friend returned from the librarian’s office empty handed, her eyes wide and determined.

“You really think so?” “Who else would want to have that kind of upper hand over someone?” “It would be their best prank this term, even if it’s a bit cruel.”

“We need to get it back! Remember what I said the other night, all of that could be unveiled if they are the ones who have it.” She urged, getting to her feet in an instant, forgetting all the things they needed to carry back to their dorms and storming out of the library.

Fred would have recognised the red cover from a mile away, it had been clutched between the girl’s hands for weeks now, obviously full of secrets since she felt the need to cast a locking spell on it. She thought she had been subtle about it, but he had seen her do it every time she closed it in the great hall or the common room.

But it wasn’t in her hands, it was poking out of a pile of books a random second year boy was carrying. He frowned, leaving George’s side to follow the Ravenclaw boy round the corner and down an empty hall.

“Hey!” He called out, making the younger boy jump in surprise. “Is that yours?” He pointed to the book in his arms, making his eyes widen in fear at the tall redhead. Everyone knew who they were, but they were always known for being easygoing. Now his stern tone instilled fear in the boy’s face as he got closer. He shook his head, the red book falling as he scrambled away in a panic, not wanting to stick around to find out what Fred would do if he found out it was stolen during the storm.

“Little bugger.” Fred mumbled, picking it up and seeing the page that it had fallen open onto. He could hear footsteps running after him and quickly shoved the book into his robes, turning just in time to see his brother turn the corner with a look of confusion on his face.

“What was that all about?” He asked.

“Oh, nothing. I just thought I saw something…” Fred trailed off, quickly losing George’s interest.

“God, anyone would think you’re going mental.”

Maybe he was. Racing after someone over a diary that wasn’t even his, but he had seen the unmistakable scrawling’s of y/n’s writing. Then his name, as clear as day.

Fred waited until everyone in his dorm fell asleep before taking out the diary, casting a quiet lumos spell and slipping beneath the covers to secretly read what was inside. He started with the first entry, his name appearing first before the other words faded into view.

Dear Diary,

Maybe I’m going mad, or someone has cursed me to think this way, but something feels different about Fred Weasley. For the first time in years I can definitively tell that it is him when he’s stood beside his brother, instead of having to guess like I used to. It’s like I can finally pick him out in a room, when before he just blended into everyone else, yet when I see him he’s just getting on with his life and doing nothing special.

He’s taller than he used to be, and he smiles more, and his voice is deeper than I realised. But maybe these are all things that I’m just noticing now, because I want to know more. Everything about him makes me want to know more, and I can’t explain why, it’s pure curiosity.

Now when he talks to me, the same way he has done for years, I feel excited and nervous and all these other emotions I wouldn’t have expected to relate to Fred. It’s as if I see him as a new person, like we’ve just met… properly.

Maybe I am going mad, or maybe this is all a prank to him to make me feel this way, but until I fix it I will just have to live with it. I’m hoping writing it down may help hide how I feel from him, for a little while.

Fred’s eyes read fast, each word dragging him in deeper and deeper into her mind, as if he could see every thought as it was produced. He read it over and over, slowly and carefully, to make sure what he had seen was true.

He could never show anyone this, that would crush her, but he enjoyed this little secret. The boy liked knowing that she saw him differently to all the other boys in her life, but what made him the happiest was that he was the only one to know what she was thinking.

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atopearth · 3 years ago

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Collar X Malice: Unlimited Part 7 - Adonis Route

Honestly, I find the way Ichika joined Zero's side to be pretty iffy even back then in the original game, so I kinda hoped something like Kazuki dying would have changed here but I guess not.. I feel sorry for Kazuki that they reconciled but she still ended up joining Adonis alongside Akito, it must be a pretty big shock having to deal with that. (EDIT: guess he is gone..) Ichika being at the top and training people in marksmanship and stuff is very interesting lol. She looks all right with short hair but yeah, I agree with Zero, I liked the long hair more. Anyway, Zero wants her to find out if there's a traitor amongst them before the next X-Day (since the one 2 years ago failed) in 30 days. Anyway, it seems like you go through each of the Adonis' executors' stories so that's interesting. I'm just going to go from the ones I least like to the ones I like the most haha, and then leave Mikuni for last I guess. Well, Hana's story first then~

Kobayashi Hana

I guess Hana is as bright as ever. I quite enjoy seeing her try and dress Ichika up and make her cuter lol. On the other hand, seeing her mercilessly cut through that panda cake was pretty hilarious. One thing I enjoyed insight into was hearing that Hana has been avoiding going to Isshiki's concerts to avoid causing any trouble to them with the police just in case they come to crash it because of her or something. Honestly, I was pretty impressed. Like, she's always been pretty selfish, and she's always prioritised her love for Isshiki above everything, but to see that she could stop herself to protect him was nice in its own way. Even though she's a pretty ruthless killer, and even though she's obsessed with Isshiki, I guess she does think things through a bit so that Isshiki won't ever have to suffer because of her. Hmm Ichika seemed to reminisce about Kazuki, does that mean he died? Anyway, these investigations are short? Are they really just segments of story for Ichika to become friends with each person? Lol. I mean, Ichika literally did nothing but talk about random stuff with Hana lol. I actually find it rather endearing that Hana and Ichika can fight so openly about their feelings and understand that they actually do want the best for each other, it's kinda nice how they became good friends under such circumstances.

Soda Manabu

Honestly, I kinda wish we could just pick one character and continue until the investigation completes because it's sooo annoying having to press on each one like 7 times just to get a couple of lines of story each time Zzz. Anyway, gotta admit Ichika is pretty judgmental towards Soda, and actively tries to "fix" him and thinks what he does is "wrong", which is pretty annoying tbh. Just because she doesn't understand games, she thinks it's useless to Adonis, and then judges him for his eating habits? Lol. Anyway, at least she tried playing his game though lol, and even got lessons from him haha. I see, I can understand why Ichika would go to Zero for "revenge" but not sure about the "sadness" thing if that's what she's going for tbh. Losing Yanagi, Enomoto, Shiraishi, Okazaki and Kazuki is a big hit and I can understand it shattering her world, but going to Adonis is basically breeding everything that killed everyone important to her. Anyway, Sasazuka's pained voice telling Ichika not to go to Adonis really hurt. I'm sure he's really hurting over the fact he didn't notice the weapons that ended up killing everyone, alongside survivor's guilt of being the only one who survived out of the group, and then now not even being able to stop Ichika from going over to the other side.. It's painful to see. Anyway, lmao, Soda is probably a tamer little brother than Kazuki. His words are harsh but you can tell he only talks like that to protect himself, so any time he swears, I don't bother taking him seriously, he's a hurt little kid. It's cute how Ichika mixed his hated eggplants into the gratin and he didn't even notice, but he ate the whole thing happily🤣 He's so adorable lmao, especially when his face went red and he told her he'd eat her stuff again (even though she shouldn't hear it), and then he ran off🤣

It seems like Soda regrets his actions much more than I initially thought. He was able to get revenge, but now he's even more scared of death because of what he had done, and now he's just in this never-ending cycle of fear, needing to have Zero's power to protect himself, doing his bidding so that he won't die, but at the same time being so scared of his life that the only time he probably feels "safe" is when he plays his games. I love how happy he was when Ichika gave him a SS tier rare item and he put it on, locked it and kept it in a special box🤣 That's so cuteee. Definitely enjoyed Soda's mini part more than I thought hahaha, he's such a cute little kid, which makes it kinda sad lol. Soda blowing up and getting mad at Ichika for playing solo and saying she didn't need connections when she made him realise he wanted to start building connections because of her was really...heartwarming. Soda gave up on people and a lot of things thinking that he could never have them because that's how it was considering how people are, but he changed his mind after Ichika so insistently barged into his life, and now to say that it's practically useless would be extremely hurtful to him. I was really impressed with Soda, and I'm happy that he even told Ichika that she can rely on him more, he's such a sweet boy🥲

Uno Suzune

Lmaooo poor Shion, the woes of a big brother. I found it hilarious how Suzune would give him the green peas she doesn't like even though Shion hates them too, definitely something siblings would do🥲 I superrrr agree with Suzune about handwriting diaries instead of writing a blog! I mean, I have both obviously, but I definitely have different feelings when I read my blog and when I read my writing in my diary. Through my blog, I can easily read my exact thoughts and get to the gist of what I'm talking about, but with my diary, I can see stuff like when I started getting tired of writing, when I felt like changing my pen, and a lot of other feelings that can't be seen or portrayed properly in a typed blog, and yes, the memories of me writing all this usually comes back better when I've written it, mainly because I either say it in the entry or because I can actually remember sitting there and putting time into writing about my life/day.

Guess Suzune's pretty yandere for her brother if any kind of possible romantic interest from Ichika gets her other self to come out and threaten her about it lol. Anyway, it's cute how she’s starting to kinda think of Ichika as a big sister. Suzune willingly taking Ichika to Shion and calling Ichika Chi-chan is probably the biggest improvement you can get considering she could stab you as the worst case hahha. Well, Suzune was definitely cuter than I thought and seeing her so vulnerable, shy but wanting to protect Shion and getting out of her shell for him was sweet. Are there endings for each executor? Well, anyway, Suzune saying she would be sad if anything happened to Ichika was really sweet.

Sugawara Rika

Lmao, I forgot Sugawara is obsessed with Zero, this is going to be fun I guess. It's kinda funny that getting a 50,000 yen strawberry entices her lol, I'm surprised Zero approved it as an expense, like dang, can I have one too, I'm curious lol. Lmao when Sugawara wanted to keep the strawberries as a memento instead of eating it😂 She should have been convinced when Ichika said it'll become a part of her hahahah. LOL when Sugawara started lecturing Ichika about dressing better in front of Zero, and then tried to get her makeup to make her look better, but then Ichika runs away😂

Okay, I loved the girls dress up night with Hana, Ichika and Sugawara. It was so funny how they started arguing about what Ichika should wear and then became fast enough friends to recommend each other stuff and then wear it for fun. I loveee that they had a CG for their new outfits because they're all so pretty, I love them! I think Hana's is my favourite because it's so simple but cute in a different way from her usual. I guess it's kinda cute how in Hana's investigation, Hana focuses on Ichika's clothing fashion, but Sugawara takes it further or I guess mainly focuses on skincare, makeup and haircare haha. I guess it's nice that Sugawara is definitely much more open about standing up for herself and other women when it comes to men who try to objectify them or think of them as "lesser". She's become stronger. I think it's kinda sad to see that amongst all the other happy mini endings with the other executors, Rika's one with Ichika is actually pretty sad because it was through them bonding that Rika noticed Ichika's true intentions of revenge, and that's why they can never truly see eye-to-eye and be friends.

Ogata Tomoki

I guess I didn't expect Ogata to be the type to go to batting cages, but I even more didn't expect him to reserve sweets to make sure he can get them hahaha! It's nice that he enjoys wagashi though, I definitely should have tried it when I went to Japan, but I completely forgot😭 Aww, Ogata had such a sweet daughter! Whenever his wife wasn't looking, she would eat his hated tomatoes for him! Such a kind kid😭 I've never heard of monaka before, so I googled it and they look nice!! Kinda like an ice cream sandwich but not with ice cream and has red bean paste and other stuff inside I guess? I would totally eat it. Lmaoo at Ichika's impression of the typical salaryman😂😂 It's true though, I can't imagine Ogata going home to watch comedy shows with a beer in his hand🤣 Aww it was so cute how Ogata did an impersonation of a character in a drama because he got so used to doing it for his daughter. But lmao at Ichika though, telling him what he can improve on since Adonis might have end of the year parties he could use it for, imagine a bunch of terrorists partying for something so normal like the end of the year hahah😂😂

It's actually really sad how Ogata feels like he can't be a father anymore because he knows that he prioritises his current ideals and dreams more than his daughter. And I guess considering how long they've been separated and how much he has changed, it would probably feel awkward to try and be a normal father, but I guess at least through Ichika's encouragement, he's willing to try and reply to his daughter's letter of wanting to meet him. I think the reason why I've always liked Ogata is because he doesn't regret his actions. Like, he knows that he's killed people and that's why he doesn't want to see his family and get them involved with what he's doing right now, because he knows the gravity of his actions. But at the same time, his hatred for Fujii, the police and the whole mistaken arrest that led to such injustice for him and changed his whole perspective on life is something he can't let go of, and that's why it led him to Adonis and to fulfill his "new" ideals. He knows it's a path that will not necessarily have a "good ending" but he's willing to sacrifice everything for it, and I think that's what makes me attracted to his character. Anyway, LMAO at how insistent Ichika was on seeing young Ogata with a buzzcut playing baseball, absolutely hilarious when she was ready to tie him up with a rope and search his room😂😂 It's pretty sad to see that Ogata wanted to be like Isshiki and save people with his justice without faltering in this cruel world but he just wasn't able to do it because hatred was what fuelled him to move forward and not forgiveness or hope. But I'm glad he encouraged Ichika to listen to Isshiki's song and hear Kazuki's guitar, because seeing Ichika show her emotions again, even if just a little bit was nice...

