#it's more like building a platform for forms i guess?

[perilegs]

i've become our company's go-to person for creating what are essentially forms used to ask for things and assign tasks for different things bc i know the system best, and, i think i may cry, i got the clearest instructions i've ever gotten in my entire life. it had pictures and flowcharts with the perfect amount of supporting text and it was so clear and precise and i know EXACTLY what i need to do based on it <333

[mysteria157]

Pairing: Sheriff!Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Summary: You have a system, and it's worked perfectly until now. But in this dusty Western town, Sheriff Nanami Kento is making things...complicated.

By day, you're the town's sweet schoolteacher, loved by all. By night? You're the very secret that drives Nanami to sleepless nights and relentless pursuits.

You're drawn to each other, so it makes keeping your worlds separate a dangerous game that you can't help but play.

Rating/CW: slow burn romance, mild intoxication, brief violence, cowboy activities?, fluff, suggestive content, eventual smut, angst, explicit sexual content (eventually). MDNI!

WC: ~12k (strap in, I guess lol)

Author notes: Hello! It's finally here! I had so much planned for this story that I had no choice but to break it into parts. I struggled a little because there was a lot more world-building than I expected, but I'm proud of the result. This will be a slow burn, so please don't expect any smut right off the jump, lol.

Thank you so much, @pmpmyread @rahuratna, not only for looking this over, but for your advice and support! And thank you all for your motivation as I put this together!!

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

Happy reading!

Header: myself (image from pinterest) | Divider: @anitalenia @saradika network tag: @pixelcafe-network

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | Part Two

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

The saloon door creaks open, letting in a blast of scorching summer air that does little to freshen the stale interior. Nanami steps inside, the cool dimness a refreshing difference from the blazing afternoon sun previously on his back. It smells familiar—scents of whiskey, tobacco, and sweat wrapped around camaraderie like an old, worn blanket.

Tired eyes flicker up from cards and empty glasses, recognition dawning on weather-beaten faces. A chorus of solemn nods greets him, a silent salute to their town’s protector. Nanami returns each nod mechanically, his own gaze carefully schooled to hide the bone-deep weariness that threatens to consume him.

His leather boots, caked with the dust of another fruitless chase, thud heavily against the worn floorboards. Each step feels like a defeat, a reminder of always arriving too late or right before his goal slips through his hands, touching his fingertips like a tease.

“Whiskey,” he grumbles as he plops onto a stool, the wood creaking under his weight. “The bottle, preferably.”

The young bartender—who he knows means well—sends a knowing smirk that sets Nanami’s teeth on edge. How many times has he found himself here, drowning his frustrations in amber liquid? Far too many, he thinks, as a tall glass of whiskey appears before him like a mirage in the desert.

Nanami snatches the Stetson hat from his head, slapping it onto the bar with a force that sends a small cloud of dust into the air. His fingers, calloused from years of handling a gun and reins and rope, curl around the glass, lifting towards the bartender in question. The young man simply shrugs as he cleans a cup with a dirty white towel.

“You drank an entire bottle two days ago, Sheriff. Gotta save some whiskey for the rest of us.”

Nanami doesn’t offer a remark because he has been drinking a lot more lately. While he’s never been one to be too many sheets to the wind, lately, consuming until his vision is fuzzy seems to turn off his thoughts. He takes a generous sip, the whiskey burning a familiar path down his throat but doing little to ease the sting of failure. As he watches the strong alcohol slosh in its glass, he gets lost in its color. The flaxen hue morphs into the fluttering of long lashes and mocking eyes, of a form quick and nimble—always just out of reach.

“You’ll catch ‘em eventually, Sheriff,” the boy offers, more out of habit than conviction. He’s seen Nanami here too many times, that frustrated look etched on his face, chasing something far too fast for him.

Nanami huffs an admonishing chuckle. “Maybe,” he concedes, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. “Or maybe I’m chasing the wind.”

He takes another swig, the alcohol doing little to dispel the sour taste of defeat or replace the thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of justice served. But it’s all he has right now. As the waning daylight stretches long and hazy into the sky, somewhere out there, a thief laughs at the law’s futile efforts—at his futile efforts.

He downs the rest of his whiskey, slamming the glass on the counter and ignoring the eyes of patrons who dart up to him from the mild disturbance.

“More,” he demands, sliding the glass across the counter to the bartender. As he watches the whiskey pour, he wonders, not for the first time, if he’s lost more than just a criminal in this endless game of cat and mouse. His integrity, his purpose, his peace of mind—all sacrificed on the altar of justice. And for what? A town that still suffers, and a thief who dances just beyond his grasp.

While the whiskey offers no answers, it at least dulls the ache of what he can’t achieve. But that comes at a price. As his mind fades from the present, it ruminates on the past. On how he grew increasingly disillusioned with his responsibility to protect. It broods on that fateful day when a bullet tore through his dear friend’s body, losing momentum enough to strike Nanami’s badge with a dull thud—a cruel reminder of how close he’d come to joining Haibara, and how utterly he’d failed to protect him.

For a time, he disappeared, carving a new life miles away on his family’s ranch. It was quiet there, peaceful and free of the failure he feels now on a daily basis. But eventually…it wasn’t enough. It was one too many desperate souls who stumbled upon his doorstep, knowing that he would be the only one to help, that he finally decided to come back.

Not that it’s made any difference.

Nanami’s reputation precedes him—the best sheriff this side of the state, a lone wolf who gets results. His name alone makes outlaws think twice before darkening his town’s doorstep. Or at least, it used to.

These past few months, a shadow has been making a mockery of him. A bandit, cloaked in night and silence, slips through his fingers like smoke. Jewels, coins, and the like—all vanish under the cover of darkness, present one morning and gone by the time the sun rises again.

The most maddening part? It’s a woman. He’s caught glimpses—the curve of a hip, a mask of charcoal smudged behind alluring eyes, a whisper of a deep laughter on the wind. She’s a riddle wrapped in black leather, a ghost that haunts his waking hours and torments his dreams.

In all his years, he’s never encountered a more elusive creature.

He lifts his glass, ready to down the contents and ask for more when the rays of sun catch, making the amber gleam like a beacon. The flash of light makes him turn to the saloon’s grimy windows, eyes squinting against the sudden blinding glare.

That’s when he sees you.

Framed by the dusty window pane, across the street, you stand in the golden rays, a vision that seems to part the haze of whiskey and self-pity that’s been clouding his mind. Your smile always seems to make his breath catch; it’s warm and genuine and lights up your face when your smooth lips curl at anything you hear. Right now, he sees it as you bid farewell to your students. They swirl around you like an autumn breeze, their laughter permeable through the glass.

The pink-haired boy—Yuji—who loves to follow Nanami around, wobbles from around the schoolhouse, both hands on the reins of your beautiful Palomino Morgan mare, Buttercup, as he yells to you with a toothy smile.

Nanami blinks, realization slicing through his slightly alcoholic haze like a sharp knife. He’s lost track of time, nearly forgetting his daily ritual that you both share. With a muttered curse, he pushes away from the bar, throwing a few coins on the wood and leaving the half-empty glass behind.

The sudden brightness of the outdoors makes him wince, eyes adjusting to the shift, but never leaving your form. With a soft click of his tongue, Nanami’s handsome chestnut stallion, Flint, nickers at his approach on the side of the saloon, nuzzling his master’s cheek as Nanami strokes his mane and grabs his reins. The horse’s hooves kick up small clouds of dust with each step, matching the steady rhythm of Nanami’s spurs. As he crosses the dusty road, he hides his gaze beneath the shadow of his Stetson to take you in fully.

Nanami’s seen many pretty women in his lifetime. Delicate desert flowers that bloom and wither with the changing seasons. And for the sake of not being the hopeless romantic that Deputy Gojo makes him out to be, you are different. From the moment he laid eyes on you, stepping off that dusty stagecoach with determination set in your jaw and hope shining in your eyes, he knew you were something else entirely. It took him weeks to even speak to you.

Your hair, usually neatly pinned back for teaching, has come slightly loose after a long day with energetic children. A few curly strands dance in the hot breeze, catching the sunlight. Your dress, modest but well-fitted, flows down your body in pale blue, the hem slightly dirty from the grass and dirt. You stand with a posture that commands attention—an undeniable grace in the way you move and Nanami is victim to the call of your hips when they sway.

There’s a smudge of chalk on your cheek, dusty white against smooth brown skin that glows in the sun, and the slight furrow in your brow makes the side of his lips flinch to fight a smile. You’re tired—happy to have another day with children, but ready to get home and relax. You’ll probably take a bath, brush Buttercup’s mane, and try a new pie recipe. It’s little details about you that he’s learned over the years since you moved here, the small moments you’ve both shared that seem to make his heart pound faster than what it should when he’s near you.

Your beauty isn’t just the curve of your cheek or the curl of your lashes. It’s the gentle patience in your voice as you help a struggling student. It’s in your laugh, rich and uninhibited, ringing through his ears when he has the blessing to be near you. It’s in the fire that burns in your voice from ranting about yet another student leaving school to help his family’s farm, a passionate frustration that both terrifies and mesmerizes him.

The sun in this small town is unforgiving, but it paints you in hues of amber and gold, careful with its rays so as not to burn you. Nanami realized a long time ago that ‘pretty’ doesn’t begin to cover you. You’re breathtaking, in every sense of the word. A force of nature wrapped in pale blue calico and lace, stealing his breath and his weary heart with each passing day.

You ruffle Yuji's hair, taking the reins from him and nudging his shoulder to move him along, smiling as he takes off down the street towards his home. Sensing his approach, you finally turn to meet his gaze.

For a moment, Nanami feels exposed. Surely you can’t see the slight cloudiness in his irises from the whiskey? Hopefully, you can’t smell the alcohol that carries in the wind from his breath. Your smile only widens, a hint of knowing in your eyes, and his heart skips in his chest, missing a beat.

“Sheriff,” you greet him, a harmonious voice carrying a note of warmth that bubbles like hot oil in his belly. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten.”

Nanami clears his throat, fighting the rush of blood to his cheeks. “Never,” he manages, one hand resting on his horse’s flank.

“Still in the whiskey?” you tease, lifting an elegant brow. “My, my Sheriff, I didn’t imagine you to be the man.”

It’s easy for you to slice him open and leave him exposed to the open air, vulnerable. Nanami has never been one to be caught by surprise, but you always have him on his toes. In a gesture as old as the West itself, Nanami reaches up and removes his Stetson, holding it respectfully to his chest.

It’s a mechanical response, born from years of ingrained politeness from parents that have long gone, but it’s also more than that. The removal of his hat is an unspoken apology, a show of respect, and a moment of vulnerability all rolled into one.

He falters, unsure and throat tight as he struggles for something to say. To prove to you that he’s a good man and not the drunkard he feels like the mornings after a failed chase. He’s sure he looks like a schoolboy caught in mischief. But as he opens his mouth to defend himself, you chuckle, a rich timbre that makes the bubbling in his belly drip in thick rivulets down his pelvis.

“I’m only teasin',” you insist, stroking Buttercup’s mane, a mischievous smile doing little to help Nanami’s resolve.

Relief washes over Nanami’s face and he visibly relaxes, still not used to just how much you kid with him when you’re both together. He can’t bring himself to answer you or admit that drinking was exactly what he was doing. So he simply clears his throat, offering a gentle pat to your horse.

“Shall we?” he offers, moving to help you mount.

You nod, holding your breath as Nanami’s strong hands encircle your waist. With seemingly effortless strength, he lifts you onto Buttercup’s back, watching to ensure you’re secure before returning to his own horse. He swings himself up onto the saddle with ease, sliding his Stetson on carefully parted blonde locks. Side by side, you begin the ride home, your horses falling into a comfortable trot.

You never speak much, content to bask in your surroundings as you both walk together, but to him, just being close is everything he could ask for. He wishes he could whisk you up onto his horse and nuzzle his nose into the soft skin of your neck as you recall your day. He wishes he could smell the lavender soap you bathe with and the rosemary oil from your silky strands that he’s seen you buy at the general store. When he’s around you, he wishes for so much—he wants.

But an unmarried woman and man, both of position no less, would only garner gossip that he refuses to make you the center of. And his job is a dangerous one, filled with brutality and misery, of justice that seems to never be fulfilling, and he won’t be a man that leaves you in pain when he’s unable to come home.

As you both walk, the familiar sounds of the town surround them—the distant laughter of children, the creak of wagon wheels that pass them on the dirt road, the rhythmic sounds of hoofbeats and the occasional jingle of Nanami’s spurs, the smell of fresh-baked bread that floats in the cooling breeze, mingling with the earthy scent of dust and grass.

“How were the children today?” Nanami asks, trying to break through the self-inflicting resignation that clouds his mind.

You smile, launching into a story about Yuji's latest escapade with a frog in the classroom. Nanami listens, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he imagines the always enthusiastic boy causing a fuss. He marvels at the way your eyes light up when you talk about your students, the passion evident in every word.

As you speak, Nanami can’t help but think of all the times over the years he’s wanted to ask for more. To invite you for dinner, to teach you to shoot on the acres of his ranch, to ask for a dance at the town social when you’re sitting alone, clapping along as Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara scuttle wildly in the lantern-lit barn. The words have been on the tip of his tongue countless times, but he always swallows them back. Content to tell himself he’s doing something noble even as every fiber of his being screams the opposite.

Your laughter pulls him from his thoughts, guttural and melodic in the air, and he realizes he’s missed part of your story. It feels like a crime to not be fully in your presence.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asks, feeling the flush return on his cheeks. His mind has only wandered off for moments, but already your house is in view, the front door signaling another end to a conversation with you. Another walk over, another day done. But you’re safe, and for now, that’s enough for him.

“Sheriff, do you actually listen to me when I speak?” you begin, playful in your accusation.

“Of course I—”

“Or you just like hearing me speak?” you interrupt, a smirk growing, mirth sparkling in beautiful eyes that always make his throat dry. “I didn’t realize my voice was so alluring.”

Nanami chuckles softly, dismounting Flint when you reach the gate on the side of your one-story house. “I’m not sure I can answer truthfully, ma’am.”

You hum, pursing your lips as you smooth the invisible wrinkles off your dress. He refrains from tracing the movement of your hands as they ebb and flow generous curves that rest beneath the fabric. “So you just like me then?”

I do.

Is what he wants to answer. Because he wants, and wants, and wants.

Instead, he guides you down from Buttercup, savoring the meat of your waist between his fingers, the warmth of your body in his hands. He waits patiently as you guide her through the gate and inside the stable behind your house. When you return, he can’t help but note the subtle disappointment in your eyes, the way one side of your lip pulls in as you bite into it. He wonders if his own face conveys the same, if you can see the subtle sag in his shoulders of having to leave you so soon.

“Same time tomorrow?” you ask, eyes simmering with what he wants to think is hope.

“Because I like to hear you speak,” he unwittingly teases, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, ma’am.”

As he moves to mount his horse, you’re transfixed by the fluid grace of his movements. He places one scuffed boot in the stirrup, strong corded hands gripping the saddle horn as he swings himself up and onto the Flint’s back like it’s nothing.

Atop his chestnut stallion, Nanami cuts an impressive figure. His sheriff uniform fits him perfectly. A tailored deep blue shirt with long sleeves rolled to his elbows and tucked into denim around a lean waist. A sturdy brown leather vest creased from long days under the sun emphasize his broad shoulders. On one side of his chest rests a gleaming tin star, a symbol of authority and responsibility with a bullet-sized dent beneath the words that signify him. On his left hip, a lasso is coiled neatly, ready for action at a moment’s notice. On his right, his gun rests in its leather holster—a weapon you’ve seen him use a few times—and a constant reminder of the dangers he faces to keep the town safe.

The late amber light casts a warm glow over his features, highlighting the strong line of his jaw and the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes—a man who’s seen both laughter and hardship. Laughter he gives you when he can, hardship he refuses to indulge. His Stetson sits low on his brow, casting a shadow over umber eyes that make his gaze seem even more intense as he looks down at you.

No matter how many times you are both together, you are always struck by how handsome Nanami is. Rugged and weather-worn, yet with a gentleness in his eyes and kindness in his warm voice that makes your heart flutter. He’s the embodiment of everything a cowboy should be—strong, capable, and undeniably attractive.

As if sensing your admiration, he clears his throat loudly, dramatically, the corners of his lips twitching as you blink back to the present.

You retaliate in the only way you know how. “And stop calling me ma’am, as if we haven’t known each other for a few years.”

You insist on this every single time the title slips past his lips. And like every time before, Nanami smiles softly, reaches up, fingers grasping the brim of his Stetson, and tips his hat to you in a gesture that’s both gallant and a little playful.

“Have a good night, ma’am.”

You roll your eyes, mouth pulling into a small smile, heart beating like a drum in your chest, before you huff. “Goodnight, Sheriff.”

He watches you enter your home, waiting until the door closes behind you before clicking his tongue and shifting his weight, setting Flint into motion. The ride back to his office seems longer somehow, the town sounds a little dimmer as he gets closer, and the alluring smell of fresh bread he noted on the way to your house is now replaced with an enticing whisper of more whiskey now that you’re no longer by his side.

The church bells chime softly as you settle into your usual pew, absentmindedly picking lint off your lavender Sunday dress. You nod politely to Mrs. Watson, the baker’s wife, as she shuffles past with a hand on her youngster’s shoulder. Your eyes, soft and inviting to all who meet them, scan the congregation with practiced nonchalance.

Pastor Roberts steps up to the pulpit, black hair slicked with too much pomade, enormous silver rings on too many fingers, his voice booming through the small church. “Before we begin, I’d like to thank everyone who contributed to our new railroad station fund. And I’d like to give a very special mention to Mrs. Thompson, whose generous donation has brought us significantly closer to our goal. Your generosity truly embodies the spirit of our little community.”

