#i noticed errors too many times and now that's my job so like. it's not just fiction I write

[thedrotter]

I have a gift for y'all today !!! 😊 Ever wanted to find a line in Re:Kinder in a single place for the sake of reference?? How about multiple chunks of lines. how about all the little variations that arise in the text with it's many endings, item descriptions, text that comes from interacting with the enviroment, and character info from the menu without having to boot up the game and go through it at long minutes!!???

well i sure did😊 Since I do a lot of fanart and think up my own silly theories and thoughts that need me to reference the game lines a lot, i have made a transcript for it for convenience's sake. A weirdly thorough transcript handwritten and proofread by me including all character lines available in-game. And I'm sharing it with you all today for anyone that wants it !!! :3 To use as a reference for creative fanworks or a quick search for a line in-game, whatever you wish to use it for!!

It uses the english translation of the game by vgperson. So naturally all credit for the game lines available in here is to her and Parun who made the game.

I did my best to organize it in a way easy to digest. Do note that I'm still human, and there's still the chance for mistake in it no matter how much I've proofread it, since I'm not even an english native speaker ^^. But I hope it serves you well nonetheless if you wish to use it.

That's my gift for today!!! Not the usual art, but still a project I'm proud of. Enjoy!!! 😊

[n7punk]

How do you write so good!! Can you give any advice

So I'm trying to think of writing advice, I really am, but I'm kind of drawing up a blank aside from... write. Like there's all these writing advice posts across Tumblr and half of them are bullshit (either completely or just because they're only relevant to certain people/writing styles) and the other half has all already been said but it all comes back to just... writing. The more you write the better you get at it, and especially the more you SHARE it the better you'll get. I write... a lot, and that's the only way you get better at a skill like that, but I can't pretend my commenters aren't part of it because like, when they're commenting on how I changed the sentence structure to match the moment or something and it's already something I did... it's not a conscious change I made, you know? It just felt right, but they were able to articulate why it felt right and that helps me be more aware of using that as a technique in the future. So write and post fanfic, I guess is the advice XD

[bookishgalaxies]

Hellooooo I saw that ur requests are opened so I tried to make my head work and think about something interesting

What about Wanderer x Reader (I know you don't like writing a male reader, but still I'd like to request it <3 if u don't feel comfortable doing it you can just go by gn reader) But the reader has a scarameow plush and he always hug his plush when he wants attention. LIKE he doesn't hug Wanderer to not bother him or something (bros so insecure ew (jk)

WELL AGAIN if you don't want to write a male reader you can go by gn <3 tysm if u write that request. Have a good day/night!!

(I actually tried to think about something to request cause I can't take trying to read smt with him and this app having mostly smut fics with him <//3 LIKE WHY ARE THERE SO MANY SMUT FICS...)

Hug Me Instead, Idiot

summary: you just want some cuddles but are too scared to ask, so you hug your plushie instead. Not realizing that Wanderer had caught on to this habit of your’s.

type: oneshot, not proofread

character: wanderer x gn!reader

warnings: reader being insecure, wanderer being wanderer (affectionately ofc)

a/n: thank you bunches for this request! I’m sorry I couldn’t do a make reader for you. I just always feel more comfortable writing for a gender neutral reader. That said, always let me know if there are any pronoun slips or mistakes. I really enjoyed this request even though I’m not much of a Wanderer fan myself.

————————★————————

The day had been long and seemed to have taken a lot out of you. You enjoyed your job and found great pleasure in what you did but right now you were exhausted. Halfway between sitting and lying on the comfy sofa.

You heard the sound of pencil scratching on paper as Wanderer made revisions to one of his colleague’s essays. He sat in a chair across the room next to a lamp emitting warm light and a small table.

You admired his features, even if they were scrunched up in annoyance at what he was reading. His indigo eyes may have possessed a sharp glare but they were mesmerizing all the same. The way his lip quirked up slightly in a devious smirk as he marked on the essay. Indicating he was obviously looking forward to badgering the scholar about the error later. His navy hair fell over his forehead and right now looked like it would be quite soft to the touch.

You two had been together for a while now much to both of your liking. Sure Wanderer could be a bit….rough around the edges sometimes, but he cared. You could see it in his actions even if he wasn’t a fan of always saying that he cared for you.

Admittedly, you hugged your cat plush closer. The stuffed animal gifted to you by Wanderer after he saw you admiring it in a shop window. You had told him that you weee admiring it because reminded you of him. Of course he was quick to scoff, telling you that your idea of similarity was ridiculous.

He regretted to inform you about the warm feeling that had spread throughout him when you mentioned thinking of him.

You didn’t notice how tightly you were holding the plush. Hugging it as if it were a real thing. You could tell you were getting tired and right now in particular wanted to cuddle with someone. That someone being Wanderer.

He was busy though, engrossed in editing the essays. You didn’t want to bother him over something so silly. He would probably find the request bothersome or annoying and you were already too scared of being perceived that way.

Fidgeting with the plush cat’s ears you started to spiral a bit. Thinking of all the times you had asked for a hug or a kiss and cringing at yourself for doing so. Honestly, you didn’t know why Wanderer stayed with you this long.

Looking out of the window next to the couch, you hear a voice from behind you.

“Move over.” Wanderer said, now standing by the sofa with a hardcover book and his now smaller stack of essays.

“Don’t you want to stay in the chair where there’s more light?”

“If I did I’d still be over there.” He replied, motioning again for you to scoot over.

He sat beside you, continuing to write vigilantly on the papers. It only took a few minutes before his sharp glare drifted over to you and he said.

“You’re lucky I’m not an idiot.” He’d say, setting the book and papers aside as he pulled you into a warm embrace.

You were stunned for a moment at how he knew that was exactly what you had wanted from him. Yes he was intelligent but….

“How did you-“

“I’m not an idiot.”

He’d look at you with pretty indigo eyes, his expression stoic as always.

“You could always just ask me.”

You knew he was right.

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

He’d scoff and roll his eyes.

“The scholars at the Akademiya bother me, not you. “

You’d smile warmly at him knowing that this was as sappy as he was going to get. It felt nice breathing in his clean and airy scent as you slowly drifted off into sleep. Finally able to let your brain drift into unconsciousness.

————————★————————

thank you so much for reading !!

stay hydrated and have a nice day/night !!

[delulustateofmind]

Bad Luck

Yan!Mahito x Reader

Description: You bring home a blue worm, what could go wrong? 

TW: Mahito (that’s literally the only one you need), Noncon/dubcon, brief lactation kink, Yandere behaviors - just obsession, threatening to disfigure people, Somnophilia, overstim, teeny-tiny piss mention (listen I would piss myself if I saw Mahito’s creations), praise (towards mahito) 

MDNI

WC: 2.3k

A/n: I literally despise Mahito, but I just feel like he would be such a good horror yandere. The dude is spooky. Fair warning, I am not the most comfortable with writing smut, especially dark stuff like this, so it could be actually terrible, but I figured I would test the waters. There may be errors, as I got to shy to read my own smut.

Today was not the day. Everything seemed to unravel at once. First, you lost your job at that trendy new café���a small but lively spot you had started to actually enjoy—all because you spilled a drink on your now ex-boyfriend. He’d walked in holding hands with your best friend, their shared laughter and kissing had…struck a nerve with you, and before you knew it, your world tilted. Your scholarship? Gone, revoked due to an anonymous tip accusing you of plagiarism in your senior project. You were lucky they didn’t expel you, but the word “lucky” felt like a cruel joke.

The streets of Tokyo buzzed around you, a dizzying blend of neon lights and the chatter of hurried crowds. The rain started, cold and sudden, soaking through your clothes and chilling you to the bone. Great. No umbrella, no clear memory of where you’d left your bike. You shuffled through the rain, each step heavier than the last. The absurd thought flitted through your mind: maybe you should have reshared that Facebook post you saw years ago, the one that said, “Share if you love Jesus or ignore for ten years of bad luck.” Perhaps ignoring it had been your downfall. You’ll make a note for next time. 

After several minutes, you found your bike, its metal frame slick with rainwater. Just as you were about to sit down, you noticed something small and peculiar resting on the seat—a grayish-blue caterpillar, fuzzy and oddly mesmerizing with what seemed like patchwork markings. You’d never seen one like that before. Your first instinct was unexpected: maybe you should bring it home. If you left it here, it might get crushed by a passerby or snatched up by a bird. Or worse—maybe it was poisonous and someone else’s day would become just as disastrous as yours.

Carefully, you opened your empty bento box and placed the little creature inside. It seemed to squirm contentedly, almost as if it understood your intention. You opted not to close the lid, fearful it might suffocate. Gently, you set the box in the small basket of your bicycle and began the short ride home. Your apartment was only a few miles away, nestled in the heart of Kabukicho, Tokyo’s vibrant and infamous entertainment district. It wasn’t ideal—the clamor of nearby bars, the Yakuza lurking in shadowed alleys, piles of trash and drunks lining the streets—but it was the only place you could afford. And on most days, it felt safe enough.

You climbed the eight flights of stairs, each step more taxing than the last, breath hitching as you struggled to catch it. Maintenance had promised to fix the elevator months ago. By the time you reached your door, you were gasping, sweat and rain mixing on your skin. You looked down at the caterpillar. Or was it a worm now? Its form seemed more elongated, less distinct. It stared back at you, almost knowingly. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Perhaps the rain was already starting to give you a fever. You should have brought a jacket today. 

You blinked, shaking off the thought. You were exhausted. It had been a day of too many shocks, and your mind was playing tricks on you. That had to be it. Right? 

You found an old tank from that one fish you tried keeping alive, setting the worm, caterpillar, thing—whatever it was—inside. You placed a few leaves from your plants that were barely living. Perhaps a reflection of you in a sense, starting so bright in life only to wallow in self-deprecation. You placed the cover of the tank, giving the worm thing one last look before scrounging through your fridge for something besides leftovers.

You could always move back home.

Go back to your little small rural town, tend to the rice fields just like your parents. Marry some local boy.

You tried to wipe the tears before they could fall into your sad bowl of ramen, the running snot and the wails of your cries. Was this pack of ramen always this salty or was it your tears adding to it? You weren’t sure if you cared or not.

After your good little cry session, you passed out in bed. Unaware that you had made a huge mistake bringing home that silly little caterpillar.

You awoke in the middle of the night to a heavy weight on your waist. Was your stuffed animal always this heavy? You blearily looked up, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. Your heart nearly stopped in your chest when your gaze was met with a cruel smile, teeth white and unsettlingly human, glistening in the dim light.

Cold terror seeped into your veins. The figure looming over you was not human. Its eyes were black voids, bottomless pits reflecting nothing but curiosity. The skin, pale and stitched together like a mangled corpse.

Was this how you die? At the hands of some nightmare made flesh? Maybe you should have reblogged that post. Maybe you should have sent that money to that Nigerian prince you thought was a spam email.

“Hello,” the voice giggled, a mockery of warmth twisted by an unnatural echo. The creature tilted its head, gray hair that was partially braided spilling to the side. Its markings, dark and jagged like stitches. You suddenly remembered the caterpillar, and your stomach roiled with dread.

“Did you bring me home to play?” it whispered, voice lilting with a sickening glee. The grin widened impossibly, the teeth remaining unsettlingly human. The creature’s eyes glistened with delight as it fed on the raw, unfiltered terror etched across your face.

“I’m so glad you did,” it cooed, fingers like talons skimming across your cheek with a touch too cold, too calculated. Suddenly, it giggled again—a sound both childlike and unsettling, as if a child were delighted by their favorite toy—and clapped its hands. “We’re going to have so much fun! Let’s see how long you can scream,” it said, eyes sparkling with manic glee.

Suddenly, Mahito’s expression softened, taking on an eerie, almost affectionate look. He traced your jawline with a gentler touch, tilting his head with an unsettling innocence. “But you’re special,” he murmured, as if sharing a secret. “You brought me here, after all. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll keep you.”

The room spun as confusion and fear filled your mind. The monster’s gaze shifted from playful to possessive, a twisted sort of fondness darkening his features. He pressed his forehead against yours, the unnatural coldness of his skin seeping into you.

“You’re mine now,” Mahito whispered, a mockery of affection that sent chills racing down your spine. “And I protect what’s mine.”

The next few months were hell. You found out that only you could see Mahito. Something about him being a curse or something. At times, he would remind you that you were lucky that he liked you. He’d remind you by dragging you to witness his “experiments,” humans grotesquely twisted into unrecognizable forms, clawing at the damp walls of a forgotten sewer.

“This could be you,” he cooed so playfully, pressing a few light kisses to your neck as your eyes widened in horror at the sight before you. You trembled, unable to look away from the writhing, desperate figures.

“But you’re so pretty, I just… I just love you,” Mahito giggled, an almost boyish smile splitting his face as he looked at you, eyes brimming with a twisted sincerity. His arms wrapped around your waist, a possessive embrace that felt more like a shackle.

“You take such good care of me, y/n,” he whispered, the words sending shivers down your spine as the grotesque chorus of agony continued around you. The contrast between his gentle tone and the grotesque scene made your stomach churn. You knew there was no escaping him—not now, not ever

“Mahito... can we go home?” you rasped, voice trembling as his teeth grazed your neck, leaving a stinging mark in their wake. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, but you bit back a cry.

“Go home...?” His voice took on a mocking, airy tone as he nuzzled against your skin. “I was going to join you at the university today. I need a few more shrunken experiments, you know? I was thinking about picking that one girl who sits next to you. The one who always compliments your outfits.” His hand slipped under your shirt, his touch cold and insistent as he left another bruising kiss on your collarbone.

“She should’ve known you were mine,” he giggled, the sound innocent and jarring as he toyed with your vulnerability. His hand made its way to your chest, and a shocked, playful laugh escaped his lips. “No bra? My, my, you spoil me…”

His eyes glistened with delight, a twisted mix of childlike excitement and sadistic pleasure. “Remember when you used to run away? I miss those days... I miss scaring you with my experiments. But I also love when you let me touch…”

Mahito’s lips quivered in a deranged smile, as his fingers found your nipples. Twisting and pulling until milk begins to dampen your shirt.The tips of his fingers becoming sticky with your milk. A giggle escaped his lips “I was so lucky this alteration to your body took…I was nearly worried it was going to kill you in the process….messing with brains can be hard” he whined the past few words as he continued to milk you, staining your poor blouse with each tug and pull. The only thing that filled the room was the sound of your sweet moans and the horrors that were monsters clawing the walls. You felt sick as slick began to coat your thighs, something that could be mixed with piss from the sight around you and the arousal building up from your sensitive buds being toyed with, to the point where they ached. 

You practically whimpered in his grip. Clawing at the arm that held you to his chest. 

“I love you,” he continued, his voice dripping with twisted delight, the words flowing out in a sing-song manner. “Say it back and we’ll go home…okay?” His smile, stretched wide and near-manic, sent a chill down your spine as he watched you wither under his touch.

“Hah…I…” The words caught in your throat, lodged behind the growing bile threatening to choke you. You forced them out, pushing past the terror and the nausea that gripped you as your eyes darted to his grotesque creations, their hands clawing desperately at the walls of the forgotten sewer. “I love…you…” The phrase broke into fractured sobs, each one echoing in your mind, barely masking the sound of Mahito’s gleeful laughter as he swept you up into his arms.

“That’s my girl! See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he chirped, the cheerfulness in his voice a sickening contrast to the horror around you. Your body tensed, but you forced yourself to relax, leaning into his chest. They were once people, weren’t they? 

As your vision blurred, exhaustion pulled you under, your mind swirling with nightmares of those poor, wretched things clawing and pleading in the darkness. 

You weren’t sure how long you were out for, your mind hazy, you felt like you had a fever as you panted. You blinked away the sleep, feeling a pool of heat between your legs and you could hear…moans? Everything felt so hot…so messy. 

“Give…give me one…more” Mahito whined with each and every breath. Has he been?…The soreness hit you first, you felt so raw. You watched at the pale creature pathetically humped the bed like a bitch in heat. “I was a good boy…right? Right? I waited…so that way you could enjoy it too…” His dead eyes looked up at you, expecting some sort of praise for his deranged actions. You hoped that you could mask the horror on your face, right before, he curled his fingers deep inside you causing you to squirm. 

“Hah…I memorized your body…while you were asleep…if I touch you here” you nearly screamed out of pleasure, your body compulsing as you saw stars, your eyes rolling back of your skull, You were just so overstimulated. “It will make you climax within seconds…so I figured I would keep hitting that spot until you wake up” He smiled as he licked your clit, circling his long tongue around the sensitive nub that caused a guttural moan to slip out of your lips. “Then this little thing causes your legs to shake…must feel good right? All red and puffy” he continued licking up and down, side to side. Spelling out his name until you were spilling out curses from your lips. His fingers kept curling around that sweet spot that was located deep inside of you. The sounds that filled the room, made your stomach tighten in knots. You shouldn’t be feeling this….good. 

You peeked down at him, the way he looked up at you like a lovesick bitch in heat. He enjoyed this a little too much you could tell. 