Uno Shion

Aww, it's cute how much Shion cares about Suzune, but also so cute how he's embarrassed to say he likes chocolate🤣 It's nice that he's more cooperative than Suzune I guess hahaha. I never expected Shion to like to paint though, that's interesting. Anyway, it's pretty sad to think that the "outside world" was much more unforgiving to the Uno siblings, and that it was only after they joined this terrorist organisation did they get to feel safe and secure that they have shelter and food without people going crazy on them. In that sense, it's understandable how much more comfortable Adonis would be for them. Aww Shion and Suzune getting excited over a chocolate cake is so adorable. Them saving up to buy a home for themselves is so heartwarming, it makes me really want to cheer for them. I'm dying from how cute they are trying to feed Ichika the chocolate cake too because they really like her and think she's really kind like their mother was before. Shion buying a cheese tart for both Ichika and Suzune was sweet, she's like a part of his thought process when buying stuff for his sister hahaha. Lol when he just shoved it into her mouth instead of giving it to her like a normal person🤣 Lmaoo when Shion drew a portrait of Ichika stuffing herself with cheese tart🤣 To think that Shion was so serious about drawing that he's actually thinking about a future with it after the X-Day stuff..it’s so endearing.

Sera Akito

It must be difficult for both Akito and Ichika to talk to each other. Just seeing each other's faces would make them remember the past and compare it to the present, making their whole encounter just...painful to watch. It's so like Akito to hide that he dislikes shiitake mushrooms so that it wouldn't inconvenience Ichika and make her remove it from the cooking menu. Lmaooo at Akito being so scared of bugs, enough that Ichika has to call cockroaches dark fairies to make him feel more at ease🤣 I'm sure Akito must be hurting too, but his consideration for Ichika above himself really makes my heart feel so warm. Awww, my heart swooned when Akito said his ideal type was Ichika! If only there was an Akito route~ Anyway, I didn't expect Akito and Soda to really interact but lmaoo at Soda having spent millions of yen on in-game stuff, Soda is right though, gacha rates are cruel😭😭 Aww, it was so cute how honest Soda was about wanting to have defeated the boss with Akito instead of dumping him and killing it himself, since what Soda values is playing together with other people. So, Kazuki was stabbed by a guy who was influenced by Adonis into taking revenge against his bullies or something, and I guess Kazuki was killed when he tried to step in? Honestly, I feel terrible for Akito. He was already feeling doubts and guilt over getting revenge for his sister, but after experiencing Kazuki's death, he must hate his choice for joining Adonis even more than before. It honestly broke my heart to see Akito break down like that not knowing how he could atone for his sins in causing Kazuki's death. His heartwrenching screams really cut me and made me tear up from all the pain Akito must have been bottling up all this time. Akito will always be my favourite side character, I think his pain, his feelings and his emotions were portrayed so well.

Sanjo Keisuke

Aww, Sanjo's favourite food being ramen is very him, kinda hahaha. I can't imagine a 7kg bowl of ramen and having to finish that in 30 minutes😱 On the other hand, Sanjo being into arcades is kinda unexpected, lmaooo at Ichika thinking he would play the crane games😂 I didn't think about the fact that Ichika is a former cop just like him now, I wonder how he feels about that or whether he even cares😅 Lmao at Sanjo seriously answering Ichika what his type of woman is and then even describing the body shape with sound effects😂 I can't believe Ichika just tickled Sanjo and made him laugh like crazy, I would have liked to see that😆😆 I think it would have been so nice if Ogata was Sanjo's boss, I feel like their values and ideals of justice back in the day would have matched well since Sanjo probably desired something "pure" back in the day and hoped to be a part of an organisation that helped people, and Ogata was always helping people already, so they would have worked well together. It's just sad that they both got betrayed by their ideals of what the police should have been to them and others.

The idea that you can't feel any fear because you don't value your life is a pretty interesting and saddening thought. Maybe because I get that feeling sometimes. I agree with Sanjo, Zero definitely doesn't truly care about those ideals of saving the weak that he keeps spouting, he's not like Mikuni, and that's also imo the reason why Zero believes that he and Mikuni will never truly understand each other. Ichika and Sanjo eating ramen together is so cute lol.

Mikuni Rei

Lmao at Zero calling Mikuni an old man for liking fish, disliking carbonated drinks and other junk food because they're not nutritional hahaha. Otherwise, nothing much to say tbh, Mikuni has always been a rather bland character to me? I like him, but at the same time I don't because even though it's interesting to see that he actually has "noble" goals compared to Zero, the fact is that Mikuni as he himself said has been told that he's a "saviour" of sorts, and I think that really exemplifies the type of person Mikuni is. Someone who believes that he can and wants to "save" people in his own way as if he is someone above them all, but at the same time, he is very apparently flawed exactly because he is like that. He's not someone who truly understands the people "below" him and he also doesn't seem to perceive that as something that can be helped, and that's why even though his goals are "noble", he's not really noble at all. But it doesn't really change the fact that Mikuni is kind in his own way though. Mikuni eating shrimp crackers is so cute😂

Saeki Yuzuru

To be honest, I've always liked the chill policeman Saeki, and I personally think Zero likes that version of himself too. I feel like he always enjoyed just talking about stuff with Ichika during their drinking charades, and had fun visiting her. But at the same time, I feel like because of the existence of Adonis and Mikuni, Zero never really allowed his negative emotions to be "accepted" in order for him to move on, so instead it just continued piling up inside to the point of indifference towards the world and others imo. Anyway, it's sad, seeing Zero and Mikuni happily play chess together. They really look like two brothers just having fun in their own way. Hearing them say that they've been doing this since they were kids makes it all the more saddening when they realised that despite how "close" they were to each other, they never really understood each other. In a sense, I feel like in the end, both Mikuni and Zero use Adonis as a way to get the things they want and feel like it's one of the only ways they can do it? I mean, I do feel like Mikuni treasures his relationship with Zero more than Adonis or anything else, because when it comes down to it, I feel like he tries really hard to understand Zero by trying to see things from his perspective and hanging out with Ichika, the one that Zero thinks understands him best and the one Zero likes the most. On the other hand, Zero seems to use Adonis as a way for revenge of his mother and as a way to vent those emotions and scars he got, but at the same time Adonis also granted him Mikuni (a brother), and it gave him opportunities and power.

Zero definitely loves Ichika in an obsessed way, probably the only way he thinks he can love someone, since he doesn't want to become "weak" like his mother was. So if he felt anything like love, he would prefer it to be a love that would destroy him, because in a sense I think I can understand that sentiment of wanting the person you love to solely focus on yourself and no one else, whether that is hatred or whatever emotion doesn't matter, because being the entire focus of someone else's is a sort of "love" to enjoy, so I don't blame Zero for his twisted "love" lol. Especially since you can tell how much he has always enjoyed his after work beers and just chatting with Ichika. I quite enjoyed their little date walking around reminiscing the past and discovering new things they missed out on, now I really want to eat crepes🥲 The ending where Ichika kills Saeki is pretty sad though. Seeing Saeki the most relieved and happy he has ever been is probably what made me kinda happy for him though. He still sucks, but like Ichika said, I can't hate him, because it was true that he did reduce the sadness of many (whilst creating sadness for many others too though) and at the core, he was like in a sense a guy who consumed so much sadness from everywhere around him, always in pain, always sad despite his appearance, and thinking that makes it difficult for me to truly hate him.

Overall, I like the Adonis route! Initially, I was a bit sceptical whether it was really necessary and whether it would be interesting at all but I really loved bonding with all the executors. Seeing more of the human and emotional sides, seeing them warm up to Ichika and become friends with her really made me enjoy the "what could never be" part of it all. I think I especially loved Akito's because of how emotional it was tying into Kazuki and everything. But I also really enjoyed seeing the different sides of all of them. It really makes me wish Ichika got an individual route with like Akito and Sanjo and Ogata because I loveee them🥲🥲

Overall Review

I definitely enjoyed CxM: Unlimited much more than I thought I would! In the beginning, Sasazuka and Okazaki's routes kinda made me wonder whether I really wanted to continue this, but I'm so glad I got through them because I enjoyed Enomoto's, Yanagi's and Shiraishi's routes a lot! If I ranked them, I probably liked Shiraishi's the most, then Yanagi, Enomoto, Okazaki and then Sasazuka. It's definitely what I wanted in a fandisk, which is more fluffy romance and just bonding with all the guys even more, and I absolutely loveeee the potential romances with Yoshinari and Minegishi, they were so unexpectedly nice. Definitely no plot but that's okay since it's a fandisc and I think it fulfilled really well what its goal was when it comes to more romance in the story haha. 8/10! I'm definitely going to miss the characters, I'm so attached to Enomoto and them lol.

#collar x malice unlimited

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rebrandedbard · 4 years ago

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A Bard He Would A-Wooing Go (6858 words)

Gift for @valdomarx: some good old mutual pining morons. In which Jaskier courts Geralt and Geralt is oblivious. Ao3 link in title.

Jaskier wrote a song like counting; Counting the years, the steps, until one day he might count the seconds and centimeters of distance that seemed to stretch like oceans between them. Each of them were like marks on a calendar, an entry in a diary to mark the progress. At first, he hid his true intentions behind false names and romantic figures, crafting beautiful damsels for the recipients of his verses in the time when he was still uncertain, but when the depth of his love became apparent to himself, he decided the day had come to be more overt.

He sang of a beautiful man with hair kissed by moonlight, eyes of amber still hollowed with the liquid golden honey left to flow inside. This he played by the evening fire, casting shy glances at Geralt over the flames. “Do you like my new song?” he asked.

“You inflate my image enough already,” Geralt replied in his usual gruff manner. The idea was to make him a hero of monster-slaying, not the heroine of some romance. Jaskier’s verses were too pretty and flattering, bound to be laughed at by the public. Moonlight and honey—such descriptions were wasted on witchers.

Jaskier frowned and played the second verse a little louder, ignoring his response. “I would rather sing it below a balcony; perhaps the artistry of the setting would help better mold your opinion.” He took on a faraway, doe-eyed expression as he spoke, strumming the gentle melody. “I would weave a crown of clover and present it to you. Yes, I think that would suit you fine. You’d cut a majestic figure, lighted by the stars. I would pluck one from the heavens and offer it to you so that it might sit atop your head, the very jewel of the crown, so that all might better see how brightly you shine.”

“Your songs do enough as it is. No need to crown me,” Geralt scoffed. He was not some divine hero. He was a witcher working for pay, and it was crude work. “You romanticize everything too much.”

“Oh, what would you know of it? You haven’t got a romantic bone in your body.”

“First true thing you’ve said tonight.”

“The honey was more than true,” Jaskier huffed. He played the verse again, then stopped, something new glittering in his eye. It was an idea, Geralt recognized. He was far too familiar with that expression by now to mistake it, and he knew there would be a long, terrible enterprise awaiting him. Jaskier started to smile, and he took to his feet.

“Geralt of Rivia!” he proclaimed. “I’ve decided that this will not do. A simple song is not enough! Let it now be known that it is my intention, henceforth, to court you with all the trim, all the pomp, all the circumstance and bells and whistles! You must know the pleasures of romance in their many forms, and I will leave no stone unturned, no mountain unclimbed, until you have been thoroughly romanced!”

