#its my GOD GIVEN RIGHT to put two of the same character in a room together and see if they kill each other

[satorimachine]

hey guess what day it is. hey. hey guys guess wh

[i-smoke-chapstick]

‘WILDFLOWER AND BARLEY,

-GOTHAM!EDWARD NYGMA X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Sometimes you don’t think you deserve him….other times, you think it’s for the best that you stay.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!riddler x female reader. SMUT AND ANGST!! reader is toxic, but eddie is too, so its ok. eddy being vanilla but also strangely dominant. guys this fic is FILTHY. also,, part 3 to gotham characters eating you out. takes place with like season 2 eddy, post kringle. Did i write a fic inspired by a Hozier song that isn’t even released yet? yes. readers taking advantage of eddy. but also, eddy is more than willing to give. kind of a character study. im so sorry if i made reader too mean ive had this idea for a week😭

fic requested by @clementine-writes-things <3

♫ “My coffee black in my bed at 3 / You’re too sweet for me. You’re too sweet for me.” Wildflower and Barley by Hozier

You’d fucked up, majorly.

God, what were you thinking?

Edward Nygma, the quirky forensics guy. The loon, as your fellow officers eloquently put it. And you didn’t necessarily disagree. He was certainly a peculiar fellow. He had always a thing for…what was her name? Kristen Kringle. That was it. You’d been working with him for years, watching him moon after her. You could…understand the appeal, you guessed. She had a sexy sixties librarian type of thing going for her. She kept to herself. Maybe you should’ve done the same. She’d dissapeared a few weeks ago.

You somehow landed yourself in the bed of Edward Nygma. You’d been hooking up…For the past two weeks in a row. No judgement, yeah?

It started as a joke. You and the other officers, chatting with beers and obnoxious comments towards the other tools in the GCPD. Jim Gordon…Harvey Bullock. The way the men couldn’t seem to keep their mouthes shut, especially Jim.

Well, you’d gotten plenty tipsy, staying after work. You pummled those beers back like it was your last night alive. And hell, living in gotham? As an officer? It very well could be.

They were all drunk and laughing out of their minds. Anything anyone said seemed overly funny. Especially when one of your fellow cops brought up the name, “Nygma” like the name was it’s own disease.

“You think Y/N could sleep with him?”

“Yeah, Y/N, go fuck the loon. I wonder what it’s like.”

“You think he says riddles when hes cumming?”

“Whats long, hard, and has ‘cum’ in the middle?”

The numerous voices of your “friends” rung out, and in the moment, drunk out if your mind, you too thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

“I could do it.” You affirmed, alcohol giving you the liquid courage you wouldn’t typically have. After the “oooooo”ing from some of your coworkers, you decided, fuck it. Edward was tall, had nice cheekbones, and was smart. You could do worse than a one night stand.

So you confidently marched into that forensics room, high on the dare the other cops had given you.

You found him, looking into one of the forensics mirrors. He was muttering to himself and you snorted. Weirdo. Oh well.

He pushed up his glasses when you two made eye contact. He was sweating, for some reason, in that lanky labcoat and rubber-gloved hands. He stood up straight and went rigid when he saw you.

“Ms. L/N-“ He was about to question, when you rammed your lips onto his. You remember it like yesterday- how hesitant he was. The way he parted for air, breathing wildly at you. He kept trying to ask questions the whole time you were eagerly undressing him. But he didn’t seem to mind your fowardness.

Well, just your luck, that one night stand was the best fuck of your life. The way his cock fitted perfectly into your body, like it was made for your cunt alone. You two fucked on the forensics cabinets, your coworkers in the next room over, and it was exhilarating. Especially when the usually reserved Ed got unusually rough, pulling your hair and smacking your ass just right.

By the time you two were done…you were fucked out of your mind. Pleasantly surprised.

Since then, you hadn’t been able to get away. You told the cops it was vanilla, and reveled in their dismay. But…you came back for seconds. And then thirds. And then fourths. And then you couldn’t remember the last time you woke up in your own bed.

And just as if you were Kristen…he started following you. Your coworkers snickered. You’d see homemade cupcakes left on your desk. You’d catch him staring at you from the other side of the precint. You writhed under his gaze. For a man with not much expirence, he was obnoxiously good at sex. And he was even more obnoxiously good at not understanding the meaning of coworkers with benefits, and not a relationship.