The crowd breaks into genuine praise and applause. Mrs. Thompson, always seated in the back pew in her faded but clean dress, ducks her head modestly with a sheepish smile. Your heart clenches in despair, knowing she works grueling shifts at the general store just to make ends meet, her children practically raised by her neighbors. You’re sure that she’s only going above and beyond so her husband, who works many miles away, can come home often. She probably has nothing left—you just know it—and the thought makes your blood boil.

“Now, regarding the final sum we need,” the pastor continues, clearing his throat, “I’m sure we can count on our more…fortunate members to help us reach our goal.”

From the front pew, Mrs. Jones pipes up, her haughty voice carrying over the congregation. “Oh, we’d love to help next time, Pastor! We would’ve contributed more, but we had an unexpected expense with some…essential purchases this past week.”

She adjusts the luxurious new fur draped over her shoulders, seemingly oblivious to the irony of her words. You glare at the offensive garment, boiling blood now thickening with unquestionable anger.

Like so many other wealthy families in this town, the Jones are always eager to flaunt their excess, parading their luxury with heartless disregard for those who sacrifice their last penny for the common good. Content to take what they want, they turn a blind eye to those who truly need help, their indifference as cold as the coins they keep to themselves.

To others like them, poverty is a personal failing. In their minds, if people like Mrs. Thompson would try harder, work longer, or simply stop being sad and hungry out of sheer will, they too could reach the heights of wealth and respect. Preaching a gospel of bootstraps and self-reliance, willfully ignorant of the walls that keep the poor trapped.

Stepping foot in this sweltering church each Sunday is a test of your patience and resolve. But, you push through, hidden behind a mask of piety. As the pastor’s words fade into a monotonous hum, your attention shifts to the whispered gossip around you, ears poised for information that might prove useful. If Mama was still alive, she’d probably scold you if she knew your true intentions.

“Shameful,” Mrs. Clark mutters to her friend, her tone leaking with disdain and disbelief. “The Jones had enough for that fancy social at their house last week and an entire shipment of new furs, but not enough for something that we were all asked to contribute to? Just shameful, I tell you.”

“And here’s Mrs. Thompson giving what little she has just so her man can come home more often.”

You shake your head as you pretend to join in the gossip, your resolve hardening by the second.

Bingo.

After the service, you linger, making small talk with a widow about her new rhubarb pie recipe, when you spot your target.

“Oh, Mrs. Jones,” you call out, your voice dripping with misplaced sweetness. She turns around to face you, regal in cosmetics, a shade too bright, her fur sitting nicely on her neck even as she sweats like a sinner. “I meant to tell you earlier. Your fur is lovely.”

Mrs. Jones preens, her chest puffing like a peacock, basking in the attention. “Why thank you!” she gushes, dripping with false modesty. “Got them fresh last week. I would love for you to see the rest when I’m back in town. Jimmy and I leave for Millbrook and we’ll be gone for a week or two. It’s so refreshing to meet someone who appreciates fine things.”

You offer a small smile, excitement filling your body of your plans unfolding before you. “You’ll surely be missed. I do hope you have a wonderful time.”

She beams again, red lipstick cracking down the middle. “Make sure you stop by when we return, won’t you?”

You do stop by, but it’s a day after the Jones leave, a shadow among shadows. Buttercup leans into your touch when you brush a gloved hand along her glossy mane. You hop on her back, clicking your tongue to urge her into the night.

It’s further out of town, which makes this better for you—the fewer eyes, the better. The Jones estate looms ahead, dark and silent. You leave Buttercup a few yards away, patting her side as she lowers her head to graze. “I’ll be right back, girl. Just wait for my call.”

You circle to the back of the Jones’ house, glaring at the clean paint and beautiful greenery. A flickering light from a first-floor window catches your attention, and you duck down on impulse—the night watchman, no doubt. The Jones have enough money but spend too excessively to afford a maid. While this is a hindrance you can easily deal with, it’s still a thorn in your side. Patience has always been your ally, but tonight, it’s tested.

You know the town’s law enforcement, led by Sheriff Nanami, has been increasing patrols around wealthy homes because of your activities. The thought of him potentially catching you always sends a confusing concoction of thrill and dread through your veins.

Still, you wait, hidden in the shadows and the lush greenery around you, watching the guard’s routine. He leaves every ten minutes to patrol the house, returns, and scratches the sparse hair of his beard before plopping in his chair. His yawns grow more frequent as the night wears on, but he seems to alert himself with each distant noise. It takes a few more patrols and a few deep breaths to soothe your anxiety when you think you hear hoofbeats in the distance, but eventually, he settles one final time, his chin dropping to his chest as he dozes off, and you make your move.

A few windows over, a trellis catches your eye—perfect. Years of practice have taught you to distribute your weight evenly to avoid creaks as you climb the lattice. At the second-story window, you pause, listening. From your vantage point, the only source of light dimly from the living room below is the guard’s open door. The sound of his distant snores sets you back in action.

With ease, you manipulate the window latch, easing it open slowly to avoid any squeaks. You slip inside, your feet silent as they land on a plush carpet. The lavishness is an immediate assault on your senses—the air tinged with rose and peppermint, your eyes widening at the guest bedroom walls covered in paintings and deer heads. You grimace. Extravagant niceties that those less fortunate would give their soul for the value.

You pause at the top of the stairs, eyes scanning the house around you for anyone else, ears straining for any sound from the guard below or, worse, the approach of patrol outside. Satisfied, you ghost through well-decorated hallways towards the master bedroom. Without a moment to waste, you scan the ornate space. You know to secure your exits, and your entrances, and you smirk when you spot a sturdy chair on the other side of the room.

Silently, you wedge the chair under the doorknob, its back legs lifted slightly off the ground. It’s not the best, but it should buy you precious time if needed. You turn back to the master bedroom, eyes narrowed as you move on to your next step.

You’ve seen it all before, and no matter what, they keep their valuables in the same predictable places. A bookshelf with too much space that you can push against to open a second compartment. A floorboard slightly elevated than the rest. But for the Jones, it’s the garish family portrait above their bed—the same one Mrs. Jones boasted about at church weeks ago. Another unexpected but essential expense.

Your fingers work quickly as you carefully remove the painting, revealing the gleaming safe behind it. You press your ear against the cool metal, your fingertips ghosting over the dial. With precision, you begin to turn it, listening intently for the telltale clicks of the tumblers falling into place.

First to the right, slow and steady. Click. Back to the left, past the first number. Click. Right again, slower this time, feeling for the slightest resistance. Click.

Your breath catches as the final tumbler falls into place, heart racing with the promise of success as you slowly turn the handle. The safe door swings open with a satisfying creak, and inside, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight streaming through the window, sits your prize. Stack of crisp bills and glittering jewels, a physical manifestation of the good that they can do in the right hands.

As you transfer the wealth into your satchel, a floorboard creaks downstairs. You freeze, every muscle in your body taut as a bowstring, lungs seizing in your chest. You hear the rustle of clothing—the guard stirring in his chair. It feels like seconds stretch into an eternity as you wait, hand hovering over the gun on your hip. Just as your lungs scream for air, his snoring resumes, and you exhale slowly, your racing heart gradually steadying.

You’re hyper-aware of every sound as you work. The whisper of the bills, the soft clink of jewels—each seems magnified in the stillness of this gigantic house. You’re nearly finished, only two more stacks, when another creak echoes through the house, this one closer, more deliberate. There’s no settling floorboards from a new house or snoring night guard.

Someone’s here.

Suddenly, the doorknob jiggles violently, a voice on the other side booming through the previously silent house. You know the voice anywhere, one that haunts both your waking hours and your dreams.

Your heart picks back up, ice water filling your veins as the hairs on your neck stand up straight, but your hands remain steady as you gather the last of the valuables and ease the safe closed. Even in the face of being caught, you have to remain calm. It’s what’s kept you unnoticed and alive this long.

You replace the painting, your eyes already scanning the room for escape routes. You can easily go back out through the window, but the trellis you came upon is in the guest bedroom a few doors over. The jump from this window won’t be damaging, but it’ll hurt, and you don’t have time to use your rope to help you down.

Banging erupts against the door, the wood jumping from the force of the assault. “Sir! I’m here!” The night guard’s voice joins in beneath the noise, and you hear his hurried gait up the stairs.

You don’t have time for schematics. Time’s up. You throw the satchel around your shoulder and bolt for the window, only seconds before the door frame splinters from the strength of two men, the chair tumbling across the floor.

“Freeze!” A deep baritone barks, harsh and volatile, but you’re already halfway out the window, your leather boots pressed to the paneling, your hands holding you up like a spider monkey. You can’t help but pause, your wide-brimmed hat and black bandana obscuring most of your features. Coal-smudged eyes, their true color blending with the blackness surrounding them, meet the gaze of the man before you. He’s never been able to get a photo or any sort of evidence from you, not in times like these. He’ll never know who you are. But you know exactly who he is.

Sheriff Nanami Kento stands in the moonlit room, his stance wide and authoritative. Protector of the town, your number one purser, and a man who, despite your best efforts, has made a permanent home in your thoughts.

Mysterious mahogany eyes, usually kind and warm when they look at you during the day, now burn with determination and anger. That gun that you’ve seen him use to shoot targets and make Yuji laugh now points directly between your eyes.

As you look at him—the tension in his broad shoulders as they rise and fall beneath his shirt and vest, the dark circles under his eyes that speak of sleepless nights chasing your shadow—a pang of guilt slithers down your chest. Maybe if you take a small break with your escapades, he could get some sleep. You hate it when he’s tired, especially when you’re the cause.

But these thoughts are dangerous. Over the years, you’ve let him get too close, allowed him to see much of the real you, and now you’re beginning to feel the consequences.

But you can think about this another time; you’ve stayed longer than necessary. Right now, you have a job to finish. With a hitch in your breath, you drop to the ground. You land with a thud, your ankles absorbing the impact. A sharp pain shoots up your right leg, but you grit your teeth and push through it. You can’t afford to stop now.

The wild grass is thick as you sprint through the open fields, the satchel of stolen valuables bouncing heavily against your hip. Your breath slices through your lungs in short gasps, the cool night air burning in your chest. Behind you, you hear the chaos of pursuit. Nanami’s commanding voice mixes with the night guard’s confused shouts, and the sound of boots hitting the ground tells you they’ve made it out of the house.

You ignore the ebbing pain in your ankle, pushing yourself harder, faster. The grass gets taller with every inch you gain, whipping at your leather-clad legs as you tear through the field, the darkness both a hindrance and a shelter. You use the moonlight to guide you, your eyes scanning the landscape for the rock face you left Buttercup at on your way here.

A distant whinny in your ear cues you instantly. You whistle for her sharply, praying your faithful steed is close enough to hear. Her thundering hooves answer your prayers, growing louder by the second as she matches your sprint.

She appears like magic, slowing enough for you to leap onto her back and urge her into a gallop with a click of your tongue and a squeeze of your knees. With your view no longer obscured by the tall grass, you turn back to the disappearing estate, your heart dropping when you spot several riders—Nanami’s men, no doubt—headed toward you.

Gunshots pop through the air, the whoosh of silver bullets whizzing past your ears and missing their mark. But they’re getting closer. You hold your breath, absorbing the minute fear that blooms in your chest as you risk another glance behind you. Nanami is now at the front, his face grim and emboldened.

A snort from Buttercup turns your attention ahead. You fold low over her neck, your thighs contracting and relaxing in harmonious sync with her thunderous gallops. You taught yourself how to ride after Mama died, determined to do whatever it took to make it through the world. You found Buttercup then, neglected and forgotten, a mirror of your own lost soul. Now, years later, you both move as one, you anticipating her every move born of trust and time, she responds to the smallest shift of your weight as if reading your very thoughts.

Up ahead, the path narrows, winding through a rocky formation that makes you pull in your shoulders on reflex, as if you’re squeezing to fit. You guide Buttercup with a slight shift of the reins and a coo to her twitching ears.

There’s a fallen tree a few yards away, blocking most of the path and making it almost impassable. But you know what you can do. With a click of your tongue and a minuscule pressure of your knees into her sides, she reads your message immediately, huffing before launching over the thick oak in a magnificent leap. She lands with grace on the other side, hooves kicking up dirt in victory. It buys you the seconds that you need, but it won’t be enough. Nanami and his men will find their way around, and you need this chase to end. Now.

Ahead, a boulder ten times your size, with jagged edges and thick cracks, creates a fork in the path. You form an idea that is risky but will buy you the time you need to get home safely.

You guide Buttercup down the left path, your hand reaching for the pistol on your hip. You wind up the reins in one hand, squeezing the leather to hold you steady as you swiftly turn in your saddle to face the dusty world behind you. With the change in position, your hips work against the momentum of Buttercup’s stride instead of with it, and your tweaked ankle stings with every slap against her side. But you’ve practiced this before, and your balance is perfect, hand steady even as you move at breakneck speed.

Nanami and his men emerge from the curve of the path, eyes locked on you with deadly intent, and in that split second, you take your shot.

You’re not aiming to kill or even injure—your target is the lanterns that hang from each saddle horn. Amidst the bucking of your hips and the wind that whizzes past your ears, you hold your breath—forcing your heart to slow as your vision tunnels, and your finger squeezes the trigger. Before Nanami and his men can even reach for their guns, the air cracks, gunshots from your firearm hitting their mark to make the lanterns explode. It has its desired effect—their horses are startled, bucking onto their back feet as they whine in fright.

Nanami doesn’t want to, you can tell from the look in his eyes, but he has no choice but to look away. His eyes leave you as he tries his best to console his stallion and the rest of his gang. You take advantage of the chaos and twirl back around, relaxing your hand on the reins and exhaling the painful breath that was lodged in your lungs.

“Good girl,” you murmur, patting Buttercup’s neck as you coax her into a more fierce gallop and disappear into the night, the sounds of pursuit fading behind you. The satchel on your hip bucks with your mare’s kicks, reminding you of a job well done.

Even with the adrenaline of success thrumming through you, your mind always wanders back to the ‘why’ of it all.

When the guilt tries to curl in your chest when you least expect it, you remember Mama’s sunken face as she divided a molded loaf of bread between the two of you. You remember the hollow eyes of your neighbors too proud to beg. You remember the day you and Mama stood outside the general store in your hometown, staring at a display of fresh fruit, its price more than your weekly earnings. You remember being shooed away by the store owner, muttering about “ill-bred women,” lowering the tone of his establishment.

That night after Mama finally fell asleep, you stole for the first time. So skinny that you could slip through the gap in Mr. Thornton’s fence of his apple orchard. You took only one—a small, slightly misshapen apple covered in dirt—fear rattling your bones at the thought of being caught. But its sweetness, shared with Mama the next morning, was everything you could have asked for.

The concept of right and wrong has always been blurred for you. You’re certainly not right in the eyes of the law, or perhaps even in the eyes of God that Mama believed in so much. But when you distribute your spoils in the dead of night, slipping money through house doors. When you see the disbelief turn to joy on a widow’s face because she can feed her children another week. When you watch a frail old man cry over a warm coat that will see him through the winter—you sleep a little better.

The world isn’t fair. You learned that lesson far too soon in your life. But in your own way, with these midnight heists and heart-pounding adventures, you’re trying to balance some sort of scale. It’s not justice…but it’s something. Something that lets you look at yourself in the mirror each morning, that calms the angry, helpless, and hungry child still living in your memories.

Tomorrow, you’ll begin distributing this wealth to those who truly need it. Yuji's grandpa will have enough to buy his grandson new clothes. Mrs. Thompson will have enough to make up for the remaining savings she gave to the church. And come Monday, you’ll greet Sheriff Nanami with a warm smile as he walks you home from a day’s work at the school, your secret safe for another day.

The thrill of every heist, the satisfaction of outwitting the law, the knowledge that you’re helping those in need—it all mingles in your veins like the sweetest whiskey you tease the Sheriff for indulging in. As the stars twinkle overhead as you wash the coal from Buttercup’s nose that hides her white markings, you allow yourself a moment of pride. It’s probably not much in the grand scheme of things, but to someone in this town, it’ll mean the world.

“Did you hear about Mrs. Jones’s place?”

“Ma says the bandit struck again, cleaned them out in seconds!”

You keep your face carefully neutral as you pick up on your student’s conversations that dance on the hot air, but you’re filled with pride and guilt. You can’t help but think of Sheriff Nanami, of the frustration you see etched on his handsome face so often. Even yesterday, those determined eyes flickered with hints of shame. For a moment, doubt creeps in, whispers in your ears like a tease, threatening to unearth everything you’ve worked for.

But then you look at Sarah’s new turquoise ribbon that compliments her wheat-colored hair as she twirls in a circle on the dusty road. You remember Tommy’s gait as he said goodbye to you just minutes ago, no longer wobbly now that his toes have room to move in new shoes.

The whispers of your students and how surprised and elated they were to find money under their doorstep make you steel yourself. Despite the risks, despite the growing complexity of your feelings—it’s always worth it.

Your life is a study in contrasts. Mornings are quiet affairs—a cup of coffee, a soothing hand down Buttercup’s mane as she eats her breakfast, the silence of an empty classroom. Afternoons explode with energy—eager questions, laughter, and the occasional disagreement amongst your students. You think of Mama, how she read to you as a child, planting seeds of knowledge that would one day bloom into your passion for teaching. It’s another way you give back—maybe some form of atonement you aren’t ready to address—but to fill another generation’s head with knowledge is a gift you wouldn’t trade.

Coming to this town years ago was an escape—from the pain of Mama’s death, from the constant fear of your life as a thief. You only meant to stay a few months, take what you needed, give it back to those like you, and vanish. But loneliness has a way of anchoring a soul.

Months became years. A solitary existence morphed into friendships with neighbors and an undeniable connection with the stoic sheriff who walks you home, an unspoken affection blossoming between you.

Years of experience have made you attuned to the whispers in town. You know how much Mr. Fletcher has hidden away in his safe. You know what date and time certain shipments come in and who they are going to.