“Tell me, I’m a good boy, please…please” He moaned as he continued to fuck himself against your bed. “Y/n…I’m your good boy…” he whined in between licks. “I cleaned you up and everything…hah…you were just so messy…couldn’t…help myself.” 

You forced the words out in between labored breaths.

“You’re…a good….boy” After that final word, pleasure clashed into you. Your hips moved involuntarily as you squirted on his face, earning a large, cruel smile from his lips as he licked at the sweet juices in between muttering Thank you and I love you. You were thankful you passed out. Not wanting to know what else he had in store for you tonight. 

Perhaps hell would be better than this.

[ryker-writes]

Hello, so i apparently have a brain rot about twst characters being concerned about their siblings mental health due to their taste in men

The younger sibling of Vil while having both the looks and skills of their brother and father, also has a small amount of stage fright and loves video games, so they end up becoming a v-tuber and develop a small crush on an internet friend and moderator who irl is Idia Shroud, maybe after revealing that they got accept to nrc the two decide to meet up irl and while Idia is lagging due to the error messages in his brain, little schoenheit's small crush develops into a full infatuation, Vil is so so concerned

I love this idea. While normally I write requests in bullet point format, I hope you don't mind that I wrote this one differently. I'm sorry if you don't like it as much because of this, I just felt like writing like this does requests like this better than my usual bullet point style

Request rules and Masterlist

As a part of the Schoenheit family, it was only natural that you had developed the acting and modeling skills as well as the good looks. It's just something that had been engrained into your lifestyle at a young age. Your father had you and Vil acting together from a young age, and Vil would always help you with everything.

The main thing he always had to help you with was your stage fright. While he and your father never had any problem being on stage, you hated it. Having everyone's eyes on you and the pressure not to mess up was all too much for you.

Perhaps that was why you liked video games so much. Online, no one knew who you really were, and that gave you a sense of freedom. No one could actually see you, and it gave you a sense of freedom. They didn't stare at you, and you didn't have to see them staring at you. There was a screen between you and them at all times.

But that desire to perform and entertain was still strong within you. Maybe it was just part of being a Schoenheit. Thankfully, the internet is a wonderful place full of opportunities, and you were able to find a way to play the video games you loved so much while performing for others.

Being a v-tuber was so much more fun than you had imagined. It's the perfect way to entertain and build an audience while playing video games too. The perfect job for you.

You were even able to connect with others and make new friends too. One of these friends was a moderator by the screenname Gloomurai. You had fun talking to him both in and out of streaming for others.

He understood you so well! The two of you were able to bond about a lot of things, mainly your love for video games and how scary it was to be in front of other people. And eventually, you even found out that he's a student at Night Raven College, the school you're going to be attending.

After a little bit of convincing and deliberating, the two of you decided to meet. Not anywhere out in the public eye with lots of people of course. So the two of you picked an isolated corner of the school, and waited until evening to go meet up.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. Gloomurai was a close friend and even a small crush of yours. He was just so understanding and cool. Now you were going to meet him in person. So many things could go wrong.

But you were the one to get there first, and you waited patiently for Gloomurai to show up. As the minutes passed, your nerves only grew.

Until finally, a very pale figure rounded the corner. He was tall, but hunched over like he'd been sitting and playing video games for a long time before this. Perhaps the most noticeable thing about his appearance was the long blue flames of hair and the bright yellow eyes that only met yours for a second before quickly flickering away.

Idia Shroud; the most reclusive guy in school. He rarely ever left his room and was known for being an introvert and amazing with technology. The housewarden of Ignihyde...he was Gloomurai?????

He's amazing! Truly amazing. Of all the people he could've been, you're glad it was Idia.

Idia on the other hand was freaking out. His favorite streamer and crush...was Vil Schoenheit's little sibling??? He's broken. His brain cannot compute. Error error.

"You're Gloomurai, right?"

"I, uh, yeah. I guess."

It was...pretty awkward for the first few minutes of talking. Neither of you quite knew what to say at first, but eventually conversation would flow smoothly just like when you guys normally chat. It felt really nice to be able to talk to him in person actually, and you finally got to put a face to the moderator you developed a crush on.

So when you saw Vil again, you couldn't help but gush about your crush.

"He's so much better than I thought! I mean we talked for a while and got along very well. He's super cute too!"

"Are you sure you're talking about Idia Shroud? Cute definitely aren't the words I would use to describe him."

"Of course he's cute! I mean have you seen his hair and his eyes? He also has a really nice smile."

"I don't understand you. Are you sure you're okay mentally?"

"I've never been better."

[immajustvibehere]

Unspoken Fascination

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!Reader

Summary: You observe Arthur as he sleeps. You can't help but note all his little imperfections. But despite them, you love him deeply.

tags: slight (very slight) angst? Maybe. Fluffy. Self-indulgent.

1100 words, less than 10 minutes reading time

"He isn't the most beautiful", you tried to convince yourself. But even thinking that made your stomach turn a bit. Though it is true! You just needed to look at him.

"In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,

for they in thee a thousand errors note;

But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,

Who, in despite of view, is pleased to dote;..."

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, you felt yourself lost in the sight of Arthur. His broad frame leans against a tree, his hat resting in his lap, held in place by one of his big hands. Exhaustion had finally claimed him. You had been talking about your day and despite his weariness, he had been listening for a long time, nodding and mumbling affirmations. Now, you had the chance to observe him.

Aside from his soft snores, there was the rustling of the leaves in a gentle breeze. You were a few yards away from camp. Just near enough to hear people talking, but far enough to not being able to make out about what they were going on about.

Arthur's hair were unkempt and dry. You wondered when the last time was he had used a comb. A closer look revealed that it was also unevenly cut. Perhaps Arthur had tried to cut some himself, or the last barber hadn't done such a good job. Strands of his hair pricked his inner ear and you wondered if they didn't tickle him. His beard, too, was trimmed unevenly. It was shorter on his right face half. A small patch under his chin seemed to have been overlooked during his recent trimming session, adding a touch of rugged charm to his appearance.

You wondered when Arthur had stopped caring too much about his appearance. He always wore the same shirt, the blue one. A button was missing and the area around Arthur's hips, where he habitually crammed the shirt inside his patched working pants, was visibly soiled. Years worth of sweat, dirt and blood had worked its way into the fabric of the shirt. You know that he sometimes gave it up to have it washed, but he'd never part from it entirely, despite its worn-out state.

There was dried blood on his boots, and dirt under his fingernails. You looked at his hands. There was something intriguing about them. They had snapped so many necks and pulled the trigger to kill more times than you could even fathom. His skin looked so dry, his fingers calloused. They weren't made for soft touch but for hard work.

As your gaze travelled upward, you couldn't help but notice the various marks and signs of a life lived on Arthur's face and neck. His shirt, unbuttoned and revealing his weathered skin, showcased a distinct tan line around his neck. It spoke of countless hours spent beneath the scorching sun. On the nose, deformed from being broken multiple times, was a mild sunburn. Arthur's lips were chapped. They always were like that, you'd know, because you look at them quite often. And then there was this ugly, fading bruise on his cheek from a bar fight a couple of days ago.

A man, so much older than you, and marked by a harsh and brutal life. A man that had stopped caring about a clean shave or a fresh shirt and a nice haircut some time after he and Mary walked different paths. And - you tilted your head and squinted at him - in a way not the most handsome. His appearance bore the weight of exhaustion and melancholy. His fingertips black with either blood, dirt or pencil stains from sketching in his journal.

"Fuuuck", you mumbled, letting your head dangle.

It didn't matter.

You could pick on Arthur's imperfections as long as you liked, you knew it wouldn't help. As you wrestled with your own internal struggles, torn between your fear of rejection and the undeniable feelings you held for Arthur, you couldn't deny the depth of your emotions. You were desperate to get over this silly crush. No matter how much you may criticize or dissect Arthur's scars, hoarse voice, or any other aspect, it didn't change the fact that you loved him.

His messy hair looked perfect after a ride or even when his sweat made it stick to the back of his neck. The strands that pricked his ears looked cute and you wanted nothing more than to put them behind his ear with your finger. His hands, as rough and calloused they were, could draw the most beautiful pictures. They were capable of those small, delicate crafts. Arthur picked flowers and cleaned his guns like his hands had the agility of a child. And God knows you loved every scar and bruise, you would kiss them until he begged you to stop. Your fingers would run through his beard and you didn't mind the dirty shirt, because you knew it was his favourite.

Your heart shattered when you saw him sad and exhausted, but in his sleep his features were relaxed. This man had every reason to be sad and contemplative, he sure had. Sometimes, you overheard the small comments he made when he looked into a mirror. Please, you would do anything to be the person to tell him that everything will be alright and that he's neither old nor ugly, that you want to hug him and appreciate even the smallest wrinkle on his face.

It was his rough exterior that you loved. Because when you looked closer, it wasn't that rough at all. Every scar told a story, and you wanted to hear them all.

"Yer aspleep?"

Your head shot up and you were met by those beautiful blue eyes that glowed in the evening sun.

"No - I was just thinking."

"That so?", Arthur gave a half-smile and you melted. To see that smile more often you would walk straight through hell without a complaint. He stood up and stretched his tired limbs, looking down on you.

"Yer hungry?"

"Depends. I don't think I can do Pearson's stew again. He talked about a new ingredient and...well, I bet my boots taste better.

Arthur laughed, reaching out with his hand to help you up. You had been right, it was rough and calloused, but warm. And it engulfed your hand entirely, you felt so protected you were disappointed when he let it go again.

"Wanna head to the saloon then? My treat", Arthur offered.

"Only if I can pay a couple of beer later", you grinned.

"'Course. Wouldn't want it any other way", Arthur agreed.

There was no way you would simply get over this crush. Maybe some alcohol will lose your tongue and give you some courage to tell the man how much you really loved him.

[actiniumwrites]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐘

synopsis: you and kaveh were best friends for years, studying together at the akademiya and working side by side as established architects. after the devastating incident at the palace of alcazarzaray that leads to a harsh falling out, neither of you have seen each other for years. it isn’t until one day, when a multi-millionaire offers the two of you a job that could flip your lives around, that you’re forced to reconcile and maybe even become something more

characters: kaveh x gn! reader

wc: 10k

warnings: angst, fluff, ex best friends to lovers, arguments, drinking, mentions of vomiting and blacking out, mentions of being drunk/ tipsy/ alcohol in general (nothing major), swearing, inaccurate and unrealistic depictions of architecture, probably general writing errors (since this is 10k words and i’m not proofreading it three times)

notes: um so basically i got this idea one day when i was staring at the genshin map and then suddenly an entire plot just entered my brain. and y’all know i love writing fics that somehow shove the reader into the lore and then have a super angsty dynamic with one of the characters 💀 anyway, this somehow ended up being like 10k words and took me 3-4 months to finish, but i told myself i had to finish it before fontaine came out, so here it is!

“Delivery!”

The sound of beads being pushed aside and footsteps padding against the wood floors alert you quickly. Your head rises from the arm it was leaning on to meet the face of the mailman who never failed to show up weekly with a smile on his face. It’s friday and it’s dark out, the moon peers through the window, but this happens every week. Same day, same time. Always the last delivery. Always at 8 PM sharp.

Your hand reaches to the left to dip the pen you’re holding into the black liquid in the tiny pot by your elbow. Without hesitation, you’re signing off on the sheet of paper he’s given you. When you return it, you find him giving you a smile and placing the boxes and a few neatly stacked envelopes on the counter. He walks out soon after and you call out to him, “Thanks for stopping by!”

But as soon as he’s out of your eyesight, the smile on your face drops back into the bored expression it was in before he entered your shop. A sigh escapes you as you carelessly sort through the mail, tossing the boxes to the side to look through later, already knowing it was just shipments of product for your tiny store. If you were being honest, you were ready to just set all of it to the side and head home for the night, but you carried on. Dark bags and gentle creases made theirselves at home around your eyes as you stared down at the envelopes. A deep exhale falls from your mouth as you tear each and every one of them open to look at their contents. Most of it is nothing new, aside from the very last one that has bright red peeking through the paper.

EVICTION NOTICE

“Fuck,” you angrily mutter to yourself, “this better be some sort of sick joke.” But it becomes very apparent it isn’t a joke as your eyes scan over it. There’s a burning sensation behind them when you finish reading it. It lands harshly against the counter when you slam it down, crumpling a bit at the middle. You knew you were barely making ends meet, but this? This was a whole new level. The house you had been renting was small. It barely even fit you and the little things you had left after selling most of it off. The rent was cheaper and the place wasn’t great, but it worked. If you were being evicted from this, where were you supposed to go now?

The shop you had was too small and wasn’t safe for sleeping in anyway. The thought of crashing at one of your friend’s place crosses your mind, but having to rely on them sounds less than appealing. Besides, many of them would be far too inconvenient. Tighnari had been a long time friend of yours, but he lived too far from the city which meant you wouldn’t be able to get to work on time. Same with Candace, or even Dehya, who resided in the desert. Of course, there was Nilou who was always wiling to offer you help, but you know her place isn’t big enough for two people and she needed her space for dancing. Then there was Alhaitham. That option was an absolute no for many reasons, but mainly because of the fact that he lives with your ex-best friend who was the entire reason you were in this mess.

“Ahem,” someone awkwardly clears their throat in front of you.

You jump back and away from the counter where the cursed piece of paper sat. The notice had completely distracted you from the fact that someone had walked in. Noticing you had knocked down an envelope in your sudden retreat, you reach down to pick it up while addressing the person, “I apologize, but we’re closing in around two minutes. I’m afraid you’ll have to come back tomor—“

Your sentence falls short as you rise from the floor. Red eyes stare back at yours, one of the prettiest shades of red you have ever seen. You could never forget those eyes.

Speak of the Devil.

The blood in your body runs cold when reality finally smacks you in the face, “Why are you here, Kaveh.”

It’s less of a question and more of a demand. You watch as his brows furrow and you can’t help but wonder if he was expecting you to be friendly with him. If he was, it wouldn’t surprise you. Kaveh was always like that — trying to see the best in people no matter the situation.

“It’s…uh, it’s been awhile,” he stumbles over his words awkwardly. It’s unlike him, you think. From what you can remember of him, he never really stuttered or mumbled unless he was drunk. Loud and clear was always more of his thing. He wanted to make sure he was known. Maybe he changed, but for the sake of his own good, you really wish he hasn’t.

“Yeah, it has,” you purse your lips as you turn around and take the boxes the delivery man had brought to the tiny back room of the shop. Earlier you decided you would deal with them tomorrow, but honestly, you’d rather deal with them right now than with your ex-best friend, “I won’t ask again. Why are you here?”

Kaveh clears his throat and averts his eyes. You watch as his hands begin to interlock and fiddle with each other. His weight keeps shifting from one side to another as he speaks, “I need your help.”

You look at him incredulously and scoff, “No.”

“What? You haven’t even heard what I have to say yet!”

“I said no,” you stand firmly, furrowing your brows at him as you gesture to the shop around you, “Don’t you see what my life has become? I don’t care what you want or need help with, I’m not helping you.”

Kaveh glances around at all the little shelves. There’s a bunch of tiny models and little figurines, things he assumes you designed yourself. You were always talented at that sort of stuff. He preferred the flat blueprints while you had a knack for creating 3D models filled with details like no other. It was no wonder you had used that ability to your advantage.

He notices how small it is. There’s other vendors around your shop, he noticed them as he came in. They all had bigger shops with more shelves and more room, better organization even. He liked yours though. As much as Kaveh enjoyed extravagance, the warm home vibe your store gave outmatched the others. It reminded him so much of the way you made him feel back then. Even so, he can’t help but see what you were talking about. This store isn’t what your talent should be wasted on when you were destined for far more. Both of you were. Yet here you are, both barely scraping by.

“I know and I don’t really have the right to be asking you for this, but will you please just hear me out first?” He begs with desperation in his eyes. You sigh and look off to the side before giving him a slight nod, a gesture for him to continue on.

“There’s a man named Zakai, a multi-millionaire businessman here in Sumeru who’s looking to have a custom mansion made for himself and his pregnant wife,” he explains. It’s beginning to sound all too familiar far too quickly and you can feel your willingness to let him explain slipping away from you.

“Kaveh.”

“Just listen, okay. He sought me out but wanted you too. Said something about admiring our work on the Palace of Alcazarzaray and he wants something similar but smaller with a different look.”

“Are you joking? No. There’s no way,” you refuse, waving your hands in the air as you shake your head.

Kaveh continues to plead his case though, “He’s not like Dori, I swear! He actually has empathy and his request is a lot more reasonable. Besides, there’s a lot of money involved in this. Even split between us. It would cover the debt we owe. Guaranteed.”

“You’re empathetic, Kaveh, and you’re a perfectionist. Millionaires don’t care about us. Can’t you see where this is heading? I don’t know about you, but I am not very fond of the fact that I’m wasting my life away trying to work off an insane amount of debt. What happens if another mistake occurs in the process? Hm? Our lives will be ruined ten times more than they were last time and I’m not willing to take that risk.”