But…mornings like these? You can’t complain.

Taking yourself back to the present, you awoke in his bed. The sunlight of the open windows bled through your eyelids, and you felt yourself smack your lips. You blinked yourself awake, same as you always did. You shifted underneath the covers, which had been neatly adjusted over you. It was infuriatingly comfortable. You let a yawn escape your lips.

“Ah, good! You’re awake!” You heard his voice chime, far off in the kitchen. You looked up, seeing his tall frame. He stared at you adoringly, and you felt your heart pang.

He carried a tray of coffee and breakfast. You sat up. It was the usual morning routine. He made the most exquisite breakfasts for you.

“A necessity to some, a treasure to many. I’m best enjoyed among pleasant company. Some like me hot, some like me cold. Some prefer me mild, others prefer me bold. What am I?” He spoke the riddle quickly.

You blinked at him, tired. You shrugged nonchalantly.

He made his way over to you, swiftly and delicatley placing the tray in your lap.

“Coffee.” He looked a bit dissapointed at your lack of answer, but brightened back up instantly. “Almost black, not quite. 1 Sugar. No cream. Just how you like it.” He noted, and it was in this moment, you felt the weight of your actions. He’d memorized everything about you. Whatever records you liked, he’d play softly. He’d learned your favorite flavor cupcake, and how you took your coffee. Gods, he’d even bought the brand of toothpaste you had at your house, so it was familiar brushing your teeth in the morning.

You squinted, adjusting yourself to the sunlight of the room. Golden. You felt the weight of the tray, and met his gaze. God, it was intense. The way his big, puppy dog like eyes harrowed in on you. Like you were the world.

He was practically wagging his tail, watching you take a slow sip of coffee. He wanted praise, as though perfected it, finally.

He was too sweet for you. You didn’t deserve any of this. But selfishly…you couldn’t resist.

You gave him a small nod in approval, letting the liquid glide down your throat. Damn it, The coffee was perfect.

He positioned himself next to you on the bed, sitting, legs crossed. He looked at you almost creepily, eyes never leaving as you finished your breakfast and coffee. You didn’t say a word to him, but you did listen to him ramble quite a bit. Every now and then he’d ask a casual question, and you’d stay silent, or give him a one worded answer. You’d see his smile falter, but he’d continue.

When you were done, he’d grab the tray from your hands. You let him do the work for you. You liked his bed. He came back, eyes big and bright. He sat once more, looking at you expectantly. You furrowed your brows.

“…What?”

He shrugged, giving a slightly nervous, manic giggle. You cringed a bit, but faltered when you felt his fingertips glide across your thigh.

Oh. Thats what.

“…We have work in an hour.” You replied. The mantra played in your head. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve him. You felt guilty.

“I’ll be quick.” He affirmed, peeling the covers back. Oh, fuck it. Who were you to deny him?

He didn’t lie, he was fast. The covers exposed your skin, still undressed from the previous night. You felt the cool air on your thighs and pussy, and couldn’t help it. You caved.

In an instant, he was worshipping your legs, working his way up. He kept eye contact with you, laying gentle bites and pecks into the plush of your skin.

He kissed his way up, tonguing the bite marks he left in his wake. You shivered when his lips hovered over your pussy. He wasted no time. No, he didn’t tease you, he needed to please you as quickly as he could. It was a need for him.

His tongue came into contact with your pussy lips, and you shivered. Instinctivley, you threaded your hands through his morning messy hair, and shoved his face into you. He reciprocated instantly, wanting nothing more than to make you feel good. He licked up and down, tongue flicking gently on your cute little pearl of a clit.

He circles it and taps it with his tongue, saliva dripping and mixing with your juices. His movements are quick and calculated, and he indulges you, body and soul. He hums in pleasure when you arch your back up into him uncontrollably. It’s almost uncharacteristic- the way he switches from being so soft and gentle, to practically making out with your pussy. You feel his fingers dig into your thighs, like he’s a whole different person when he’s mouth fucking you.

Your moaning and shaking, saying his name over and over. Somehow, your getting off to this. To the idea you don’t deserve him. That he’s such a nicer, better, smarter person than you. And although he doesn’t vocalize it, you wonder if he strangely shares the sentiment.