Lately, though, whispers of a different sort have caught your ear. Tales of a hidden treasure in the old mine outside of town. Yuji talks about it almost every day, how his grandfather is convinced the treasure is real. The town’s cobbler rolls his eyes at the rumor, often grumbling about how the citizens should focus on earning revenue through hard work and no shortcuts. The more adventurous of the town have scoped the plains around this town time and time again. But it’s never bore any fruit.

Even you have dismissed it as just another local legend. But the thought nags at you, a persistent itch you can’t quite scratch. While you do not doubt the well-meaning residents of this town, they may not have your experience. They may not know how to scale a rocky mountain or where to look. But you do.

You’ve spent years justifying your actions, convincing yourself that the end justifies the means. That it’s a necessary evil in a world that turns a blind eye to suffering. To walk away now feels like the biggest betrayal of everything you’ve fought for, everything your Mama taught you about standing up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. Even last night, you went through your routine of reiterating that what you’re doing is for a good cause.

But the twinge in your ankle when you woke up this morning. The bleariness in your eyes from little sleep. The exhaustion weighs heavily on you. The loneliness is more palpable every morning when you roll over to an empty bed. Because you can’t share the darkness of your secrets with anyone. Is it selfish to want a normal life after being exposed to the rotten core of it? To want stability, a future untainted by the shadow of your past, to want love? Or is it more selfish to continue on this path, risking everything—including the hearts of those who’ve come to care for you—for a cause that seems never-ending?

The infinite revolving of these thoughts makes you think twice about those rumors. So…what if the treasure is real? What if there’s enough hidden away to help everyone in town, to right all the wrongs you’ve seen? Enough to let you hang up this hidden life for good, to just be the schoolteacher—no more lies, no more risks, no more seeing the weight of failure in Nanami’s eyes.

Hours later, after your students have long gone, you’re atop Buttercup, having decided an afternoon ride might clear your head. You break through the bustle of town, the sun painting the landscape of open plains. As you crest a small hill, you scan the horizon, absorbing every detail with practiced observation that’s served you well in your double life.

You remember it all from your first few weeks here—a dilapidated shed outside of town, a small lake where wild animals drink from to the north. But with more focus, to the West, you spot unfamiliar rocky terrain. What catches your eye is how the rocks seem to fit together—not stacked with the random chaos of nature, but with an almost deliberate precision. It’s as if the hands of a giant stacked them long ago, their edges now overgrown and softened by wind and time.

If you were to slowly move the rocks over time, you could find an unexplored cave on the other side—not a mine like the rumors claim. Whatever it could be, it’s definitely worth investigating. You make a mental note of its location, your innate sense of direction and topography—honed by years of midnight runs—ensuring you can find it easily again.

As you make one last sweep across the landscape, your ears pick up on the stressed mooing of cows and the yells of men. After riding toward the source for a few minutes, you finally spot the commotion. Mr. Williams’ well-maintained fence is broken with wooden boards sprawled on the plains as a group of cattle amble and run free. They shuffle as fast as their heavy bodies will take them, mooing loudly in distress.

You’ve done some wrangling as a young girl, a grueling job that paid you very little to feed you and Mama, so you immediately hone in on the weak points of the fence and the patterns of the cattle’s movement.

You spring into action, clicking your tongue and squeezing your thighs around Buttercup to make her take off. The wind whips through your hair, loosening curls from your usually neat bun. As you draw closer, your heart leaps in your chest.

There, in the midst of the chaos, is Nanami. He sits on his stallion with an easy grace that makes your mouth go dry. Eyes narrowed with determination, cheekbones glossy with sweat and dirt. His vest is gone, and you note the navy long sleeve that squeezes his thick form, his forearms exposed and veiny. His strong biceps flex as he twirls his lasso, long fingers cinched tight around the base of the noose, wrist twirling in a motion you’ve thought about late at night with your fingers buried deep inside of you.

Gods, he’s handsome. Even that first day when you both met in front of the general store, Nanami reaching down to collect the books you had dropped, you knew then he would be your undoing. He has proven to be the one constant in your mind when you should be thinking about your goal.

He’s the kind of man that you could bring home to Mama, though you’d have to keep a watchful eye on her so she doesn’t flirt herself. He’s the kind of man who can work the fields and protect a town, that can fend off criminals and walk children the school, that can come home after a long day and kiss you until your eyes roll into your skull. That can grunt in appreciation from the fingernails that dig into his back, your legs wrapped around his waist as he buries himself to the hilt and—

“Need a hand, Sheriff?” you call out, shaking yourself back to reality, swallowing the saliva in your mouth. You can think about him later. Right now, that adventurous itch comes to life at the base of your spine. You love being a teacher, but you miss things like this—the thrill of the ride, the tingling sensation of a challenge, and Nanami’s presence all combine to create a heady rush of adrenaline through your veins.

Nanami’s head turns at the sound of your voice, deep brown eyes widening in surprise. The movement of his wrist stops, and his lasso plops on his head, musing perfectly parted blonde locks as the rope smacks the sides of his face. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, yes, but adoration and something more pungent that makes your skin tingle.

“Ma’am, this isn’t exactly—” he starts, but you’re already taking off.

A whistle from your lips springs Buttercup into action, galloping a wide birth around the scattered calves. You free your own rope from your saddle horn, the weight in your hands a comforting reminder of late nights practicing in your stable. You hitch up, bunching your thighs with hidden strength, twirling the lasso once, twice, feeling the perfect balance of it.

Then, with a fluid movement, you send the rope flying towards the calf closest to you. It arcs through the air before finding its mark, settling around the calf’s neck with perfect precision. You ignore the feel of Nanami’s eyes on you as you wrestle to rebellious calf back into Mr. Williams’ yard. The man himself is already releasing the rope and ushering the calf away from the fence that is slowly being repaired by his ranch hands.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Nanami asks when you pace up next to him. The lasso is still haphazard over his head, lips parted in astonishment.

“Are you implyin' that I shouldn’t know how to do that, Sheriff?” you tease, guiding Buttercup in a slow trot around Nanami and his stallion. He fumbles to correct himself, cheeks heating as he pulls at the rope around his neck and shoulders. “Should I only know teachin' and how to care for a home?”

“N-now you know that’s not what I—”

You cut him off with a sharp chuckle, making another rotation around him and his steed, a mischievous glint in your eye. “You’re so gullible.” He throws you a wary look, finally pulling the lasso off his body in a huff. “Now, are you gonna help me, or not?”

You and Nanami fall into sync, working in tandem to herd the cattle back into Mr. Williams’ enclosed space. It’s perfect choreography—when Nanami moves right, you’re already swinging left.

Before long, you spot a flash of white in your peripheral vision. Deputy Gojo leans against the fence, his shock of white hair practically reflective in the sun. He’s been practically absent up until this point and, unlike you and Nanami, seems in no rush to join the action. He eyes you with a charismatic smile, flirtatious in his gaze, but you’re quick to roll your eyes playfully and get back to the task at hand.

There’s a grace to Nanami’s body as he works. His hips roll with each movement of his horse, the rock back and forth, a rhythm hypnotic and alluring. The muscles in his denim-clad thighs flex as he grips his mount, powerful and thick. His face maintains his usually iron-faced composure, focused on the task, but an undeniable beauty to his concentration. The setting sun enhances his features, the shadows accentuate his strong jaw and cheekbones. A bed of sweat traces a tantalizing path down his neck, disappearing beneath a collar that’s three buttons undone.

As you drive a cow forward, Nanami is there to lasso and guide it home. The way he hands his horse, the quiet commands and clicks, the subtle shifts of his body, and the grunts that leave his form when he throws his lasso—it all speaks of a man completely in control, and you find it mesmerizing…and utterly arousing. There’s something primal and enticing about watching him move, about being in such perfect harmony with him. It’s a blaring reminder of the attraction that’s been simmering between you.

At one point, you end up riding side by side, so close that your legs brush against each other. The contact, even through the layers of your dress, is scalding. You steal a glance at Nanami, darting through the disheveled curls in front of your eyes, only to find him already looking at you. Those dark eyes are smoldering—intense with an emotion that radiates from you both and squeezes your throat tight.

As the last cow meanders through the repaired fence, you both are panting from exhaustion, guiding your horses to a slow stroll. Mr. Williams jogs towards you both, followed closely by Gojo, a lazy saunter and an ever-present mischievous look on his face.

“I had no idea you could wrangle so well,” Mr. Williams exclaims, waving enthusiastically as he reaches up and takes the reins of both your horses to lead them towards a water trough. “That was incredible. I have no idea how to repay you.”

You wave him off, trying not to preen under the praise. Gojo's incredibly rare and well-bred snow-white Quarter Horse saunters up to you, the animal indignant in his strides just as much as its owner.

“Well,” Gojo drawls, crystal blue eyes sweeping appreciatively over your form. “Didn’t think a schoolteacher had fine lasso skills. Any other skills I should know about? You can show me at the town festival in a few weeks.”

It’s undeniably forward, enough to make a dignified man turn beet red in anger and a fragile woman faint. But it’s Deputy Gojo Satoru—uncaring of the world that he feels revolves around him.

“Gojo,” Nanami snaps, harsh and biting with an undercurrent that makes your spine straighten. “For once in your life, stop pestering every woman within a few feet of you.”

You can’t help but chuckle, shrugging dismissively and patting Buttercup’s neck as she drinks. “No harm done, Sheriff. I’m sure Deputy Gojo here was just being friendly, weren’t you?” You ask, voice laden with a double meaning that makes Gojo smile warily, suddenly apprehensive. “Though I’d caution against mistaking friendliness for interest. Wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea and end up disappointed…again.”

Gojo's jaw drops, Mr. Williams chokes on a snort a few yards away, and you hear Nanami stifle a harsh grunt that cracks on the edges.

Gojo sputters, pale white cheeks burning, his usual confidence faltering in the night air as he flaps his gills. “I’ll have you know, I’ve never been disappointed in matters of the heart.”

You hum nonchalantly, pursing your lips in disbelief. “Oh? So that wasn’t you I saw sulking behind the saloon last month? What was it you were muttering? Something about Geto turning you down for the second time?”

At the mention of Geto's name, Gojo's blue eyes widens, a squeak eeping from glossy lips. Nanami, unable to contain himself any longer, lets out a bark of laughter.

“I—that’s not—how did you—” Gojo stammers, looking between you and Nanami with wide, suspicious eyes. You simply shrug, glancing at Nanami. There’s a glimmer of amusement there, a shared moment of mirth at Gojo's expense. At some point, Gojo grows tired of entertaining you both, clicking his mouth in annoyance and taking off towards town. You snort at his retreating form, giggling with the rush of excitement of the evening.

When Mr. Williams sees you both off, the night is a cool blanket around you both. The moon sits high, a silver pendant on the velvet black sky, while the stars twinkle like scattered diamonds. For awhile, you both ride in silence, the rhythmic clop of hooves a soothing melody to your turmoil from earlier in the day. The air carries the scent of grass and wildflowers, mixing with the sweat that lingers on your skin. It’s Nanami who breaks the quiet, his deep voice a relaxing current of electricity down your spine.

“He will only take your wit as a challenge,” he muses, mildly amused.

“Gojo will forget all about me the minute Ms. Foxworth bats her eyelashes at him.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle, casting his face in a brief flash of masculine flirtation that makes your heart skip. “And Ms. Foster,” he adds, catching onto your game.

“And Ms. Chamberlain,” you continue, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

“And I’m pretty sure Mrs. Jones,” Nanami finishes, snorting to himself because she’s married, and that’s never stopped Gojo before.

Your eyes meet, scandalous realization settling over you both, and in that moment, the ridiculousness of it all bubbles up inside. Laughter erupts from you first, a released cascade of glee as your head tilts to the night sky. The sound of Nanami’s deep chuckles mingles with your giggles, creating a harmony that seems to resonate in your very bones. It feels good to laugh with Nanami. Just like any other time you spend with him. It takes your mind off the thought of leaving this town—of leaving him—forever.

The night is cool against your skin, but your chest blooms with warmth. You’re about to comment on the beauty of the star-studded sky when you notice Nanami reach into his vest pocket. He pulls out a cigarette, lips wrapping around the filter with a firm but gentle grip.

Your heart sinks, a leaden weight pulling it further down your rib cage. You’ve noticed he only smokes when he’s particularly stressed, and the sight of it now, after such a wonderful evening, makes you frown. You know it’s because of his work, the harshness he sees every day, and his relentless pursuit of the bandit—of you—only makes it worse for him. The remorse gnaws at your insides like a rabid animal.

Doing your best to mask the torrent of emotions threatening to consume you, you aim for a teasing approach. “Stressed, Sheriff?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow and hoping he can’t hear the slight shake in your voice.

Nanami pauses, the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He looks at you with a flicker of embarrassment, highlighting the tired lines around his eyes that you wish you could smooth away with your fingertips. “Ah, my apologies,” he says, moving to put it away. “The smell—”

You wave him off. “I don’t mind. Not much of a smoker when I need to relax.”

He hums but doesn’t respond, striking a match and cupping large hands around the flame. The brief light illuminates his face, casting shadows across his face. You find yourself transfixed by the way the flame reflects in his dark eyes, like embers in the night.

He takes a long drag, the tip brightening in burnt orange and gold. Nanami exhales, the smoke curling seductively from his nose and into the air, the sight more enticing than it should be. “So, when do you smoke, ma’am?”

His voice is entirely too low, entirely too deep. You playfully glare at the use of ‘ma’am’ for what feels like the nth time since you’ve known each other. You decide to be mischievous, precariously throwing caution to the wind.

“Oh, you know,” you say airily, looking up at the sky as you try to emit an air of faux innocence. Nanami looks at you cautiously, raising a dark blonde eyebrow expectantly, eyes narrowing as he picks up on the teasing tilt in your voice. “You smoke when you’re stressed. I smoke to unwind from a job well done. Preferably, after taking a good man for a ‘ride’.”

Heat simmers beneath your skin as you speak, low and husky and loaded with suggestive humor that surprises even you.

It’s an immediate effect and more satisfying than you could have ever imagined. Nanami sputters, choking on the smoke. His eyes go wide, and crimson erupts up the glimpse of open chest and neck, visible even in the moonlight, spreading to his cheeks in a way that makes you want to trace its path with your lips.

You can’t help but giggle as he coughs. “You make it too easy sometimes, Sheriff,” you say between laughs.

Nanami clears his throat repeatedly, desperately trying to regain his composure. But you catch the corners of his mouth twitching, fighting a smile that makes you bite into your bottom lip. His chest heaves as he takes in deep breaths, and your eyes watch the way his shirt stretches across his wide shoulders with each inhalation.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he finally manages in a rough voice, glaring at you with a mix of exasperation and fondness that warms you from the inside out.

“So I’ve been told,” you reply with a wink, reveling in the way his breath catches again at your boldness. He shakes his head with a chuckle, turning back to the open plains in front of him.

You notice that some of the tension has left Nanami’s shoulders, his posture relaxed once more. Your guilt eases a little, knowing that, at least for this moment, you’ve managed to lighten his burden rather than add to it.

“Gojo likes trouble as much as he likes wit. Stay away from him and pick someone else.” He pauses, opening his mouth as he weighs his next words with delicacy. “I imagine you have a line of suitors with far more promise than Gojo hoping to escort you to the festival.”

Nanami’s voice is soft, almost wistful, wrapped around an overwhelming cluster of resignation that makes your heart clench painfully in your chest. His eyes are fixed on the horizon as your horses walk side by side, but you can see a tightness around his mouth, a tension in his jaw that speaks volumes.

“I haven’t really paid much attention, to be honest,” you admit, surprised at his sudden remark. You try to keep your tone light and nonchalant, praying he can’t hear the slight tremor, the silent truth that threatens to spill from your lips—that the only man you truly notice is him. Every day, all the time, from sunup to sundown, it’s always Nanami Kento.

Nanami hums thoughtfully, fingering the sharp cut of his jaw. “That fellow from the saloon a few weeks back? He seemed taken with you.” He pulls in a deep drag, sunset orange ebbing to life at the tip.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. The memory of that particular encounter was both amusing and exasperating. “He was three sheets to the wind, Nanami. Claimed to know my drink of choice and got it wrong when he recommended scotch, of all things.”

Nanami exhales a smoky breath, the wisps ghosting around a smirk that makes him look statuesque with the rolling plains behind him. “You prefer moonshine,” he muses, “The kind Kilmer makes, if I’m not mistaken.”

Your heart skips a beat at his casual observation. Moonshine isn’t exactly legal in town, but when the bartender Kilmer works the saloon on Wednesday nights, most of the residents ask for his prized moonshine if no deputies are around. Of all the things for him to pay attention to, your drink of choice seems like such a small, insignificant detail.

You bite the corner of your lip to keep from breaking into a wide smile, belly warm at the thought.

“Not like I can admit to that,” you tease, digging your teeth harder into your bottom lip as the simmering grows in your stomach. “Aren’t you supposed to be upholdin’ the law?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you want to snatch them back. You’re aware of how much pressure the sheriff places on himself. How he feels unworthy of the badge on his chest. There has never been a day in your knowing him where you felt he was undeserving. Of the town, of all of its citizens, of you. If you could turn his face to a mirror and stand by his side while you tell him just how deserving he is, you would in a heartbeat.

Nanami’s smile fades slightly, a heavy weariness etching onto his features. He takes another drag and turns his head away as he exhales. “This town is small, and times are hard. Sometimes…moonshine is all someone can afford if they need to get away from the world for a while.” He pauses, his eyes meeting yours in the moonlight. “A good lawman knows when to look the other way for the sake of his people.”

It’s times like these when you admire the man Nanami is. He’s rough around the edges and stern with the law, but he’s also empathetic enough to know when some rules should be lax based on those they affect. Maybe he could think the same about you? Maybe he could understand your self-imposed noble acts and forgive you for causing him so much pain.

Nanami clears his throat, seemingly eager to change the subject. “The man at the general store two months ago? He could hardly string two words together around you.”

“He was at least five years younger than me,” you counter, giggling at his persistence. “Hardly appropriate. What will the town think?”