“Ten times worse? Really?” He exasperatedly scoffs, throwing his hands up in the air dramatic as ever, “Of course I hate how I live right now. I mean, c’mon! Honestly, who wouldn’t? But you and I both know we don’t really have anything left. Take a look around you and tell me you wouldn’t take the chance to get out of this mess.”

The glare you’re sending him is icy cold, Kaveh falters a bit under it, but you both know he’s right. There’s a plate full of money right in front of your face and you’re so close to being able to call it yours, and yet you’re denying it? A life without debt is nothing but a dream to you at this point, one you’ve had nightly since you watched all your money slide away from you and down into Dori’s mischievous little hands.

Kaveh tests the waters when he speaks again after the brief silence, “You’re the only other architect in Sumeru that is capable of working on this job. You saw what we accomplished on the palace. We can do it again, no mistakes this time. And if it does happen…then I’ll take the fall for it. I’ll take the fall for all of it.”

Your brows furrow and you sigh for what felt like the thousandth time. The small part of you that was his best friend from all those years ago reaches out to him, “You know I can’t accept that, Kaveh. We may not be friends anymore, but I’m not going to watch you destroy yourself all over again if something goes wrong.”

“Please,” he pleads, entirely brushing off your words, “I’m doing this for the both of us. If you want out at any point, then we’ll back out together. Just…consider the offer, okay?”

The red from the letter catches your eye again and something suddenly feels like it’s pulling at your heart. An eviction notice followed by a job offer promising wealth feels like one big coincidence, but it’s not one you can ignore. You really didn’t have anything left now — aside from the tiny store you had going. And if this does turn out to be a success, your life would be entirely back on track to what it was all those years ago. You could live freely again.

One more glance at Kaveh finalizes your decision.

“I’ll do it.”

The next few times you meet with Kaveh seem to bleed well into the night. Blueprints are scattered across the floor of your shop during the after hours, a closed sign out front. Your legs are crossed over one another and your head rests atop your hand. Kaveh is standing up, muttering words you can’t quite make out.

“No…that won’t do, but…well? Dark wood? Ugh…wait! No, nevermind,” he paces back and forth, sifting through papers in his hands.

You place the outline you were looking at on the floor and glare at him coldly, “Can you stop? I can’t focus.”

Kaveh sighs and sets down the blueprints he was holding in his hand, “Sorry, I just can’t make up my mind.”

“Clearly,” you mutter.

“Here,” he picks up a pile of sketches off the table and hands them to you, “What do you think of the wood choices on these? Oh, and the color of the paint we’d use on the outside.”

Your eyes inspect them carefully as you flip through each one. They’re all relatively the same aside from a few of them. The ones that stand out the most to you are the simple ones. They’re darker and more elegant looking, exactly what this guy seemed to want. On the other hand, the rest of them are more flashy and had an air to them you couldn’t seem to take a liking to.

You slide him two of the papers, side by side and tap each of them simultaneously, “These two. They’re cost effective and fit what he wants. I say we go this route, but maybe with some slight changes.”

“What? No! Those should’ve been scrapped,” Kaveh’s eyes widen at your choice. He scrambles to grab the papers back but you slam your hand down on them before he can.

You squint your eyes, “What do you mean? These practically check everything off his list. How are we going to deny the client what he wants?”

Kaveh groans and a hand slides down his face, “These don’t even look rich. It barely screams money at all! We’re making a house for a rich man and you want to do something this simple?”

“Yes! This is literally what he wants! And it does look rich. Just because something isn’t bursting with color and fancy embellishments everywhere does not mean it doesn’t have opulence to it!”

Kaveh’s face visibly falls at your response and he can’t help but be reminded of all those years ago when you were still friends. Sure you still argued then, but it wasn’t like now. You weren’t hostile toward him and he could stand to make some changes based on your suggestions. But now, it felt like everything was going in one ear and out the other.

“What if we compromise?” he asks regretfully, not willing to give up what he wants, but still wanting to get this job done. Contrary to his cynical and provocative roommate, arguing was not something Kaveh enjoyed, and Kaveh didn’t want to strain your relationship any more than it already was.

You hesitantly nod and point to each of the sketches, “Okay, which parts?”

“Keep it extravagant, use cheaper materials?”

“No, I just said that isn’t what Mr. Zakai wants.”

“Well then what are we supposed to do?”

You roll your eyes when he isn’t looking. Sometimes it felt like you were arguing with a child.

“Simple. Choose the more plain design and maybe add a few more embellishments, while keeping it cost effective.”

Kaveh inwardly groans, but stops himself from saying anything else. He thinks for a moment, going back and forth between different ideas in his head. There’s a temptation to just grab the sketches and run off with them, leave you in the dust and forget all about your past with each other. It’s the same part of him that sits on his shoulder, whispering in his ear that maybe, just maybe, all of this is a mistake.

The other part yearns. It’s something he can’t help as he stares down at the sketches, but really, he’s looking at you from his peripheral vision. He misses the way things were when you were best friends. When you would laugh for hours on end with each other, talk about the big mansions you would build for each other some day, and the lives you were going to have. All of those visions, every thought he used to have, they all included you.

Kaveh doesn’t remember when things got so bad between you. Yes he knows the exact date, the time, the place it all went down. But when did you start really hating each other? When did your smile begin to fade into a frown whenever he showed up? And when did he start feeling a painful ache in his chest whenever your name was mentioned?

Why do things have to be the way they are?

Kaveh shuts the door in the temptation’s face. He wasn’t going to run from you or shove everything aside like he normally would. If he was granted any wish in the world, it wouldn’t be to get rid of his debt or become the richest man in the world. Because Kaveh would let himself he the poorest man in the world if it meant he could be with you again.

Mr. Zakai had come to him with an opportunity of wealth and opulence. It would make them one in the same if he could play his cards right. Wipe away his debt and his past. He could be free again. But more than that, Kaveh would have you back.

And as his ruby red eyes catch yours once more, he realizes there is nothing more that he wants than you.

“Wow, I mean, Archons. This design is just unbelievable.”

Your eyes widen ever so slightly, not quite sure if you should be scared or relieved. Mr. Zakai’s tone doesn’t give away what he’s feeling, and you’re terrified. Kaveh swears he can feel you shaking next to him in anticipation…or maybe it was the anxiety. He glances once your way and then back to Mr. Zakai before glancing at you again and awkwardly laughing, “Ahaha, I hope that’s a, uh, good ‘unbelievable?’”

Mr. Zakai throws his hands in the air and laughs brightly, “Yes, yes! Of course! This design is utterly beautiful. It’s like you took the picture from my mind and captured it right onto a piece of paper.”

Both of you sigh of relief simultaneously, clutching a hand over your hearts, but smiling nonetheless. “That’s wonderful to hear,” you say and gesture to the open land behind you that has long since been designated as the construction site for his home, “If you’d like, we can get to building as soon as possible. We already have a team prepared and everything. Just say the word.”

“Let us begin!” he cheers.

Beginning to build the actual mansion was like a dream come true for an architect. The smoothness at which everything was running was beyond belief for the both of you. All of the materials had been safely delivered with care, and although they weren’t the best of the best, they without a doubt exceeded Kaveh’s expectations. Alongside that, the plot of land being used was absolutely beautiful and the perfect place for a home.

It was a perfect distance from the main city, nothing too arduous to travel to. There was a beautiful lake nearby that was adorned with various flowers, fish, and fruit trees surrounding it. And the best part, there weren’t any cliffs or waterfalls nearby. No signs of a withering zone either. It was something Kaveh had specifically checked for before accepting the job, terrified of having a repeat of the entire incident that put you both in this mess.

It had only taken around a week and a half for the skeleton of the mansion to be built. But already, it was turning out wonderfully. Thanks to the team both of you had and your newfound ability to compromise with one another, both of your guys’ morale had been boosted immensely. Things were finally beginning to look up.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper in awe, staring at the team working on the house just feet away from you. Kaveh stands next to you, clipboard in hand and a pen eagerly scribbling away at the paper on it.

His eyes look up from the papers he was shuffling through to glance at the house and then glance back at you, “It really is, huh? I’m glad we were able to compromise on the final design. I think it’s turning out really great.”

“And to think you wanted all those embellishments,” you laugh as you reminisce.

Kaveh scoffs and leans into your shoulder with his, “Shut up. Sometimes the blueprint version isn’t a good representation of the final product. How was I supposed to know your ideas would look so good?”

“Oh? What was that?” you cup your hand around your ear and smirk, leaning into him, “Is that you finally admitting my ideas are better than yours?”

“Hey! That is not what I said.”

“I think it is. Just admit it, my dear friend, I have always been the better architect.”

My dear…friend?

Kaveh stops in his place, blinking at your words. He breathes out and looks to the ground. He isn’t sure what you mean. Perhaps it was a slip up or just a joke, but he chooses not to take it seriously in order to protect his feelings. So he teases you, ignoring the slight ache in his heart, “Oh, so now we’re friends again?”

“Ugh, please. I couldn’t be friends with an architect that isn’t on my level,” you jest. It was indeed a slip up on your end, and you realized it the moment you said it, but like Kaveh, you knew it would be better to just brush it off. Push it aside along with any other newfound positive feelings you had toward your old friend.

“Pft, yeah right,” he rolls his eyes and turns away from you again. You both begin walking toward the house, ready to tell everyone that it’s time to pack it up for the night. The sun would be completely set in about an hour and you knew they all had families to get back to. Besides, both of you were tired and you weren’t even the ones building the damn thing. You couldn’t imagine how tired they were if you were already feeling exhausted.

Footsteps dragging against the gravel alerts the crew of your presence and they all realize what time it is. Several of them hop down from the upper layers while the rest of them begin picking up their things from the ground floor. Many of them already begin to bid one another a “goodnight,” and “get home safely.”

“Great work today, guys!” you excitedly call out to them.

Kaveh smiles a bit and joins you, clapping his hands together as he reminds them, “Please go home and get some rest. We have a busy rest of the week from here on out! We’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Before either of you can walk away, one of the girls that was working on the building rushes up to you both, “Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to let you guys know about the progress.”

You recognize her as one of the leaders for the construction crew when you turn around. She was in charge of the more specific areas of progress when it came to the actual building aspect, while you and Kaveh had oversight on the entire thing.

“Oh?” Kaveh confusedly asks, unsure of what she had to share, “What about it? Is something the matter?”

“No, no! Nothing bad. I just wanted to let you know that at this rate, the house should be completed within three months. We’re making an exponentially great amount of progress, especially with the wonderful crew we have working on it. You guys should be proud of yourselves,” she smiles.

You and Kaveh quickly turn and high-five each other, pleased with what she was saying. But as quick as it came, it was gone. Simultaneously, you clear your throats and take a step back from one another.

“Ahem, I um — thank you! That means a lot,” you say through a strained smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Kaveh doesn’t say anything.

Instantly, the girl can feel the awkward tension in the air and takes a step back herself.

“Of course, I’ll uh, be going now. Have a goodnight!”

When she walks off, Kaveh turns back to you hesitantly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Let’s just pretend that never happened, yeah?”

He hums in agreement and starts to walk alongside you, “But, hey, I was thinking. She is right, you know? We should be proud of our progress so far. Maybe we could go to the tavern tonight? But only if you want, of course!”

You pause, but nod slowly, “Yeah…yeah okay. We can do that.”

“Really?” Kaveh tilts his head to the side, not quite believing you.

“Sure,” you shrug, not thinking too much into it, “Let’s go.”

You could feel the alcohol running through your system as you spoke, laughing along with some stupid story you were telling. Kaveh and you had been at the tavern for nearly two hours and it had long since been dark outside. You didn’t even get the chance to change out of your work clothes before getting there.

It didn’t take long for either of you to find a glass of alcohol sitting in front of you alongside a bunch of different dishes. Although neither of you really had the money to spending like this, it was a congratulatory meal and you couldn’t help but splurge a little.

“I know! Oh my god,” you slur a bit, “Do you…do you remember that time that one guy in our class plagiarized his entire project all the way down to the 3-D model? What was his name again? Bahar? No, that wasn’t it…”

“Oh, Baharak!” Kaveh exclaims, jumping from his seat a little and pointing at you before sitting back down. Leaning against his seat, he lets out a nostalgic sigh, “Archons, how could I forget that guy?”

“Baharak, yeah! Man, I can’t believe he really thought he wouldn’t get expelled for that,” you say and take another sip of your drink.

Kaveh hums in agreement and takes another bite of his food, “Wait, do you remember that professor we had? The one that took my library book away?”

“Really? You’ll have to refresh my memory again,” you say, struggling to connect memories together. Neither of you were drunk, but you were sure as hell getting there. Lambad already had to tell both of you to ease up on the drinks, aware that you both had work the next day. But truly, he just didn’t want you making a ruckus in his tavern again.

It had been years since you both visited together, but he could never forget the messes you made when you were both students at the Akademiya. The days where you would drink until you blacked or vomited, the nights spent drunk crying over bad grades or shitty professors, or the time you accidentally fell asleep on the bathroom floor and he didn’t realize until after closing because Kaveh was too drunk to realize you even left. It was safe to say that you weren’t his favorite customers, despite being fully grown adults now. Lambad was not willing to have repeats of any of those incidents.

It continues on for another hour or so, just sharing stupid stories from the past and what your friendship used to be like. It almost feels as though you are friends again, even if it’s just for a brief moment.

Your smile is wide when you’re talking to him and your laugh isn’t some fake laugh that you always use when someone comes into your store or when you’re talking to literally anyone else. Your legs are bumping into his under the table too, contrary to a few years ago when he was much shorter. It’s weird, you think, how much everything has changed.

It’s not until someone at a table nearby makes a comment about you two that you really digest just how weird it all is.

“Look at that cute couple over there,” they say in awe from somewhere behind you, “Don’t you miss when we used to be like that?”

Within seconds you feel sobered up. It almost embarrasses you how one much one small comment could have an effect on you. Your heart drops into your stomach and your laughter fades out. This isn’t right, you think. You can laugh and drink all you want, but it doesn’t change what happened all those years ago. It doesn’t change the incident or the things Kaveh said to you that night or the things you said to him. It doesn’t change how hard you cried and how your life suddenly went from being on a high to dropping to the lowest you’ve ever been. You can barely survive day to day because of that day…because of him.

No. It doesn’t change anything at all.

You stand up abruptly and grab your bag, slamming some mora onto the table and glancing around hurriedly before beginning to walk out on him. Kaveh stands up too and goes to reach for your arm, but you pull away before he can make contact with it, “Hey, what’s wrong? Where are you going?”

“I can’t do this,” you mumble to yourself, rushing away out of fear.

“Can’t do what?” Kaveh’s eyes are bursting with confusion and terrified that he may have done something wrong. Something to upset you. But you’re already out of the building before he can get an answer.

It had been about a week before you saw each other again. Luckily for you, it wasn’t required that you were at the build site as long as one of you was there. And with Kaveh’s naturally perfectionistic personality, you knew you weren’t needed there. He was also smart enough to not coming looking for you either after everything that had occurred not only earlier that week, but in the years prior. There was a reason you got along so well before everything came crashing down.

No one knew you guys like you knew each other. There was no doubt about that.

The time you had been gone in the past week was spent running your store, something you had been neglecting anyway. Despite it not being the most successful business ever, it was something and you still had customers to take care of.

Today had been rather slow, being a Thursday and all. Most people were out working their other jobs and kids were in school, so there weren’t really many people to be out shopping anyway.

Aggressive footsteps catch your attention, but you don’t bother to look up at whoever had just entered, figuring it was probably some elderly guy again there to scold you like the one last week.

“Welcome in, I’ll be with you in a moment,” you call out from your spot at the counter, signing away at some documents for the store. The footsteps don’t stop and look around, however. Instead, they march right up the counter and slam your binder shut.

“Is this seriously what you’ve been doing? I get it I may have pissed you off or whatever at Lambad’s earlier this week, but leaving me at the site like that is just shallow,” a familiar voice scolds you. You look up to see Kaveh seething. Although, the longer you look in his eyes, the more you see he’s less angry and more terrified. Of what? You’re unsure.

For a moment, you have the urge to extend a hand out to him and ask him what’s wrong, but you catch yourself before you can. Besides, it would defeat the entire purpose of you being at your store instead of the mansion. Instead you scoff, regaining your anger for him, “Okay? It’s not like you really needed me there this week. All the crew is doing is just finishing the skeleton. Stop acting like something bad happened or whatever.”

Kaveh purses his lips and leans closer to you, leveling his eyes with yours. The seriousness in them is unmistakable and it shakes you a bit. You haven’t seen him like that since…well, since that day. “That’s the thing…something did happen. I came here to tell you abo—”

“What?” You cut him off, eyes widening.

“Stop,” he hushes you angrily, “Please for the love of God just listen for once. Something happened to Zakai’s wife. I came here to tell you that we need to meet with him today because it’s urgent and I barely know what’s going on myself. So please, just put our differences aside and come with me.”