It’s almost like he knows. Like he’s self-aware- of all your selfish thoughts. Like this, him eating you out, him on his knees for you, making you breakfast in bed- is some sort of revenge.

He knows what he’s doing. He’s making you feel awful, guilty for your mistreatment of him- by giving you more and more of him. And you find yourself cumming in his mouth at the thought.

He greedily laps at your swollen clit, overstimulating you. You let out a loud yelp, and he keeps going, only for a few more seconds.

It’s weird. He’s weird. But as you sober up from your orgasm, shaking underneath him, you brush those strange thoughts from your head.

You look into his gentle eyes again, watching him ramble off apologies. You two will most definitely be late to work. You scold yourself. Why would you think such an odd thing? No, he’s a complete sweetheart. Not a degrading bone in his body. You think.

Yet…you still feel the bruises forming on your thighs. And the burning guilt of using him.

You left his aparment in a hurry, driving yourself insane. You seem to convice yourself it was a weird orgasm thought, maybe you’re more kinky than you thought; for some pseudo pyschological self degradtion.

You go to the precint, just as you do every other day. The work is effectively still just as boring and your peers are still just as insufferable.

You’re given a few files by some mysoginistic cop you haven’t aquainted yourself with, who obviously assumed you were the new record keeper. You snort, but decide to take it. You browse over the files, snooping. They are forensic files, and your heart drops. Ah. You’ll have to give these to him.

You enter the forensic room without knocking- at least, you’re about to. But you hear him mumbling to himself, and decide to listen in for a moment. Curiosity getting the best of you.

“You’re too good to her.” You hear him argue with…himself? “You need to show her whose in charge.”

“I am!” He retaliates to his own voice.

“By making her coffee?” He snarls, and your brows furrow. He smashes a file cabinet closed loudly. You jump.

“Yes!” Ed’s voice growls out, fed up. “If you were smart enough to understand-“ He begins, and you’ve heard enough. You enter the room.

Ed looks at you bewildered, and you look at the same. He’s sweating, and his hair is in dissaray. You two make eyecontact and you grimace. What the hell?

You hardly register what he was actually saying, and more that he was having a seemingly very heated conversation with himself. You watch him fumble with his glasses.

“…Ed?” You question, and he snaps.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is quick and sharp. Thats uncharacteristic. You wince.

“Uh, files.” You nod to the papers in your hands, and he blinks, standing up straight. He clears his throat.

“Right.” He recovers, quickly. You narrow your eyes at him, and hum, giving them to him. He’s about to speak, but you rush yourself out of the room, heart pounding.

He is weird. He is a freak. You chime. Your coworkers have been right.

Any shred of pity you had for him has dwindled significantly, and you mull it over in your mind.

Maybe you do deserve eachother, You think. You’re the best he’s going to get.

[sinkableruby]

the shiori ED in owarimonogatari ge kills me, but theres a very specific part of it that really gets my attention

right before the first verse there's a little flash in this box that shows an object relating to the arc character

its interesting to see the items for each of them. mayoi's bag is there, and the first thing you notice is that she's not. her bag feels almost synonymous with her, so it almost gives the impression she's left it behind, possibly for a new stage in her life (as it were). hitagi's apartment building is shown, and what i think might be araragi's house next to it. but they're so small that they look like models more than anything, which i feel relates to how these homes are things that are precious to her, they are things she wants to protect. maybe theres something to be said about the home as it relates to family too, and family being very much a big thing to her arc. and maybe theres something to be said about mayoi's thing being "something to protect" too

whats the object in ougi dark, then?

oh. hi ougi

guys im so not normal about this. putting ougi in the same room where the other two had objects that were important/synonymous with them. its because ougi darks ED is for ougi BUT its also for araragi (and shinobu, its about all 3 of them), so its araragis "thing to protect/that is important to/synonymous with him."

but also like. this is also like the only time in the show that we see ougi in any state even approaching nudity, and not just that, ougi is actually naked here (except for the sleeves). and that coupled with the kind of huddled pose really makes this feel like a very vulnerable moment, and a very very significant thing. its saying many things at once. it's saying conception, it's showing you the big bad but not so big and not so bad, its showing you the weakness in a character who has rarely shown anything like vulnerability or weakness, who is still haunting araragi (see the sleeves and the like "gonna get you" hands lol) to the bitter end.