“That you’re incredibly picky—” he starts, but you cut him off with a playful swat to his arm.

“Or maybe,” you chuckle with a playful roll of your eyes, “they’ll think I have standards. Is that so wrong, Sheriff?”

“Not at all. Though, I can’t help but wonder what those standards might be.”

Oh.

You’re immediately aware of how dangerous this conversation has become. You’ve never flirted so blatantly before, never with such clear intention. The banter between you and Nanami has always been a harmonious push and pull, as natural as breathing, even though you both treat it as a forbidden dance. But this shift now—it’s palpable, exciting, and terrifying all at once. But the night air, the lingering adrenaline from the cattle drive, that pump of electric fire that pulses through your veins when you can feel free for a moment, all of it makes you bold.

“Someone kind,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder might shatter the moment. “Intelligent also helps, dedicated to his work and cares about the people around him.” You risk a glance, hiding beneath the curtain of your curls. Your heart races, each beat echoing the recklessness that coats your tongue with every word. “Someone who notices the little things…like a lady’s drink preference.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. It’s as if you’ve finally given a voice to the undercurrent that’s been flowing between you, transforming your ocean of subtle flirtation into something more tangible, more precarious.

Nanami’s gaze, usually so controlled, molds before your eyes. In the flickering embers of his cigarette, you see something molten, a desire that slides down your body with liquid arousal. His lips purse around his cigarette, your eyes flickering to the muscle that curls around the filter, watching with rapt attention as he inhales deeply, slowly.

When you slide your eyes up to meet his, your breath catches at the still-burning intensity. Your vision tunnels to the reflective desire in his eyes, the moonlight on his face, the tension that crackles between you like lightning before a storm. It’s almost too much, your chest tightening with still stolen breath in your lungs.

But just as quickly, he looks away, severing the connection and turning to exhale a plume of smoke into the darkness.

“He sounds like a fool.”

The tension breaks like a dam, and you find yourself choking on a surprised laugh, chortling at the full smile he shoots your way as if bashful. He seems like a flirtatious teenager, basking in the attention from his crush, and you hold on to the sight—to the way it’s making you feel.

As your laughter fades and he puts out his cigarette on the heel of his boot, the atmosphere shifts again. The sizzling lust that danced around you both softens into something more intimate, more tender.

The moonlight catches in Nanami’s hair, turning the golden strands liquid silver. No longer the pristine part he maintains, the strands fall in gentle tufts around the tops of his ears and over his eyebrows. Your fingers twitch on the reins of Buttercup, itching to reach out and brush those disheveled strands away, to feel if they’re as soft as they look.

Nanami, soft when he speaks again, almost reverent. “You’d be surprised, you know,” he murmurs, looking at you once more. “Just how many people notice you.”

His words sway in the air, loaded with meaning. You find yourself frozen, caught in the earth of his gaze, the sincerity making your throat dry. Even as your hips move with Buttercup’s trot, it feels like the world narrows to just the two of you, eyes on each other as everything else fades into insignificance.

Suspended in time and bathed in moonlight, you wish you could push a little further, draw out a confession, or make a declaration of your own. You want to stretch this moment into eternity, to live in this space where you only exist as a schoolteacher, and Nanami could put his own happiness first, just for once.

But reality intervenes, as it always does, with a painful wave of guilt that crashes over you. The weight of your secrets, of your double life, of your part in his pain, settles heavily on your shoulders like lead. So, instead of the words you long to say, you offer only a gentle smile, letting the serene silence of the night envelop you both.

As the first glimmers of the town’s lamplights come into view, you allow yourself this moment of peace. You bask in Nanami’s presence beside you, in the rhythm of the horses’ hooves, in the soft ‘plop’ of his Stetson against his back with each step. You breathe in the memory of shared laughter and adventure, storing it away like a precious treasure.

It’s dangerous—this indulgence—you know. Every shared moment, every word, every loaded glance yanks you further into a web of feelings you can’t afford to have. But as you ride side by side through the moonlight, you can’t bring yourself to regret it. Not tonight.

Instead, you hold this memory close to your heart, a keepsake against the long, lonely nights ahead. It’s a bittersweet reminder of what could be, in a world where you aren’t who you are—a world that exists only in these fleeting moments under the vast, star-studded sky.

By the time you clamber up to your doorstep, Buttercup is already resting in her stable, and that terrible feeling of guilt and confusion roars to life in your chest. You wrap your hand around your doorknob before turning to look at Nanami. He’s still there, with messy hair and sweaty skin, as he reaches into his vest for another cigarette. Handsome and otherworldly and right there. He catches your stare as he places the filter between his lips, one eyebrow quirking up in concern.

“Everything alright?” he asks, the unlit cigarette dangling as he speaks. “I’m not leaving until you’re safely inside.”

You wish you could relish in his concern, bathe in his care, and savor the warmth that blooms in your chest. But you’re not sure you’ve even earned it.

“I’m goin’, I'm goin',” you joke, cracking the door as you step one foot inside your home, still angled to him.

“Well, hurry along then,” he insists, a gentle demand lingering beneath. He lights the cigarette, cheeks pulled in as he inhales full-chested and exhales a deep plume of smoke. Through the haze that dances around him, you find mischief as he smirks. “Ma’am.”

The laugh leaves you before you can stop it, rolling your eyes at his deliberate use of the title he knows annoys you. With a final wave, you step inside, closing the door behind you.

The laughter dies on your lips as soon as the door clicks closed and you press your forehead against the cool wood, eyes stinging with the promise of tears. The clop of Flint’s hooves slowly fades as Nanami gets further away from you, and the only thing you wish at this moment is to yank open the door and run to him. To run away from your terrifying thoughts and forget everything.

Next week, when Mr. and Mrs. Phillips leave town, you have another heist planned. It should feel promising. Another chance to do good, to make others happy at the expense of your safety. But the thought sits heavy in your stomach, the lightness you felt moments ago with Nanami leaving in a flourish.

That nagging feeling from this morning, the festering loneliness born from your decisions, finally breaks free now that you have nothing else to distract you. It makes everything so much harder now. The thrill that once drove you feels muted now, overshadowed by something else—something warm and achingly intimate that’s taken root in your chest.

You slide down to the floor, back against the door, bottom lip quivering as conflict rages like an inferno within you. Tomorrow, you’ll have to start preparing. But tonight, you can’t help but wonder if your heart is truly in this anymore.

Thanks for reading! I hope to have part two out in a few days!

[sc0tters]

His Home | Adam Fantilli

summary: it’s Adam’s birthday and his debut in the NHL, little does he know you’re there watching

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, oral (fem receiving), swearing.

word count: 3.07k

authors note: welcome back to what I like to call, kei told me not to behave (soft edition?). I’m kidding (sorta) this is a really different to what I usually write because it had a bit of angst in it? The first bit of regular italics are from the Adam birthday video that the bluejackets did and the second is a regular flashback!

It was the clip Adam loved rewatching the most.

You were sat in your dorm in his hoodie and his hat (a detail that only he would pick up on) as you smiled “hey baby!” You smiled as you looked at your phone “now I’ve tried redoing this like eight times now.” You confessed letting out a little laugh.

The picture of Adam on draft night that you had taken after you two snuck out to Dairy Queen stared back at you “I keep on crying and you really don’t need to see me get all snotty again.” You shook your head as the pile of tissues on your bed was beginning to build.

Adam couldn’t help but stare at you in awe as you nervously thought about what it was that you wanted to say “point is I’m so proud of you for getting this far.” You two started dating in October of freshman year and you swore you’d kill him before he broke up with you with before trying long distance “I miss you and I love you.” You confessed wiping your cheek as another tear fell.

As you sucked at your cheek smiling unaware that Adam was doing the same thing “you’re gonna smash it tonight, so happy birthday and play your little heart out there.”

You brought your fingers up to your lips “I’m so proud of you my star.” The video ended as your kissed fingers pressed against the camera ending the video like you did all of your FaceTime calls that you had with him.

Honestly Adam was surprised that he wasn’t sick of that video anymore with the amount of times that he had replayed it “sorry she can’t be here tonight.” Kent knew how upset Adam was that you were unable to make it to his first game.

What was the actual twist of the knife was that you hadn’t responded to anything on all platforms and went as far as to turn your locations off on everything “I just don’t remember making her mad.” Adam sighed as he frowned looking at his lock screen that was a picture of you two in front of the yost one evening.

You were in your Fantilli jersey and he had his arms wrapped around you as he kissed your head “she’s probably just stressed with that class you said she was taking.” Kent shrugged trying to keep a straight face.

The whole team had come together to plan this. The only thing that could possibly be making you stressed right now was the fact that you were trying to not get caught in Columbus.

Yes, the boys convinced you to change around some things as they felt like you being there was the birthday and debut gift that money truly couldn’t buy “I guess you’re right.”

Thankfully for you, Adam never noticed that you were there as you sat far away from his parents and family.

The game ended in a win and Adam was even able to get some points on the board so it was safe to say that you were all excited about more than just the win.

Wanting to give him some time with his family you stayed hidden for a bit mainly getting to know more of his teammates “you know he’s clueless about this right?” Kent smiled as he saw the excited look on your face.

Adam knew it probably sounded terrible but as he listened to his dad’s opinions about the game he couldn’t help it as his eyes wondered off to find you.

His brain hoped that by some divine act you were actually there.

And that was when he saw you.

Well not you, actually the top of your head “shut up!” Adam let out a gasp causing you to turn around in his direction.

Both of you had grins on your faces and tears forming in your eyes “w-what are you doing here?” He asked quickly pushing past people to making sure that he wasn’t dreaming.

As your flowery perfume pushed into his nostrils he knew that you were really there “couldn’t not be here tonight.” You mumbled holding your arms out as he pulled you into a hug.

Usually you would have groaned at how sweaty he was but today you just loved feeling him against you “happy birthday my love.” You smiled looking up at him before you placed a kiss on the hockey players lips “how long are you here for?” The hockey player wanted you there for as long as possible “fly out on Sunday my love.” So that basically meant that you had three whole days with him as well as another game to watch.

At this point the cameras had turned away wanting to give you and Adam the moment in private or at least as private as it could be for being stood out in the open “go get showered and then we can all catch up.” Julia proposed looking at her son as she wrapped her arm around you.

You had gotten to know his parents over the summer and nothing made them happier than seeing the smile on their sons face whenever he looked at you.

So you knew that you were going to sound bad when you thought about this because as fun as it was getting to catch up with Adam’s family and watch him smile as he interacted with his parents.

What you truly wanted was to be with him on the couch talking like you used to.

The Michigan air was cold around Ann Arbor but that wasn’t something you and Adam were complaining about.

No instead you two were comfortably on the couch in your dorm as your roommate was in a class “what are you thinking about?” Adam smiled as he realised that you were staring at him.

His thumb massaged your hip as his baggy basketball shorts left the area of your skin exposed “I’m gonna miss these moments with you.” You confessed as you two loved being on top of each other on the tiny two seater couch.

Before a frown could form on your lips as the thought of the draft came along Adam brought his face closer to yours “the draft is a long way away baby.” The hockey player cooed “so for now let’s enjoy this.” He added pressing his lips against yours.

So as the Uber let you two out at the door of Adam’s apartment building you couldn’t help but smile as you grew excited “are you guys sure you don’t want to come up for a bit?” Adam looked at his family members in the car as he wrapped his hand around you “you two should go have fun.” Julia clearly didn’t mean it in the way that flashed through your mind but it still made you smile as you send her a nod.

You two watched the car drive off before you turned to make your way into the building “can’t believe that you’re truly here.” Adam mumbled pressing a kiss onto your head as he took in the familiar scent of your shampoo.

His hand slid lower now resting on your ass that he gave a squeeze “Adam!”

You squealed jumping as you walked into the elevator.

That resulted in a laugh from the boy who quickly joined you before the doors shut “you can’t blame me for missing you.” His words were true as he locked his hands on either side of you “thought about you all day.” Adam confessed hovering his lips over yours.

A smile formed on your face “I did too,” as you leaned up to kiss him the doors opened causing an awkward meeting for you two with an elderly couple “I’m gonna need to you walk in front of me.” The hockey player‘s whisper sent shivers down your spine as you looked down to see that he was hard.

Trying to keep the giggle from leaving your lips you nodded adjusting yourself so that you could walk in front of Adam who now had one hand on your waist and the other carrying your bag “have a good night.” You sent the couple a smile as the boy forced you out of there as quickly as he could.

You looked to Adam with a teasing look on your face “you got a little problem?” You joked seeing that nobody was in the hallway.

Adam scoffed as he shook his head “not only is this your fault but it also isn’t little.” The boy corrected you as he stopped in front of his door “let me get your keys.” You smirked dropping your hand into his pocket.

If he could tell what you were trying to do then Adam was being a good sport for putting up with it “those aren’t my keys.” He warned as you palmed his dick between the fabric of his pocket and his boxers “I know.” You pressed a kiss against his ear before you pulled his keys out quickly unlocking the door to his apartment.

There was a spilt second before Adam practically pushed you both into the apartment “someone’s needy.” You teased watching as he dropped your bag pressing the door shut with his hand before he made a beeline for you “I know.” Adam repeated your words as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

Giving you a small moment to bring your hands to his neck before he kissed you. You two finally had that moment you had longed for where he could kiss you properly.

His tongue fought with yours as there was no longer the need to behave as someone was watching “fuck,” you moaned feeling his hands cup your ass “jump baby.” Adam didn’t need to tell you for a second time as your legs locked around his waist.

The walk to his room was short, not that either of you truly would have cared because you two were just enjoying the feeling of each others lips “god I’ve missed this.” The hockey player cooed dropping your body onto his bed.

You smiled up at him as he joined you on his bed still wanting to soak in the taste of your lips.

Sure it was etched into his brain but that didn’t mean that Adam wasn’t feeling this sense of being high each time he got to feel your lips against his skin “Adam,” you whined as his hands ran over your waist.

His smile was clear as he pecked your lips one final time “I wanna taste you baby.” Adam shook his head as your hand brushed over his cock.

You tried to protest “it’s your birthday,” you pointed out as you simply wanted to make him feel good “and all I want to do is taste that pretty cunt of yours.” Adam shot back as he shifted down his bed.

Adam hooked his fingers in the waist band of your pants “you look so fucking good today.” The hockey player gushed as he was met with the sight of your lace panties “you knew you were gonna get fucked tonight didn’t you?” The Canadian smirked as he let your panties slide down your legs.

Your head bobbed as you nodded “please A,” you pleaded grabbing at his sheets as Adams breath fanned your cunt.

To say that you were soaked was an understatement as even in his dimly lit room Adam could still see the way that your pussy glistened “gonna make you feel so fucking good tonight.” The hockey players voice was shaky before his tongue ran up your slit settling on your clit.

It was like he was starving at the way he locked his hands around your thighs “shit Adam!” You cried bringing your hand down to his hair gripping onto his locks.

His eyes caught yours as you drove your hips into his face desperate to get off in that very moment.

His tongue swirled around your sensitive nub as he brought his fingers to your soaked cunt “god I’ve missed this,” the vibrations of his laugh sent shivers up your spine as your body shook.

Sure phone sex was a thing but this was a whole new level.

After weeks of not being able to get off through phone sex as your fingers and the sound of Adam’s voice could only do so much.

You were now getting exactly what you wanted “I’m gonna come,” you groaned scrunching your face as your body shook.

Adam nodded as you clenched around his fingers “let go baby.” He smiled lapping up your release as he was reminded how much he missed this.

But just like usual Adam didn’t slow down his movements as you rode his face through your orgasm “n-no A,” you shook your head trying to bring your body up and off of the bed.

His smirk was clear as he continued sucking you clit “baby,” you whined literally pulling his head up as you kissed his lips.

Tasting your release on his tongue made you squirm “you taste so sweet.” Adam groaned as your cunt rubbed against his clothed dick “baby I’m gonna come and I gotta do it in you.” He grunted as you nodded.

It took him seconds to undo his pants as you pulled his jersey over your head leaving you in your bra “god you’re gorgeous.” The hockey player smiled as he grabbed the condom from his wallet.

After you two were caught up after a big game with no condom Adam now had one that lived in his wallet for whenever you two would need it.

Before Adam could rip the wrapper open you had your hands capturing it so that you could wrap it around his cock “don’t tease me baby.” The hockey player warned bringing his hand to your head as you kitten licked the tip of his cock.

His precum oozed out of his swollen tip as you looked up at him with a smile “giving you everything you want tonight.” You mumbled pushing the condom over his cock as you kissed his lips swallowing his moan in the process.

Slowly Adam’s knees sink into the mattress as he comes down to your level “I just want you tonight.” His confession made your heart burst with love and pride “you have me Adam.” You nodded watching as he pressed his hands against your shoulders softly pushing you against the mattress.

Adam let his lips start at yours showing you an immense amount of love before he moved them to your cheek then to your jaw.

His journey slowly continued to your neck “A-Adam!” Your voice shook as your eyes screwed shut.

It made him smile as he pressed a kiss to each of your breasts “I want to take my time with you.” The hockey player cooed rubbing his fingers in your hips as he kissed your stomach “Adam please.” The desperation in your voice made him smile as he stopped.

The boy moved up to the point where his head stood just above yours “I love you baby.” Adam mumbled pressing his forehead against yours as his free hand drove his cock over your clit before he let it slide into your cunt.

You both gasped as the familiar feeling came over you both “this cunt feels like it did just back then.” Adam let out a grunt as you nodded “please move.” You begged making him smile.

He listened to you beginning to slowly bring his hips away from you before he brought them back to yours “you feel so good.” The Canadian cooed as you lifted your legs up to wrap around his waist like it was on instinct.

Like usual he was always so vocal “don’t stop,” you pleaded leaning forward to kiss his lips.

Adam almost collapsed at your neediness “god you’re out of this world.” Your cunt clenched around his cock at those words.

The moment was soft, it seemed that you two weren’t interested in having hot and steamy sex tonight. Not when you had missed the simple sheer contact that you two were having now “so full.” You blurted out as you swore that his cock had grown as it hit parts of you had it had never seen.