Your lips shut themselves before they can speak again. There’s shock in your eyes at his slight outburst, but you gulp and nod at him. Picking up the binder from earlier, you slide it under the counter in one of the locked drawers before walking around to the other side where Kaveh stands. A quick glance around and you’re walking out of the store. Without hesitation, you flip the sign that reads open to the side that reads closed.

And although you weren’t the firmest believer in the Gods or any part of Celestia, you bowed your head and prayed to the Dendro Archon that this wasn’t what you thought it was.

Your leg bounces in anticipation as you sit next to Kaveh at the Cafe. It’s dark out, and there aren’t a lot of people around which you’re grateful for. There was a certain nervousness in the air and you weren’t ready to find out where it was going to take you.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Mr. Zakai says sadly and sits down, sliding you both a mug with what you presume is tea. Kaveh thanks him and bumps his knee with yours from next to you.

You fall out of your thoughts and clear your throat, “Oh, uh, yeah. Of course.”

He looks down at his lap solemnly, seemingly speechless. You turn to Kaveh who’s sitting on your right and frown at him. Kaveh returns the expression but nods his head, wordlessly telling you to just wait and see. You nod back and turn to sip at your tea.

Mr. Zakai’s voice is shaky when he speaks again moments later, “I…I don’t know where to begin. I suppose I should just get to the point so I don’t waste your time.”

You both wait in silence, urging him to continue. Practically waiting on the edge of your seats at this point.

“I have to suspend the project.”

You swear you can feel your heart drop into your stomach as you breathlessly whisper a tiny, “What?”

Kaveh turns to you quickly to gauge your reaction before turning back and swallowing deeply, “I’m sorry, could you please explain what’s going on here? I mean, c’mon, we barely started this thing and now you’re backing out?”

He waves his hands in the air and coughs, “No, no! I…I’m not backing out, dear God, no. I just, I need to wait a bit. It’s my wife, she’s with a family doctor. You see, she’s pregnant and there’s been some terrible complications. I’m afraid she’s fallen ill and I can’t afford to be spending my time building some mansion when she needs me.”

“How long?” you ask firmly, “How long are you suspending this?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry,” he regretfully apologizes.

Kaveh tries to stay calm but you can feel him shaking next to you. His hands shakily put down the tea cup and he shuts his eyes while he speaks, almost like this is just one big nightmare that he can’t wake up from, “What does this mean for us? The crew? The materials we bought?”

Zakai stutters and sighs over and over again before he can get anything out, “I promise I will pay you…eventually. I have medical bills to pay and for now, I can’t pay either of you.”

“So what? You’re just leaving us then?!” You push him further.

“I’m sorry, really, I am,” he stands up and backs away slowly, “I need to go visit my wife. We’ll chat again soon.”

Hurriedly, he rushes off before either of you get the chance to go after him. Your breathing is heavy and labored, but neither of you move from your seats. There’s a lump in your throat, one you’re desperately trying to push down as you whisper, “I should have never agreed to this.”

“Hey, it’s not over yet,” Kaveh tries to reason as he places a hand on your shoulder. You shrug him off and stand up, shaking your head as you turn around to walk away.

Kaveh quickly springs from his seat and rushes to catch up with you. He pleads with you desperately, “I didn’t know this was going to happen, I swear. This is all my fault.”

“Yeah, it is,” you spat at him, stopping in your tracks and turning to him, “That’s the problem with you, Kaveh. Wherever you go, bad luck just seems to follow. I should’ve known better, honestly. You’d think after all these years I would’ve been smarter. And now…now my life is even more ruined than it was before. Thanks a lot.”

“You know what? No. You agreed to this, so you don’t get to treat me like dirt on your shoe just because something went wrong. Don’t you realize my life is just as ruined as yours is? You’re not the only one with problems!” He yells suddenly, taking a step forward toward you. A few people stop and stare but quickly keep moving when you turn and glare at them.

“My life was ruined in seconds!” You dig your pointer finger into his chest as you match his volume.

“Yeah? Well so was mine! You’re not the only one who’s been suffering all this time.”

Silence washes over both of you. You take a step back from him and remove your hand from his chest hesitantly, angry tears beginning to sting your eyes. Kaveh feels the same prickliness too, a dull ache in his chest as he stands before you. This wasn’t what either of you wanted deep down, and you realize that as you turn and walk away from him again.

There were so many moments of failure in Kaveh’s life, but you had an equal share as well. Yet, for some reason, neither of you realized the other was hurting just as much. Perhaps, like Kaveh, the real reason you accepted the project was so you could rekindle your friendship, bring back a relationship you missed dearly.

You look up at the moon as you walk away, leaving him somewhere behind you where you don’t care to look back to. And as you stare at its presence in the sky, you can’t help but feel like it was just like you and him. He was the sun, and you were the moon. Beautiful in their own ways, but bound by fate to never exist at the same time. Never to coexist.

Maybe this time, the tiny thread that still connected you had finally tethered for good.

The day it all happened was both blurry and clear in your memories.

That day.

Everything seemed to irk you from the moment you awoke that morning. The sheets on your bed weren’t quite placed right. The temperature in your house was miserably warm, even worse, humid after you accidentally left your window open the night before. The ingredients you had planned on using for your favorite breakfast had miraculously grown mold overnight. Not to mention, you were already late five minutes to the build site and everyone knew how particular Dori was about being punctual.

The clouds were a depressing gray from what you could remember. The rain was normally one of your favorite things. After all, you chose to live in the rainforest for a reason. But that day, the gloomy sight stirred a sense of anger in you that was impossible to shake.

You could remember the way Kaveh was avoiding you in the weeks leading up to it all. It was justified in your eyes because well, you were avoiding him too. Neither of you seemed to be able to stand the constant arguments that would break out between you. Most of them were pointless too — small things that could be resolved without a bunch of yelling and insults. Yet, every time you looked at him, every time he spoke, every time he even breathed, you felt anger seep into your blood.

At that point, the both of you had worked on several projects together. Houses, libraries, stores, gardens, you name it. The Palace of Alcazarzaray was the first real project you had both worked on. It was big, flashy, and was going to make a statement about your capabilities to all of Sumeru. Fame and riches were plastered all over the opportunity. The magnum opus of both of your careers.

It was this very reason that you both fought so often. There was so much to plan. So much to work on. At first, things had gone well considering you were both great friends — the best of friends, even. Any outsider or non-architect would probably make the naive assumption that, if anything, it would bring you even closer together. But with so much pressure, the opposite happened and you grew apart. The conflict was too much to handle on either side and you couldn’t keep up with it. Neither of you could.

The rain was bothersome when it started.

It started with a few drops here and there. You could remember hastily wiping them from your hands and face before peering up at the sky with a frown. Within a mere few seconds, the sprinkling rain became aggressive and thunderous. Lightning flashed in your eyes as the afternoon sky faded from a light gray to a deep blue and black.

It was hard to hear the yelling of all the crew members over the rumbling of the thunder overhead. The water below the structure began to thrash rapidly and the cliffs had a slight shake to them. Up until that part, everything was clear to you.

Then the rain was in your eyes and your breathing was heavy as you aimlessly ran around. Eventually, everyone had evacuated the site to a nearby area. Everything had happened so fast you couldn’t even remember how you ended up there, wrapped in a blanket and shivering in the corner of a small tent with a few other people. Soon after, everyone got sent home for the afternoon in a bad mood.

It wasn’t until hours later that a majority of the crew had returned. Your heart dropped within the first few steps you took as the palace came into sight. What had once been turning out to be a luxurious palace was crumbled down into nothing but ruins. Forest Rangers surrounded the place, evaluating it and dragging some equipment away. As soon as Tighnari spotted you, he jogged over to you, carefully explaining what happened.

After the rain, the withering made its way to the house and destroyed just about everything. Within hours, everything you had been working toward for months vanished out of thin air. Kaveh had been walking up to the both of you when the news was relayed to you. What he overheard stopped him in his tracks, allowing him to fall to his knees in anger, frustration, but most importantly, denial. Part of him could process it, while the other part wished he could wake up from whatever nightmare he seemed to be having.

If there was one thing you could remember better than anything else, it was the silence that followed. Everyone dispersed from the area with crest fallen expressions making their way home to their families for the second time that night. You and Kaveh stayed behind, sitting quietly within the ruins on your knees, surrounded by rubble, praying for a miracle from the Dendro Archon.

Tears fell silently down both of your faces as he leaned against your shoulder, arms wrapped carelessly around your abdomen. You had no energy to return the action, and so you sat there in the still silence without so much as a sniffle. Your head was bowed to your chest, unable to look at the place anymore in fear of breaking down in a way that seemed worse than the way the palace had broken.

Both of your tears’ had dried with the morning sun. There was a pounding in your head as Kaveh dragged you back to his house to collect his savings and prepare to sell his house. You had done the same after making a hesitant agreement with him. A tingling sensation covered your body as your chest and stomach ached. Anxiety was written all over your face and you couldn’t help but feel regret over your actions. There was no other way out, you thought.

The arguments hadn’t stopped even after everything had been settled with the money and the plans to rebuild the palace came into fruition. You still had a hard time being around him and he felt the same way. Despite that small moment of desperation where he clung to you in the ruins, there wasn’t much left of your friendship by the end.

Ultimately, one thing led to another and a snap happened. Kaveh was the one to snap first, turning around on you one day and just hurling insult after insult. You followed suite, not backing down for the sake of your dignity. And at that moment, you just wanted to make each other hurt. There was nothing more to it. No real reason to be arguing anymore — not even over small trivial things like misplaced blueprints or an empty paint can being knocked over. It was pure hatred at its finest.

Coincidentally, that was the last day you ever saw each other. You both unknowingly felt bad about hurting each other like that. You were supposed to be best friends afterall. Some part of you even wanted to be more. Not that he ever knew that, though. There was a time in which you tried to apologize, but the residual anger that burned in your heart prevented you from ever seeking him out.

And so, everything you had come to know of him ceased at once. Kaveh was no longer part of your life and you were no longer part of his. The Palace of Alcazarzaray was finished by the crew and anytime either of you ever had to meet with Dori it was always separate. For years, you hadn’t even caught so much as a glance of him.

There was nothing left. Absolutely nothing.

Three weeks had passed since Zakai had reached out to either of you. History seemed to be repeating itself with you and Kaveh as well, seeing as neither of you had crossed paths at all within that time.

You were back to quietly running your tiny little store. There was only a week left until your eviction went into effect. The few things you had in your house had been moved into a small section in the back of your store where you had settled to live temporarily. There wasn’t much room and it wasn’t the safest, but you would find a way to make it work for the time being.

“Um, hi,” a timid voice squeaks out, catching you off guard, “I have an urgent delivery. Could you please confirm your name on the envelope?”

Your eyes lift from the paper they’re staring at blankly. Your brows furrow and you nod at the young boy who didn’t look to be older than fifteen. “Do you know what this is about?” You ask him as you turn to find a letter opener from behind you.

“Not exactly. It’s from my uncle Zakai, you know him right?”

“Yeah, something like that. Thanks,” you mumble. He hums before awkwardly walking out of your shop. When he’s gone, you eagerly cut open the pristine envelope to find a paper inside. It’s a letter, you realize as you begin to read it. It’s addressed to both you and Kaveh, so you assume he must’ve received one as well.

Inside the letter details a meeting at a specific time and place. It’s the build site, later this afternoon at three o’clock. Most of it is just jumbled up, redundant apologies that you can’t resist your eyes from rolling at, but the end of the letter catches your eye. Moving back up a few sentences you had scanned over, you reread it carefully.

“He wants to start the project back up?” You ask to no one but yourself. The letter falls from your hand onto the counter and you stare out at your shop in contemplation. On one hand, you could return to the project and see it through. Maybe hope nothing bad happens again. On the other, you could ditch the whole thing out of fear that history could repeat itself for a third time. It would mean you could avoid seeing Kaveh again. Because, as you angrily spat at him before, bad luck seemed to follow him wherever he went. You were far too scared of what the outcome of seeing him again would be.

Minutes later you had your answer as you found yourself flipping the sign outside the shop to closed and locking the doors.

It wasn’t worth it, you realized, being scared of someone who was only scared and sensitive himself. Joining the project again couldn’t hurt you any further than it already had. There was no contractual agreement that would force you to be friendly with Kaveh again either. Perhaps you could work merely as coworkers and nothing more. Speak to him only when you have to and get this job done once and for all.

“I’m glad to have you back,” Zakai shakes your hand firmly as you fall into step with him.

“Happy to be back,” you lie. Hesitantly, you turn to him and clear your throat, “If you don’t mind me asking, is your wife alright? What made you come back to the project?”

Mr. Zakai sends you a fond smile as he thinks of her, “She’s perfectly fine. Thank you for asking. There were a few complications with the baby, but she made it through and everything is going smoothly now. The baby is actually due in a few weeks. Can you believe it?”

“Not at all,” you smile halfheartedly.

“Anyway,” he says as you reach the site with him, “I came back to the project because I am a man of my word. I said I wasn’t going to drop it, so here I am. Besides, I’m impressed with yours and Kaveh’s work. I truly hope we can finish what we started.”

You nod silently to yourself. Before you or Zakai can say anything else, Kaveh jogs up to you both out of breath, “I’m so sorry I’m late. My annoying roommate took my key again and I couldn’t get back into the house to grab my things, so I had to go track him down and get it back.”

“That’s okay,” Zakai laughs and holds out his hand for Kaveh to shake, “It’s good to see you, Kaveh.”

“You too,” he says before turning to you. Kaveh nods at you silently. Hesitantly, you nod back, averting your eyes quickly.

It doesn’t take long for everything to return to the natural swing of things. The crew was happy to be back and building and Zakai was more than pleased with how close the house was to being completed. Over the next few weeks, everyone works diligently to get it completed.

Day in and day out, neither of you spoke to one another just as you had hoped for. No arguments, no silly jokes, no talking about ideas…nothing. Sometimes it felt a little lonely, even when you were standing right next to each other. There were times where you had seen something on the way to site that you wanted to talk to someone about, rant about your day, whatever. Even when you were still in the period of “hating” each other before Zakai temporarily left the project, both of you still felt more comfortable speaking to each other.

You want to hate him. You really do. But after everything that has happened, after all the emotions you can’t seem to restrain anymore, you’re beginning to wonder if you ever really hated him the way you said you did.

On the final day of the project, it rains again. You aren’t worried this time, however. Not like how you were with the palace. The house was built, inside and out. The only thing left to add was the remainders of Zakai and his wife’s furniture and any other little embellishments he had requested. A pay check was already in the mail for you both, your ticket out of the miserable life you’ve both led for two years.

You’re walking away for the night when footsteps pick up from somewhere behind you. Most of the crew was in front of you chatting away under a ledge shielded from the rain. There’s a hollow feeling in your chest that leaves you feeling dissatisfied with it all as you walk away, no umbrella and shivering furiously under the pouring rain. Eventually, the mysterious person catches up to you and falls into step with you. There was only one person it could have been.

A few weeks ago, you would have swatted him away or sped up so you could get as far away from him as possible. But now, just like that night in the ruins two years ago, you had no energy to push him away anymore. So, silently, you both walk side by side until you reach Sumeru City.

A bolt of lightning landing on the ground a few feet away causes you both to jump back. Thunder follows suite and suddenly the rain turns more into a storm that threatens to flood the city. Icy hail begins to fall not even seconds later, harshly landing against both of your backs as you rush into the city.

Kaveh’s hand gently grabs yours and eagerly drags you away with him. He’s yelling something, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. And before you know it, you’re both sitting in a booth at Lambad’s Tavern soaked and shivering.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into the air, “We should stay here until the storm dies down. It’s too dangerous outside.”

“Yeah,” you quietly agree and nod quickly, eyes stuck on the table like it was the most interesting thing ever. Kaveh’s looking at you, but you ignore his gaze.

Minutes later, Lambad walks over with a sympathetic expression on his face as he sets down two hot chocolates. He makes some small talk about the storm which both of you indulge him in as you sip on the hot drinks, acting as if nothing was wrong between you. Eventually, he goes to leave but stops to turn back, “I’ll bring out two more on me. Please, stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” you both say simultaneously. It goes quiet when he leaves.

For the first time in two years, it feels like the silence is warm and home like. It’s no longer awkward and cold. It reminds you of the time when you were still scholars at the Akademiya, studying late at night at your house in your room. He would sit in your bed while you studied at your desk. There was always something so comforting about it despite the fact that you had to study. Being with him was your favorite thing in the world. And even though it felt like you both had been thrown into the pits of hell with each other, forced against each other over and over again, sitting across from him now felt like none of that had ever happened. For a tiny moment, it felt like you were friends again.

“I never wanted you out of my life,” Kaveh breaks the silence suddenly. Your eyes meet his for the first time that night and they’re brewing with a certain determination, sadness, and anger all at once. You can feel it in yourself too.

“What?” you breathe out. Your brows furrow as you take in what he’s saying, “You never wanted me to leave? But I thought…after everything, I mean. After what we said to each other back then, you didn’t hate me?”