Geralt groaned and closed his eyes. He was not interested in a study of human courtship. He was especially uninterested in receiving such lessons from Jaskier of all people. Yet he knew there was no refusing once Jaskier set his mind to anything. Whether he wanted to or not, whatever protests he’d make, Jaskier would not be denied. The bastard would dig in his heels and get his way, and this—it was this game of his that would at last be the thing to kill Geralt. This farce would not be something Geralt’s heart would survive in one piece. He retired early, hoping the declaration would be forgotten in the morning if he gave no reaction. The slightest acknowledgement was all the encouragement Jaskier needed.

The next day, to his surprise, Jaskier was the first awake. He’d gone wandering in the woods before sunrise and returned with his arms laden with flowers. Geralt had awoken to the smell of the bouquet waved under his nose.

“Good morning, my dear witcher,” Jaskier said, grinning ear to ear. “Welcome to the first morning of the rest of your life! A humble offering, still wet with sweet morning dew.” He bobbed and placed the bouquet in Geralt’s hands with finesse before bounding over to relight the fire and begin their breakfast. To Geralt’s even greater surprise, there were five fish speared in the dirt beside it. Jaskier had gone fishing, it seemed. Flowers, fish—would there be a third gesture awaiting him so early in the morning? Or perhaps being first up was the gesture itself. Jaskier was not an early riser by any measure. Geralt might as well still be asleep as unbelievable as it was.

“So, you were serious about that courting thing,” Geralt said.

Jaskier waved his flints in the air dramatically. “Perfectly serious. Honestly, Geralt, you must have known this day would come.”

And Geralt had to admit, after several days spent with Jaskier giving lessons detailing the etiquette of the high courts, the more fashionable dances of the season, a history of the textile arts in which he explained how his doublets were made from the harvest of the fibers all the way through decorative pleating, and the proper forms of address for peers in no less than seven countries … yes, Geralt ought to have known that courting customs were next on the list of useless trivia Jaskier meant to impart.

At first, there was not much fuss and they were able to get on as usual. Geralt didn’t know what he expected in regards to a courtship from Jaskier, but what little thought he’d given the subject conjured images of endless smothering, Jaskier waxing poetic, arms waving dramatically, attaching himself at the hip of his hapless, adoring victim. But perhaps courtship was a one-a-day expression and that would be all until tomorrow.

He was wrong in multiple ways. Jaskier did not leap upon him with some obnoxious peacocking gesture, but he took it upon himself to pack camp after breakfast. Geralt watched him shuffle about, humming quietly. Jaskier had insisted Geralt stay out of the matter and sent him off to ready Roach. Camp packed, Jaskier tied their things to her saddle, and Geralt notice that he’d been careful to arrange the bags just as he himself might, the weight evenly distributed, potion bag furthest in front in easy reach, the rest in the order in which they’d need unpacking come evening. It was observant to say the least. Such a little thing, really, but Geralt was impressed.

“Ready?” Jaskier asked, offering Geralt his hand.

Geralt looked curiously at it, not sure what it was meant for. Jaskier was looking at him expectantly, and for an absurd moment, Geralt thought he wanted a tip like the men who kept Roach tended to in stables in town. At a loss, he shook Jaskier’s hand and turned to hook his foot in the stirrup. He startled when Jaskier took his hand again and helped him up over the side.

It was ridiculous. Geralt needed no help mounting. Yet … something about the action stuck with Geralt. It had been brief, but the way Jaskier had looked up at him as he held his hand, he looked almost as if he’d been about to kiss it.

Geralt wished he would.

After a while of travelling in companionable silence, Geralt inched his head to the side. He looked at Jaskier from the corner of his eye and asked, “What are your plans for this?” wondering just how well Jaskier had thought this silly game through.

“The courtship? Oh, flowers, sweets, dancing—the usual,” Jaskier replied with a careless wave of his hand. He played so casual, and yet Geralt saw the mischievous quirk of his lips. There was more. Jaskier was a great lover of surprises, both in giving and receiving.

Jaskier fiddled with one of his lute strings, running his nail up and down its length shyly. “I’m surprised you’ve accepted it without quarrel,” he said. “Thrilled, really. Not to imply that I’m blind to your reservations; I know how you must feel about the idea of formal courtship: a lot of fluff and unnecessary nonsense. But this is how I express my love, and it means a great deal to me that you would allow me to share the experience with you.”

“It’s not such a great burden,” Geralt replied, offering a light shrug.

Jaskier laughed. “No, indeed, I shouldn’t think so! It’s a gift—the greatest gift of all.”

Geralt snorted and argued that a new set of armour would be a much greater gift.

“Ever the pragmatist,” Jaskier sighed, smacking Geralt’s boot with a smile.

When they stopped for lunch, Jaskier offered his hand once more to help Geralt dismount. After eating, Geralt put his gloves quietly away in one of the bags, muttering to himself that is was a warm day, as if Jaskier might notice and wonder. And though the air had a leftover chill of early spring, when the time came to ride off again, his hand felt hot in Jaskier’s. Geralt soon forgot his gloves entirely, had misplaced them quite carelessly among his bags or on the road. But Jaskier never commented on their absence.

In addition to the attentions Jaskier lavished upon Geralt, Roach benefitted from a surge in care. Jaskier brushed her coat nearly every other day, and it was shinier than ever before. He braided wildflowers in her mane, styled each morning length by length. Afterwards, he would brush Geralt’s hair, braiding it to match. It was the most preposterous thing, and yet Geralt could not help feeling a silly sort of happiness. Jaskier had been feeling much bolder since the first day, and had even allowed himself to put flowers in Geralt’s braids. Geralt would wake to find them on his bedroll in the morning—Jaskier wasn’t as sneaky as he liked to imagine.

It was new, Jaskier brushing Geralt’s hair this way. He might comb Geralt’s hair after a bath or wrestle a brush through it when it had begun to resemble a feral rat’s nest, but now it was more regularly maintained. There was no excuse of necessity. Geralt could close his eyes and enjoy the moment, Jaskier’s gentle hands at work, sometimes simply scratching his scalp, the brush abandoned for minutes at a time. It was such a tender gesture, Geralt at times forgot that it was nothing more than a demonstration.

But oh, Jaskier went to such lengths so teach! He had Roach re-shoed in the city with fine new horseshoes, claiming that the shoes would clip and clop and ring out the song of his heart on every cobblestone, and that the gait of her stride itself would be a reminder of his devotion. And truly, as they walked her to the stables afterwards, Geralt heard their cheerful mocking with each step, “It’s all a game! It’s all a game!” He was glad to give her the day off to rest, and to avoid the clippity-clop of her bright new shoes.

Geralt tried to be objective. When they spent the evening at a tavern, listening to a local bard perform, he did not allow his thoughts to linger on the hand resting over his on the bench. Nor did he read into things when Jaskier asked him to dance. Dancing—the usual. It was one of the most basic aspects of courtship.

When they spun in and out of the formation on the dance floor, when Jaskier entwined their fingers, when Jaskier pulled them close together, Geralt tried in vain to blame his dizziness on the spinning steps. When someone tried to cut in for a quick romp with Jaskier, only for Jaskier to snatch Geralt’s waist again in rejection of the advance, Geralt did not let his thoughts linger on how pretty the young woman had been and how well Jaskier might look dancing with her, nor the thrill he’d felt in that instance of being so firmly chosen against such an enticing offer.

Though there were contracts to be fulfilled, Jaskier found ways to steal Geralt away for an hour or two here and there and between. He’d dragged Geralt along to see a play: something very modern and poetic. They paid for standing admission, the cheapest and, according to Jaskier, the very best way to appreciate the art up close. They talked throughout, joking with the other patrons and laughing at the worst bits in near-vicious mockery. Evidently, that was the only way to enjoy anything so poorly critiqued, and a step above throwing rotten fruit. He bought them a little parcel of candied nuts, and now and then they flicked a nut at the very worst actor for having every other line fed to him from offstage. They came away laughing with not a single guess as to what the play itself had been about.

The next week they were on the road again, and things were quieter. The city provided so many forms of entertainment, but Geralt liked it best when it was only the two of them, nestled in the calm of nature. Jaskier was lively, and the environment affected his mood. Out in the woods, his gestures were sweeter, smaller, and sentimental. Geralt enjoyed this gentler aspect of Jaskier’s courtship, for his method changed between the city and the road.

Away from the excitement and bustle, Jaskier expressed himself more subtly. As if by magic, ingredients for Geralt’s potion stock would be replenished after one of Jaskier’s morning walks. He did not make grand declarations or even show any signs of wishing to be acknowledged for the little things he did. He simply did them, waiting to catch Geralt’s smile.

“Here,” Jaskier said, tossing a coiled bit of leather at Geralt. It was a braided strap of cord, burnt black over the fire. “In your favorite gloomy color,” he teased. “Your old tie is a twist from falling apart; I thought you might like a new one to tie back your hair.”

Geralt smiled, and he was sure he’d begun to build muscle in his cheeks from how often that had happened now. He admired the tie, running his thumb over the pattern. Cautiously, he edged closer to Jaskier and handed it back to him. He turned around, offering Jaskier his back and whispered, “Would you fix it for me?”

At once, Jaskier’s hands were in his hair, swapping out the old tie for the new. When Geralt turned back around, Jaskier had the old tie fasted to his wrist, looking down at it with a gentle smile. His eyes flickered back up to Geralt, and that same shy expression softened his features from that day when he’d presented his new song. A new shine glinted in his eyes, a fresh spark that danced in the firelight. Geralt’s words of thanks died on his tongue at the sight of it. His eyes roamed Jaskier’s face, taking in the warmth of his gaze.

So loving. So deceptively close to genuine. What a fantastic actor Jaskier would make, Geralt thought. He even smelled happy. Like … vanilla. He leaned closer, breathing it in. By now he’d forgotten the smile in Jaskier’s eyes, forgot how long he’d ceased to study it. Now he’d been distracted by the smile on his lips, taking in their color, the shape of them. He wanted a better look. If he touched them, perhaps he’d learn what made them turn up the way they did—might know how much of their warmth was owed to the fire, how much was owed to Jaskier. He thought they’d come nearer now, and he could just make out the small lines in them. The scent of vanilla was stronger, sweeter, and he felt the touch of Jaskier’s hand brush his cheek.

Jaskier’s hands rose, curling back around his neck as he leaned forward. Geralt blinked rapidly, tilting his head a fraction to the side. His slow heart fluttered to life in his chest. Often he’d imagined what it might be like to be in this very moment. Once, he’d even had the pleasure of dreaming it, but living it was more unbelievable. That Jaskier might kiss him was unfathomable, yet he was here, his hands reaching out, his lips parting, the nearness of him overwhelming and gloriously true. Geralt had nearly closed his eyes when he felt a slight tug on his hair.

“There,” Jaskier said with satisfaction, pulling away. “It was a bit crooked.”

His hair. Jaskier had leaned forward to … to fix his hair.

Jaskier was up now, walking toward their bags. The wind of the motion sent a chill through Geralt and he slumped forward, feeling suddenly cold. He’d been on the flat of a mountain once, standing at the edge of a cliff, all the wide world below him. Looking down, he’d felt as if the world might swallow him up. The sky above was so clear, devoid of even clouds, and he felt he might fall into it if only to relieve the endless void. That was how Jaskier’s absence felt. The wind which had commanded the mountainside was but a puff of air compared to the waft of air left in Jaskier’s wake. Geralt turned like a dying flower turns toward the sun, longing after him.

The bedroll was made smooth beneath Jaskier’s attentive hands as he went about preparing to retire. Geralt sighed and watched, trying to remind himself again that he was reading too much between lines that were unwritten: lines like bars in a cell. His infatuation was unfounded, and this scheme of Jaskier’s to educate Geralt in the ways of courting was only fuel to the fire. What a pointless endeavour. When would Geralt ever use this knowledge? To aid Jaskier as he pursued his fancy of the month? To himself win the heart of some stranger?

Jaskier bowed playfully and motioned to the bedroll. “Your chariot awaits to carry you off into Slumberland, sweet prince of the night,” he announced. He held a blanket in his hands, his boots and doublet set by his pack. With a flourish he rose and waited for Geralt expectantly.