The hockey player didn’t think that he was going to last long as you continued to drive your hips against his “I love you.” You cried as his hand found its way between your bodies landing on your clit “this cunt was made for me.” Adam groaned as you nodded “all for you.” You agreed as you kissed him.

It was needy as Adam’s thrusts grew staggered at the way you clenched around his cock “I’m not gonna last,” Adam confessed as he shook his head “me neither,” you cried as the pressure on your clit increased.

It made your eyes shut as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap “love those noises.” The hockey player felt his head drop against your shoulder.

The sound of your whimpers hit the walls making Adam sure that he was going to get an awkward knock on the door tomorrow from his neighbour “right there oh-” your voice broke as pleasure pulsed through your body.

It made you shake against him as your hands locked in his hair “so so good,” you groaned gasping for air as white specks painted the backs of your eye lids.

Adam’s orgasm came right after yours making you both sweat as you came down from your highs “you okay?” The hockey player asked as his hands brushed your hair out of your face.”

You nodded with a smile “yep.” You watched him throw the condom away in the trash can next to his bed before you made grabby hands wanting him to come back to you “I want a cuddle.” Your confession made him laugh.

Of course Adam listened as he held his hands out to you “happy birthday baby.” You mumbled as you lay your head against his chest.

The boy smiled as he ran his fingers through your hair “thanks for making my birthday one to remember.” He cooed enjoying how this felt.

With you in his arms he knew that one thing was sure.

Home for Adam wasn’t a tangible place, it wasn’t a rink or his childhood home.

His home was right here, you were his home.

[cosmerelists]

Favorite Video Game Genres of Cosmere Characters

As requested by @thesternest :)

1. Silence

Silence: Don't know why, really, but I like casual games, games that are just like real life. Silence: Something about doing your daily life, but in game form--very relaxing. William Anne: Uh, mama? I think "Silent Hill" is a survival-horror game. Silence: It is? How so?

2. Marasi

Marasi: [Looks around nervously] Marasi: I...well, I like first-person shooters. Marasi: I-I just like to pretend I'm in the Roughs, like Wax! Marasi: I don't want to be Wax in real life or anything, but...it can be fun in a game!

3. Dalinar

Dalinar: In real life, war is a terrible necessity. Dalinar: In games, war is fun. Dalinar: ... Dalinar: I like tactical RPGs.

4. Vin

Vin: Huge fan of platform games. Vin: Jumping from ledge to ledge, controlling my speed and trajectory, occasionally swinging from hooks or managing double jumps... Vin: It's just like moving through the city as a Mistborn! Elend: Your high-score is RIDICULOUS, Vin! Vin: I'm also REALLY good at it.

5. Yumi

Yumi: I wasn't allowed video games for a long time, but now that I can play them... Yumi: [eyes sparking] I've become a HUGE fan of visual novels! Yumi: It's like Seasons of Regret, only *I* can be the one making the choices!

6. Leshwi

Leshwi: Like many Fused and Singers, I find myself quite taken with Rhythm games. Leshwi: Now that it is no longer appropriate for me to fight the Windrunners, I do like to challenge them to Dance Dance Revolution instead. Kaladin: OH COME ON I DEFINITELY HAD THAT Leshwi: I always win.

7. Steris

Steris: I used to think games were a waste of time, but then Wax introduced me to these construction simulators. Steris: My city is a paradise with excellent infrastructure, logical layout, and plenty of greenspace. Wayne: You should try to mod that makes a tsunami hit your city! Steris: Oh please, I beat that mod yesterday on my first try.

8. Navani

Navani: Recently, I've gotten into Tower Defense games. Sibling: I can defend myself, thank you very much.

9. Vivenna

Vivenna: Love a good roguelike. Vivenna: It's something about trying it over and over again until you're perfect. Vivenna: The victory is sooo sweet when you've worked hard to achieve it, dying many times. Siri: Oh me too!! I especially like Hades--the art is AMAZING. Vivenna: (scoffs) You mean a rogue-lite? Siri: I'm telling you--you should try one! Getting powerups in between runs is pretty sweet. Vivenna: Hedging out a difficult victory after hours of blood, sweat and tears is also fun! Siri: If you say so...

10. Lightsong

Lightsong: Soooo addicted to Candy Crush. Lighsong: Can't even tell you why. Llarimar: Perhaps your divine eye is drawn to the bright colors. Lightsong: Whatever makes you feel better, Scoot.

11. Adolin

Adolin: Lately I've become completely engrossed with life simulators. Adolin: I make my character get up, make breakfast, go to work, go on dates, learn the piano... Adolin: WHY IS IT SO ADDICTING?? Shallan: This may be a sign that your actual life is incredibly stressful and the allure of a simple, daily life is drawing you in? Adolin: No, that doesn't sound right... Shallan: You want to date a bisexual vampire? Adolin: ...That could be it.

12. Rlain

Rlain: I'm quite taken with these cozy farming games. Rlain: You just build a nice farm, meet the villagers, explore around. Renarin: Rlain, please, it's been six hours! Rlain: Just one more day...

13. Tress

Tress: I've been enjoying survival games! Tress: It's fun to gather and cook and build a base! Tress: A little bit unrealistic, because the rain doesn't make anything explode, but I guess they wanted to make it easier than real life, not harder.

14. Shallan

Shallan: It has to be MMOs for me. Shallan: I like a game where I can do pretty much anything I want. Shallan: Advance the story, collect every type of mushroom, fill in the whole map... Shallan: Plus, I like leveling every class and giving each one their own outfit and personality. Veil: You named the rogue after me, I see. Shallan: It's a compliment.

15. Kelsier

Kelsier: There's only one type of game for me: and that's a game where the name of the, uh, game is survival. Kelsier: And I especially like it when you have to survive as a team. Kelsier: Especially against great odds--like lots and lots of real-life players. Kelsier: Yup, yup. Kelsier: It's all about Fornite for me.

[tomssexdoll]

Sexy scare

PAIRINGS: Tom 2012 x Female reader CONTENT: SMUT SYPNOSIS: Y/N goes to a really popular halloween party that's hard to get into, its full of musicians and Tom kaulitz happens to be there, you and him flirt and dance for ages before going into a spare bedroom and GETTING FREAKYYY A/N: cumming to this photo, there will be a bill version coming <3 WARNINGS: dom!tom, sub!reader, p in v (missionary), eating out, fingering

I was getting ready to go to one of the most popular halloween parties among musicians, my friend was in a band and was invited to play there. She asked me to come along cause she knew how much I loved Tokio Hotel and they were also going to be playing there.

I was dressed as a sexy witch, basic but it worked. I wore a short and skimpy black dress with fishnets, platformed boots and a cute witch hat. I did my makeup and my hair and ran out to door to the car.

"Are you excited?" she chuckled, I looked at her shocked "excited? girl? im more than fucking excited i'm extatic" I shook her shoulders, she chuckled and started the car, driving to the party.

"I am so glad it's not BYO drinks, I would've died" I sighed, walking into the secluded party. Our friend gave the bouncer a code word and we got inside, Tokio Hotel was playing and I gasped, grabbing my friends hand and running to the stage. I pushed through a bunch of people and stared up at Tom, admiring him as he played his guitar, his tongue slightly out and little beads of sweat forming on forehead. I bit my lip, my heat slightly burning.

"Fuck he's so much hotter in person.." I whispered to her, "even with that scary ass costume?" she furrowed her eyebrows, "oh of course! I'd fuck him either way!" I said a little too loudly, sparking his attention.

He looked over at me, staring at me subtly, I instantly shut up, super flustered. He smirked and looked back down, continuing to play his guitar. "Holy shit...did you see that.." I turned to her, my eyes super wide. She nodded and raised her eyebrows up and down in a suggestive way.

"Maybe you'll get lucky" she nudged me and I chuckled "I hope..fuck..the things I'd do to him.." I sighed.

After they played it was my friends turn, her band had arrived earlier to discuss some things. They set up on the stage and started to play, I was cheering for her and jumping up and down, giving myself more attention.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around, the one and only Tom Kaulitz was standing there and was WAY taller then I imagined. I looked up at him and smiled nervously, "oh hi..did you want me to move?" he chuckled "no liebe, come with me" he grabbed my hands softly and pulled me with him, walking to a more secluded spot.

He sat me down at a couch in the corner of the building, placing a hand on my thigh. "So..I heard what you said before" he smirked, I felt my cheeks get super hot and I stumbled on my words "i-i.. yeah.." I giggled nervously.

"Don't be nervous.." he pushed a hair away from my face, "tell me about yourself, hm?" his eyes were so dreamy, even with the scary makeup my panties were SOAKED.

"Well..I'm y/n..22 and I'm here for my friend, she's playing right now" I smiled brightly, pointing to her. He chuckled "you have such a beautiful name, supporting your friends like that is amazing, I wish we had that support when we started our band" he frowned slightly.

I chuckled softly "but look at you guys now, everyone loves you" he shrugged "yeah I guess so, I can you love us the most" he winked and I CAVEDD. The power he had over me was dangerous, he was so fuckung hot and literally put me under a spell.

I bit my lip and we continued to flirt back and forth for another 20 minutes. "I can't believe I missed like half of your songs" I frowned, he picked my chin up "it's fine baby, we are gonna play again next week again you can come back, I'll make sure you're on the list" he smiled, I gasped "really? fuck thankyou so much!" I reached out and hugged him tightly, I felt his hands snake around my waist, focusing on my ass a little too long, giving it a little squeeze.

"Do you wanna dance?" He smirked, I nodded quickly and got up, grabbing his hand and running onto the dance floor. By now everyone was dancing and super drunk.

I started to dance to the music, Tom coming up behind me and holding my waist. I swayed my hips and went low to the floor.

As the beat dropped I started jumping, my hair flying around and getting messy. I heard Tom chuckle and I turned around, smirking and wrapping my arms around his neck, swaying my hips again.

He reached down and held my hips, pulling me in closer, his lips ghosted over mine, the tension building and the air becoming thicker. I turned around again and started to grind on him, his lips finding my neck and kissing it softly, his beard softly tickling my neck.

His grip tightened on my hips, bringing me closer, rubbing his hard on, on my back. I continuined to grind on him, my arms resting against his.

"Let's go somewhere private" he whispered sensually in my ear, his hot breath making my hairs stand up on my neck, I followed him as he took me into an empty bathroom, it was filled with graffiti and stickers from past performances. He picked me up and sat me on the bathroom counter, smashing his lips into mine. I kissed him back passionately, grabbing the back of his head and locking ourselves in a rough embrace.

"You're so fucking sexy" he muttered into the kiss, I smirked and unbuttoned his flannel, pulling it off and the shirt he had underneath, revealing his fit and toned body and my jaw hit the fucking floor.

He smirked "you like what you see?" he toyed with my dress, pulling the zip down slowly, I took it off, revealing my black lace thong and matching bra. He groaned and cupped my breast, squeezing it softly. His lips crashed into mine again, I pulled him closer and he rubbed his erection against my clothed pussy softly, I moaned into the kiss, tugging on his dreads. His hands found their way to the back of my bra, clipping it off and revealing my boobs, nipples hard from all the teasing.

"So hot..fuck.." he got onto his knees and I scooted closer to the edge, lifting my legs up and spreading them.

He ripped my fishnets where my pussy was and moved my thong to the side, "fuck..so perfect.." he placed a soft kiss on my pussy, my breath hitching, "mm.." I moaned softly "keep going.." I sighed in pleasure. He wrapped his arms around my legs and pushed his face into my pussy, licking my sensitive clit gently.

"Holy shit!" I moaned loudly, his pace becoming quicker, licking and sucking my clit rapidly, removing one of his arms from my leg and plunging his fingers into my wetness, stretching me out with his 2 digits. I groaned, trying not to close in my thighs on his head.

I threw my head back in immense pleasure, his tongue swirling so perfectly on my sensitive bud, his fingers moving in and out of me so gracefully. He curled his fingers on my g spot, brushing against it softly.

I groaned, a knot forming in my stomach and coiling to my core, signalling my impending orgasm. "G'nna cum.." I cried out, he smirked on my pussy and thrusted his fingers in and out harder, feeling your body tighten around him.

He looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire and full of lust, "cum for me baby..let it all go" he whispered against my clit, with one last thrust I moaned loudly, my orgasm crashing down and washing over me, shuddering as my juices coating his fingers.

He slowly pulled his fingers out, detaching his lips from my clit. He smirked and licked the slick off his fingers, his hand grabbing his erection on his pants. He came closer, taking off his belt and pushing his pants down, pre-cum leaking onto his boxers. I bit my lip and pulled his cock out of his boxers, gasping and looking up at him.

He was a solid 7 inches, girthy and veiny, I whimpered at his size, how the fuck was it going to fit?

He was grinning, his makeup slightly melting off around the mouth, he grabbed my thighs and allinged himself with my entrance, slowly pushing in and stretching my hole more, I groaned, every inch agonizing.

He was about half way in when I put my hand on his chest, stopping him for a moment, "hurts..too much.." I pouted, looking at him. He grunted, "i'll make it fit honey..just relax.." his fingers came down to my clit and rubbed softly, my muscles relaxing on his cock. He let out a small sigh of relief and pushed in, the thickest part of his cock now entering me.

"Just a bit more liebe.." he whispered into my ear softly, comforting me from the pain. Finally he bottomed himself out, pulling his cock back out and then slamming it back in, creating a pace.

I moaned softly and my hands flew to his shoulders, gripping tightly and his cock pounded into me.

"Shit!" I cried out, his tip kissing my cervix, "so tight..fuck.." he muttered, gripping my hips tightly, leaving marks. I felt his cock so deep in me I swear it was in my throat, it felt so good, his length constantly ramming into my g spot, making me roll my eyes back so far.

"So good..mm" he moaned softly, pounding in and out of me cruely. "Fuck!" I groaned loudly, digging my nails into his shoulders. I leaned upwards and kissed his neck, sucking softly and leaving marks.

He groaned as I found his sweet spot, sucking the skin softly. He leaned down and started to suck my nipples softly, taking them in between his teeth and biting them gently, I arched my back at the painful yet pleasuring sensation "fuck.." I moaned softly, wrapping my legs around his waist and dragging him in closer.

"You're so beautiful..fuck.." he groaned, smashing his hips into mine, the sound of slapping skin taking over the room. I felt my stomach tighten, signalling my awaiting orgasm. "Fuck..cumming.." I managed to blurt out, all the pleasure was hitting me all at once so I could barely form more than 4 words. "Cmon, cum for me, you're doing so well" he praised, that sent me over the edge and I came hard, my orgasm crashing down severley and causing me to cum all over his cock.

The intense clenching of my pussy around his cock sent him into his orgasm too, squirting his hot cum all over my walls, coating them completely. As I came back to my senses I realised how fucked up both of our makeup was, basically all of his was destroyed from sweat and eating my pussy and mine was smudged all over my face. As he came to clean my pussy he chuckled "i guess that's where the blood went" pointing to my pussy, mixed with grey makeup and fake blood, I giggled "jeez, didn't know you went that hard."

He picked me up from the counter and helped me get dressed, I had no choice but to try and fix the ripped fishnets, he saw me struggling with them "sorry..I guess i got too excited" he scratched his neck, a little embarassed, I smiled and kissed his cheek "that's fine, they were like 2 dollars anyway" I rolled my eyes playfully "cmon let's go dance again" I grabbed his hand and we walked back to the dance floor, drinking and having fun.

[orienteddreamerrr]

Imagine: Shadow saving you from a suicide attempt…

(Shadow the Hedgehog X Fem reader!)

(SHORT! A DRABBLE!)

Rating: PG-13 for…Angst, attempted suicide but very fluffy towards the end!

(Don’t read if you have/had trauma like this before!)

(Not sure why I wanted to create this…for awareness??? I guess???)

Normally you would be at home, wanting to rest of course and maybe have some time with Shadow. But no. You were stuck here in your corner office, busying yourself with mundane work of filing papers. It was getting tiresome as you were hoping for Shadow to come rescue you. But no. He was busy, forced to be fighting alongside with G.U.N soldiers somewhere. You sigh to yourself as you see the clock, the hand almost hitting 9. You were tired. But that could also be your depression. Your boss comes out of nowhere and notices your mood. “Hey…what’s wrong?”, You look to your boss as you shake your head. “I’m needing to go home…”, Your boss nods in understanding. “We’ll have Karl take it from here…go home and rest…you look like you need it…”, You could only nod in response as you watch your boss walk back to his office.

Your mind was screaming for rest. You log off on everything as you start getting ready to leave. But as you left the office building, you can’t help but feel your depression worsening, with all these kinds of thought rushing in your mind: “Am I enough? Am I enough for Shadow? Does he even CARE about me? Does he still want me?”. These thoughts had grown louder, making their presence known. You continue walking down this sidewalk you were on, seeing all the cars zooming back and forth on the street beside you. You can’t help also but have this sense that nobody wants you around…not even Shadow. This voice in your head was screaming for you to jump off a platform somewhere as you make your way to this abandoned building that was across the street. You make your way to the top, seeing there was nobody around. You step on the edge of the roof, seeing it was good distance down to the ground of concrete that lays just below you.

You could feel your heart racing as you sigh a shaky breath, still hearing those thoughts rushing in your mind. Out of nowhere, you hear a sound behind you as if someone had teleported. You crane your head over to see it was Shadow himself. Shadow had a feeling he knew what was going on as he stands there, his arms folded as he stares at you. “What are you doing?”, He asks you, his brows furrowing a little. You can’t help but feel your tears forming as you turn around to fully face him. “I need to know…do you still care?”, Shadow of course doesn’t answer as he continues staring. Shadow does care, he just doesn’t show it. You take notice of his silence as your feet shuffle closer to the edge. Shadow sees this as he too steps closer to you. He extends his hand for you to take.