Kaveh frowns and his mouth falls agape as his hands slam against the table dramatically. The words fall out of his mouth before he can stop them, “Hate you? Archons no! How could I hate you when I was in love with you?”

“Wait—you…? You were in love with me?”

His face falls instantly, hands waving in the air, “Shit, I didn’t mean—”

Your eyes glance back and forth between his, desperately searching for any sign of a prank or some sort of sick joke. Fear pangs your heart when you can’t find any, “Kaveh…why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were you and I was me. It never would’ve worked no matter how much I wanted it to,” Kaveh slumps into his seat, scoffing as he forces himself to look away from you, “You know what? Can we please just forget I ever said anything?”

The realization of what all the years you spent together meant hits you hard as you sit across from him. The rain pounding against the windows makes your head pound even harder as you try to make sense of it all. Because, no, this was not some sick joke or some prank. Kaveh was wholeheartedly in love with you at some point and you had no idea.

There were times where you felt the same. Staring at him from across the room, his beautiful blonde hair messily sprawled across your bed as he complained about the project you were working on. The times when he would be going on and on about his passions and you couldn’t help but zone out and just admire him in all his glory. Or when he would bring you food just because he knew you had forgotten to eat again. All the trinkets he would buy you because they reminded him of you. The way he made you feel so loved and cared for. Over the years, you had unknowingly fallen for him too. Kaveh may have only ever been your best friend, but in moments like those, moments where the light hit him just right, you wished he could have been more.

“No.”

“No?”

You lean across the table slightly, forcing him to look at you, “I can’t just ignore that. I can’t pretend you didn’t say it or that you never had feelings for me. I hate to admit it, but Kaveh, I had feelings for you too back then.”

It’s silent for a few moments. You give him the chance to speak, but he doesn’t take it. You take in a deep inhale and hesitantly speak, “I know it’s been a long time — years to be precise. And it pains me to say this, but I’m really happy the project worked out how it did. That opportunity from Zakai gave me more than I could ask for and…I’m glad it brought me back to you.”

“Yeah,” Kaveh scoffs playfully, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, “Only after a painstaking amount of convincing.”

“Oh please, I had every reason to say no to you,” you refute, crossing your arms in defense, “And I wasn’t finished. What I was trying to say, was that, even though it’s been so many years, I don’t know where to go from here. But I…I don’t want us to go back to the way things were.”

Kaveh sighs, “I know. I don’t either. Obviously we both have things we need to work through. But, if you’re willing, I’d like to start over again. Not completely, of course. But I want us to be friends again, maybe one day even more…If you’ll have me, that is.”

“Okay,” you breathe out with a small smile. Although it took years and a painful amount of fighting, tears, and money, you had found each other again. Perhaps you couldn’t love each other now, but the feeling was without a doubt there. The pounding in your hearts and ache for one another was concrete proof of it.

And as Kaveh reaches out and takes your hand again for the first time in two years, he knows he’ll never let you go again.

[purelyfiction]

5) "let's play a game: don't get caught." with mav - from a prompt list i lost

welcome to Sunny Sundays: Monday Edition Introducing Blurb one of way too many

You absolutely loved your job. The exhilarating sensation that you got when you were up in the air — how the adrenaline coursed through your veins as you sucked air through dry lips and a maybe too-tight oxygen mask. You adored the dizziness that came when you took a spin a little too quick, the blood rush so tantalizing. 

Anything to get your heart pounding out of your chest, your confidence soaring and a smile on your face. Maybe that’s why sneaking behind the entirety of the Navy’s back had been so rewarding for you. 

Granted, you never anticipated it would happen. You’d had a rough go one day when you’d dropped in the student rankings and good ol’ professor Mav came to help you nurse your jostled ego. He’d sat with you and explained where you went wrong, how you could’ve corrected yourself to prevent the drop in points. By the time you’d realized that the conversation shifted away from your performance and onto Maverick’s historic feats, you were on a fourth glass and too far gone to politely excuse yourself from the bar. 

You also were too invested to push Pete’s hand off of your thigh when it creeped up there when the compliments about your piloting came twofold. Too wrapped up in his laugh to notice he’d grabbed your tab and called an Uber. Too tangled up in his sheets to realize what a horrendous yet delicious error you’d made together. 

Neither of you knew what to make of it when you woke up the next morning. It was a strange, comfortable quiet, locked in his arms on his mattress, lingering in the 8 G force that shrouded the memories of the night before. It was dangerous. A student and a supervisor. The lewd age gap you’d heard plenty of people remark on in other contexts.

Thinking about it got your heart pounding. Your blood rushing. Your ego and confidence soaring. You’d tagged the best Naval pilot to your side, and he wasn’t rushing away any time soon. 

So, you agreed to keep seeing one another. Outside of bedrooms and in them, but no one was to know. After all, Pete could lose his job, you could be demoted and penalized heavily if anyone found out. 

And so it went on, four weeks melted into a month, a month into three. You don’t think either of you ever could have seen on the horizon how compatible the two of you were. How symbiotic you were with one another. Mornings were spent in routines of breakfasts and quiet laughter, helping one another with badges and iron pressings of khakis — you never felt as at home as you were when you were with Mav. 

Well, maybe not on the tarmac. After all, the two of you were supposed to be purely professional with one another. 

Yet, that never stopped Mav from riling you up covertly. It was almost like he jotted the plans down in those damn files in his worn leather backpack. He knew that flying put you in the same state his hands did in the bedroom. And every now and then, he would test the limits. 

“Today, we are working on evasive maneuvers. The goal is to avoid my targeting system, stay out of sight, out of reach, and out of the range of your enemy.” His voice carried over the classroom, settling on each person surrounding you in cushy pilot chairs. 

You were already on the tarmac when he waltzed out of the classroom and on his way to his own aircraft, eyes tacked to your body as you boosted yourself into the cockpit of your plane. He would need a warning to keep his eyes forward before a commanding officer plucked them out for gawking like he was. Not that it would stop him. 

You’d sat baking on the blacktop, waiting for your callsign to be called, waiting your turn for the airspace to clear. The AC didn’t help the way the glass enclosure was roasting you alive. Then the makeshift oven seemed to go up a dozen degrees. 

“Let’s play a game;” Mav’s voice comes over your headset, low and gruff, “try not to get caught.” 

The way he says it is inconspicuous to anyone else who could’ve been listening. But nobody else saw the way his face lit up when you told him about a book you’d been reading, where the leading lady was chased, captured, then absolutely ruined by her partner in their bedroom. The same words were printed in the very book on your nightstand. And it seemed as though Pete was keen to reenact it. 

Your blood is burning at this point, fueling the knot that has grown in your stomach. Your watch pings that your heart rate has jumped up from its resting rate. 

The wheels of your craft haven’t even left the ground and you already feel like you’re flying. 

[miukki960]

Okay, so I just finished Love for Love's Sake and..... I have so many thoughts. I could wax poetic for hours about how much I loved the show, but right now what I really want to talk about is my theory on the ending and the whole concept of the "game."

Please bare with me as I don't make posts like this (or any at all for that matter) often. Please forgive me if it's incoherent, my thoughts tend to run faster than my fingers can type lol.

Here we go!

First, who is the author sunbae? I think he's the embodiment of death. When Myungha wished on the shooting star for 1. Someone to care for him and love him and 2. To disappear,he was wearing what I'm pretty sure is the same outfit as when we first see him in the bar back in episode 1. This leads me to believe Death heard his wish, so when Myungha decides to end his life and regrets his decision in the last moment, Death decides to give him a chance to change his fate.

So he creates the "game" based on a novel he supposedly wrote. I believe this is a false memory he gives to Myungha so he will willingly play the game and try to change his fate. Which leads me to my second point...

Myungha is the author. The show did a very good job at keeping this subtle at the beginning. We as an audience are led to believe he is simply transported into the videogmae world and is at the mercy of the dating sim, but they show us multiple times that that's not the case.

Once, when Myungha mentions that the missions are written in his handwriting, a second time when we get a flashback of him actually writing these missions in a notebook at the bar, and a final time when we see him pen the shows Ultimate Mission using the Author's Pen, "Please make Cha Yeowoon Happy."

I started to get the idea that Myungha was the author back in the first few episodes when we started to see the side missions. Every mission he got screamed to me "this mission is actually for you, not Yeowoon." What was the first thing he did when he was supposed to get Yeowoon more friends? He befriended Kyunghoon himself. Save 3,000,000 won? For himself. Get Yeowoon followers? Using HIS Instagram. Which leads to point number three....

The game Myungha is sent to is actually a reenactment of his senior year of high school. All the characters he meets are actual people in his earlier life, his grandma, Kyunghoon, Sangwon. But in his original "playthrough" he didn't bother to befriend or interact with them, so they went about their lives unaffected, and he forgot they existed. I say all this with the exception of Cha Yeowoon.

Cha Yeowoon is a mirrored reflection of Myungha created by Death and inserted into the game. Myungha said himself at the beginning that Yeowoon was his favorite character because he reminds him of himself. Later on, we learn that their backgrounds are almost identical too. Yeowoon lost his mother, has an absent runaway father, and was raised by his grandmother. Myungha has a dead father, absent runaway mother, and is being raised by his grandmother. So at the beginning when Death asks Myungha if he will change Yeowoon's fate and rewrite his story, he's really talking about Myungha.

Adding to this, I also noticed something rather spectacular narratively in the second half of the show. The whole show, we watched Myungha try and (mostly) succeed at making Yeowoon happy. But suddenly I realized, as we watched him get happier and happier, Myungha was falling deeper and deeper into a sadness rivaling how we saw Yeowoon in the beginning. We stopped seeing the calculations of Yeowoon's affection level, and instead saw error messages and system malfunctions, representing Myungha's emotional state.

Which begs the ultimate question on everyone's minds to be answered. If the whole point of sending Myungha back to his 19yo self and giving him Yeowoon was to get him to love himself and be happy, why were the system malfunctions so devastatingly awful and cruel? Answer: because Myungha is the author, and he's depressed and self-destructive.

He begins to feel happy with the changes he's made, he sees Yeowoon happier and he feels like he's succeeding, yet the countdown message to his death still appears. It's ominous and impending and a constant reminder that he's failing. So as the author, he tries to revert back to factory settings by getting rid of the major changes to his life, Yeowoon and his grandmother. The two people who love him most, and the two people he thinks he deserves the least.

Sangwon said it the best. Myungha's main issue is that he refuses to receive love, both from others and himself. Which is why he fails the game and dies a second time. He followed the missions for Yeowoon and refused to let them break down his own walls like they were ment to.

But Death does see the change in him through Yeowoon. Being Myungha's mirror, Yeowoon represents the change that was supposed to happen to Myungha. So when Myungha (the him he hates) deletes himself in order to make Yeowoon (the him he loves) happy ("please make Cha Yeowoon happy"), Yeowoon is able to go full-meta, breaking through the game and rewriting the mission to "Please make Tae Myungha happy."

Thus saving Myungha and allowing him a third chance at a happy life, where he receives just as much love as he gives.

Don't ask me about the "he comes back disjointed from Yeowoon's timeline" thing bc I don't understand it narratively but it sure does make for a visually pleasing ending.

[bandgie]

I have never posted a writing on here but I thought I’d give it try

Smut!

So Cruel

Synopsis: You we’re never too fond of Miguel O’Hara. Though he was a sight for sore eyes, his temper was always unchecked and it had only worsened after Miles Morales escaped. You made it your mission to stay away from him unless absolutely necessary, but O'Hara has never cared about your feelings.

3.6k word count

He scared the living shit out of you. The way he walked, talked, how his eyes looked like it could cut through diamond, he was madly intimidating.

After hearing about the original anomaly, Miles Morales, Miguel O’Hara because determined to correct all of the errors and make sure all events happened to their respective times. Morales was a tricky one though, he had managed to slip through every spider’s fingers and go back to his Earth.

You couldn’t help but silently applaud the kid. You had lost so many loved ones for these so called ‘canon event,’ but seeing Miles try to find another way was inspiring. You secretly hoped he did manage to find away to prevent these tragedies from happening to anyone ever again.

You were nothing more than a messenger, not even sure if anyone from the higher positions knew your name aside from ‘Spider-Woman’, so you’ve been slacking on finding specifically which Earth Miles teleported to. It didn’t matter anyway, there’s so many other spiders they can manage to-

“Hey, O’Hara wants you in his office.”

You immediately sit up from your couch, whipping around to see Jessica Drew standing at the door way of your room. Her belly is pronounced, you’re not even sure how she can still walk.

“Now?” You ask.

She nods in response, waddling back to her motorcycle.

“I’m busy looking for the spider from Earth-1610. I don’t think I’ll be able to-“

“Not an option. And you know I can tell when your lying from your teeth right?” She says unamused. You huff in defeat and scratch your head nervously.

Jessica takes notice and pouts, sympathy taking over. “Listen, I’ll be with you okay? Hop on and I’ll take you there. Hopefully he won’t be too harsh if I’m with you.”

You look at her gratefully and trudge to her bike. She might soften the blow, but you know you’re in for a rough time.

-

The ride to Headquarters was too fast, you wanted to slow down time to prepare. Truthfully, no time in the world could prepare you for the possibility of O’Hara ripping you a new one.

You silently cursed yourself for not at least making small attempts to find the kid. You’ve seen how Miguel ran to Morales, how he showed no mercy, yet you prayed he would let one spider slip. A foolish prayer.

Once parked right outside his den, you and Jessica stepped off the motorcycle and she took on your hands in hers. She could be surprisingly soft when she wanted to be. Her fingers gently squeezed your reassuringly.

“I’ll try to do the talking okay? You haven’t been super deep into his work so I’m sure he’ll let you off easy,” she says softly.

You nod, feeling sweat begin the collect on your forehead. You pull away from her hand as you begin walking to him, keeping your head down.

You never directly looked at O’Hara. You hated how he looked as though he could see what you’re thinking. He never would directly address you either. The person in command would relay messages or you would sometimes see Miguel on a screen, but not much one-on-one talking.

You hoped to keep it that way.

You could hear the machine lower Miguel from the higher platform, and you could hear your heartbeat increase.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, you told yourself in an attempt to control your breathing.

It wasn’t long before Miguel’s was in front of you both, you stared at his feet while he began to talk.

“You can leave Jessica,” he says, voice sharp and cold.

“I think it would be better if I stayed,” she says calmly, “You can be quite scary sometimes ya know?”

Miguel snorts, “It’s not my problem how people look at me. You did your job now leave.”

You flinches at his harshness, yet Jessica only sighed as a response. They went back and forth for some time. Pity and shame began to creep up your spine as Jessica continued to take his belittling. You were hiding behind someone for your own dumb decision, let alone this someone was pregnant.

“Jessica,” you say, interrupting their argument, “thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

She looks at her worriedly and back at Miguel in plea, she gives her shoulder a rub and says an ‘okay’ before leaving on her bike.

It’s not long before it’s just you and O’Hara. You can feel him drilling holes into your head as you continue to look down.

“I don’t think I need to say what you did wrong,” he starts, “We need all hands on deck, every spider man and spider woman. Yet here you are making absolutely no progress. You haven’t been checking other dimensions since the spider from Earth 1610 left…” Miguel’s doesn’t stop listing all the things you did wrong, but his last question catches you off guard.

“Why?”

You briefly look up at him and look back down, “Why what?”

“Why aren’t you doing your job.”

The silence is loud, nearly deafening. You can’t answer, you won’t answer. Your putting not only your job at risk, but maybe your safety. “I’m not sure.”

“Look at me,” he commands. You don’t, instead raising your head slightly but keeping your eyes down. You don’t want to look at him, you can’t afford to look into his eyes.

“I said look at me,” your name leaves his lips.

You’re eyes snap to his, and you wish you had looked at his nose instead. Such a deep red meet your own colored eyes. His jawline sharp and check hollow. The main think you notice are the eye bags, guilt eats at you.

“Look at me while you answer me. Why?”

You take a deep breath and build on the courage to only speak a few words, “Because I believe in him.”

Miguel’s eyes narrow, “Believe in who?”

“Miles Mora-“

“Don’t you dare finish that name,” O’Hara snarls, turning so that his back faces you. He runs a hands through his hair and heaves his chest. You take an involuntarily step back, prepared to dash in needed.

He turns back to face you, slightly better adjusted and gets closer to you. It takes every fiber in your body to not move. You maintain eye contact, but a part of you wants to look at his plush lips.

“I understand where you might think he can save everyone, but he can’t. It’s foolish to go against what is our destiny. I don’t need to tell you that I tried, I don’t need to tell you why I started this whole Spider-Man Society,” he tells you.

Your fearful gaze turns into sadness as you recall his story. You’ve also lost someone close to you. Your fiancé who was captain of the police. You hated when people called you Spider-Woman, you changed it to Widow years ago.

Miguel just see your expression change because his does too. “I don’t want you thinking we’re the bad guys, or were doing this to hurt people. I need you to understand that we have a bigger responsibility at hand. So are you on my side or what?"