and like if you look closely you can see a little smile which is standard for ougi but like. the hollowed eyes (more ghastly now when theyre white). the inward hunch. the lack of clothes besides the sleeves, that are stylized to look jagged like claws. this is a creature born with a purpose, a creature born to hurt. but this is also obviously a creature who is alone and feeble and Should Be Helped Not Killed for fucks sake lol.

and not just a creature but a person! ougi is armored in layers of separating clothes all the time but this shot is kind of groundbreaking bc it showing that like. she is really just like anyone else. the fronting is very much a front. she, the fake, has Substance. there's a very real person underneath those big sleeves.

and also since the shot is really only for half a second, ougi fades away very quickly. its very much a blink and youll miss it. but that fading away really feels like a flash of vulnerability before she fades away Forever. as in, it's a parallel to her almost final moments. but the fading away in particular feels ghost-ish. not to mention later in the ED shes even wearing like a ghost outfit.

and. god. if that isn't just.

idk. something about. being alive but not really. being a ghost. not long for this world and resigned to it. being so resigned to it you wear it and use that to represent yourself. making it a part of you. and then later being given a life. becoming able to live. idk yk. idk its just , yk its just ,

[the-sun-princess]

Emi Plays Revue Starlight: El Dorado Part 8

Claudine and Futaba route time. I feel bad for Futaba even when she's one of the leads she's not the lead she auditioned for

d;awwww futaba is so excited to be alejandro she's hoppin around like a kid. she's being SO cute

ooh right i forgot i guessed the casting for this one before lesse if i got it right kaoruko: isabel, maya: miguel, karen: carmencita, mahiru: cavallero, junna: luigi, nana: columbus

for the mahiru route i guessed junna: isabel, karen: miguel, claudine: carmencita, maya: cavallero, futaba: luigi, kaoruko: colombus

alright onward. oh i got kaoruko right. and maya. and karen hehehe

snfjskjdfh. starlight el dorado. where mahiru laughs at everyone Else being jealous

lmao kaoruko asking if claudine will be fine playing against someone other than maya since that's where a lot of her motivation stems from

KJHSKDJFHKJ them all going 'aaah' as that makes perfect sense ksjdfh

girl. you at least Were

writers i think u prob meant stagefighting

i'm kinda shocked that futaba has Already given kaoruko the keys to her bike bc it means she can't drive it anymore unless kaoruko's with her

snort random interlude with sakuragi sensei havin a cool bike. akjhskjfhsd???????/

guess that friend never came back lets hope thats not a portent for kaotaba's future

anyway now futaba has it for the summer. idky sakuragi asked if futaba had a motorcycle license bc....obviously...she does?

claudine is not exactly thrilled to be on a 40+ yo bike futaba has never ridden before but too bad

ah these helmets have intercoms, but futaba's dont bc expensive

awwww.....no revenge this time just. thankful and wanting to show it off

also translators yankee means more like delinquent than american

this is by far the sweetest after-casting scene aha. i love their friendship. claudine does Not like going fast tho lmao

i still think its funnny in the kaomaya route that kaoruko does 0 extra lifting with english interpretation

das not her name localizers kjfh

why is this even wrong- its the same lines as in the other routes so far akjshfd

claudine wants to get sunscreen before going to the beach but futaba's like NAH lets go lets go. I MEAN. she has a point

huh. these two went to a wharf. i do like that they're all unique beaches thus far

futaba really did have the roughest time of all of them originally. i know mahiru lacks confidence but she's never been Bad at any of it. futaba barely managed to get in

i like that futaba put in sound effects for their etude lmao. ah right this is before the royal academy comes so they didnt know there could be a fly system yet

snort

im so confused i went back to make Sure that futaba auditioned for salvatore and she did- so im kinda surprised there's been no mention of that?

lol amemiya and masai pickin up on the teacher-student vibes of claudine n futaba. i am sitting here going can i pls get a crumb of rinmeikan

kjshkdjfh

ah futaba's not keeping up with judy's ad lib. tho claudines character voice also slipped at first and i didnt catch anyone else doing that. maybe it's bc their set up has been so fluffy wuffy friendshippy

junna was p antagonistic toward karen which pulled karen along, and kaoruko and maya arent. fluffy people in general

god im excited for the mahiru nana version

maya u have 0 right to talk about others being brutish on stage

harsh but true

kjsfdkjshdkjfh

awww :)

mm they going over it again since Both claudine and futaba got caught off guard. claudines settled and is matching judy but poor futaba is fallin behind

futaba watchin claudine n judy hit it off and match each other and suddenly she's a first year again barely keeping up