“Take my hand…”, He tells you, but all you could do was stare at it. That voice was nagging you to jump. It was growing louder as you shuffled even more to edge, before losing your footing and falling off the roof. Shadow, with his quick reflexes, uses his teleportation power to teleport from the roof to you, quickly teleporting you safely to the ground. During the time, memories of Maria flash through his mind. He didn’t want you to end up like her…dead. And his instincts had kicked in. Shadow kneels in front of you, making sure you weren’t injured. He wipes some of your tears that were streaming down your cheeks. “Don’t ever do that again…”, He whispers to you, his voice stern but gentle, hoping you would understand his words. You could only nod as he nods back to you. He picks you up bridal-style, your weight being nothing to him as he teleports you to your apartment.

He sets you down on the couch, making sure you were comfortable and not shaken up still. He usually doesn’t display affection towards you, especially around people, but he gives you a very light kiss on the forehead, his gloved hand running through your hair before disappearing. You could feel the exhaustion start to slowly creep onto you as your eyes droop close. When morning came, you stir up to find Shadow standing by, seeing he had watched you sleep for some time. You sit up as you smile at him, in which he returns it faintly. “Do you feel alright?”, he asks you, walking over to you. You sit up fully as you nod to him. “Yeah…”, Shadow nods back, taking your hand in his. “I promise I’ll be there for you more…I may not be around, but I’m still here…if you’re needing anything, just ask…”, You smile more at Shadow’s words as you kneel in front of him to embrace him. He was stiff for a moment, but he was able to hug you back.

After you released him, you could see his faint smile grow wider. He places a light kiss to your forehead again, his gloved hand resting on your cheek as he nods to you, acknowledging that you have fully recovered. He gives you one last look, letting you know that he’s off to do other things before teleporting away. You can’t help but feel satisfied as you make your way to your room to gather your thoughts, refreshing yourself before proceeding to go out, hoping to get your mind straighter, willing to see another day, willing to be with Shadow until the end of time!

The End! ❤️

Hope you liked it! I tried!

Leave a like if you did!

[neverchecking]

TotK Link

Okay, I know not everyone has played Tears of the Kingdom, nevertheless finished (I know I haven't), but I just have brainrot that I need to spread.

And I now have the platform to do so >:)

So, of course, Spoilers under the cut!

CW: Yandere, TotK spoilers!

・❥・So, this can go two ways. One, TotK Link is Wild who was taken mid-adventure with the other Links. Or, two, this is an entirely different Link, kind of like Calamity (AoC Link-- there are some great headcanons about him -> Here! Go check them out they are so, so good.).

・❥・I like both ideas! But, let's talk about the second option.

・❥・So, imagine, the chain and Reader are coming through a portal to this new Hyrule. Or, well, they think it's new. It's oddly reminiscent of Wild's Hyrule only...bigger. There are islands in the sky, holes covered in what appears to be malice in the ground. People are more abundant, there are towers standing, glowing a welcoming red rather than the golden towers in Wild's Hyrule.

・❥・It's so different, but yet so familiar.

・❥・Now, it's evident that this Link is a little more...Feral. Look at his hair and tell me otherwise, you can't. This man had won. He had won, gotten his victory over the Calamity and was supposed to have the rest of his life to settle down. But he didn't. It was ripped away from him once more. Not only that, but he was thrown back to square one. Gloom now riddled his veins making him feel like he was newborn fawn stumbling out of the Shrine once more. So he's probably livid. Angry with Hylia and fate, and Ganon and and and-

・❥・He has no patience left to offer.

・❥・Zelda was supposed to have unlocked her sealing powers, no? And she did nothing. Actually, that's a lie. She used them to save herself. He was left dying again and she saved herself. After he destroyed the Master Sword, the only thing that made him anyone, protecting her. Destroyed his arm. Destroyed himself. And she saved herself. Rauru had to protect him. Had to save his life before Zelda did.

・❥・So, yeah, he's a little less...companionable. He had to save someone who wouldn't give two shits about him again. He thought they had improved their relationship, but he guesses not. Betrayal runs deep in his gut, igniting a fiery inferno that burns on spite.

・❥・And the worst part about it? Everyone around him is praising that damned Princess. For the bare minimum. Showing them a recipe, building a school that should've been there years ago, hell, even just having a horse got her praise out the ass.

・❥・He was tired of it.

・❥・People stay out of his way a lot more. He wears a look that promises some form of harm should someone cross him, and he's more than willing to deliver. Because now, it's not just the one land of Hyrule. Now he has to deal with the Sky Islands and the Zonai creations. Now he has to deal with the depths and all of those creatures which just bring back the gloom he dispels. And he's so over it.

・❥・Now, picture if you will, Reader falling through the portal, separated from the chain, scared and alone. Reader thinking they're in Wild's Hyrule, but his doesn't quite look like this, does it? Reader thinking that, hey, at least they're hidden and in a forest, only Oh Sweet Goddess Above-- THE TREES ARE MOVING-

・❥・Reader doesn't know what to do because THE TREES ARE COMING AFTER THEM, they were forbidden from having a weapon (Because why would they be separated ever? They were there to protect their sweet reader? why would they need to burden themselves with a weapon when the Links could fight for their honor?), and THE TREES WERE ATTACKING THEM-

・❥・But, here comes their knight in shining armor- or some sort of blue tunic. Honestly, the tunic was styling if we're being honest; the open back and split sides along the hips? (Iykyk)

・❥・The trees are taken care of easily and the blond is turning to look at reader.

・❥・Reader just knows. "...I'm gonna guess your name is Link?"

・❥・And while on the outside, all he gives is a simple nod, it's anything but simple. You, this gorgeous being that he just so happened upon, recognized him. It seemed that without Zelda parading him about like some show dog for all of Hyrule, people didn't know who he was. but you? You did? You knew who he was? And the way you were staring at him was like you knew what he had done. The sacrifices he had given. And you were thankful and appreciative. Which was all he asked for.

・❥・You then thank him (You THANKED him) for saving your life and explain that you had been separated from your group. (Group? You had a group? And they just...let you out of their sight?) He offers to help you look for them and you eagerly accept.

・❥・Now, he latches onto you pretty quickly. Your already used to all the Link-isms so he isn't much different. The silence, the constantly guarded exterior, your used to all of it. And it just convinces him further that you're perfect for him.

・❥・Eventually the rest of the chain do pop up. But this Link isn't convinced their safe, after all, Ganon could make puppets out of everyone. Whose to say their not puppets or Yiga? It's better to stay with him, can't you see that?

・❥・The chain obviously have a different opinion on the matter, Legend all but Demanding you back. Hyrule and Four try to placate this Link, while Wild, Wind and even Twilight are trying to think of way of just scooping you up and running. Sky and Warriors are trying to barter with this Link (What does he want? Fairies? Potions? Money? They could have it all should he just give you back). Time is the only one to recognize that this is still a Link. He still wants what's best for you. That doesn't mean he trusts him.

・❥・If Fierce Deity and First are int he group at this point, they too are probably either trying to manipulate explain to this Link that they are in fact your aforementioned group or are just barely holding onto the shred of sanity left thats stopping them from simply doing away with this obstacle.

・❥・But this Link, like all Links, is stubborn. Not just a regular stubborn either. He has learned the hard way that if he wants something, he's going to have to fucking cling to it to keep it. And he's not losing you. Eventually they explain the situation after a bit of your pestering and he loosens up, just the slightest, to take in their words. That doesn't mean he lets go though. Oh no, he just lets them meander closer without threatening a flame throwing at them.

・❥・He's sort of indifferent to Wild, I would think, since they're kind of the same person. He was just dealt the shittier hand.

・❥・When asked where Zelda is, he simply points up (Maybe her name is Natura? Idk, I'm uncreative). He does not elaborate. They don't ask him to.

・❥・Now, it's obvious you have just claimed this Link. He's yours. Sorry not sorry. It's just a matter of taking him with you. He's insistent on not leaving your side. The Demon King isn't actually doing anything, other than unleash monsters the people of his land are already familiar with. This is obviously a new threat and he's a Link isn't he?

・❥・In terms of names? Maybe he's the hero of the Zonai because Tears of the Kingdom doesn't really give us much to work with. Maybe they call him both Zonai and Sage. I like Sage, so I'm going with that.

・❥・The way he fights is fast and brutal, delivering hits that dissipate his enemies own mobility before delivering a fatal last hit. He's a unit of a man, probably like Twilight, if not a little smaller. (Have you seen the shit he has to lug around? Mans is built.) Same height as Wild though, just more built.

・❥・As for the type of Yandere he is? He's on you. Constantly. He is hovering over you because anything and everything can be ripped away from him in an instant, as Hylia as so helpfully shown. He is making sure nothing gets the chance to get closer to you. And he's using his new abilities to do so. Wild is probably interested in the abilities and the arm and the tech, since his Hyrule, after Sage's, is the most technologically advanced.

・❥・He's inspecting your food, checking your person every time you disappear out of his sight for a second, snarling at people who attempt to talk to you.

・❥・The group have to keep him in check like an untrained puppy.

・❥・Oh, but how he laps up the attention Reader bestows upon him. He is such a cuddle hog and he knows it, smirking smugly at the others while you hold him close because oh how his arm hurts so badly, didn't you know? Oh, how the gloom has him feeling absolutely rotten, please can he just lay with you for a while? Just until he settles back once more? Pretty please?

Anyway, those are my thoughts for now, feel free to add your own!

[toomanywatchers]

My Thoughts on WatcherTV

Hi, I am here to put away my meme-making skills to express my genuine thoughts on Watcher’s announcement; WatcherTV. Before I get into it, this is for any of those at Team Watcher who might be seeing this message: Just know we love and support everything you do for us. Y’all truly do not get the credit you rightfully deserve. I hope with this change to a separate streaming platform you guys can create the content you want to make, pull in creators that you’ve always wanted to work with, and share voices/topics that may have not had the chance to shine because of YouTube’s heinous algorithm. I know myself, and many others, are excited to see what WatcherTV brings. For instance, I already watched Road Files and the trailer for Travel Season on the new platform. And guess what? I love it! I just love BTS-centric shows and seeing the vibes established on Travel Season. Along with more Lizzie/possibly-more-sightings-of-other-Team-Watcher-peeps content?!? If this is what holds for the future of WatcherTV- oh boy, do you already have me more on board than I already was.

I also send my sincerest regards too. We all know that the internet can be a negative space with many sharing their uncensored thoughts, and I hope none of you take the hate to heart. I also hope you can take the weekend to breathe, drink some water, spend time with loved ones, and celebrate this huge step you all are embarking on. I am truly excited to see what is to come on WatcherTV will be there with each step to support.

Now to my fellow fans of Watcher. I understand the concern and it is okay to have concerns. It shows that you truly care for Watcher as a company and don’t want anything negative to come about with this decision. BUT on the other hand, spreading hateful messages? Not. Fucking. Cool. It is quite simple to express concern in an appropriate/respectful manner. Remember, this is a company full of living and breathing human beings. Trying to justify “who is to blame” and pointing fingers is just childish. Guess what? No one is to blame, it was a company-wide decision that they all made and spent months upon months to create.

Yes, it does suck to see content that was free for years be moved to a paywall, but remember they are independent artists that have to pay employees, freelancers, locations, and themselves! Have we not been advocating for fair pay among creative individuals when it comes to WGA/SAG-AFTRA strikes and then AI art taking jobs away from artists? If this is what the company needs to do to survive while not sacrificing the high-quality content they make for us, then we should give it a shot! Plus with the current discount available, the subscription is not that pricey for the amount of shows they produce! Literally for January and a bit of February, they were uploading 2 podcasts and 2 separate shows… that’s a lot of content! If you have never sat down to produce, direct, write, perform, edit, and all other aspects it takes to make a fine-polished YouTube video, it takes a lot of work!

To add to this, Watcher already makes content that far expands past what is recognized as normal for YouTube. They build individual sets for each show that is produced, and they travel all over the place for Ghost Files and soon-to-be Travel Season. It costs money to produce content and YouTube?- It’s just not how it was years and years ago. Views on long-form content have been dipping and with the over-saturation of sponsorships, I am assuming they are not making enough profit to sustain the business on the current platform. Also, monetization on YouTube has been a killer for many channels because of vulgar language issues and just being demonetized for no rhyme or reason. By moving over to a streaming platform of their own they can continue to create what they want to create, and make it without any restrictions or rules holding them back. Too pricey? Find some friends who also like the content and split the pricing evenly. Only want to watch certain shows? Then make a monthly subscription for the time that show airs. There are many solutions that you guys see as a huge problem, and don’t get me wrong I have my concerns. I shared those concerns briefly in my theory post about them still being a young channel, but I’m also unaware of the actual analytics and revenue that is currently being brought in currently to the company from YouTube alone. 

It’s a huge step that has garnered negative feedback from those spreading hateful messages about the company and to other individuals for supporting the boys *cough cough I see your messages and comments cough cough* is truly uncalled for. I will be taking a bit of a break from my socials as I wait out the storm though if I have the energy, I might stream on Twitch again and talk through this with y’all if you can sit down and have a civil discussion. As for now, it’s your choice if you continue to support. My goal is to continue to make funny little memes, and if I am allowed to I will be working on a crack video pt.2 after Travel Season premieres. Remember to be kind and to put yourselves in their shows. Just the boys even though they are receiving the brunt of the hate, but for everyone at the company.

Your local memester watcherina - Fritz.

[drunknillawafer]

right down the line: zuko x firebender!reader | part 7

You grew up close to the Royal Family due to your father's position as a General, but you ran away from home after the agni kai against your best friend, Zuko. Now, you've joined the Gaang and plan on doing your part in ending the 100-year war.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

hi part 7... picking up right where we left off... i think I'm going to post a masterlist & keep it linked on my pinned to make it easier to sift through and find, esp since i do plan on posting other fics once i finished my very first >.< also i want to post the songs i listen to while I'm writing and some visuals hehe... just to make it much more immersive. again i do not own these characters and they are not mine! (except my mc i guess) like comment reblog if ya like... enjoy! about 1785 words

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

We’re standing on a sand-colored platform of a structure currently being renovated or changed to fit Fire Nation standards. The usual for when they occupy lands that don’t belong to them. Aangs in front of me, with Sokka to my left and Katara to my right. We form a triangle and I'm thankful for the partial covering.

I’m thinking of the best way to summarize the threats ahead of us, just in case they try to change the plan. There’s a good chance this will go south.

“Mai, in the center, has good aim with her blades, but it’s Ty Lee, on the left, you should keep an eye out for.” I try to give my friends the run-down on my, I guess, old friends one would say. But we’ve only got so much time before all three of them realize that I’m here.  

They lower King Bumi from the top of the building using a metal crane. They’ve got him in a coffin-shaped cage with only his head showing.

“You brought my brother?” Mai speaks first, breaking the silence between the two groups. She squints at the sight of me, but I’m too far away for her to be sure it’s me.

“He’s here.” Aang solemnly replies. “We’re ready to trade.” In these moments, he’s got the grace of a 112-year-old.

Suddenly, Azula speaks to Mai in a hushed tone we can’t quite hear. Fine is never fine with Azula, nothing is ever the way it should be with her. There’s bound to be some trick up her sleeve that only feeds into her misery.

“I’ll help with the girl on the right, she’s the most vicious,” I warn them. I briefly make eye contact with Sokka. We haven’t talked about what was said and now wasn’t the time, but I couldn’t help but yearn for his gentleness. A reminder that I wasn’t like the enemies in front of us, but someone new. Someone he couldn’t hate.

Then, Mai steps forward. “The deal’s off.” With a lift of her gloved hand, King Bumi is raised once again by the crane.

“Bumi!” Aang cries out for his old friend and starts heading towards him, defying the laws of gravity bestowed upon the rest of us. It’s enchanting to see an air-bender. It’s so different from the rest of the elements. He looks like he’s flying.

As he does so, Azula strikes, and I see her blue flame for the first time. She must’ve perfected her oxygen levels for complete combustion; but if she’s the Azula I’ve always known, I know how to beat her. This time, I won’t go easy. I won’t make that same mistake again for nostalgia.

Aang’s head covering flies away as the air moves around him and his arrow is exposed.

I look down at Azula’s reaction and she’s close enough now to hear.

“The Avatar. My lucky day.” The princess smirks, re-organizing her plans for Omashu in her head.

“Remember, don’t let Ty Lee touch you!” I warn Sokka and Katara and dash toward Azula, offering Aang some support against the crazed fire-bender.

I follow her upward, burning the knot on the pulley to cause the rope to lift.

Azula can see me through the grids as the ropes pull us to the top of the building, and I can see her in real-time realize who I am.

“Well, if it isn’t the Royal traitor. Seems like you and Zuzu still share a brain.” She gloats.

“Leave the Avatar alone, Azula. I mean it!” We break through the ceiling made from wood and reach the roof of the building under construction.

She attacks Aang with a blue blast, causing him to break the metal chain. Aang instantly heads downward with King Bumi. He cushions their fall with an air bubble, and they land on the well-known ramps of Omashu. Azula quickly follows them using a cart, and I’m on her tail. If only I had Sokka’s boomerang right now, it makes so much sense to carry one in these situations.

We catch up to Aang, giving Azula the chance to strike him and Bumi.

I distract her with my own fire-blasts, making sure to lean forward and crash into her cart.

“Out of practice?” She questions.

“Out of patience.” I growl, punctuating my sentence with a blast from my right hand.

As we continue our fight by speeding through the ramps, I see Appa in the distance. Relief washes over me as I conclude Sokka and Katara must have gotten away from Mai and Ty Lee.

Aang attempts to lift Bumi onto Appa’s saddle with his bending, but he miscalculates and Bumi’s off to land on the ground. But his friend won’t let him go on his own. Together, they land on another ramp and head down to ground-level.

Azula’s right behind them, and I’m right behind her.

She attempts another attack, but a rock blocks her offense and bursts her cart into dust. I leap off mine before the impact breaks my cart too and we both land on our feet, an homage to our identical upbringing.

She lets Aang go for a reason I can’t quite put my finger on until she turns around to face me. We're still standing on the ramps.