Geralt obediently removed his boots and crawled onto the bedding. Best to sleep and let the moment be forgotten by morning, start over with another day. He turned on his back, waited for Jaskier to cover him with the blanket, to finish his joke and set up his own roll to sleep. Instead, he found Jaskier flopped at his side, his arm flung over his chest, and the blanket wrapped around the two of them snugly.

“Goodnight, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered. His breath puffed against Geralt’s neck as Jaskier cuddled closer, hooking an ankle over Geralt’s leg. He settled comfortably on Geralt’s shoulder and closed his eyes, the most contented smile on his face. Geralt could hear his heartbeat slow down, even and rhythmic, lulling.

After some time, Geralt thought he’d gone to sleep. He cautiously shifted, rolling on his side to face him. Jaskier had long eyelashes, he discovered. This close, Geralt could see a number of faint freckles on his cheeks, the subtle wrinkles about his eyes. He rarely allowed himself to look when they were together at night, but lately that had become a temptation hard to resist. He looked now while he might steal a private minute or two without fear. There was one little hair poking out from Jaskier’s nose and Geralt chuckled to know how bothered Jaskier would be when he noticed it eventually. He reached a tentative hand out, resting it on the loose fabric of Jaskier’s chemise where it lay on the roll, too cowardly to reach out and touch Jaskier in spite of the arm Jaskier had around him. That alone was enough. That already was daring.

Geralt slowly closed his eyes, trying to lock away the memory of the moment. He opened them again for one last look as the fire died down. Jaskier seemed to shine in the afterglow and Geralt closed his eyes again so that he might trap the afterimage in the dark. Then, Jaskier shifted and there was a warmth pressed to Geralt’s forehead. A kiss goodnight.

Was Jaskier awake, or was he in a dream? Geralt’s fingers curled in a fist around the hem of Jaskier’s shirt, desperately wondering. The question plagued him as he felt himself slip away. He shuddered, the inches between them a frozen tundra, all his doubts denying him the feel of Jaskier’s warm embrace even as it wrapped tighter around him. His last thought before being claimed by sleep was a silent wish. He wished that tomorrow the game would end. And more secretly, he wished it would be replaced with something real.

The courting continued more enthusiastically than before. Jaskier broke from the conservative spending habits Geralt had instilled in him over the years. He did not skip about buying frou-frou delights for himself or wasteful fashions. No. When he loosened his purse strings, it was to buy an extra plate for Geralt at dinner. It was to stock the spices Geralt liked best and the preserves he would never indulge in on his own. Geralt did his best to object, but relented upon Jaskier’s insistence that, “It’s a part of the courtship! You cannot deny me this privilege!” And because Jaskier would not be denied, he even found a twisted paper package of caramels hidden away in his bag among the empty potion bottles.

Jaskier continued to cuddle up with Geralt even as spring gave way to the heat of summer. Geralt thought that the game would surely be over by now, but there was no end in sight. Jaskier kept finding more and more ways to surprise Geralt, and it seemed his knowledge of courtship was far more lengthy than Geralt might have ever anticipated. That such an affair could hold Jaskier’s attention for so long was incomprehensible, and with nothing in return. Geralt could understand continuing their study if Jaskier were courting someone in earnest all the while, or having one of his romps for a weekend when they were travelling, but Jaskier had not so much as looked at anyone since … Geralt could not remember the last time Jaskier had flirted with anyone. That made it so much easier to believe. And that made it so much harder to withstand.

Months passed. Jaskier’s courtship fluctuated. He was mainly reserved in his affections and things were not much changed from before they’d begun. There may have been more lingering touches, but those had always been there, since the day they’d met. Likely it was only that Geralt was more aware of them, looking for any sign, grasping at straws for a hint of truth, denying it whenever he found one in an act of self-preservation.

Occasionally the grander gestures would return, and Jaskier counted these as special days. He justified their indulgence by using the situation as evidence; usually these occasions fell on holidays or anniversaries of which Geralt had been unaware, and if they should happen upon a festival or event unaware, Jaskier would sweep Geralt along for an improvised day of fun.

“As with any courtship, one ought to take any opportunities to enjoy oneself as one may find,” Jaskier said, always happy to remind Geralt that the courtship was ongoing, no matter how many months had passed, as if he could not tire of such proclamations. “And what could be more memorable than a day together where all the world is colorful, all the people laughing? It’s so much more fun when everyone is having fun! You can pretend that all the world is right and perfect for one day: no monsters to fight, no prejudices to contend with, and no disdainful destiny pulling at strings. Just a day chasing whatever shining thing catches your eye, unplanned, unbridled joy!”

And truly those were days where it felt like anything might happen. Jaskier shined so brightly, dragging Geralt from booth to booth. They played horseshoes, tried their hand at throwing hatches and other games and tests of skill. One favorite event they’d come upon was a sort of artist’s exhibition in Oxenfurt. Jaskier had been invited to give a lecture on his composition process and he’d insisted on Geralt coming along. After his lecture, which Geralt had listened to attentively from the back of the room, they’d gone through the university and explored the other lectures and demonstrations.

There were great works on display: tapestries and steam-powered inventions, fastidiously cultivated plants with clippings and pressed blooms for sale; a perfumer gave samples of scented paper and described how the brewing was done, and a much better kind of brewing was explained by an artisan ale brewer who offered them small mugs of her product while they listened. Jaskier attended a workshop on embroidery. Fascinated by the practice after so many years of wearing finely embroidered clothes, he wished to learn a bit of handiwork himself. Meanwhile, Geralt was especially interested to watch the smelter, blacksmith, and silversmith at work, privately comparing their methods of crafting swords with those he’d studied in the keep. It was by far one of the more memorable days of the season.

Jaskier bought Geralt a small scrap of decoratively twisted iron from the blacksmith to keep as a reminder. It wasn’t useful for much apart from keeping away faeries, but he bought a strip of cord from the lecturing tanner and fashioned a charm for him, tying it to the sheath of his silver sword. Once more, Geralt chided him for wasting money on useless things, but he found himself smiling at the charm whenever he sat to sharpen his swords. Later on, Geralt had nearly lost it on a hunt and had lingered later after the kill, searching the rocky terrain until he found it.

By fall, Geralt had nearly forgotten Jaskier was courting him at all. It had become their new normal. He let himself indulge in Jaskier’s attention, taking a page from his book. Once in a while Jaskier would make some comment about their courtship to someone in a tavern when asked why he would be travelling with a witcher, and Geralt would remember and the heavy feeling would settle over him again, but the days were too busy and bright, so he soon forgot again. It was difficult to be sad long with Jaskier’s arm looped in his.

When they weren’t travelling, that is to say, when they spent a day or two in town on a contract, Jaskier had taken to spending time alone. He would spend a few hours in their room, or he’d be somewhere in town, a bag always at his side. He practiced his embroidery, following the sample patch he’d stitched at the exhibition. Sometimes he displayed his work proudly when Geralt passed, and other times he was quick to hide it in his bag. Once, Geralt overheard news in a pub that Jaskier had been present at a quilting bee, then the gossiping party fell to whispers when they saw the witcher approach. This was during the time when Jaskier was more frequently away, acting secretive and sneaking about.

The reason behind these mysterious disappearances was shortly unveiled by the end of the month when Jaskier presented Geralt with a new winter cloak. He held it proudly stretched in his hands. It was a dark blue wool. The hood and collar were embroidered with white and yellow flowers, framed by a curling green ivy. There were two metal clasps sewn on either side, and a close look revealed them to be buttercups.

“I made it myself,” Jaskier said, glowing with pride. “Well, all but the clasps. But I did design them—think of it as the signature on a great painting!” Before Geralt could take a breath to compliment his work, Jaskier swung the cloak around Geralt’s shoulders, adjusting it handsomely. “Good, it’s not too narrow. I was a little worried, but I thought if it fit me it ought to fit you fine. Had to make sure it was wide enough in the shoulder, so I measured your armour for a good estimate. Do you like it?”

Geralt blinked. “It’s for me?” he asked.

“Of course it is. Why else would I have been so secretive? I wanted to surprise you!”

Jaskier turned away, kneeling down to pull something from beneath their bed. There was only one—had only been one for a long time now. When Jaskier emerged, he had a large box in his hands. “And now to complete the ensemble,” he said cheerfully. He shoved the box in Geralt’s hands looking up at him in anticipation.

Struggling to process the enormity of the gift, Geralt opened the box mechanically. Inside was a pair of new black leather boots with heavy tread. Upon further inspection, he discovered they were lined with rabbit fur inside the cuff.

“There. Now you’ll be ready for the journey home this winter,” Jaskier declared. Then, just a twitch, there was something reserved in his expression—something that suggested gloom. He smiled through it and straightened Geralt’s hood, making it symmetrical. His hands remained a moment, poised on Geralt’s shoulders. He seemed hesitant. There he stood, looking up at Geralt, and he appeared to be holding his breath, waiting for something.

“Thank you,” Geralt said at last. He shook his head. “No, I … it’s more than that.” It was too much; he didn’t know how to express his gratitude.

Jaskier’s hands fell and he looked at the shining clasps, avoiding Geralt’s eyes. “Yes, well. You’re welcome to it,” he said.

“I’m not sure how I ought to thank you,” Geralt continued. It occurred to him that he could ask. That was the purpose of all of this: to educate him on courtship. Every good pupil asked questions. So he did ask. “How does one usually show their appreciation after receiving a courting gift? Should I reciprocate?”

Whatever cloud passed over Jaskier’s features faded and was replaced by a small smile. “Custom dictates that you should complement the handicraft and dress yourself immediately that I might admire you bedecked in my gifts,” he answered. “Go on then! On with the boots! And if you’re feeling especially gratified, you may accompany me to dinner and allow me to show you off in all your glory.”

Geralt snorted. “Long-winded way to say you’re hungry and broke.”

“Put on the boots, you ass; I’m paying for dinner.”

As soon as Geralt had his new boots on—and oh, how comfortable they were!—Jaskier twirled his finger in the air, made him turn and model. Geralt rolled his eyes but turned around graciously. Jaskier beamed and showered him with praise. He slipped on his own cloak, for it was a cold evening, and they left the little inn, headed toward the delicious smell of the pub and their dinner, following the welcoming glow of its windows down the cobbled street.

“Wait!” Jaskier cried, leaping in front of Geralt. He spread his arms wide and Geralt nearly crashed against his back. Geralt looked over his shoulder to see what danger caused Jaskier to halt in the middle of the road, only for Jaskier to sweep the warm cloak from his shoulders and drape it across a rather nasty, muddy puddle before them.

Geralt’s eyes went wide. It was a new cloak—Jaskier had bought it only a fortnight past. He’d carefully selected a cool green, saying it would remind him of spring when the winter made the world grey, and Geralt had seen him embroidering the collar of it in the evenings before bed. Jaskier had doted on it, and Geralt had never known Jaskier to wear a cloak. Ever. He was never on the road when the weather was cold enough to warrant one, always holing up in Oxenfurt or carving himself out a space in some court for the season. He’d taken such pride in the cloak, adding his own personal touches to it, making it quite his. He talked about it constantly, boasting that it would keep him thoroughly safe when the winter chill set in, that he might climb the most icy, terrible mountain and feel as though he were snuggled up by the fireside.

That was the straw to break his back at last.

“What are you doing? That will never wash out,” Geralt scolded.

Jaskier bowed dramatically and rose with a charming shrug. “What burden is a bit of mud, my dear? I’ll not have your new boots so soon sullied on their first venture. If I allowed that, what kind of suitor would I be?” He chuckled and pressed a chaste, teasing kiss to Geralt’s cheek.

Geralt flinched away, heart leaping into his throat. “You’ve taken this too far!” he cried.

“Geralt, I assure you, the fabric is perfectly sensible and there’ll be no stain. I specifically chose it for wearing on the road.” He looked at Geralt, picking at the end of the cloak still draped in his hands. He kept his tone teasing and light, but there was a nervous edge to it he tried to hide behind a laugh. “Come now,” he said, “don’t let my gesture go in vain; I was trying so very hard to be suave.”

“No. It’s not just the cloak,” Geralt hissed. “This whole charade! I—!” Geralt fisted his hands in the thick fabric of his cloak. He turned his head away, grit his teeth. “I’m calling it off, Jaskier. I can’t tolerate one more day of this game.”