You let out a sight, "Why does there have to sides? Why can't we let him see for himself? Imma be honest Mr. O'Hara, the way you handled things was not necessarily in the best way."

You regret speaking you mind as you see Miguel get in your face, obviously offended by critiquing his strategy. He studies your features, eyes seamlessly exploring what you have as he looks back at your eyes.

"I don't need a no-name spider telling me how to do my job. You think I'm cruel? Join the club. All you can manage to do is sit there and look pretty. Maybe that's all you'll really ever be good at." Without warning he grabs your wrist and takes you to his lift, sending you guys up into the top of his office.

You follow without intending to, you were too busy digesting what he had told you. It wasn't until he flipped you around to see your backside that you started questioning him.

"Mr. O'Hara! What are you doing!?" You yelp, attempting to flip back around to face him. His hands were hard on your hips to keep you in place. You could feel the heat of his body and the hardness of his chest.

"I'm gonna show you what you're actually good at since you don't know how to do your current job properly," He answers. He uses his legs to push your feet closer together. Then taking one hand off your hips, he uses it to push the arch of your back down so you're sticking your butt out.

The position sends your heart racing, especially when he pushes his crotch to your ass. He gently slides himself up and down on you, fabric touching. You should stop him, tell him that this is insanely inappropriate and that he's being dramatic. Yet, you find yourself arching your back even more to try and feel him some more.

He chuckles behind you and leans down to have his lips ghost the shell of your ear, "Someones a little too easy. I thought I was the bad guy."

You shake your head, "I never said that. I just think you could've gone easier on the kid."

His rubbing stopped and you immediately missed the sensation. You let a whimper out and wiggled around to try and feel him. He gave you a playful slap on the ass and grab the back of your neck harshly, "Pobrecita perra, I'm not even close to thinking about finishing with you." He kicked your legs open and lifted one of them up to rest on his desk. Without a second thought, he ripped off your sweats leaving you in just your underwear.

Miguel knelt down and inspected your covered pussy. "Mmm, siempre me encantó el color rojo." Then you felt the warm wetness of his tongue touching you underwear.

You were already wet, so the friction of the underwear wasn't painful. It was annoying instead, you wished he had ripped those off along with the sweats. Miguel gave long strokes of his tongue up and down your pussy. He let his fangs gently nip at your clit which made you squeal. You could feel him smiling against you as he continued to work you with his tongue.

You started feeling hot, the remaining clothes too tight on your body. He was giving you exactly what you wanted but nothing at all. It was infuriating how he teased you through your underwear. You could hear how messy it was starting to get, and you couldn't tell if the liquid dripping down you thigh was from him or you.

Your underwear was drenched, and you moaned when he sucked your nub and pulled at it. He used his fingers to rub you and occasionally dip in your underwear to feel your folds. You pushed your body lower to have him rub more, to let him know you wanted him to touch your bare pussy, but Miguel was not letting up.

"Please," you suddenly begged, grinding against his mouth and hand. "O'Hara please take them off."

"I don't know," he teases, "Is this not enough for you? Am I not doing a good job?"

He harshly slaps your pussy, you jump and whine nearly on the verge of tears. "You are, it's so so so good," you praise him, "I just, I want to feel you more. Please Miguel, please please-"

You finally feel him pull your underwear to the side before he dives in. You loudly moan, finally at peace knowing you're getting what you want. You grind down on his face, reaching back to push him deeper into you. Who would've though all Miguel needed was a little bit of positive reinforcement to listen. Maybe that information will come in handy at another time.

"Oh fuucckkkk," you moan. He uses his lips to rub your lower lips, the softness was nearly enough to make you cum. You can't though, you need him inside you. To feel him pulse and cum inside, you clench around nothing at the thought of it.

He goes back to using his tongue to please you, dipping it inside of your pussy back up to your clit. You feel your body tense and the burning sensation build in your stomach. It threatens you to release and your moans start getting louder. You've been so deprived of intimate touches for so long, you don't know how you managed it all this time.

"Don't stop! Don't stop..." you repeat over and over, letting your hips abuse Miguel's face. It starts to build and build in your lower stomach. You throw your head back and bite your lower lip to suppress your loud moan. Then he's gone. The tenseness in your body disappearing and giving you a lonely pussy. You turn around and look down to see him with a malicious grin. O'Hara stands at his full height to look down at you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks innocently. Your eyes find his glistening chin and bruised lips. You go back to his eyes and you feel your own water.

"I was so close. I was almost there. Miguel I.... I need it," you cry, letting a few tears slip down your face. You weren't really sad, but you hoped you would get a few pity points for your tears.

"Is that so? I don't know if you deserve it. You've been lazy and no help recently. I'm thinking we should stop right here and-"

"No!" you shout. You turn to fully face him and touch him chest to Chets. "Please Mr. O'Hara I'll be better. I can do it and I can do more. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry just please! Please." You're ashamed of yourself. Acting like such a slut in front of your boss and swallowing your pride just so he could make you finish. At the same time nothing has been more important to you in so long, you need him.

He smiles, showing his fangs and all before gently pushing you away, "Sit up and spread your legs." You could weep from joy at his words. You obey him and hop up on his desk, careful to not fall off his lifted platform. Your underwear is still sticking to your skin, it's uncomfortable now, but you don't ask to take them off.

He walks towards you and kneels down again and you swear he was smelling you. Miguel moves your underwear to the side and plants kisses over your clit. You hum in delight as his lips travel to your opening, using his tongue to prod it open. You use one of your hands to spread your pussy more open with your fingers. He looks up at you in surprise, but he's more than happy to oblige to your request.

He sucks on the bundle of nerves of your clit, making sure his tongue coats over your entire pussy. You whine and involuntarily close your legs, trapping him between them. You move your hand to tangle it in his hair. You move his head up and down repeatedly, his tongue and lips eagerly listening to your body.

It starts to build again, and this time you're determined to finish on his face. You hook your ankles together and squeeze him close to you, making sure he has enough room to stick him tongue out.

"Shiiiiiiit right there, please don't stop please please," your chanting has him humming in response. You moan at the vibrations, feeling your orgasm coil at the top of your pelvis. Your body prepares for your finishing, throwing your head back and rolling you eyes to the back of your head.

It's ruined though, ruined by him ripping away from you making you nearly lose your balance. You were even closer this time, you could feel your pussy throbbing and burning hot. Now the tears in your eyes were very real.

"No! No, no, no! You said! You promised! I-"

"Shut up and hold your legs like this," he ignores your cries. He positions you so you're holding your legs by the thighs, opening them up and ripping your underwear off in the process. You're still whining to him about how he lied to you, that he really is cruel and ruthless.

He continues to ignore you and enables the suit to disappear, leaving him nude. Your complaints quiet as you stare at his physique. Huge shoulders but a small waist. His biceps could be the size of your head. You knew he was buff, but seeing it in all its naked glory was immaculate.

His dick was leaking, a fiery red at the tip and you swear you could see it pulsating. He had been edging you for so long, but you didn't consider that he was also holding himself back from cumming. You absent mindedly open your legs more, inviting him in.

He darkly chuckles at your body response, "Calling me all these mean names yet you're letting me through the front door."

He closes the space between you and uses his hand to guide himself to your pussy. You moan in anticipation, you're praying to God that he lets you cum this time.

The rubs the tip of his dick up and down your clit a few times to feel how slick you are. He must like it because of how he groans and the chills you see that appear on his arms.

"Please," you whisper.

Finally, you feel the tip enter you easily. You could probably take him all at once considering how wet you are, but Miguel was slow. He was probably soaking up the feeling of your pussy around him. Loving the way you clench around him and your warmth. He went deeper and deeper, and by the end of it you swear you could feel him in your throat.

You moaned loudly as he started to move, gripping you by your hips. Fuck, he just started and you're already going to cum. How could you not? He filled you up so nicely and you were denied two times prior, there's no shame in finishing so fast.

Your head went back, leaving half of your body upside down. You felt your blood rush to your brain as he started pounding in you. Whimpers left you lips every time he slammed into you, you could feel your entire body joint forward from the force of it. He lifted up your shirt and spilled your tits from out of your bra.

Miguel leaned down to put your nipple in his mouth before he started sucking. You gasped and pulled your legs even more back to give him space to do what he pleased. The sound of him slapping against you, your wetness dripping on the platform, his warm tongue. You're going to cum.

"Yes, yes, oh god, Miguel..." you babble. Please let me come.

And you do. finally sweet release leaves your body and you're practically crying from joy. You're clenching around him so tightly he groans your name. Miguel stops his movements just to feel you spread your essence on him down to the floor.

Your upper body is dangling off the loft, practically limp. You can feel your pussy twitching from such an intense release. Miguel pulls away from your tits and starts to pull out. Before you can whine in protest and sensitivity, he thrusts back in and pulls you down closer to him.

"Fuck, you've been hiding this pussy from me all this time. Deberíamos haberlo hecho hace mucho tiempo." It was such a low mumble you think you weren't meant to hear it. Your tits continue to bounce as Miguel keeps thrusting into you. Your moans start to sound like a man dying from thirst, and you don't care. Everything is so overstimulated that a part of what you wants to beg him to stop.

It's not until he lets out several loud groans to let you know he was going to cum. Miguel uses one of his hands to grip your throat as he finds the best angle to bury his cock in. He hooks your legs onto his shoulders and your arms grab his hips to steady yourself. He has you in a slanted mating press, a perfect position to stimulate your clit too.

You know you won't be able to cum a second time, but the thought of O'Hara filling you up makes you think you will. He makes sure you can feel his cock all the way inside when he cums, his dick pulsing. You let out a throaty moan as you look down to see where your bodies connect, seeing your stomach bulge from his size.

Whimpers leave your mouth and you're both breathing heavy. Miguel thrusts in a few more times to hear you whine more. He smiles when you do. He pushes your legs close your chest and pulls out slowly. You moan as you feel him slide out of you, immediately feeling empty save for the cum that pours out of you.

Miguel drops your legs down with little care, backing away from you. You pick your head up and feel the blood rush back down which makes you lightheaded. You watch as he throws you torn clothes away and uses his watch to put his suit back on. You're left nude from the bottom, "Do you have any pants I can borrow?"

He thinks for a moment and brushes the hair out of your face, making sure you maintain eye contact, "Yeah, but I'd rather you walk home like that." You hesitantly laugh likes he's joking, but the devious look in his eyes tell you differently.

"No way you're serious."

He smiles so innocently giving you a small wink, "What can I say? I love being cruel."

[moralesmilesanhour]

baby's breath and burnout. 01

summary: a flowerbyte florist x tattoo artist au. wc: 1,800

Margo had been working at Jessica Drew’s flower shop for four years now.

The tall, dark-skinned black woman’s face was smooth and shiny in the way that soon-to-be mothers’ faces tended to be when the younger entered her shop for the first time. One hand rested just below her stomach, while the other adjusted and re-adjusted the arrangement of hydrangeas sitting in a green vase by the cash register. 

Margo had her hair freshly slicked back with what must’ve been a pound of gel, ending in one big puff at the back of her head. Her eyeliner was winged sharply at the edges of her eyes, the only sharp thing on her face with her rounded cheeks and gently-sloped nose. 

“Margo, right?”

A tooth-gapped smile spread across her face when Margo’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Your friend told me you were coming.”

“I gotta warn you, I don’t know much about flowers, but I can work a register.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure you learn a thing or two about flower arrangements,” Jess waved her hand dismissively. “I’ll have you shadow me for a little bit, then you’re on your own.”

“Sounds intense.”

She shrugged.

“If you can cut flowers and put ‘em in the right order, you’ll be fine. Most people just get roses anyway.”

Margo laughed, revealing a smile that mirrored the other woman’s.

a new customer.

The bell above the door rang to welcome a new customer. Margo was in the middle of getting the last hydrangea settled into the middle of the vase, her back to the entrance.

“Welcome to Jess’ Flowers, how can I–”

“Hey, you!”

She stopped dead in her tracks when she recognized the man who had tattooed her two weeks ago. He wore a white graphic t-shirt instead of a hoodie, the sleeve just short enough that Margo noticed unintelligible lines of dark ink peeking out from beneath it.

She couldn’t remember what had been written on his name tag (something starting with an ‘M’), but he seemed to remember hers.

“Margo?” 

“Yup,” Margo replied as she abandoned her vase to get behind the counter. “I remember you had an ‘M’ name too, right?”

She hummed the ‘m’ sound, waiting for him to complete it. “Miles,” he said with an easy grin. “My last name’s Morales, so I’ve actually got two of ‘em.” 

Margo had her sleeves rolled up, so the new ink on her forearm was visible once he approached the counter.

Miles pointed to it, “Can I see?”

“Sure.”

She held her arm out, not expecting him to gently take it as he had at the tattoo parlor to examine his work with a furrowed brow. He ran his thumb across her wrist as Margo watched his face for any sign of error. It looked perfect to her, but you never know, right? 

She was frozen in place until Miles let go and nodded approvingly.

“It healed up really nicely, you did a good job.”

“That’s a relief. The way you were lookin’ at it, I thought I might have to get it removed,” she laughed.

“Nah, it’s just that I’ve had clients come back with all types of infections,”

He began counting on his fingers as he rattled off bits of advice, clearly no longer focused on Margo.

“I tell everybody ‘keep it clean and dry’, ‘don’t scratch it’, but then they don’t, and come back asking me to re-do it–”

Miles stopped himself before he went on a tangent about proper tattoo aftercare. He lowered his hands.

“...Thank you for following directions, is what I’m saying.”

“No problem! It’s one of my many talents,” Margo said. 

She stood there, hands primly folded behind her back as she smiled like a doofus.

A silence took over for a few seconds before she suddenly remembered her job.

“Uh, right. Did you want anything?”

Miles blinked twice before it came back to him.

“Y-Yeah, yeah, sorry. I had just walked past and saw y’all had roses?”

 “We do,” Margo said carefully, her smile faltering.

“Who’s…the lucky lady?”

“They're, uh, for my mom,” he corrected, scratching the back of his neck. “I'm visiting my folks’ house for the first time in a while.”

“Oh,” Margo nodded slowly as her face heated up with embarrassment.

“Well, that’s real sweet of you. The flowers are in the back, just–um–gimme a second!”

She rushed out from behind the register and to the back of the shop, where a pile of un-trimmed roses lay waiting. She was supposed to get that done half an hour ago, at any rate.

If you worked there long enough, putting a bouquet together became as mundane as taking orders at a drive-thru: Cut the dead leaves, snip a couple inches off of the stems at a 45-degree angle, just so. Rinse and repeat.

After doing this, Margo wrapped the blooms tightly with pink paper.

Had she not been so frazzled by Miles’ sudden appearance, she would’ve told him that there were other flowers that moms liked. Men always came in with only roses in mind, for any and every occasion. Yet another thing Jess had been right about.

Margo wrapped the bouquet neatly in a bright red ribbon, after adding bits of baby’s breath in between the roses as filler. Creative liberties.

“Here you are,” she held it up proudly like a newborn. “Hope your mom enjoys these.”

“Me too,” He joked as he cradled it just as gently in his arms. He was careful to not wrinkle the paper too much or ruin the flowers. A hopeful look crept onto his face.

“See you around?”

Margo reclaimed her spot behind the register and waved. “Maybe.”

She would bury her face in her hands for saying this as soon as he left, but it made Miles laugh.

the day in question.

Margo fiddled with her sleeves as she entered the tattoo parlor a couple blocks from her workplace. It was sandwiched between a pet shop and a boutique, and the slightly uneven entrance gave you the impression that it was being crushed between two invisible hands. 

A brown-skinned Indian man with a full head of wavy, mahogany locks stood behind the front desk. He had it cut into choppy bangs in the front, with slightly longer bits peeking out from the nape of his neck. The bangs were held up by a bright blue headband, which stood out against his orange hawaiian shirt. He smiled at her, though it didn’t reach his wide eyes. The slight bags beneath them made him look happier than he was regardless. 

“Here for an appointment?”

“Yup, tattoo.”

“Do you have a sketch or a picture of the design with you?”

Margo reached into her tote bag and pulled out the sheet of paper that Gwen drew on. 

“Cool. He’ll be here in a second.”

The cracked and peeling leather of the waiting bench squeaked beneath Margo’s weight as she bounced her leg up and down, her nerves mounting by the second. The designs crowding the wall across from her were all flaming skulls that gnashed and snarled, or stoic samurai surrounded by dragons that curled tentatively around them, all shaded with dark hatched lines. She had all but forgotten Gwen’s advice to check at least one of the artists’ social media before going; she had just up and left the house with the feverish excitement of doing something drastic. 

Margo tried to imagine what her tattoo artist would look like, but couldn’t conjure up anything more creative than a pale hipster wearing a black beanie and a t-shirt with the name of a band she had never heard of written on it. The thought dissipated when a man’s soft voice caught her attention.

“Margo? Margo…Kess?”