“The key to never losing is knowing when you’re beat.” She says with her hands in defense, signaling that she’s waving the white flag.

I’m still in fight mode. I’d never let my guard down around her, not now, not ever. “You’ll always be beat as long as I’m here.”

She pauses to truly grasp my presence. It’s been three years since we’ve seen each other, and everything’s changed. We used to be on the same team, never friends but bonded by our birthplace. It’s the first time we no longer owe each other pleasantries. Azula, however, uses sweetness as a weapon. “Where have you been, Y/N? You’re missed at the Royal Palace.”

“I doubt it.” Zuko and his mother haven’t touched that home in years, making it impossible for anyone there to actually miss me.

“Your father misses you.”

“I know you’re lying, Azula.”

“You’ve never trusted me; I’ve never liked you. Now we don’t have to pretend do we?”

“Leave us alone,” I get in my fight stance. “Got it?”

“Fine. Loud and clear.” She dashes away in her infamous run toward the unfinished building, probably to catch up with her friends.

Fine isn’t fine. It’s I’ll get you somehow. I think to myself.

I watch her figure fade into the distance, when it hits me: “Seems like you and Zuzu still share a brain.”

Did Zuko abandon his ship?

Is she lying? She would have no reason to lie about something like that, other than to get to me or Aang. I can’t pinpoint a motive. I still won’t believe her 100 percent, but I’ll keep it in my back pocket.

I slide down the ramp Aang took and find the both of them at the very end, standing on a platform in another unfinished building. Once I’m off and my two feet hit the floor, Bumi bends rock to lift his metal enclosure up the ramp in a fit of laughter.

We both watch him go. “Your friend is very… eccentric.” I tell Aang, as he’s standing with Momo on his shoulders.

“Yeah.” I turn to face him, something’s wrong. He’s disappointed.

“He’s not going to teach you earth-bending?” I assume.

“No, he has to stay here to protect Omashu. I guess I got to find another teacher.” Now, he looks like a twelve-year-old boy with the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. There’s no way he’s meant to do this alone. I’d rather be here helping him than with Zuko.

“We’ll find one in no-time.” I reassure him.

“Who were those three girls?” He changes the subject.

“They were old friends too. Azula is Zuko’s sister.”

“Wow.”

“I know.” I sit on the edge of the platform, waiting for our ride with my feet dangling. Aang sits next to me, and for now, we’re just two kids talking, staring at the beautiful Earth Kingdom in front of us.

“What was it like… to grow up with them?”

“It was easy with Zuko. Azula… not so much.” I wince.

Aang’s face contorts, as if he’s remembering a distant memory. “Was Zuko good? Yaknow, back then?”

A smile creeps up on my face. “He was.”

“Do you think he still could be?”

Aang and I stare at each other. We’re choosing to live in the moment before my answer. The moment in which the possibility of Zuko changing his mind, realizing his mistakes, and helping us stop his father exists.  

“I don’t know.”

☆

The heat and the prickly bushes are upsetting him further with each and every single step. Looking for food when you’re used to someone cooking for you is daunting, Zuko realizes. How is he ever supposed to live like this? How did Y/N?

As he’s walking back to let Uncle know he couldn’t find anything edible, he touches the side of his hair. It’s grown back a bit since cutting it, slicing off his ties to the Fire Nation. Trading in the red for green, hoping to camouflage with the land and the Earth Kingdom people.

What a stupid idea, he thought. How could anyone ever confuse him with anyone else with the scar on his left eye?

But it seemed to be working so far. His sister hadn’t found them, and they haven’t been arrested for their crimes against every other nation.

In the humid morning, on his long walk back to where his uncle was staring at a tea leaf, he thought about the Northern Water Tribe.

He wondered if Y/N was okay from his strike. Maybe the water-bender girl could heal her, and she’d be okay again. He didn’t mean to. He’s been this hard and heavy with everyone else for the sole purpose of returning home, he forgot Y/N was his home. He’s been in fighting mode for so long, he’s forgotten to turn it off.

She wasn’t home, though. She was with the Avatar. Defending him and betraying her nation. How did she get there? He wondered. He had so many questions about everything. Zuko’s sure she had just as many questions for him.

Could he find her now that he was labeled a traitor?

Where his mind led made his empty stomach drop.

If he found her, he’d find the Avatar. Then, he could go home. But if Y/N was not there, would he still want to go back? Did his father’s acceptance matter above all else? It didn’t for Y/N, but she was always braver than him.

Zuko wasn’t ready for that thought, so he pushed it away.

It wasn’t hard to do when your stomach was louder than your thoughts.

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

tag list <3: @camilleverreault @staygoldsquatchling02

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 14

I really loved the title page showing how Marcille does her hair. If my hair was long enough to do it, I'd try it myself. My favorite part is the braid around her ears.

Her actual hairstyle this chapter isn't the same as the title page though. Instead, she keeps the side braids but wraps her long hair into a large loop ending in a ponytail.

I love these little beat panels. The party is so prone to awkward silences and it's always funny whenever it happens. All of them try very hard to be polite but no one ever knows what to say when they know being honest would upset someone.

We've got some info on magic. It requires the user to take care of their hair. And poor grooming can affect how well support magic can work on a person.

Senshi ought to engage in proper grooming to at least make sure hair doesn't get into the food.

There is some light environmental storytelling about the first expeditions to 4F. By the looks of things, the first people to reach 4F had to smash the walls open to actually access the level. Then builders had to come in to build platforms for adventurers to actually be able to enter the floor.

I get the feeling the upper level was either opened first or had to be made so builders could safely haul and drop the walkways into the water.

Since Senshi doesn't have any means of crossing the water, this is probably the furthest he's ever gone down the dungeon.

All his earlier instances of deriding Marcille's magic had some merit to them, but now Senshi is just being a stubborn old goat. Even if his concern about relying on magic too much will harm his ability to act without it being available, the waterwalking skill is a practical solution to the situation at hand.

He's acting like that employee who's worked at the company for thirty years and takes several hours to fill out a spreadsheet because they don't know how to use any of the calculating tools. Then they stubbornly refuse to let you show them how to fill it quickly cause it's the way they've always done it.

The way Marcille applied waterwalking to Senshi implies that the part where she taps her feet was just performative. As long as she hits you with her staff, the spell is applied.

Senshi didn't immediately sink so the spell works somewhat. I guess the waterwalking spell is less "You can now stand on water" and more "the rate at which your body displaces the water beneath your feet is reduced."

I hated physics but I kind of want to go back through topics related to density, waves, buoyancy, and kinetic energy because of this moment. Real quick, buoyancy is the force that fluids exert in opposition to the gravitational force of an object in it. If buoyancy is stronger than the gravitational force, the object will float over the fluid. If gravity is stronger, the object will sink. There's more to it of course, but I think this is enough background for my upcoming ramble.

When Marcille jumped into the water, there was a tiny splish and some ripples formed around the point of contact. So she made physical contact with the water, but her spell prevented the kinetic energy that would transfer to the water on contact from dispersing the water to any degree that would cause her to fall into it. So the gravitational force she's exerting on the water is so low that she can stand on the water.

I know this is one of those "It's magic. Don't worry about it" moments, but I'd love to consider alternate uses for this spell considering what it appears to be doing. If the spell actually reduces density or weakens the gravitational force that acts against bouyancy, could a sinking ship be saved by applying this spell to it or a sunken ship be raised using it? And can it be used with other liquids? Could a variant be made that can let a person float in the air (This would have to be made with caution cause if it works the way I'm describing, it could easily catapult someone into the stratosphere).

Of all people to oppose Senshi's idea of riding a Kelpie across the water, you'd never suspect Laios. He's the one who comes across as the most likely to want to befriend monsters. But it turns out that he has far more sense about things.

Yes, Laios loves monsters. However, he isn't blind to the reality of what they are. In chapter 8, Senshi talked about the care that goes into living in the dungeon and feeling like you're part of it, but he's overstepping his bounds with Anne. By assuming he can tame and ride her, he's not respecting that she is a dangerous creature that should be treated as such.

The initial interaction with Anne reminded me of a Youtube video of a guy sitting by a river and a grizzly bear casually walks up to him and sits next to him. The bear was docile and the guy wasn't in any danger, yes. But it would be a bad idea to walk up to the bear or try to pet it. And the guy in the video was definitely afraid during that interaction because he was sitting next to a grizzly bear.

Laios also seems to be speaking from experience.

The first hint that Anne wasn't as sweet as she seemed is she chewed on Senshi's blood-soaked beard.

Laios saw what was going to happen from a mile away and lassoed Anne's tail just before she submerged. He even looks like he's saying "I told you!" when Anne begins to descend.

After killing her, Senshi decided to prepare Anne's body to eat it. He's not very emotive, but he's genuinely upset that the bond he thought he had didn't exist. He sees himself as part of the dungeon, but even though he helps take care of it, that doesn't mean the monsters are going to treat him as anything other than potential prey.

Maybe he started to realize that he hadn't given her the proper respect she deserves as a dangerous kelpie. Eating her is a way to give respect though. He's not going to leave her body to rot. If he's going to be part of the dungeon, then he should participate in its ecosystem. His eagerness to use the soap Marcille made from Anne's fat might be an extension to that respect.

Marcille knows how to make soap from scratch. Since hygiene and grooming are important parts of magic, she probably was taught how to make use of what's available.

Oh my gosh! He's so fluffy!!

Senshi's stubbornness and insistence on doing things his own way almost got him killed. At least he's willing to be more flexible now. And he's noticing there are some enjoyable experiences that require magic.

SENSHI FLASH!!

back

[homestuckreplay]

hauntingly relaxing basslines to grow/disappearify pumpkins to

(page 818-825)

Jade irradiates a tasty dinner for Bec, leaving it full of ‘nice depleted steak isotopes’ (p.819). I was wondering about the science behind this, and learned that while radioactive decay naturally gives off heat, it’s probably not enough to cook a steak. Radioisotope thermal generators convert the heat of radiation into electricity, and there’s a lot of theory about radioisotopic batteries that could operate similarly to solar cells, but their efficiency is below 2% in laboratory tests.

This got me thinking about Skaia as a perfect conserver of energy – on page 193, Rose expends six units of build grist to construct three Perfectly Generic Objects. On p.261, she deletes them and regains six build grist. Next page, she uses the recovered grist to build a platform extending from John’s house, and finally on p.485 turns that platform back into six grist to build more stairs. In the real world, there is always a loss of energy and raw materials when changing something’s form, and many games model this (for example, an in game item costing 100 gold but only sold back for 50) to discourage players changing their minds. But Sburb explicitly allows for this experimentation, and a similar principle could explain why Jade’s uranium powered devices are so efficient.

Speaking of Jade’s technology, we see her ECLECTIC BASS, which is a kind of triple keytar. It definitely does not need to exist but it is so cool that it does. Jade (via the narrator) is frustratingly vague again with ‘obviously it's too complicated to play it in person like this’, refusing to clarify what ‘in person’ means, but I’d guess it’s a remote controlled hand or several that can play bass remotely without the limitations of human fingers. Possibly controlled through her other invention: the computer.

Instead of a regular desktop, Jade’s LUNCHTOP works through beams of light emitting from small floating polyhedrons, positioning her literally within the digital space. Amidst floating clouds, extra pixels and jpeg debris, and spinning chromosomes of light is a cool dragon as a wallpaper, icons for Pesterchum, Echidna (probably a browser) and Fresh Jamz!, which has an icon of a musical note over a jar of fruit jam. Is Jade a composer too? Did she write her own hauntingly relaxing bassline that caused the plants to grow? Is this a hobby she and Dave have in common?

Jade’s hauntingly relaxing bassline (p.822) is a great companion piece to WV: Ascend, showing Jade’s island in its current state as opposed to in extended timelapse. The house, with its orbs atop spires, is clearly modeled on a now broken part of the frog statue, and was designed to fit in with the existing architecture and shape of the island (it forms a peak to the small second mountain). The house was built for aesthetics, not function, and is primarily vertical especially towards the top. No wonder Jade ‘almost never use[s] the stairs’.

Putting the timeline together, we know that Jade is about to message John at 16:34 his time (p.110), but they don’t actually talk until 17:25 (p.169), almost an hour later, at which point there’s an explosion outside Jade’s house. In page 822’s animation, an aeroplane flies low over Jade’s island and drops off a delivery (a blue package – something from John, perhaps?). This must be an uncommonly loud sound in a remote area. Depending on how this flash syncs with the timeline, this may or may not be the ‘explosion’. Either way, Jade will be on the computer during the explosion, and as her likely homemade computer involves complete immersion in the digital surroundings, I can believe that she would interpret a noise from her computer as something that’s happening outside her house.

We’ve explored Jade’s room, interests, musical talents, fetch modus, and now computer. In all of these she’s been set up differently to her friends. We have yet to explore the rest of her house and its surroundings (featuring, presumably, strange themed decor, a large humanoid doll and a piece of visual art Jade has created) and to meet Jade’s grandfather, witnessing her attempts to evade and eventually strife with him.

> Jade: Open Echidna and watch your favorite Squiddles episode.

[pancake-breakfast]

Found an old post on another social media platform from when I first started watching JJK. At some point in the comments, I told a friend, "I love how flippant the sensei guy is about all this. He reminds me a bit of Urahara Kisuke from Bleach."

As you may have guessed, this is "the sensei guy" who reminds me a bit of Urahara Kisuke from Bleach.

So I must now ask myself, does Gojo still remind me of Urahara?

And the answer is no.

Obviously, the writing in Jujutsu Kaisen is good enough that Gojo's his own character, but while Urahara's flippancy was (to the best of my memory... I never did quite finish Bleach) something of a mask for his power, his care for others, his regrets, etc., Gojo's flippancy is rooted in arrogance. He's the strongest, and he knows it, and between that and canonically growing up as a spoiled little brat, he just doesn't take a lot of things very seriously, even when they are genuinely serious.

He's confident he'll find a way to overthrow the corruption in Jujutsu Society. He's confident he's building up great allies in his students. He's confident he'll defeat Sukuna.

In fact, the only thing that seems to give him genuine pause is not a "thing," per se, but a person....

He hesitates during missions to allow Geto to be the moral center (even if he proceeds to give Geto crap for it later). He hesitates when he's sent to kill him. He hesitates for YEARS on going to hunt him down. He puts a great deal of thought into figuring out how to defeat him during the Night Parade of A Thousand Demons. He hesitates to properly dispose of Geto's body. He hesitates when, in Shibuya, he hears that familiar voice and sees that familiar form that he genuinely thought he'd never see again.

Aaaaand now I've turned this from a comparison post between Gojo and Urahara to a Satosugu (or at least Satosugu-adjacent) post again. Sorry about that. Let's get back to the point.

No, I don't think Gojo and Urahara are nearly as similar as I first thought they might be.

While Urahara is certainly a capable fighter (and I daresay enjoys showing off a bit during them), you get the distinct impression he'd be just as happy in a support role, perhaps forever running his shop and taking more of a covert or informal role in Soul Reaper Society. Meanwhile, Gojo lives for the fight. As Nanami notes at one point in the manga, Gojo loves being a jujutsu sorcerer in a way that extremely few others do. If it weren't for his beefs with the higher-ups and lingering trauma over Geto, there's a good chance Gojo wouldn't bother teaching.

Not that he doesn't value his students, but from the beginning, he sees them more as potential strong allies than as teens who need to be parented. Whether he's providing love advice to Yuuta or boosting Megumi's confidence, he's not doing so because their hearts need this, but because doing so is going to make them into stronger fighters. Meanwhile, if one of the people Urahara has deemed "under his care" needed to just sit down with Urahara and have a chat about the difficulties of life, he would probably offer them tea and listen, and then provide solid and realistic advice regardless of how the outcome might benefit his personal future goals.

MAJOR MANGA SPOILER FOR JJK AHEAD

Additionally, when Gojo goes to fight a possessed Megumi, he doesn't even flinch. Instead, his first thought is, "This will be easy since Megumi looks like his dad." Which is a weird way to approach possibly having to kill someone you've been the closest thing to a parent figure to for the last ten years. He even follows it up with a dismissive statement about worrying about Megumi afterward.

I wouldn't say Urahara wouldn't beat the shit out of someone under his care if he had to (those slaps he gave Ichigo and others during training don't even count as "beating the shit" out of anyone). But if he had to do it, it would be with a heavy heart. It wouldn't be his preferred plan of action. It certainly wouldn't be one he reveled in.

So I guess what this all boils down to is that they aren't actually that similar after all, if only because Urahara seems to genuinely care for and respect a great number of people, and Gojo... well, he respects the strong, and is more than happy to nurture untapped strength in others, but I think you could make a very solid argument that there's only been one person he ever truly cared for, and even that is in no small part because he was already strong when Gojo met him.

[ateez-himari]

[Archive] 'Tunnel' by Mingi - The Story

...

"It was tough for me to see a single letter so I sent it all away, I guess I can't get used to being left alone..."

It had been weeks since every single one of their interactions was inevitably cut short by the man's cold responses, the widening void in their friendship slowly tearing at the young woman's already fragile heart. To the audience it was undoubtedly a result of dating rumors circulating through social platforms yet she knew better than to fall under this belief, than to dumb down her friend's suddenly dismissive behavior to not wishing to be mistaken for her romantic interest.

'Mingi can I come in...' She asked sheepishly, a trembling hand giving her bandmate's door a light knock. 'We need to t-'

Without giving the anxiety riddled maknae a chance to explain the reason behind such a sudden intrusion the door swung open to reveal the man's annoyed expression, silently motioning for her to come in with a singular nod of his head. They had spent around two years building a close connection to one another yet now she stood awkwardly in front of his bed where he took a seat, fidgeting with the edges of a sweater he had let her borrow and was now long forgotten.

'So what do you want ?' He asked plainly, looking off to the side of the room. 'Can you make this quick...I was planning on going out soon.'