“What game?” Jaskier asked. The false cheer left him. Honest worry furrowed his brow as he lifted the wet cloak once more from the puddle, clutching it as a child might cling to a blanket.

“This courtship. It has to stop.”

Jaskier turned pale. He trembled, though no breeze swept through the air. When he spoke, his voice trembled in kind, and he looked at Geralt with anxious eyes. “If this is about the winter,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry for being pushy. You’re not ready—I can wait. But we can move slower if that’s the issue, and I can give you your space until spring, just like every year.” His hands twisted in the cloak and he held it closer to his chest. “But I thought you wanted … you agreed to the courtship. And we were headed east together. It’s coming on winter, so I thought … And you’re not one for words …” he trailed. “I don’t understand what’s changed. Just this morning we—”

“This morning, you didn’t kiss me!” Geralt snapped. “I can hold your hand, I can dance with you and listen to your pet names, I can accept your gifts and gestures in an effort to understand your customs. I know you want to teach me about courtship. It’s important to you—or entertaining. But I can’t abide being kissed! Not as part of some lesson.”

Geralt’s eyes felt hot and there was a strange hollow in the pit of his stomach. “Not if it doesn’t mean anything,” he concluded. He couldn’t look Jaskier in the eye for fear of the understanding he’d find there. What pity or disgust would he see when the realization hit? What horrible expression would he find twisting Jaskier’s expression when he finally understood that his best friend, an emotionless, beastly, taciturn witcher, was in love with him?

“Oh,” Jaskier whispered.

There it was. Geralt’s head hung low. He silently braced himself. This was the part where Jaskier would let him down gently. Or he might make an awkward joke and pretend he didn’t understand, brushing it all aside and moving on as always. Geralt wasn’t sure which would be worse. He wished Jaskier would simply leave and he wouldn’t have to suffer either one.

“Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered. Geralt heard the splash as Jaskier dropped his cloak once more to the ground. And suddenly there were warm hands cradling his face. “My darling,” Jaskier said, “let me be perfectly clear. No, no, don’t look away—you’ve got to look at me and listen very carefully to what I say. This isn’t a game. I’m not playing at romance with you. I’m not trying to teach you anything either. No games, no jokes, no tricks.”

Jaskier pulled Geralt closer, forced him to meet his eyes. Geralt looked at last and saw nothing but raw sincerity staring back. “This is real,” Jaskier said. “All of it. Since that day I stood and swore to court you and win your heart. Every action and effort I made was in earnest.”

Geralt felt the grounding touch of Jaskier’s thumb stroking his cheek. His heart remained in his throat, still uncertain, but it beat with a fragile hope. “What does it mean then?” he asked.

Jaskier sighed, resting their foreheads together. “It means I love you,” he answered.

Geralt closed his eyes. He felt such a fool. Slowly, he brought his hands up to cover Jaskier’s, pressing them more firmly against his skin. The touch felt new. It had a weight to it now, and he felt lighter than ever before, needed their anchor to keep from drifting away.

Jaskier loved him.

“How does a happy courtship end?” Geralt asked, though he did not wish for it to end so soon, now that he’d learned it was real. He was inclined to start over again and do it properly, no shadows or clouds to hang over them.

Jaskier let out a last nervous breath and smiled. “With marriage,” he said. “Eventually. But I think that may be a bit too soon for us.”

“Then before that.”

“Generally, the first stage ends with a kiss. I think that’s about right for where we are.”

“And … will you kiss me?” Geralt asked, opening his eyes again. He looked into Jaskier’s deep blue irises, and for once he could examine them as much as he liked, he realized. So he stared, taking in every brown freckle, every fleck of gold however small, looking as he never allowed himself to before. With satisfaction, he watched Jaskier’s pupils widen. He was sure he looked much the same.

Jaskier chuckled, pulling Geralt’s hands down and cradling them in his own. “Me?” he asked playfully. “Oh no, my dear; I did the wooing. The stage ends when you take the reciprocating action and encourage me to continue. Therefore it is you who must kiss me. If you like.”

“And if I do?”

“Then by all means,” Jaskier prompted. “Kiss me!”

Geralt tilted his head to the side, no more hesitation, and pressed their lips together in a gentle embrace. Just one short, reverent kiss: the fruition of his longing. It was not studied—was even a bit skewed from lack of practice. But it was freeing. He leaned back again as they parted, and he felt Jaskier leaning forward after him. Geralt smiled, his heart fluttering with a joy he never thought he’d know. This felt right. Felt wonderful. And now the tension was gone and he had nothing left to fear with Jaskier’s hands so tightly clasping his.

“So. What comes in the next stage of courtship?”

“Another kiss, certainly,” Jaskier said, stepping forward in an attempt to close the distance.

Geralt stepped back, a cheeky smile rising to his lips. “I’m fresh out,” he teased.

“Goodness me!” Jaskier gasped theatrically, and he was grinning right back. “Thankfully, I have one spare! Many, in fact, if you’d like them.”

“I would.”

“But, ah! I’m not so cheap as that!” Jaskier cried in retribution. If Geralt would refuse him another kiss, Jaskier would make him earn the next. “I must be wooed first, Geralt of Rivia. It’s your turn, I did say, and I’ll have you know I expect a great deal after all the work I put in. Rides on Roach, dinners cooked for me, breakfasts, embarrassingly poor poetry; then there’s the matter of you holding my hand when I ask, sweeping me off my feet and carrying me to bed in the evening, fresh flowers, foot massages, the—”

Geralt stepped forward again and silenced Jaskier’s rambling with another kiss, smiling through it too hard to make good on the act. He laughed, tucking his face against Jaskier’s jaw as he tried to compose himself long enough to see it through, then he was kissing Jaskier’s jaw and cheek, his eyes, everything within reach as the giddy feeling rose from his chest, laughing all the while as though he would never stop.

Jaskier laughed and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s shoulders. “Yes, and as many of those as you can afford,” he chuckled. “You were holding out on me, you old tight-purse.”

Geralt pulled away enough to look Jaskier in the eye. “If I promise to woo you later, would you please just shut up and kiss me now?” he asked.

Jaskier huffed and regarded Geralt with sarcastic affection. “Someone has got to teach you about romance,” he said.

#witcher #the witcher #witcher fic #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #my fic #a bard he would a-wooing go fic #gift fic #gotta love some mutual dumbassery

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

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selfie | jjk | 2

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Is this a rom-com, slice-of-life drama with unsolicited social commentary about gender stereotypes, idol music, and the meaningless meaning of the word, “adult”? Yes. But also, Jeon Jungkook shouldn’t be in love with his hyung’s little sister and he is. Shit.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of depression, anxiety, loneliness; fluff, but also frustrating because flirt already, sheesh; loons-to-lovers; non-idol!AU - oppa’s bestfriend!Jungkook x SHINee fangirl!reader

happy lunar new year!! year of the ox - jk’s lucky year <3

–

previous episode.

2. in which the two loons getting somewhere, only for more misunderstandings to happen.

Is this too much?

You stared at the picture and the message. Jeon Jungkook once again. Sending a picture of himself at the gym. It was a while since the last one, so his hair was slightly longer now. Was he growing it out? Oh well, none of your business. You sent your usual reply.

You sighed and went back to your journal, only to have your phone aggressively sing ‘3 PM’ from the Animal Crossing New Leaf OST. Directly asking for a video call this time. You thinned your mouth into a line and closed your journal, sliding it out of frame before accepting the call.

Jungkook’s big brown eye filled up the screen, directly on the camera.

“Why don’t you respond like a normal person?”

“Why don’t you start conversations off like a normal person?” you shot back, placing a hand on your cheek and leaning against it. There was stationery scattered all around you, but your journal was behind the charging stand.

Jungkook withdrew his eyeball, frowning. You could see his entire face now, his long black hair tied up into a silly sprout on top of his head. He was still wearing the dark gray sweatshirt from the photo, but he seemed to be in his apartment. All you could see was the wall.

“What about the pic though? Is it too much?”

“Too much what?” you responded irritably.

He waved his hand, shaking the phone with his movement. “You know… Too, ‘Hey I work out and am attractive, pay attention to me’ much?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re not even looking at the camera. Or wearing a sleeveless shirt.”

He blinked at you. “Should I?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, those are things not to do. Picture is fine,” you added, shifting some pens away so you could rest your head on your forearms.

“Oh.”

He looked uneasy for a second before the camera jostled around as he scurried to a different part of the room. You puffed your cheeks and closed your eyes, not wanting to get motion sick.

“I’ve been playing Persona 5!” Jungkook said cheerfully, making you open your eyes to see him directing the camera at his television where the Persona music was merrily playing. “Just finished Sakura Futaba’s Palace.” He switched the camera back as you smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

“Nice.”

Jungkook seemed to spy your deflated form on your desk.

“What’s wrong?”

You breathed out. “Nothing.”

He frowned. “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

You shrugged. “Just thinking.” Your eyes flickered to him, smirking a little. “You wouldn’t know about that, I suspect.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. Other than that, he didn’t react to your remark.

“Thinking about what?” he asked, leaning back into his gray couch. His long hair flared out, sprout blooming against the cushions.

Your eyes shifted to the pens all over your desk. To your tablet, where you had been practicing digital drawing for a little while now. Just little drawings of cute animals, no people yet. To your journal, where you had been writing your diary entry.

“Lonely.”

You said the word without thinking. It was the title of your diary entry. You hadn’t meant to say it, but it was the only thing on your mind right now. Your eyes flickered back to Jungkook, who was watching you carefully. You sighed, feeling the need to explain yourself.

“All my friends are busy with school and their jobs. Oppa is always at work or with his girlfriend. Parents are always working.”

You could feel the distance between you and your high school friends. They were chasing your dreams and you were chasing nothing at all. You weren’t distant from your brother, but you were respectful of how much time he wanted to spend with his girlfriend. She might become his future wife someday, after all. Would you have a future husband one day? You wondered what he would be like.

You shook your head and shrugged. “But I did it to myself by taking a gap year, so it can’t be helped.”

“It’s okay to feel lonely.”

Slowly, your gaze shifted back to Jungkook. He was getting up from the couch, holding the phone up as he walked to what looked like the kitchen.

“I mean, you can’t help what you feel, right?” he said as he set the phone in a cupboard and went to the fridge. “Feeling lonely isn’t some kind of crime, so you don’t need to lock it away or anything.”

Jungkook picked up a take-out container and opened it, stiffing the contents. He seemed to be debating if it was edible or not. How long had that been there? You wanted to ask but then again, you didn’t want to know. Jungkook shrugged and dumped the mysterious contents into a bowl.

“I’ll talk to you whenever you want.”

You scoffed. “Why would you do that?”

Jungkook placed the bowl in the microwave and set the timer. The machine hummed as he turned around.

“To prevent you from feeling lonely.”

A butterfly danced in your chest.

You chuckled. “Why would I want to feel annoyed instead of lonely?”

Jungkook shrugged, taking out some chopsticks. “At least you have someone to be annoyed at instead of being alone?”

Two butterflies danced in your chest.

You huffed and rested your cheek on your forearms.

“Have you been talking to your Confidants?”

“What?”

“In Persona 5.”

“Who?”

You slapped your forehead. “Listen up, you monkey…”

“I’m an ox in the zodiac.”

“I mean your monkey gameplay…”

You began to explain the importance of Confidants in Persona to Jungkook.

That’s how you ended up in video calls with Jeon Jungkook several times a week.

He would usually start the call by sending a selfie, to which you would respond with your usual question mark. He was going to university for graphic design and worked at an electronics store part time. You, on the hand, were doing nothing. Well, not nothing, because you were clumsily learning digital art, but unless you were showering, you were always by your phone. Checking idol social media, especially SHINee. Sometimes your brother and his girlfriend asked you to accompany them to dinner, but you always declined, because being the third wheel was weird.

Also, watching your brother in love was weird.

Bleh.

“They always make out in front of me,” you were telling Jungkook as he asked why you weren’t at dinner earlier with your brother and his friends. Your brother had taken his girlfriend, of course. “It’s weird.”

Jungkook winced. “Yeah, I get what you mean. But I was there.”

“So what?”