Margo had to crane her neck to get a good look at the lean black man standing by the front desk. 

She got the beanie part right. Pale, not so much. 

He wore a bright red hoodie with the sleeves rolled up to reveal an expanse of deep russet-brown, completely devoid of any ink whatsoever. This would’ve invited the possibility that he was there to take her to the room where her assigned artist actually was, if he wasn’t in the middle of removing white gloves stained with ink at the fingertips. 

The man looked around the room for a good minute before locking eyes with Margo, and it was then that she remembered to answer.

“Oh, that’s me, sorry!”

She shot up from her seat with an awkward grin plastered across her face. This made him burst into short, breathy laughter.

“Then why you ain’t say nothing? Had me looking around an empty room like a dumbass.”

The light, easy tone of the man’s voice softened his crass language. His smile dazzled her when he held out a now-gloveless hand for her to shake.

“I’m Miles.”

“Margo–ooh, wait, you know that already. My bad.”

This made Miles snort and laugh even harder.

“I think we’re gonna be good friends, Margo. Follow me.”

Margo held her breath, trying to remain stock-still as Miles pressed the cold stencil to her forearm. She didn’t so much as speak until he was finished applying it.

“Sorry for not bringing that in beforehand. I kinda did this on impulse, y’know?”

“That’s alright, it’s just a flash,” he rose to his feet from the stool he was sitting on. “It’s cute.”

He held her gaze with warm brown eyes that seemed to sparkle with mischief when they caught the light. She averted her eyes to look at one of the drawings on the wall behind him.

“Thanks.”

The hum of the machine had made Margo nervous at first.

“How much will it hurt?” she asked with a false air of humor. “Scale of one to ten.”

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out now,” he looked up briefly with a grin. “It’s on your arm, and the needle’s not that big, so…I’d say about a two.”

“How do you know?”

The question gave voice to the thought she’d been holding onto since she walked in.

Miles chuckled softly. “I got ink, just not where you can see it. You ready?”

With this new-found assurance, Margo relaxed into the big leather armchair as Miles went to work. He was right; she only felt a tingling, bordering-on-itchy sensation as the needle traveled across her skin. Gwen hadn’t colored in the sketch she brought in, which meant that there was no shading or coloring to be done. Margo had a monarch butterfly on her arm before she knew it.

“You like it?”

Miles flashed another smile at her as he spread a cool gel over the tattoo. He already knew what she would say.

“Are you kidding?” Margo lifted her arm and held it up to the light. “I love it.”

[manytoonepoet13]

Fragaria Memories - Ever Red Visual Analysis Essay

"I still remember, the sun, the memories, and the lack of guidance, shown in this cross section of this red pieces/fragment. Truth/reality, even in time, you can't take it away. Forever certain, this is something I will not forget."

(Duration of Analysis: December 2023 - April 2024).

A. Wiki (Intro Tab: Overview of the story section).

The mains of each bouquet is shown through little fragments with the colour of their respectively bouquet. Though, note that Cielomort and Badobarm's fragments are showcasing their entire face, this shows that they're a whole, complete, untouched by the corruption of the anxiety brought by the seeds.

Now, look at Hallritt's fragment, a part of his face is cut-off right across the surface of his fragment, "Cross section of this piece/fragment". His purity - something so precious to him was taken away, not only that, but it was reversed. He was reversed, giving birth to his alter-ego, this evil Hallritt. Additionally, the part that was taken out matches perfectly with the "evil" part shown in the mv - this being a little clue for what is to come.

B. Music Video (Analyzing frames that feel important).

From what I've noticed while watching the mv, it has this margin that maintained throughout the mv, which is rather reminiscent of a camera, befitting the line "I still remember", 0:55, that would pop up along the intro. The connection here is that he's recalling these memories as if he was watching them through an old videotape. Though since his and his friend's memories don't align, it felt like an error in his mind (think of a movie where you told your friend about a certain scene and they disregard it, saying that it didn't happen in the movie and told you about a completely different scene instead), therefore causing the glitches we frequently see in the mv.

Another connection to the glitches is this shot of the Fragaria crest with impeccable lighting, I may add, making everything look oh so great before the "camera fell" and the lenses shattered (shown in various scenes throughout the mv but it's more prominent in this scene), the everything became lone, corrupted and gray, 1:05 - 1:11.

Who was holding the camera you might ask? Hallritt. After all, the ones who get to hold the camera are those who get to tell the story (quote pointed out by my best friend).

This is due to the reason that 1.) This is Hallritt's pov and he's the main character and 2.) He's too optimistic - Merold, 2024.

He's always excited whenever he's given the chance to help, he's passionate about fulfilling his duty that it feels like his joy and love for his job and the people around him is overflowing. This is why he's holding the camera, the one who got to tell the story. The one who caused all of this.

The next scene needed to be taken into account is the overlapping clocks 1:28 - this may symbolizes the, as the name suggests, overlapping of timelines. - As we know, there are two separate timelines, told by the voice dramas and the songs. The latter somewhat foreshadowing what happened in the past timeline.

Other than that, I have a feeling that maybe, just maybe, there might be a timeloop in Fragaria.

Now, why do I think there's a possible timeloop?

CLOCKS. While yes, the clocks may mean that time has passed and they can no longer turn it back, they could also mean that they are running out of time before the loop restarts.

I'll assume that it's the seeds' corruption on Hallritt that allowed this timeloop to start. And this aligns with the seeds' form of corruption as well, anxiety.

This timeloop theory is more on a figurative and psychological sense rather than a literal and physical one. This will be in relation as to how Hallritt was feeling upon being corrupted.

Since the seeds bring anxiety, I believe we should take a look at that. -Many people have repetitive anxious "thoughts" that trigger fear responses and believe they will never be able to get rid of them. - AnxietyCentre.com. "Can't take it away." "I still remember."

This is where the timeloop theory comes into play:

Hallritt's been corrupted, and is now having these anxious thoughts (memories), about causing the destruction during the first timeline. And now in the current timeline, he's once again having these thoughts because he still remembers what he has done, and while he's trying to make a change, he's also anxiously counting down the minutes until it's gonna happen again.

When corruption shall resurface.

After all, the current world is already corrupted, shown in this close up of the Fragaria crest now rusty (shown in various clips). The knowledge and sight of this may be Hallritt's trigger, causing him to have a fear response.

That response being the glitched out image of him and his friends, 3:29, that paired with the margin, makes it look like an actual videotape that one could watch (as pointed out earlier). This may contribute to the next scene where the words "Live in memories" appear, as well as when the color of the background went from, red to white, the red again, only for the transition to take place (which looks like the opening and closing of the eyes, most probably Hallritt's), switching to white once more, then a blur, then gray, with each of the other knights' crest orbiting around Hallritt's before disappearing one by one.

What I would like to pay attention to is the thing is, despite Merold's crest being flashed first, his crest disappeared last, giving the impression that he knows something. Given that earlier, 1:27, him and hallritt were together in the middle of the line "Can't take it away". Other than that, later on, 2:43, he transitioned from his usual color palette to black and white. (Your Melody may give us some insights as to what that may be).

The transition from red, to white then black represents how Hallritt vies the current timeline, how every was so vibrant, rendered to black and white. (This, I believe, is where his repetitive, anxious thoughts is shown).

Other than that, my bestfriend also pointed out that the mv is basically just red, gray, then glitch and repeat, which gives way to the timeloop theory pointed out earlier.

I would also like to point out that in the second timeline, it's not Hallritt that is corrupting the world, it's the world that's corrupting Hallritt. Let me explain; the overlapping of timelines I've mentioned earlier plays here: It is because of that fact why the seeds are still having power over the world, why the Fragarian crest is already rusty, because despite the fact that the timeline restarted, the overlapping caused it to be corrupted by default, further triggering Hallritt's thoughts, leading him to think this will only last until the "end" of time.

"Ever Last".

He can never forget it, he will always be tied down by the ribbon's hold as if he was on a leash, bring everyone down with him, 3:42 - 3:45.

But he doesn't want that, no.

He doesn't want to hurt people, especially since it was all his fault, because of his "lack of guidance".

So he'll just glitch himself out of the picture, just so he'll not cause any more problems, 3:49. After all, that's what he is, right? A glitch?

But if there is one that's certain, "this is something I will never forget".

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

"The knights ask for nothing in return for their love."

[mbakuxblackpanther]

Meeting the Jabari leader

Requested❌

Warnings or triggers: none

Characters: Shuri, Tchalla, Queen Ramonda, Mbaku, nakia, okoye, kuba(m'baku's helper)

Story type: MbakuxReader

This is my first imagine on this page so it may be a little bad but it'll get better as I write more of them😂

Excuse any errors and Enjoy the story!

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Y/n pov:

I was in shuri's lab helping her make parts for T'challa's new suit when she called me over to her. "Y/n come here please" she said. "Yes princess" I said laughing. She hated when I called her that considering I was her bestfriend. "Bast y/n please stop with the formalities I beg of you" she said sighing playfully. We both laughed and sat down. "Your help is needed in jabariland. They are having trouble with their trading system and are in need of a Trade manager." Shuri said. "What will the job consist of?" I asked nervously. I didn't like talking in front of people or presenting things. I was very shy and quiet. "Nothing much all you have to do is help the Jabari tribe manage their trading business with the merchant tribe" shuri said. "Oh ok. That doesn't seem too hard" I said taking a breath of relief. "Very well your flight leaves tomorrow. Here are your communication devices in case you need me for anything." Shuri said handing me a kimoyo bead bracelet. "Thank you so much shuri." I said pulling her into a hug. We parted ways and prepared for my departure. The next morning I packed my suit cases and waited outside with shuri. Today was also the day T'challa returned home from his mission with Nakia. Suddenly, I felt a big blast of air wash over me. I looked up and noticed the royal talon fighter landing. The king-to-be and nakia stepped out of the aircraft. Shortly after, the dora Milagé came to take nakia and prepare her for the upcoming ceremony. "So suprised my sisters both came to see me before our big day" tchalla said smiling at us. I wasn't his real sister but tchalla always treated me like family. Every since me and shuri became besties at 7 years old he's always referred to me as his sister. "You wish, Im here for the emp beads I've developed an update. I'm also here to see y/n off for her departure" shuri said smartly. "Update? But it works perfectly" tchalla replied. "How many times do i have to teach you, just because something works doesn't mean that it cannot be improved." Shuri said to tchalla. "You are teaching me? What do you know?" Tchalla said as he handed the kimoyo beads to shuri. "More than you." She said while walking off to the royal talon. "I can't wait to see what kind of update you make to your ceremonial outfit" tchalla said. shuri flipped him off as she walked away to take me to the royal talon. "Shuri!" Queen Ramonda said. "Sorry mother" shuri said quickly putting her middle finger down. Shuri walked with me to the royal talon. Okoye was going to be taking me to Jabariland. "If you need anything use your kimoyo beads to contact me" shuri said pulling me into a hug. "I will. See you later shuri" I said getting into the aircraft. Shuri waved to me as the royal talon took off into the air.

*timeskip*

"Y/n we are here." Okoye said. As we landed in Jabariland, I grabbed my suitcases and prepared to go to my chamber where I'd be staying (imagine a big room but with fur couches/ furniture and big windows). "Y/n Mbaku wishes to speak with you" Kuba said leading me to him. *what could he possibly want? it is 12:00am* I thought. Kuba led me to M'baku's room. I was greeted by two female guards with both of them standing at each side of the door. "Ulapha ukuza kubona inkokeli yesizwe" (she's here to see the tribe leader) Kuba spoke in Xhosa. The two guards nodded and motioned for me to walk into the room. "Welcome to Jabariland" Mbaku said with a deep,raspy voice. He was very sleepy considering it was now 12:15am. "Thanks for the welcome" I said smiling. "I have some things I wanted to give you" Mbaku replied reaching into his closet. As he looked through the items, my eyes scanned his body. He was very tall with curly black hair, had strong muscles, and thick thighs. I find him very attractive. I was knocked out of my daydreaming by a hand waving in my face. "Hellooo y/n you there?" Mbaku asked. "Yes I'm sorry I was daydreaming." Mbaku chuckled at my slightly embarrassed face. "Here are some of the things you may need for your stay here." He said. I was given a warm blanket, documents for managing the trading business, and also a brand new wooden spear. "What's the spear for?" I asked. *i thought only warriors get those* "you are new to jabariland. It would be rude if I didn't give you anything to protect yourself now wouldn't I?" Mbaku replied. *he does have a point.* I thought. "Thank you for the gifts" I said smiling happily. "No problem nkosazana ." Mbaku said smiling happily at me.

*time skip*

As I prepared for bed, the events of the day flooded my mind and a particular word came to me. *Nkosazana I wonder what that means* I thought. I tried to go to sleep but the word kept ringing in my brain. I thought of an idea and quickly grabbed my kimoyo beads that shuri gave me. *it has an automated ai voice system that can answer any question I have. Almost like the internet but better* "Griot" I spoke into the bracelet. "Yes y/n. What May I help you with?" Griot the ai voice said. "Transalate the word Nkosazana into English and tell me the language." I replied. "The word Nkosazana means "princess" in English and comes from the Xhosa language." Griot spoke. "Thank you Griot" I said.

*princess. He called me princess* i thought.

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Thank you for reading! This is my first imagine so it may be a lil cringe but I promise it gets better 😂let me know if y'all want a part two. I also take requests.

[coriander-candlesticks]

I'm sick so I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense, but I've been thinking about the nature of myths recently as I've been exploring hellenic polytheism.

For context: I'm ex-Mormon. I was raised in the church and, because of that, was taught biblical literalism but in, like, a more subtle way than most? I was raised believing that Adam & Eve and Noah's Ark, etc., were literally true, but that the story of Job specifically was not; I also always knew evolution and the Big Bang to be correct, despite there being a verse in the Doctrine & Covenants (a Mormon-specific religious book) where God apparently told Joseph Smith that the world is 6,000 years old- a passage I didn't know existed until my senior year of high school. I didn't realize I had believed in biblical literalism until I'd left the church, actually.

Now that I'm aware of it, it's a mindset I'm actively trying to combat while I explore Hellenic polytheism. It's definitely been a task to separate the nature of the Gods from their myths, as brutal as they often are. And it's something I've noticed within the community, too, which I think is interesting. It makes sense: Christianity, at least, has had a chokehold on much of the world for a long time, and so many of us have experienced literalism as our first interaction with any sort of holy text (though, of course, Greek myths as a whole aren't that) alongside our first experience with divinity as a wrathful God whose flaws are waved away, or ignored, or twisted into positive attributes. This also means that I'm trying to re-approach several deities with an open mind (Zeus, Hera, and Ares in particular, but many of them to some extent) while also trying to un-condition myself. I was already in the process of doing this, of course, but trying to figure out how to interact with a completely different pantheon has made that especially clear.

It extends to things like prayer and offerings, too. Prayers were very formulaic growing up, even though most of the time there wasn't a strict script to follow. There was always something you ask as part of the prayer, even if it's just 'please help me do better tomorrow' (alongside giving thanks, of course), so trying to craft a prayer without adding *everything* I'm used to including in makes it feel incomplete and, therefore, disrespectful. And daily prayer is something I'm resistant to because of prior experiences with it. I don't want to offend any of the gods by asking for something or asking for too much, especially so early on, and there's always a promised offering the few times I *have* asked. Add worries about exact obedience on top of that and it's proving to be a difficult thing to untangle. And I know that the gods are difficult to offend, figuring out how to do this takes trial & error and that's okay, it'll get better the more I do it, etc., etc.; this is more an issue with my own overthinking than anything else (hooray for ✨ mental health issues ✨). I'm not really asking for advice here, necessarily, just thinking out loud because I'm not comfortable talking to people in meat space about it yet.

[kyojurismo]

Hello! Can I have a Shinobu trusting a demon for the first time who wants revenge and kill doma because he turned them into a demon and forced them to eat his family??

▸ ANSWERING. okay anon, here it is! i have a few things to clarify tho, first i went in a different direction from the one with which i started writing this piece and i don’t know if it’s for the best or not… second, it was implied that there was something between shinobu and r, but i focused on the revenge part. i hope you’ll like it anyway, even if maybe you imagined it differently. thank u for sending the request !! ♡

▸ INTRO. a demon slayer and a demon seeking revenge on an upper moon come across each others. (explained better in the request itself hehe)

▸ FANDOM. kimetsu no yaiba

▸ CHARACTERS. shinobu kocho x gn!demon reader

▸ WORD COUNT. 949

▸ RATING. sfw

▸ WARNINGS. major kny manga spoilers !! & it’s probably angsty, mention of kanae kocho, brief appearance of kanao, douma is just mentioned lol. reader wants to end their life (so if that makes you uncomfortable don’t read, i don’t want u to get triggered !!), no beta readers so excuse any possible error pls + lemme know if i missed something

“good evening. what a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

the demon slayer in front of you was different. she wasn’t strong, that’s for sure. but there was something else.

was she truly capable of killing you? years, many long years… you debated whether getting yourself killed by a demon slayer or trying to kill douma, the current upper rank two; all to set your tormented soul free.

you studied her for a few moments, before taking a few steps back. “i wonder now, how many people have you killed?” she asked you, confusing you. “why does it matter?” you said, glancing at her tiny figure. “because you’ll receive the punishment you deserve and be reborn! all to give justice to your victims,” she explained.

you thought about her words for a moment, before deciding to try to reason with her.