'Why have you been acting like a complete asshole lately ?' She blurted out, the honesty behind her question taking both parties aback. 'I mean...all of a sudden you just start ignoring me, not even talking to me unless you really have to...did I do something ?'

From sunrise to sunset, this moment... Why is my heart so void ?

With a clench of his jaw the man ran a ringed hand across his pursed lips, a heavy silence settling across the room whilst he looked for a way to phrase his answer though still not making an effort to meet her saddened eyes. The young woman however did not seem to have the same control over the emotions screaming inside her mind, all competing for dominance over one another, as she kept blinking to keep warm tears at bay.

'You're just too clingy.' Mingi finally spoke up. 'This is exactly why people start dating rumors...because you can't seem to stay away from me for a single second. I mean come on there's seven other members, can't you go bother one of them ?'

Everything I said was a lie... Everything right at this moment.

Deep down he wished to take the group's youngest into his arms, beg for her forgiveness regarding all the times he had made that beautiful smile falter, yet pushing her away seemed to be the only way to protect them both. Despite acting like he held not a singular regard towards how she felt, he could tell that the influx of negativity was slowly wearing her down and he could not let rumors about their alleged relationship contribute to this weight - no matter how much he wished for them to be true.

I gotta get outta fucking love...

'I just...' Too choked up to form more than a few words, Himari simply lowered her head. 'I'm sorry, this is my fault.'

The man's resolve was rapidly growing thin, the more rational parts of his conscience pleading for him to just explain everything, fully aware that she would understand, yet his tongue seemed to find harsher words by the moment. It had been months now since the realization that it was no longer simply friendship but love that he felt for the vocalist dawned on him, months since he had promised himself to do whatever was necessary to never let his heart feel this way.

'I knew adding a girl to this group was a mistake.' He spat out, a lump forming in his throat. 'If you got nothing else to say then get out, my hiatus is soon and I have to pack.'

I let you go like nothing happened... But then at the end of it all a piece of you still lingers.

Not willing to let tears fall in front of him no matter how deeply every single one of his coldly spoken statements cut, the young woman hurried out of the room and into the one she shared with the two oldest members. Within a moment of shutting the door her body slid down against the wooden surface, knees curling up to her chest as poorly silenced sobs echoed through the empty dorm.

Now left completely alone with the guilt of what he had just done, the rapper angrily hurled a nearby book at the wall as tears of his own stained the hand he had brought over his face. Everything aspect of his head was in complete disarray and nothing made sense anymore, not the reason behind his rash decisions, not the harshness of his words, not even his feelings towards someone he had sworn to their manager would never be anything more than a bandmate.

It will be empty, hopefully Then it will be filled again, even if it hurts. I'll eventually have to face reality I'm sure that it was just a dream deep inside my heart.

Himari would never find out that most of his hiatus was filled with days drowned in alcohol to forget everything that had taken place between them, to forget how much he wished to kiss her delicate lips and apologize a hundred times over.

Mingi would never be told the amount of days during which she had been woken up by anxiety induced nightmares believing that his mental struggles were her own fault, nor would anyone dare to mention the psychological diagnosis sitting on her desk where 'major depressive episode' was permanently engraved in ink.

At first the rapper's phone would light up with messages from the maknae every few days about the smallest things, though the fear of saying something stupidly hurtful stopped him from ever replying. In the midst of the hiatus' timeline however her name no longer appeared at the top of his screen in the morning and neither were aware of how often the other's finger hovered over their contact.

A/N: Please note that this in no way depicts the real reasons behind Mingi's hiatus (or his personality) nor is it the song's true meaning! It is simply a work of fiction and should be read as such. Thank you! ♡

[nomorefstogive]

Hi! 🦀 here thanks for answering my idea. Here's what I imagine what would Mania form! Chief would look like;

Credits to the original owner of the character Ping and the artist Neytirix! You should check out their arts in Twitter,yt, and deviant art (those are the only platform I know from now)

Basically I took the 'consume' in a literal way- like- in the future Mania form! Chief consume the first ever black ring(BR-000 if i remember it correctly) or consume the Mania in the city like those contamination, corpus, Corruptors etc. Probably the Sinners but instead their suffering or manic I guess? So yeah :D I hope your doing alright, drink plenty of water, gets some rest and good night

I like this design for their Mania form, something otherworldly and unnatural in form, wholly alien to our world and understanding, not quite solid, and yet not quite gaseous, a form of matter unknown to all making up a body that defies all other explanation beyond monstrous.

I can picture the Chief loosing control as the Mania overwhelms them, shadows and mist erupting from their form as they scream and howl in agony, the shackles burning with their pain as they begin to twist and distort into the monster pictured above, a howl slipping past the beasts lips as it surges towards BR-00, where it begins to feed on the power, culminating in a monstrous metamorphosis.

I like to imagine that they also possess a human form that they can switch into, after they achieve this state of Apotheosis, their eyes changing into the symbol of the Illusory Moon as the shackles coalesce into a halo above their head, wings of dark red and black, the colors of mania, mingled with the white and blue of Hypercubes mingled with the colors as they cast an ominous glow over the Chief's surroundings.

Part of this design is inspired by an idea I have that Mania is setting the chief up to be some form of Messianic figure to use as a means of securing dominance over the world, utilizing an angelic form to make them appear more divine to humanity, but I digress on that front.

This design makes me imagine their form as being more cosmic and otherworldly in nature even when human, the wings gaining an almost nebula like quality, the reds, blacks, blues, and whites mingling in constellations and galaxies.

Their hair becomes as comet trails, burning wisps of platinum gray light with the colors Mania and Hypercubes, of Madness and Order, reflecting from within the trails of light as the hair lengthens to caress their heels with each step, their skin gaining a faint glow as their clothing mends of any damage as they begin to walk towards their Sinners, their arms outstretched as though to embrace them as their eyes blaze with power undreamt of by mortals.

I feel this change would also manifest in their mentality warping, where as the human form embodies their desire for order and stability, along with their juvenile state, with the Mania form and their altered human state representing their growth into their own desires and mania, perhaps not quite their adult hood, but the middle ground between the pair, or mayhap a fusion of both Mania and Order.

The changes of their personality could be something as mild as them becoming more selfish, more determined to achieve their own happiness amidst the world, to something as major as them becoming near tyrannical in their views of matters, disdainful of those they cannot shackle and bind to them, and seeking to spread mania to all so that they may bind all to them.

In addition to this, I feel that their powers would alter, the normal Protestats, I think I spelled that right, growing to nightmarish levels of power, a Dark Sound becomes enough to level buildings, an Empower can recharge entire squadrons of Sinners, and a Last Stand, can make an entire legion fight like the hounds of hell made flesh and bone.

The Mania form would likely possess not only these powers, but also the ability to feed upon the Mania of the Sinners and to copy and or utilize said Sinner's powers as their own, something their human form would share to a lesser extent.

A towering monster of Mania is already a loathsomely powerful foe, but one that can call forth Ignis's flames along with Kelvin's ice to cause temperature explosions brought about by super cooling and then super heating the air, along with Chameleon's Hypnotic powers and Adele's ability to alter Memories to insure that none would even be aware of just who or what they were fighting unless the beast wished the m to be, perhaps even erasing its presence entirely until it is ready to strike.

There is also the fact that having absorbed so much Mania, it is likely the Chief would be giving off enough mania to turn any person in an enormous radius around them into either a sinner or a corruptor, with the sinners being the only ones able to draw near to them, their Mania monster form would likely have a radiation field of Mania able to effortlessly envelop all of Dis in its grasp and begin to contaminate all of those present.

Beyond all of that, I feel like this transformation would mark the beginning of a complete and total breakdown of Dis as Paradeisos and the Underground are faced with the the Chief's control over Mania and Sinners, along with their own power, reaching the point of being able to challenge both of them with ease as they become the one ready to flip the chessboard betwixt the two factions as they make their own play for Dis.

Would the Chief's actions be born out of malice?

Unlikely.

But as the saying goes, "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions," and one can only imagine what the Chief would do in pursuit of any noble goal with their mind and form altered such.

Like it or not, a new age would dawn for Dis and the world as a whole, and only time would tell if it would be a Golden age, or a Cruel Age.

At least that is all I have at the moment lol, sorry for the rambling, I got carried away again.

Take care and stay safe.

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

First meetings between the Chief and the Drake

Tim honesty doesn’t know why he has to work with The Chief (or whatever the hell he’s called back in good ol’ Fawcett)

Why does an entire pseudo family of magic users even have a tech guy??

“They have useful information on the group were dealing with Tim,” rang-out Oracle’s heavily disguised voice. Ready for further hide her identity behind the screen to his left for when the expected Marvel finds his way to the Bat-cave. “With all the magic issues we already have to power through without outside assistance I think its nice we have more to rely on than just Zatanna or Jason whenever they’re in town.”

Tim fidgeted in the Bat-chair, swishing the tea Alfred made for him earlier in his mug. “I know but the whole family is a deck of wild cards, how do six people capable of taking on Superman on an off day just pop out of the woodwork with no history other than ancient the kind Babs?” Tim took another once over of the cave security cams and aerial footage of the manor’s surroundings, “We only found out about the rest of the family two weeks ago because of that shitty Luthor-Sivanna team up, Cap has a whole team hidden away in his city or that Rock place he mentions once in a blue moon and he never mentioned there being more of him.” Tim flew his empty hand up in the air, “and now Bruce is pulling his hair out trying to research what his now a minor pantheon of ‘heroes that are probably weird ass new gods’ and is going grey-er than normal finding nothing!”

At the end of that mini rant Tim could feel the disinterested, patient look from behind Barbra’s monitor, “Got the bats out of the cave now?”

“Is that some kind of family saying?” Questioned a voice from the nearby medical platform, The Chief had bypassed cave security at some point unknown to Tim.

Good god Bruce needs some anti magic runes or something…

“Oh!” The man startled when Tim head snapped to his direction, hovering in front of the door of a containment room or when they need to hold someone infected with anything from new fear gas to a zombie virus.

Why is he just floating there? Shouldn’t he be by the elevator or the Zetta tube if he just got here?

“Sorry, I’m uh- heh,” he hovered down closer to the Bat-computer, one hand rubbing his neck nervously and the other in mock surrender. “Cap said I needed to pop by to pass on what we know on Dionysian cult practices and what the stuff you guys found exactly does?”

There was a tense moment, one normally shared between vaguely Batman like heroes and vaguely Superman like heroes. Where one looks the other over studying for the slightest hint of evidence to their theories in everything about them, their form, the choice in costume design, the body language, to even the slightest hair out of place. All done in a fraction of a second to not force the subject of the inspection into trying to hide anything after the fact, all while the other acts so painfully normal and human that it throws every speculation out the window. Too nervous in the face of a mortal man to be anything approximating an immortal being or god, but proven to be far too strong to be anything but.

His proclaimed older brother wiped the floor with a Superman infected by red kryptonite. He broke the man of steels arm and bruised multiple ribs subduing him so that he wouldn’t knock down another building. The Captain had been able to catch up to and outrun Wally when a bomb got strapped to his wrist and disarmed it while still flying faster than the man could run. None of the Marvels have documented limits in all the battles they’ve joined the league on, short of the minor annoyance of a magical attack. One of them is the dictator of a small country. They pop in and out of existence for superhero duties on a whim. Good god Bruce why did you have to rub this specific paranoia onto me?

“I’m going to hazard a guess and say our magic friend has arrived?” Oracles distorted voice snapped him from staring the lanky hero down, just now noticing the outstretched hand waiting to shake his. Turning back to the monitor Tim replied a curt, “He’s here.” Ignoring the childishly dejected look of the possibly thousands years old or freshly spawned being of magic to his right.

“So,” the hero in grey clapped his hands, “I can just upload the data we’ve got on them to the Bat-Computer here and just head out for you guys to do your, uh, Bat…thing?”

“That would be be-”

“Do you have the files physically on hand, on a drive, or on another device we’ll have to link to the computer?” Oracle interjected, startling both men.

“Oh, uh, well…” he began flexing and un-flexing his fingers, “I can literally kinda just, well I can basically upload everything I know in my head to what you’ve got here?” Probably realizing how odd even that sounded he rushed to clarify, “I-I’m basically like a magic technopath or whatever it's called, I can talk to machines and control them to a degree. Not like flinging keyboards with my mind or talking politics with a toaster levels of talk but I can just y’know,” he gestured between his head and the many screens, “Take what's up here that you need and put it in here?”

The man gave a unsure and lopsided grin, as if hearing how near absurd it sounded to have the ability to mix two polar systems together so seamlessly to be as simple as a data transfer between a computer and a human maybe human mind with magic. A force that has famously never worked well with modern machines or technology without major repercussions or those machines fusing with the person trying to mix them, the closest they’ve gotten that doesn’t instantly mutate the user or straight up explode is when Cyborg connects to New Gods Tech and even then its a gamble of if he can do anything with it or if it will infect him with some kind of virus.

He’s nervous mentioning it but he has an air of confidence like hes done this before, but also as if its common knowledge for him but something to withhold from Red Robin. Tim wonders if this is a universal power for his “family” but replays how he phrased it in his mind, he only said “I” and not “we”, it’s most likely a power specific to him or only he’s been able to master.

[missedmilemarkers]

When Opportunity Calls… A Musician’s Tale of a Potential Scam and How to Protect Yourself

My Background: From Internet Security to Photography

Before I became a full-time photographer, I spent years working in internet security for some of the biggest names in the industry. I’ve seen firsthand the types of schemes people fall for, and while it might seem shocking to me, it’s important to understand that anyone can be caught off guard. There’s no shame in it, and you should never feel embarrassed if it happens to you. That’s why I’m offering a free service to anyone who wants it—if someone is asking you for money in any form, consult with me first. I’ll help you determine if the offer is legitimate or a potential scam.

The Call That Almost Hooked Me

It started with a phone call—one that seemed like just another cold sales pitch. You know the type—someone claiming to have stumbled across my music and expressing an almost over-the-top level of admiration. They had a proposition, one that sounded too good to pass up. But as the conversation progressed, red flags began to pop up. Here’s a dramatized version of how it went down:

The Fictional Conversation: "An Offer You Can’t Refuse?"

Scammer: “Hello! I recently came across your music and was absolutely blown away by your talent. We’re launching a new platform for emerging musicians and would love to feature your work. We’re even willing to pay you upfront—$500 just to start!”

Musician (Me): “That sounds interesting! Could you tell me more about your platform? What’s it called?”

Scammer: “Of course! We’re called ‘HyperCompuGlobalMegaTech,’ a new but rapidly growing platform. Our goal is to showcase the best emerging talents. We’re so impressed with your music that we’re willing to cover all your costs, including studio time, to produce exclusive tracks for us.”

Musician (Me): “That’s quite generous. I’d love to learn more about your business. Could you provide some references or connect me with other artists you’ve worked with?”

Scammer: “Oh, we’re still building our roster, so most of our artists are new and haven’t been featured widely yet. But trust me, the exposure you’ll get is invaluable! We’re also offering a bonus—an additional $1,000 if you can produce new music for us within the next month. And guess what? We’ll even give you access to a top-tier recording studio!”

Musician (Me): “This sounds almost too good to be true. I’ll need to verify your business name and do some research first.”

Scammer: “There’s no time for that! Opportunities like this don’t come around often. We’re offering you a once-in-a-lifetime chance! If you wait, we might have to move on to another artist. Let’s move this conversation to WhatsApp so we can finalize the details more quickly.”

Musician (Me): “I understand, but I’ll need to be cautious. Could you provide some form of verification outside of our communication?”

Scammer: “Look, we believe in you and your talent, and we’re just trying to help you grow. Don’t overthink it! You’re missing out on a huge opportunity here.”

Breaking Down the Warning Signs:

Verification of Business: Always verify the business name and check for congruence in their information. Legitimate businesses will be happy to provide proof of their operations and connect you with others in their network.

Escalating Offers: If the offer keeps getting sweeter without you even asking, this is a major red flag. Real opportunities are often competitive, and businesses rarely need to persuade someone this aggressively.

Pressure Tactics: Scammers thrive on creating urgency. If you feel rushed to make a decision, take a step back. Legitimate opportunities don’t disappear overnight.

Transfer of Communication: Shifting the conversation to a different platform, especially one that’s less secure, can be a tactic to avoid tracking and accountability.

Too Good to Be True: Ask yourself—am I hoping for something too perfect? If the opportunity seems like it could solve all your problems at just the right time, it’s worth scrutinizing.

A Cautionary Tip:

If you find yourself in a situation like this, one of the best ways to buy yourself time is to use a polite excuse. Say something like, “I’m sorry, my significant other just walked in,” or “I just got in the car and I cannot speak right now” This will give you the time you need to step back and evaluate the situation—and reach out to someone like me for help.

My Photography Business:

It’s not unusual for me to be approached about selling my artwork. I’ve sold many pictures to a wide variety of clients, and all of my work is presented on a very unique metal canvas. Whenever a buyer is interested in my work, I dictate the terms. If I have a metal print on hand of the item, it’s yours. If I don’t, I will get it produced and delivered directly to you—guaranteed. Every genuine buyer has always agreed to my terms, and I know the value of what I’m offering. My snapshots are unique moments in time that can only be from me and no one else.

P.S. For those who might have missed it, “HyperCompuGlobalMegaTech” is a little nod to The Simpsons—because even when discussing something serious, it’s okay to have a laugh.

A Free Offer to Help You Stay Safe:

If you’ve ever received a similar offer or if you’re currently in the middle of one, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m offering free consultations to help you determine if what you’re dealing with is legitimate or a potential scam. With my background in internet security, I can provide you with the tools and knowledge to protect yourself.

Conclusion:

Remember, not every incredible opportunity is a scam, but if something feels off, trust your instincts. A little caution can go a long way in protecting your hard-earned work and reputation. And if you ever need a second opinion, I’m here to help. Together, we can ensure that when opportunity knocks, it’s the real deal.

Get Involved:

Have you ever encountered a situation like this? Share your story in the comments, and let’s start a conversation about staying safe in the digital world!