Jungkook raised his hands. He was in his bed, rolling around in gray sheets. “Maybe you care?”

“I’d like to be spared watching oppa’s PDA, thanks.”

As usual, you were at your desk. This time your tablet was in front of you. You pushed the pen around, indecisively drawing lines and undoing your last action, twisting your mouth to one side, not really looking at Jungkook. He wasn’t doing anything of note, anyway.

“You don’t like PDA?”

You shrugged. “It’s whatever. I don’t really care.”

“What are you drawing?”

“Nothing good,” you sighed, putting down the tablet pen. The little cat character looked back at you, its expression the same bored and dispassionate face you usually had. You hadn’t really decided on a color for it yet. Maybe gray. That’s how you usually felt, anyway. You knew the collar color was going to be aqua though. A nod to your SHINee obsession.

“Show me.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

You looked up to Jungkook’s smile. There was a radiance about it. You felt the two butterflies dancing in your ribcage once again, fluttering, fluttering. His two front teeth where just ever so slightly too large for his mouth. It was endearing, like seeing a bunny. You looked back down at the little cat you created. Maybe you would make a bunny for Jungkook.

Pfft.

Why would you do that?

You laughed, confusing Jungkook as you placed your hand over your mouth, eyes squinting as you chortled to yourself, trying to imagine Jungkook as a silly little bunny. Probably one that worked out too much and drank banana milk every day. Probably loved to take selfies too. A cool bunny who wrote sunglasses sometimes and was probably altruistic and interesting.

Not like you.

Your laughter died down, eyes on the cat. You picked a cat to represent you because it was lazy and didn’t do much. Spent all day sleeping and staring outside, but never actually trying. Curious about things, but never committing.

“What’s so funny?” Jungkook asked, lifting the camera and holding it above him. You saw his long black hair flare out around his head. He was casually handsome, the kind of attractive that didn’t need much to be that way.

That’s weird. Why would you think something like that?

“Your face,” you replied, missing the usual bite you usually had behind your words. “You need a trim.”

He raised his eyebrow, pursing his lips. “You don’t like long hair?”

You pointed at the phone even though he probably couldn’t tell what you were pointing at. “The ends of your hair are splitting. It’s not going to grow well at this rate.”

“Are you a secret barber or something?”

“I’m a human being who cuts her own hair,” you replied impassively, sitting back in your chair.

Jungkook looked surprised. “Really? Since when?”

“Since the last time oppa attempted to cut my hair in high school.” You cringed at the memory.

Jungkook looked apologetic and ready to burst out laughing at the same time. “He tried his best.”

“He did not,” you retorted, remembering the botched bangs and blunt shoulder length cut. It was horrible. You went to the salon afterward and had it trimmed into a short pixie cut, because you would rather be bald than look like an overgrown coconut.

“The pixie cut was cool though.”

“Eh.” You shrugged. “Too hard to cut it by myself. Need some length to hide my mistakes.”

“Your hair always looks nice though. A little messy.”

You touched the top of your head self-consciously. Maybe you should start brushing it before accepting his calls. You didn’t really brush it that often because, well, who was going to see you? You basically only brushed it when you noticed a tangle.

Jungkook was smiling at you. His dark brown eyes seemed sparkly because of the overhead lights in his bedroom. The butterflies in your ribcage circled each other, looping round and round. You made a disgruntled face, reaching up read the current time at the top of your phone.

“Don’t you have class early tomorrow? Go to sleep.”

And then you pressed the end call button.

For some reason, relief and disappointment washed over you. Relief because there was a palpitating anxiousness you felt when you looked too directly into Jungkook’s eyes. Disappointment because maybe you shouldn’t have hung up so abruptly. That was a little rude.

You noticed you had a text. From Jeon Jungkook.

Good night.

Jungkook placed his phone beside him after he sent the text. He thought about sending a selfie too, but maybe that was too much. She had just seen him seconds before, anyway.

Why had she hung up like that?

He smiled as he remembered her laugh. He liked her laugh a lot. She hid it behind her hands and her eyes always squinted when she did so, nearly making them disappear. It looked a little bit like a cat when it was purring in satisfaction. Jungkook wondered what made her laugh like that. It must have been a thought, because he could see her face changing as she observed him. When she stopped laughing, her face was different too, becoming introspective.

She looked pretty today too.

Her hair a little messy, combed through with her fingers. That’s how it looked best, he thought. She had a natural prettiness, the kind that needed no help to be that way. Every action she did seemed cute, from the way she held her pen, to the way she twisted her mouth to one side when she was working on something, to the way she touched the top of her head, lips parting in thought.

If she wanted to be a model, she probably could.

At least, Jungkook wanted to take her picture.

He frowned a little. He’d been consistently sending her selfies before calling her and she always responded with a question mark. Maybe she wasn’t used to taking selfies? Or maybe, and what was more likely, she probably didn’t even care about them.

Jungkook exhaled, flopping to his side. Should he give up? But then he remembered her face right before she looked at the time. It was like she was staring at the screen, at his face. And for a split second, he swore he saw her upper lip upturn a bit, shyness in her gaze, a bit of pink flushing her cheeks. Was it just the lightning or something? His mind playing tricks on him?

“Bleh.”

Jungkook made a weird noise and plopped his face into his pillow.

Jungkook stopped calling you.

You wondered why. You had been kind of rude to him last time. Maybe he was mad at you? Maybe he wanted an apology? But you weren’t really sure what to apologize for. And it was weird to call without a purpose, right? And besides.

You didn’t really need to apologize to Jeon Jungkook.

He wasn’t even really your friend. He was your older brother’s friend.

You chewed on your lip, staring at the last picture he sent you. He wasn’t your friend. He was… well, what was he trying to do? Why was he talking to you? Maybe he was bored. Maybe he was nosy. You did say you followed his art Instagram, so maybe he was enthralled with the idea of knowing he had a fan or something?

But you weren’t a fan, per se.

Well, a little bit. He was really talented.

But not that much!

Because Jeon Jungkook was kind of annoying. He still hadn’t returned Persona 5 to your brother. Not that your older brother noticed, at all. He never finished Persona 5 and it was mostly your game now, with how many hours you had sunk into it. Jungkook hadn’t even known about Confidants until you told him. Hmph. Didn’t he look up game guides? Well, he should. Confidants were really important to the game. They helped you with useful abilities during boss fights by developing relationships with the other characters.

You stared at the last selfie Jungkook had sent you.

You kind of wished he was looking at the camera.

Maybe you needed a Confidant. You certainly didn’t really know how to develop relationships with anyone, except maybe your older brother. But that was because he was your brother and familial responsibility. Well. Not true. Your brother was really nice to you.

That’s why you folded his underwear for him, even to this day.

Sigh.

Jungkook did like SHINee though.

At least that was one thing in common, right?

next episode: 3. in which only a major event can bring these two loons back together – SHINee is back!

masterpost

#jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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astralglam · 3 years ago

Note

💭

DEAR DIARY -- WEDNESDAY

Today was awful. I went to the supermarket to buy some pre-cut fruit (I’m still not allowed to touch knives -- not after what I almost did to Priscilla’s cat) and I yanked on the door but it wouldn’t open. I thought the store wasn’t open, so I told the person behind me, they’re closed, don’t go in, but turns out, you’re just supposed to push the door, not pull on it. You couldn’t possibly know how this feels. I want to die. I should never go in public again. I don’t want anyone to see me for the next hundred years.

Because I couldn’t possibly stay there and suffer the shame of everyone knowing how stupid and dumb I am, I brought the big box of strawberries to the University to wait for Priscilla to get out of class, and while I was there, I met some guy named -- actually, I don’t know. He told me, but I wasn’t listening. But we had a nice conversation about vegetables and mushrooms and eating stuff. There was something about him ... like, how nice he was, and how much he was friendly and thoughtful but also seemed kind of angry? He reminded me kind of -- um, nevermind. But he mentioned he was interested in space. I’m thinking -- maybe I should get more strawberries, and go sit in the same spot ... !! And maybe I’ll see him again !!

DEAR DIARY -- FRIDAY

He wasn’t there. Found a bug on the floor, though.

DEAR DIARY -- I DON’T KNOW WHAT DAY IT IS

I wish I got his name !! And I wish I had my cellphone, and I could’ve taken a picture of that bug ... he’s on my mind a lot, cuz Sid and Priscilla are real nice and everything, but they’re always making fun of me. You look dumb, stop writing in your diary, you can’t slam the fridge door past two AM. I wish I had someone to spend time with who didn’t tell me I’m -- weird. And not the nice kind of weird, like a cute girl with green hair, the bad kind of weird, where people stare at you and cross the street to avoid you because you upset them. Like I’m some annoying pest and being around me is a chore. No one ever listens to me. Not here or Atomina. And the whole reason I came all the way here was because I just wanted things to go a little better for me ... but he listened to me, even if it was just for a little, and even if we didn’t talk about anything important...

He mentioned something ... pot cast. Pat cast. Pod cost. I’ll ask about it later.

ENTRY #15 --

1. I told Sid about finding the Pot Cast and he asked why and I told him why and he asked for details and I had to get my diary -- sorry, this is a journal -- out to remember the details. Sid says it’s too girly to say “dear diary” and I should say “captain’s log” or just number the pages by date. I don’t want to be girly ... Priscilla is already a girl, we can’t have two girls in a friend group. It seems excessive.

2. But that wasn’t important. I found the pot cast, its called the Zenith Span!!!! It’s actually just a voice recording he puts online of him talking to himself and people who yell at him. It’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard. Imagine being so outspoken, you just give your opinion on things, unwarranted...? That you just say whatever you mean, with all your whole huge heart, because you love things so much, or you hate them even more...? I fell asleep listening to them, but I woke up because in one of the pot casts it sounded like he was fighting someone and they were screaming about whether or not we needed another sequel for that giant monster crime fighting detective movie franchise. Oh!!!! And, you know, because he had a whole web-thing set up for it, so now I know his name: it’s Clerk!

ENTRY #16 --

I misheard. It’s Clark. Sorry.

ENTRY #17 --

I played Angry Birds so hard today I threw up. I think, actually, I threw up because I didn’t eat for twelve hours (because of the Angry Birds) and then I drank a glass of ice water, but that wasn’t the good thing about today -- I saw Clark again!!!! We went on a walk, we talked about things, he -- turns into -- soup -- but he’s ok!!!!! Its a very long story and my hand is tired and I don’t want to write it all out. I’ll draw a picture so I can remember it later. I looked kind of like this:

ENTRY #18 --

I’ve been spending a lot of time with Clark. He’s so funny -- like, he makes me laugh, and he’s fun, which is every applicable use of the word funny I can think of. When I get things wrong, he doesn’t make fun of me or call me dumb, usually he just tells me very plainly. And he’s kind of weird, too -- but the good kind of weird, the green-hair-girl kind of weird, because I’d never cross the street if I saw Clark coming down the sidewalk. I’d go up to him and ask if he wants to spend time together. I still listen to his pot cost -- I always want to keep up to date on the newest stuff he’s talking about, even if I don’t really know...whathe’s talking about. I still hope I see him out and about. Usually when I talk to people, I’m kind of just waiting for them to stop talking so it’s my turn to talk, but with Clark, he could talk about anything for as long as he wanted, and I’d be glad to listen. I don’t really know why ... I mean, admittedly, I don’t care about anything he likes. I don’t care about movies and I think science is boring. But if he likes it, then I guess I like it, too.

ENTRY #19 --

We went to the pet store to get food for Priscilla’s cat and I saw the worst thing ever. One of those tiny dogs in the glass cages tore another tiny dog in half like a green onion pancake. Except -- it wasn’t green onions that came out -- it was a lot redder -- it looked like canned peaches ... it’s too terrible to describe. I want to pretend today didn’t happen.