“i want to give my victims justice, they deserve that, but i want justice too…” you tried, hoping you were convincing enough. after all, why should a demon slayer trust the words of a demon? “my dear, justice? what kind of justice are you seeking?” shinobu asked with a smile on her face, making you notice that she had been smiling the whole time.

“i know you don’t trust my words!” you assured her, regretting it right after the words left your mouth. “a demon from the twelve kizuki turned me, a long time ago… he forced me to eat my whole family, stating that he would have kept me alive only if i obeyed him.”

you told shinobu your story, you weren’t trying to convince her with futile details, you didn’t wanted her to feel compassion, you just wanted her to understand that you wanted to end your life just as much as a demon slayer desires to kill a demon.

shinobu listened very carefully to your words. your description of the demon who turned you made her lost her composure. it was him. the exact same demon who took kanae away from her.

the tension was clear, but shinobu seemed to have lost interest in killing you. on the contrary, she was focused on thinking about getting revenge on douma too.

she silently decided to trust you, going against everything she believed and respected with her whole self. going against the rules and shinobu kocho in the same sentence? unbelievable! but that was it, shinobu was trusting a demon for the first time in her life.

—

shinobu organised everything, and she did an amazing job actually. she wasn’t the strongest above the hashiras, but she did knew what she was doing and was the smartest person you have ever met. you admired her.

“i want you to kill me with that poison you spoke about,” you said while watching her work. “oh? i see, you still want to die,” was she sad about your wish? “you’re helping me and i truly appreciate it, i know this is as important as it is for me. we’re here to put an end to this story, but i don’t want to be a demon for the rest of my life. i seek peace and that only death will satisfy my desire.”

shinobu listened to you and nodded slowly, letting your words sink in. during these months, you two bonded more than expected from her. you grew to trust each others and you both were mainly focused on one objective: douma.

after all, shinobu succeeded in trusting and befriending a demon. it even surprised tomioka, alongside everyone else in the demon slayer corps.

there was something stronger between you two, something that was probably above the simple friendship but neither of you decided to focus on it.

and whatever was growing between you two came to an abrupt stop when she died, by the hands of none other than douma himself. shinobu tried to prepare both you and her tsukugo, kanao, to the possibility of her getting killed in order to make sure you’d be able to defeat douma.

thanks to another demon slayer, inosuke hashibira, you and kanao killed douma. you finally got your revenge, you were finally free. all the anger, the pain, the emptiness you have felt until that day was finally gone, but it was replaced by a strange feeling of sadness; something that you never experienced during your existence as a demon.

you and shinobu got revenge, but the one who truly deserved to live was the one who lost her life. and that was, without doubt, a cruel joke. that was the main reason why you didn’t wait to drink the special poison shinobu made for you. you couldn’t wait longer, you had to disappear from that world.

kanao was by your side the whole time, you noticed that she was crying for the first time since you had known her. you smiled at her for the last time. “go on with your life and make the most of it… do it for shinobu and kanae,” you muttered, starting to disappear and turn into dust.

you had a vision. no, they were flashbacks from your past, from your human life. you were laughing and enjoying your day with your family, all happily together… when a familiar voice called your name. you turned around and saw a figure, then you smiled once you recognised it was shinobu. she ran to you and hugged you, holding you close to her. your arms circled her petite figure and just then you noticed you were wetting her haori with your tears. you were crying.

“thank you, y/n! we did it,” she smiled, truly happy for the first time in a while, and you were too. happiness suited her beautifully.

▸ BEFORE LEAVING. reblog and comments are super appreciated! thank you for reading it all, as always i’m super insecure about my work so um yeah… hope you enjoyed it, have a good day / night ♡

[thesconesyard]

Ok, moving on. Here’s an original story I began ages ago in a notebook at work. (I say original, but the idea came from a writing prompt, it’s not fanfic is what I really mean.) You’ll see how old it is if you keep reading lol

It’s also unfinished, but I still want to share it. I typed it all up last night, errors and all. It’s about 2.5k, so not too long.

Untitled Original Story from a Prompt:

The birds were chirping. The smell of lilac drifted in through the window. Gran’s house always smelled like lilac. Granddad had planted them all around the house, next to every window. He was gone now, a lilac planted with him.

I’d been staying with Gran for a while now. She had decided it was time to move somewhere she could have care round the clock. She wanted help; help cleaning the house and help with life in general. She used a walker now and couldn’t manage the stairs.

I would bring things downstairs for her and she would decide what to take with her, what to leave for certain family members and what could simply be gotten rid of.

It was a slow process since I had to bring everything downstairs. We took our time. Gran was in no hurry. I took care of one room at a time. We had finished the upstairs and now our task was to clean the attic. That would be a big job. The attic was as big as the whole upstairs.

So far I had brought down all the Christmas decorations. There was a lot. We threw away lights that no longer worked. Tinsel garlands went in the trash. Ornaments all of us grandkids had made we separated into boxes with our names. Gran wanted us to have them back for our own trees. Gran kept just a few ornaments and decorations that Granddad had given her through their years together. I kept a nutcracker that Gran had always let me play with. Bringing the Christmas boxes downstairs had only made a small dent in the attic.

While Gran was napping, I went up to the attic to wander around. I was trying to decide what to bring down next for her. As I moved through the attic I saw a box in a corner that I had never seen before. It was wooden. The wood was dark and glossy. I had been in Gran’s attic many times in my life. I couldn't imagine not having seen this box before. I was intrigued and walked towards it.

There was a latch on the lid of the box. I opened the lid. Inside was a layer of glass balls. They looked like Christmas ornaments. I carefully lifted one out. It was clear and plain. As I held it, I noticed something lightly etched on the glass. I brought it closer and read “Justin Clark.” I looked back at the box and saw other names etched. I picked up another ball.

“Manuel Garcia-Lopez.”

“Aggy!” I heard Gran suddenly call.

I jumped in surprise, and one of the balls slipped from my hand. I tried to catch it, but it shattered on the attic floor with a tinkling of glass.

“Dónde estoy? Quién eres tú?”

A man was standing in front of me. I don’t know where he came from. He had appeared as soon as the glass ball hit the floor. I jumped backwards in shock, careful to not drop the other ball. The man in front of me looked confused. He was dressed in denim jeans, with cowboy boots and a button down work shirt. He had a large cowboy hat on, and yet something about his clothes didn’t look modern.

“Dónde estoy?” he said again.

“Aggy are you upstairs?” Gran hollered from the bottom of the stairs. My name is Agatha but my whole family calls me Aggy.

“Who are you?” I finally found my voice. “How did you get here?”

“Inglés?” the man asked.

“Yes. English,” I said.

“Who… are… you?” he asked slowly, thinking about the words.

“I’m Aggy,” I said. Something clicked in my brain. “Manuel Garcia-Lopez?” I asked. My voice sounded strange in my ears. The man looked taken aback.

“Sí, Manuel,” he said softly. He looked around the attic.

“Aggy!?” Gran called again.

“In the attic Gran! I’ll be down in a minute,” I yelled back. I turned back to Manuel.

“How did you get here?” I asked again. Manuel noticed the box with the glass name balls and suddenly looked frightened.

“No, señor, no,” he muttered.

“Manuel,” I said sharply to him to get his attention back.

“Sí, señorita,” Manuel said meekly, looking at my feet.

“How did you get here? Habla inglés?”

“Sí señorita, I speak a little,” Manuel replied.

“I don’t speak Spanish,” I said. Manuel looked at my face.

“Dónde es Señor Gordon? You… daughter?”

“My dad is Jack Gordon,” I said.

“No, no,” said Manuel, “Señor Herbert.”

“Herbert Gordon was my granddad.”

“Señorita!” exclaimed Manuel. He looked about to fall over. “Granddaughter?”

“Yes, my dad is Jack, and his dad was Herbert. My granddad.”

Manuel grabbed my arm.

“Que año es?!”

“I don’t understand…”

“Señorita, what year?” Manuel interrupted.

“2015,” I answered. Manuel’s grip on my arm tightened and then loosened as he fell to the floor with a thud.

“Manuel?” I crouched next to his prone body, and placed my hand on his chest.

“Aggy? Are you alright? What was that noise?” my Gran yelled up from downstairs. I was torn. I didn’t want Gran to worry about me, but I didn’t want to leave this mysterious person alone, passed out, in her attic.

I could tell from his chest that Manuel was breathing fine, so I took the chance and raced across the attic and down two flights of stairs.

“I’m fine Gran,” I called as I ran.

“Aggy what’s wrong?” Gran asked as I reached her.

“Gran! There’s a man… the attic… fainted.”

“Aggy catch your breath!” Gran said. I took a deep breath.

“There’s a man in the attic. I dropped…”

“Someone broke in?” Gran said in a panic. “I’ll call 911.”

“No!”

Gran looked at me. “Aggy?”

“His name’s Manuel. He didn’t break in. I broke one of the glass balls. He appeared. He asked for Granddad and passed out when I told him it was 2015.”

“What glass balls? Granddad? Aggy, what?”

“The glass balls in the chest. I’m sorry I broke one. I didn’t mean to, I got surprised when you called me.”

“I don’t know about a chest,” said Gran.

“What should I do about Manuel?” I asked looking back up the stairs.

“How did he get in? And how did he get to the attic? He could be dangerous.” Gran started to go for the phone.

“Don’t Gran, he isn’t dangerous, he looked scared,” I said stopping her.

“Aggy,” Gran started. She looked at me. “Ok. Take him water and bring him down. Bring this chest too.”

I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. I went upstairs carefully, leaving Gran to wait.

Manuel was still lying on the floor. I crouched down by him again and shook his shoulder.

“Manuel… hey.” I shook him a bit harder. He began to come to.

“Dónde estoy?” Manuel opened his eyes and saw me. “Señorita!”

“Here Manuel. Have some water.” I helped him sit up and handed him the glass.

He slowly took it. He drank some then said, “Señorita is really 2015?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Dios mio,” said Manuel.

“What year did you think it was?” I asked Manuel. I really was very curious what he would say.

“1945,” said Manuel.

“What? Manuel, how did you get here? Did you time travel?” I asked excitedly.

“No, Señor Gordon…”

I interrupted, remembering Gran as he said Granddad’s name again.

“Wait Manuel. Come downstairs to see my Gran.” I stood up. “Can you help me carry this chest?” It looked heavy.

“Sí señorita,” said Manuel jumping up quickly. I thought for a moment he looked frightened of me. He handed me back the water glass. I sat it on another box to bring down later.

Together we lifted the chest and slowly and carefully brought it down the attic stairs. We set it down for a moment, then hefted it again to carry down the rest of the stairs.

Gran was sitting in the living room waiting with the phone next to her. Manuel and I sat the chest next to the coffee table.

“Gran,” I started, “you didn’t call anyone did you?”

“No, I’m just being prepared in case,” she said.

“This is Manuel,” I said.

“Buenos dias señora,” Manuel said and removed his hat.

“How did you get in my attic? And what were you doing in there?” Gran asked.

“He appeared when I dropped one of these balls,” I said, opening the chest. “He’s from 1945 Gran.”

“Sí señora,” Manuel said.

“What are these Gran? Why do they have names on them?” I carefully brought one over to show her. She took it and turned it every which way.

“I’ve never seen that chest before,” Gran answered. “Do they all have names?”

“As far as I can tell.”

“Manuel?” Gran turned to him.

“Sí señora?”

“Do you know anything about this chest?”

“Sí señora. Is Señor Gordon’s.”

“Herbert’s?”

“Yes Gran,” I said.

“How do you know that Manuel?” asked Gran.

“I work for Señor Gordon, señora,” said Manuel.

“What do you mean?” asked Gran.

“On the ranch señora. With the vacas.”

“What are ‘vacas?’” I asked. Manuel wrinkled his brow thinking.

“Cows,” said Gran.

“Sí señorita, cows,” said Manuel.

“When did Granddad work on a ranch?” I asked confused.

“A long time ago as a young man after the war,” answered Gran. “He was a ranch hand while we saved money to get married.” Gran looked at Manuel again. “Do you have a family?”

“Sí señora, una esposa y dos niños.”

Gran sighed as Manuel looked sad.

“What happened Manuel?” I asked at last. “How did you get here?”

“No lo sé. Señor Gordon was furioso una vaca got out y coyote got it,” said Manuel, looking at his boots. We were all silent, but I couldn’t help myself.

“But what happened to you?” I asked.

“No lo sé,” replied Manuel. I looked at him blankly.

“He says he doesn’t know,” said Gran. I looked at her sharply. She sounded choked.

“Gran? What’s wrong?” I moved quickly to her.

“In my room Aggy, in Granddad’s bedside table is an envelope. Please bring it here.”

“Ok,” I said. I walked quickly, and came back with a manila envelope. It was sealed tight and felt like a book was inside. Gran was looking out the window and Manuel was looking at his boots still.

I handed the envelope to Gran.

“Manuel,” I said, “you can sit down if you want.”

“Yes,” agreed Gran. “Please do.”

“Gracias,” said Manuel as he carefully sat in a chair across from Gran.

“What’s in the envelope Gran,” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied as she turned it over in her hands. “Granddad said someday I would know when the right time to open it was. I asked him how I would know and he told me to trust him. I had forgotten all about it until just now.”

“Do you think it’s the right time now?”

“I don’t know,” said Gran. “But it strikes me as something improbable for this improbable situation.”

“Sí señora,” Manuel quietly agreed. We were quiet while Gran unsealed the envelope. She pulled out a book like journal, and a piece of paper.

“It’s a letter,” she said. ‘My darling Agnes,’ she began, ‘I apologize now for what you are about to learn about me. I have kept it from you all our long years together…’ Gran’s face got very pale and her mouth tightened.

‘No, my love, don’t think those thoughts,’ she continued reading, ‘I have only ever loved you and always will, until the last stars go out in the universe.’ Some of Gran’s color came back and a small breath of relief left her. ‘I cannot change who or what I am. I am what my grandfather was and his before him; a warlock. I have done many ills in this world and also much good.’

“What?” I asked. “What does that mean?”

Gran looked just as confused as me. Only Manuel seemed nonplussed. I didn’t know if that was because of the language barrier or if he knew something about Granddad already.

Gran continued. ‘This tradition and power has been passed in this family from grandfather to the first born of the first born time out of mind. Why it skips a generation no one has ever sufficiently decided. Agatha was a surprise. Always had the first born’s first born been a son.’

I didn’t know if I should be hurt by Granddad’s words or not.

“What does that mean?” I asked. “I’m not a warlock.”

“I don’t know what it means Aggy,” said Gran, as confused as me.

“Manuel! Were you in that glass ball I broke? Did Granddad put…”

Gran cut me off. “Shall we finish the letter first Aggy? Don’t worry Manuel.”

“Yes Gran. Sorry Manuel,” I said. Now Manuel was the one looking pale.

‘Agatha will likely be as surprised and confused as you, my dear. The journal is for her. It was mine and my grandfather’s and his grandfather’s. It is old now and likely ready to be rewritten by Agatha.’

“But what’s in it?” I asked. I was thinking to myself that it probably wouldn’t be a fun task, rewriting a journal that likely had old timey handwriting and spelling. Could I modernize the spelling? I wondered.

“I don’t know Aggy. Here,” Gran passed the journal to me. “The letter is almost done.”

‘I’m sorry to not explain more. I’ve said more to you than I should have. Agatha will think this improbable or impossible, yet deep within her, she’ll know, just as I did when my grandfather told me. Until we are reunited my love, Herbert.’

Gran laid the letter on her lap and sat back on the couch.

“That’s all?” I cried. “What does this mean? How does Manuel fit with this?”

“I don’t know Aggy,” said Gran. “Your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps there is more in the journal.”

“Sí,” agreed Manuel quietly.

I opened the journal gently. I didn’t know what to expect. If it was as old as Granddad said, I worried pages might be loose and fall out. I was more shocked to find the first page looked as if I had opened a brand new journal. The pages were bright and crisp. I glanced through the first pages, which appeared to be an introduction to me from my forefathers. I didn’t understand what they were greeting me into.

“I don’t understand,” I said aloud. “What does this mean?” I asked, passing the journal to Gran.

“I don’t know either,” said Gran. “I can’t read it.”

“Should I get your readers?” I asked, beginning to get up.

“No Aggy. I can’t read it, it’s nonsense.”

“What?” I asked, dumbfounded, feeling my blood run cold.

“It’s nothing,” she repeated.

“Gran. It’s a whole letter and introduction about what the book is, but I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either Aggy. It’s for you to learn who you are I suppose. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful than that. I don’t know what Herbert has left you, and I think I would have stopped him had I known.”