ENTRY #20 --

TODAY IT WAS LIKE [ the rest of the page is filled with incomprehensible scribbles and hearts drawn in dollar store highlighter. ]

ENTRY #21 --

Yesterday I was too tired after everything so I tried to write but I think I fell asleep writing the entry because I just woke up on the floor with my face in the book. But I think I’m okay now. Nooooo I’m not OKAAAAAY I’m MORE THAN OKAAAAAAAAAAY

It was a routine day: petstore, the tiny dogs in the little glass cages, Clark helped me liberate them. He took me in his CAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT??????????????????? And I was already so excited to be in the car and I couldn’t believe we were still spending time and he did all that stuff for me and I went crazy and I didn’t even realize it!! I asked if he wanted to spend just a little more time together -- I mean, I only see him, like, once a month, and it’s always on accident. I don’t even use this book to write about much else other than the times I see Clark. And he didn’t just say yes -- he took me to a MOVIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It was a good movie!!! Actually, I don’t remember the movie, I was too excited that I was -- I was -- I can’t even write it down. I was on a D A T E with C L A R K and we were watching -- something about a teenager who can turn into a satellite -- I don’t know. It was a bad movie, actually, but he’ll never know I said that, and I’ll watch a thousand million quadrillion bad movies as long as I can watch them with Clark.

He’s like those weird spikey plants that are hard to hold but you can’t help but to think they’re wonderful, and you wanna keep them around forever. I knew he was kind of ... blunt. Maybe tactless. But I really liked that about him. I really wish I could just fess up and tell him The Big Secret. I sometimes think that maybe he already knows. He loves space, it’s not like he’s stupid, he watches all those dumb “alien invader” movies that Earth is so obsessed with, why wouldn’t he have a feeling that maybe I’m not exactly who I say I am?

I asked Priscilla and Sid and they said that 1. Clark isn’t special and I’m just a loser who found another loser like me 2. it’s a bad idea because he’ll either think I’m a crazy person telling lies or if he believes me he’ll tell someone else and they’ll tell other people and then it won’t be a secret. And that’s always the bad outcome. It’s a secret for a reason ... I know it’s for the best. Still. I’m so glad I know him. I feel a lot less lonely and a lot less bad weird, maybe more just normal weird. I hope we spend more time together. Maybe he’ll let me pick some new clothes for him ... ! I wanna write a song -- I just have to find words that rhyme with Clark. Bark ... stark? Shark!!!!!!!

#zenithspan #v ; moonage daydream #ask #I WANTED TO MAKE THIS SPECIAL FOR CLARK SO SORRY I TOKO SO LONG TO WRITE IT ; _;#keep you 'lectric eye on me ; queue

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bagadew · 3 years ago

Text

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band (Part 1)

Last Time: With a little help from Susato, the lady in pink, we discovered that Miss Brett poisoned Dr Wilson with Curare, a fast acting poison that’s only effective when introduced into the blood stream. In a last ditch attempt to avoid justice, Miss Brett destroyed the evidence right in front of the court, but fortunately my man Hosonaga was on hand with new evidence he’d taken from the crime scene, meaning that all we had to do was catch the thief of a rare golden coin, and tie Miss Brett up with her own words! At last I (Ryunosuke) was acquitted!

...only to find out in the lobby that Miss Brett has managed to privilege her way out of any consequences and was gone like smoke in the wind. (Also Kazuma used his sword in a way I found very hot, and I think I’ve accidentally doomed him to death or moral corruption.)

I’m 90% sure The Speckled Band is a Sherlock Holmes case, and I’m 49% sure it’s one of the ones I’ve read. I’m guessing this is where we’ll meet The Great Himbo Detective Herlock Sholmes then!

Well I guess that answers that then.

(And yes, I have read this one)

HERLOCK!

And he’s voiced by Professor Layton maybe???

Ooh, this seems like a Study in Scarlet, are we doing a Study in Scarlet guys?

Herlock has a magic gun!?!

Also I’m not digging this Japanese scripture and talk of it being penned by ‘the victim himself’. Kazuma what did I tell you about leaving my sight?

Wait... I could have sworn I just saw Hosonaga dressed as a sailor...

Oh balls, am I about to be accused of murder again?

Honestly I can’t take you anywhere Ryunosuke

Well Ryunosuke, you remember how you went to a lovely restaurant and got arrested for a murder you didn’t commit?

Well, it’s just like that but substitute restaurant for ship.

Also I’m not liking how little I’ve seen of Kazuma...

Ryunosuke we really need to have a talk about you just saying what people want to hear.

ITS FUCKING KAZUMA ISN’T IT?!

Nononononononono

I knew this was coming, you knew this was coming, Ace Attorney law dictated it was coming as soon as it set Kazuma up as both my mentor and best friend.

But even so, I thought they were just empty threats! I didn’t think they’d actually follow through! Or that we might at least enjoy Herlock Sholmes ad his magic gun together first.

I realise I’m stalling here, but maybe if I just don’t click I’ll not have to see his body.

Sailor Man, I understand that you’re very upset, we all are, but I need you to understand that I’m grieving here.

The man I love took one look at the morally compromised shits I’m normally into and decided he’d rather die than join them! And yes I know I’m still stalling and not taking this as seriously as I should because I still don’t believe it!

See, me and Ryunosuke are on the same page!

I didn’t Susato, but the problem is that you and I have only just met and I’m not very convincing!

Kazuma you legend! I refuse to believe you are dead until I see your corpse.

Now Ryunosuke’s all: I can’t believe they tossed your case around that much. I thought I was going to die.

And Kazuma’s telling me he’s just amazed I fitted inside his trunk in the first place.

Kazuma you can’t be gone! Who else will condescendingly tell me to go to France and ask rather than translate a French label for me?

Now Kazuma’s telling me (Ryunosuke) that I’m going to have to live in his cabin for the next 50 days.

Also we’ve got to keep this from Susato because we’re breaking the law and Kazuma doesn’t want us to take her down with us.

Lol, every day I get shoved into the wardrobe by an uncaring Kazuma!

Oh, that’s what the message said!

God knows what the steward thought Kazuma was keeping in his wardrobe though

See Ryunosuke, this is why we think before we speak.

I don’t envy the real killer when Susato gets hold of them.

From what I can find out it’s a locked room mystery, and the cause of death is still undetermined, so I’m guessing something like poison then rather than an obvious thing, like being stabbed with his big sword.

On one hand, I really hope it wasn’t something like Curare, because I don’t want Kazuma to have gone out like that, but on the other hand poison would explain why the killer didn’t need to be in the room when he died and why Kazuma didn’t strike them down with said big sword.

Ok, so Kazuma, legend that he was, got up every day at the crack of dawn to do sword training. And Susato, who I’m begging to suspect is incredibly hardcore, go up before him so she could go and wait for him outside.

Now that’s interesting.

The two of them seem like they were pretty close, so there’s a good chance it’s just that she’s so familiar with Kazuma’s habits that she can tell the second something’s off, or it could be that there’s some other reason we need to work out.

If that’s correct that means Kazuma was killed in the small hours of the morning.

You know up ‘til now I’ve been assuming Ryunosuke was knocked out or something, and that’s why he was unconscious in the wardrobe, but now I’m starting to think he might have just been sleeping in there.

:((

Wait why’d Kazuma write in Russian?

Like I’d buy that he might know it, but I don’t buy that’s it’s what he’d write in in his finger moments.

Well that proves my innocence then, all we need to do is get some witnesses to verify the ‘go to France and ask’ moment from the last case

Oh ok, I didn’t manage to screenshot it, but it seems that I (Ryunosuke) didn’t put myself in the wardrobe. That’s very odd.

I can see a vent up there, so maybe someone gassed us and then got in while we were asleep and set up the crime scene.

Kazuma said I should come, next question

Ryunosuke, with some of the words that come out of your mouth I don’t think you should be throwing stones.

Love?

Apparently not.

This is going to be something ominous isn’t it...

I’m starting to feel like Kazuma knew he’d never see England.

Kazuma how many toes did you tread on?

Oh fucking hell!

You can’t die and be heading down a dark moral path, that’s not fair!

Yeah, I want to know that too.

So my poison/drugging theory seems to be holding up. Apparently Kazuma bought me something to eat, I climbed into the hiding wardrobe, and then it’s lights out from there.

Given that I didn’t wake up when Kazuma was killed I’m going to say that also back that theory up. Even if it was silent I feel like Ryunosuke would have woken up if someone was going round the cabin knocking ink bottles over and killing Kazuma.

No, don’t blame yourself Ryunosuke!

It’s my fault really, if I was going to find Kazuma hot I should have made sure I could manifest inside my switch and protect him!

Ah, of course! Isn’t her dad a professor of pathology? And she seems like the sort of person who picks things up pretty quickly!

In other words, if this is a poisoning, she could be the perfect person to be partnered up with.

:(((

Susato is fully prepared to kick our ass if we try and leave, and as the woman who got up before Kazuma, I think we should listen to her.

:(((((

I say we team up as an investigative duo and catch this bastard!

Yeah!

SHE FUCKED US UP!!!

Susato didn’t come here to play! Especially when we might have killed Kazuma!

(Editors note: this isn’t a bad screenshot, Susato genuinely made Ryunosuke’s vision go blurry)

I know we need to investigate, but my god this woman’s got a fist to match her convictions.

You know when I first met Susato I was a bit afraid she was going to be the inverse of Maya to the point of being meek and shy.

Now I see what a fool I was.

Susato might be prepared to politely follow the rules, but woe betide you if you break them.

She’s even named it!

Again I know this is bad for us but GO SUSATO!

(God damn it you can’t all be my favourite characters)

Her own special martial arts form Ryunosuke!

And just like that she regathers her composure and carries on as if nothing had happened!

I like how she’s still just standing over me.

Ok Ryunosuke let’s go!

(Seriously though we don’t want her as an enemy)

Ah of course, Kazuma stuck the seal on the wardrobe, and the fact Herlock Sholmes (the himbo detective) had to pull it off means I didn’t leave!

No one respects poor Ryunosuke...

So it seems that Susato doesn’t believe we’re innocent just yet, but as we’ve presented the possibility of doubt before her she will let us investigate this room.

Given the buck wild nature of the last trial she was involved in, I honestly can’t blame her for not ruling this possibility out. After all if this was something a witness in a trial had said I’d be thinking the same thing.

Susato’s going to be watching us to make sure we don’t disturb the crime scene, which again is fair.

I’ve got to say, I’m really digging Susato’s cautiously suspicious and sensible nature. It feels like a good counterbalance to Ryunosuke’s beautiful but naïve outlook on life.

I bet if Susato had stowed away onboard a ship you wouldn’t catch her immediately confessing as soon as a sailor started to press her.

Who am I kidding, Susato would never have got into this situation in the first place.

*sob*

Ok so far we’ve got:

A) Half a pink kimono fastener on the floor next to a brick red mark

B) One disturbed table, with the remains of our roast chicken dinner on the floor

C) The terrible knowledge that Kazuma spent his last night on earth hungry because he didn’t like chicken

D) Kazuma’s precious katana, that he loved dearly and that he’d apparently managed to persuade the government to let him bring to the UK.

Oh yeah, drive the knife in why don’t you game!

Why do I feel like Ryunosuke’s about to get roasted?

There we go.

(It’s what Kazuma would have wanted)

DON’T JUST GO WITH IT RYUNOSUKE!

Back to investigating, we’ve got a ransacked shelf, and Kazuma’s London diary.

Just, you know, to rip my heart out...

It looks like the final entry’s incomplete, which means Kazuma was probably writing it when the incident happened. Unfortunately Susato is violently insistent that we respect the Kazuma’s private thoughts after his death, so we can’t read it.

We’ve got the inky Russian(?) on the floor which none of us can either recognize, nor read (including me)

(Sorry to any Russians reading this by the way, I can only assume you’re screaming that this isn’t Russian, but I’m just going by what the Great Himbo Detective said in the cut scene.)

Ok, so the sailor who’s been guarding us got very flustered when we asked if everything was normal last night, meaning that either he’s been skiving off, or everything was in fact not normal last night.

Oh sweet, it seems that Ryunosuke and Susato both read detective novels, and while we’ve shot down the possibility of using the needle and thread trick to unbolt the door from the outside (side note: I must remember to try that later), I feel like both they, and the player who immediately started trying to rattle off facts about Curare, have had a bonding moment.

Ok, I think that’s this half of the room done, let’s go and check out that vent I saw earlier.

So the vent connects to the room next door. That means if the grate could be moved we have a way in and out of our crime scene!

HERLOCK SHOLMES!!!

I mean, he’s quite hard to miss Ryunosuke

(I think Ryunosuke might have an Apollo complex short)

Understatement of the century

Her and me both Ryunosuke, it’s The Great Himbo Detective!!!

WE’RE TALKING TO HIM!

AND HE’S BLANKING US!!!

Herlock Sholmes I understand that you’re in a critical point of your investigation, but you need to understand that Ryunosuke, Susato and I are sad and need to see your magic gun.

YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSS!!!

IT’S LIKE HE HEARD ME!!!

OH GREAT HIMBO DETECTIVE CHEER ME WITH YOUR WITH YOUR ECCENTRIC ACTS THAT ARE RELATABLE TO MY AUTISTIC ASS!!!

OMFG HE’S SO INCREDIBLY WRONG!!!

I hope this is the way all of his deductions go from now on.

Also I’m sorry Russia and the Russian language, I should not have believed what the man, who on reflection was sold to me as the great himbo detective, said.

Susato’s buying it!

Susato look into my eyes and tell me Ryunosuke could ever make it as a soldier.

No, please do!

And the bullet flies a mile wide!

I’m still upset about Kazuma, but I’m somehow also having the time of my life

SUSATO YOU KNOW I’M FROM JAPAN!!!

SHE TOOK ME OUT!!!

AND MY GOD AM I HERE FOR IT!!!

Ryunosuke’s finally snapped!

What I find amazing is that the Sherlock Holmes Herlock Sholmes stories clearly exist, basically unchanged in this world. So either Dr Watson Wilson was either lying through his teeth to spare his friend’s feelings, or he is the stopped clock is right twice a day person who Herlock actually hit the nail on the head for, and therefore he believed everything that was said.

‘On rout to foreign climates’ that’s how ships work Herlock!

Exactly!

I’ll say one thing for Herlock though, you can’t beat him down!

How am I both Ryunosuke and Susato in this scene?

Yeah Naruhodo-san! I thought you read detective stories!

Quick Susato! Get him to sign a copy!

Um... has no one told him yet...

I’m also curious about the fact that he still believes Dr Wilson’s in London. Either there are two Dr Wilson’s, or something weird is going on here.

Look at his hat Ryunosuke, it contains all the information you need

He got his own name wrong!

Hosonaga, I don’t know if you can hear from wherever you are on this ship dressed as a sailor, but there is a fight and you are rapidly losing!

(Also to be fair to Herlock, as someone who’s been playing a lot of Hitman recently, looking inside the wardrobe already means he’s doing a lot better than literally every character in that game.)

Ok so it was Russian then and I no longer have to apologies!

Do you think Herlock has ever been to Russia?

Ok Mr ‘is this cow a cat?’

:(((((((

HERLOCK THAT LOOKS NOTHING LIKE ME!!!

Ok everyone, we’re also on the lookout for a missing Russian Ballerina along with Kazuma’s killer. I don’t know how, but I wouldn’t have been told about her if she wasn’t relevant

I can’t believe we’ve finally found the vindictive part of Ryunosuke’s beautiful personality!

We’re finally reading Kazuma’s diary!

Oh fuck, Kazuma was bitten by an adder

Wait, if that was the case why didn’t he dispatch it with his big sword? We’ve seen him do precision work before, so that can’t be it.

Either way, I think we really need to talk to the person in the room next to mine.

Also: Herlock Sholmes gets seasick!

Did she just break my cuffs?

My mistake she’s just showing some tough love to get me to buck up!

Let’s go team!

HOSONAGA!!!

“What are you doing here?” “I think that should be my line” This feels like that meme of the two Spidermen pointing at each other

I wouldn’t be so sure Susato. Hosonaga seems a lot like me, a bunch of disabilities held together by sheer force of will.

He still has a job!

(Or his superiors are just trying to send him as far away from Japan as they can)

HELL YEAH HOSONAGA, LETS PUNCH THE RULES UNTIL THEY SQUEAK!

(Also your superiors are definitely trying to ship you out)

Oh...

That would explain Kazuma’s whole vibe.

Although something about this feels wrong. No disrespect to Hosonaga, but as determined as he is he doesn’t exactly have the physical prowess you’d associate with stopping an assassination. I know I haven’t exactly seen him at work yet, but something about this feels like he was set up to fail.

Now the thing is, that while he can cut it as a waiter, Hosonaga isn’t exactly built to fit in among sailors. It’s not going to take a genius therefore, to work out who Kazuma’s guard is, especially if he’s been around Kazuma from dawn till dusk. That’s probably why his killer had to kill him in his cabin, and it’s also why they probably drugged his food (which means they didn’t know him enough to know he didn’t like chicken)

:(((((((((((((

On the plus side though, it looks as though Hosonaga believes in my innocence.

Come on Hosonaga, remember when you bought Miss Brett to us!

Hell yeah Hosonaga!

Hosonaga heard my call! He heard that he was losing his place as my second favourite character and came back swinging!!!

Determination Ryunosuke!

Also probably hacking up a lot of blood, that does wonders to unnerve people in my experience

Now, I should present Kazuma’s diary here... but...

Yes, everything is as it should be...

He’s digging it!

Oh no he took it as an insult!

Sorry Ryunosuke, that’s the crime scene thief’s now

Ok let’s do this properly then

Yeah boy!

LETS DO THIS TEAM!!!

Ryunosuke, do you remember nothing about this man?

Hosonaga didn’t come here to play!

Ok, we’re moving on out (except not right now because I’ve still got a couple of things to look at before we go)

I think Ryunosuke might be a bad influence on Susato...

Also I feel like I’ve pegged Susato wrong regarding the rules. Susato’s just very good at keeping up the appearance of following them.

Come to think of it, the fact she’s a judicial assistant, despite women apparently not being allowed in the Japanese court other than to testify should have clued me in.

Susato Mikotoba: Breaking the rules in front of you, but in a way you don’t notice

(Also the bell pull’s not working, but I think we all expected that)

Susato I’ve been living in a cupboard!

Don’t pity me!

Ok, so I’m not quite sure when Ryunosuke and I started thinking as one, but we’ve all agreed it’s happening now

Ryunosuke do not get caught in the mousetrap!

Susato can see right through me (Ryunosuke)

Umm...

This is the Phoenix Maya dynamic inverted, and I am living for it.

Susato: Now this is an emergency button, it’s very important you do NOT press it!

Ryunosuke: *lunges for the trigger*

It feels amazing being the wayward partner!

Our rout into cabin 2’s blocked by approximately 1 ton of sailor, so for now Susato and I will have to dick around avenge Kazuma out here in the corridor.

It seems that last night’s log is mostly blank, so I’m guessing I was right about the sailor on duty skiving off.

Hmm, so the person in the next cabin’s probably quite important then. Given what just happened with Miss Brett that’s not a good sign.

And it seems like I’m not allowed to visit whoever it is without an invitation... which might prove tricky given as how there in there and I’m out here

Ah good, a Western Gentleman, that’s just what we need!

Hmmmmm

These guys left their post for a while didn’t they?

Either that or there’s something (or someone) they’re keeping off the records.

This might be a bit of a wide shot, but that mousetrap makes me wonder if the crew has some sort of secret pet squirrelled away somewhere. It doesn’t entirely add up what with them putting traps down, but with everyone in Ace Attorney having something to hide it’s all I can think of now.

Bif Strogenov’s left to report to the captain, nows our window to violate some privacy!

HERLOCK SHOLMES!!!

Shot down!

Herlock that thing’s tiny, I don’t think anyone’s in there!

It moved!

Guess I’m eating my words!

Herlock???

Ok, we’re not allowed to look inside the case, or indeed anything, but fortunately we have HERLOCK SHOLMES THE GREAT HIMBO DETECTIVE!!!

Deduce away Herlock!

Herlock... are you about to tell this man that he’s also the Russian Assasin? Are you going to do this round the whole ship until you get it right?

Wait this is working!?!

Herlock Sholmes is Susato’s one blind spot and Ryunosuke’s one point of clarity

CHOOCHOO!!!

THIS IS AMAZING!

He’s not entirely right though...

(Editors note: I completely managed to miss capturing 90% of the ? icons)

I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!

HERLOCK LOOK AT THIS MAN’S NOSE, LOOK AT MY FACE! NOW LOOK AT THE MAN IN THE PORTRAIT!

However, the newspaper in his pocket and the little ! icon seems to suggest there’s some connection there.

(Editors note: I also managed to miss every ! icon)

And there is a crime being committed, but it’s not to do with the case.

Yeah, it probably just contains one of those pets we’re not supposed to have.

So... a baby?

So do a lot of people Susato

Ok, so The Great Himbo Detective is actually really good at making observations, it’s just how he applies them that’s shit.

I wonder if this is what Dr Wilson did for their partnership, but he just cut out the bits where he said things like: Herlock these people have completely different faces, maybe there’s a different reason they’ve got the paper?

Ryunosuke normally: The fact Hosonaga’s working in this restaurant clearly means he’s struggling financially!

Ryunosuke around Herlock: You can’t just say the first guess that pops into your head!

HERLOCK BUSTED US OUT!!!

(Ok he’s also the reason we were in handcuffs, but still)

Olay!

What! Noooooo!

‘Course Correction: Hold it Mr Sholmes!’ What a title!

Important news just in: Ryunosuke can’t grow a beard

A part of me says that he was about to use the sheers to cut up that paper, but there are obviously other copies around the ship, so unless he’s planning a sheers rampage that can’t be right.

Hello!

Wait a second... with that reaction to the paper... is there a Russian Ballerina in there?

WE DID THE HERLOCK SHOLMES COOL SPIN AND CLICK!!!

Also look at Ryunosuke’s little cocky smirk!

He’s really getting into this!

And I couldn’t be more proud!

We’re tag teaming it!

Herlock I swear to god if you tell me she’s that assassin

WHAT DID I JUST SAY!

(Editors note: Got that one!)

I sure am Susato!

Keep telling yourself that Ryunosuke, we can all see the truth

Ah, so the nose was fake too

That makes a lot more sense now!

Well she did disappear with a priceless tiara

He said, rubbing his hand in glee

This is definitely the start of a beautiful friendship!

Damn straight I do!

Bingo

For some reason I pictured it as being pink though, I don’t know why

Anyway so, while Nikolina does need money it seems that she didn’t steal the tiara. Apparently it was given to her as a present.

Also Nikolina is only 15, and has run away by herself for reasons currently unknown. I’m starting to get the feeling that the crew (or at least the two we’ve met) might have been looking out for her.

Oh yeah, the moving travel case!

Given the rules regarding pets, I wonder if that’s what’s in there? It would explain the attitude of the sailors we met.

Is it the Russian Revolutionary Herlock? You have to tell us if it is...

He’s learning!

Yep, she’s looking at the pet rule sign, now show me the pet!

Whoooooooo!

Yeah, I’m pretty sure the guys on the door were covering for her (and probably her pet too)

Hmm, so Nikolina’s running from someone, so she decided to disguise herself to be safe and has been a jumble of nerve ever since.

Can I see...

Bless you Nikolina, but you’re not the best at keeping secrets. I’m pretty sure the crew have collectively decided to just look the other way and let the traumatised 15 year old have her pet.

HE CUFFED ME AGIAN!!!

I wonder if Nikolina’s beloved pet’s a snake?

Can I just...

Fine...

No, everyone must see my badge!

HA!

Ok now let’s go back to actually playing the game!

So, because she’s a jumble of nerves, Nikolina hasn’t been noticing much about what’s been happening around her. However I think she’d have probably noticed signs of danger, like loud noises, so I’m a little curious as to why she didn’t pick up on the sound of the tableware being sent to the floor.

From what I can gather about her ‘never dancing again’ whatever happened probably has something to do with the ballet.

Either that or she’s worried about being linked with her old life if she goes back on the scene under another name.

That’s a good point actually, while people are funny and I can get her wanting a memento of her life, that’s an incredibly distinctive memento to have.

It must have some sort of emotional significance, I think she said it was given to her by an Earl, so maybe her father?

Hmm, that’s a pretty distinctive thing to try and pawn Nikolina.

Yikes! So the Novavich Ballet’s got really unethical working conditions. (Which probably shouldn’t be too much of a shock given the time period.) Now I understand why Nikolina’s so keen to never put herself in that situation again.