.....do bandaids expire? but locker room kaotaba time

skjsdhf ok kaoruko's just makin shit up

futaba you dont need to keep Up with knightly. u gotta surpass her

interesting....judy wasnt called over from rehearsal to update the props team from england. just startin there

oh was my mahiru guess right. yes it was haha. tho they were pretty easy casting patterns to pick up on

mm masai and amemiya arent satisfied...oh good. futaba admitting she's not okay. aaaah yeah okay this is what i thought was happening. while claudine and judy are performing the scene perfectly as written. it's not meshing well with futaba

futaba headin off on her own to go train....even tho claudines getting all the crit for not keeping up with futaba's passion lmao

kaoruko was right tho at the beginning lmao. of claudine not pullin out all the stops bc she's not against maya.

kaoruko ajkshdf

oh she gave claudine the script for the next starlight- thats surprising. but yeah lol claudine got complacent she beat maya, she's already set to join the troupe, what else she need

akjsfdh masai came along too?

CLAUDINE AND FUTABA ARE SWAPPING ROLES????? hell yeah futaba DOES get to be salvatore. tho rip team b this is way worse a setback than the other two routes. claudine and futaba are no where near each others sizes

the routes do get more complicated as u go down them im Glad i saved mahiru for last

also rip amemiya since masai sprung this on her with no warning ksjhdjf and this is again. a lot more work than them just skippin off to do extra training. i mean theyre still doing that but akjhjsdhf an actual Reason to restart production. akjhskjdfh she's angy

asbdfnbsmdf everyone else is fine with it.

OK amemiya u already had a swapped script goin anyway jhghg

oh new monologue here about revenging starlight. im p sure junkaren n kaomayas were essentially the same this is v diff

ok lesbians

jkhzkjxh yeah

ok do u communicate tho lol

masai's cup ramen flavor for this route

p sure most of this was in the kaomaya route but it still cute

ah image limit. tsk. i am kinda doin this one in one go tho

<<part 7 part 9>>

[serivory]

A Run for One’s Pudding

A Mono and Runaway Kid drabble that was inspired by a random writing prompt (granted, it consisted of two words only). But this was pretty fun to write nonetheless. Helped me develop their dynamic a bit better and put my own depiction of the characters out there. Though, there are few things to note before you start reading so I wouldn’t recommend skipping this part. They’re not referred to as “Mono” or “RK/Seven/etc.” here. Check their names listed below: Mono = Fib Runaway Kid = Feo That is all. NOW you can read. xD

━━ ⋆✵⋆ ━━

Food was never served on a silver platter, especially when you were predestined to become someone’s dinner should you waltz into the wrong room at the wrong time. The gaffers of the ship exercised no restraint in fulfilling their duty through whatever means as either a chef, a janitor, or the Geisha herself. Long story short, food never came by easily. If it did, then pigs may very well start flying.

However…the surplus of sugar and fruit sitting on the table for all to see was an exception.

The urge to purloin the plated delicacy was TEMPTING I tell ya. Fib stared at the banana pudding in all of its glory through the eyeholes of his paper bag, trying to concoct a brilliant plan to grab the glass bowl without anyone noticing. Feo, however, threw caution to the wind and was going in without much of a warning or preamble. The boy blew past Fib, which caught the poor soul off guard and rendered him speechless for a good few seconds. He wasn’t given time to say anything in protest when Feo was already pulling himself up on one of the legs of the chair, shoving his foot in the small divots etched onto the wood (which was proven useful as it facilitated the process in climbing up the chair).

Fib sputtered incoherently in confusion, looking upon the shackled boy in disbelief. Aaaaaahhhhh to heck with it. If Feo was going in without a plan, then Fib may as well do the same. With a sigh, he followed in pursuit, scaling up the chair leg, his eyes trained on the other lad who was taking the lead by a large margin. MAN can he move! Fib could’ve sworn that the shackle bound to Feo’s ankle would’ve served as a hindrance, but.. apparently not.

The paper-bag’ed boy ascended up the ladder-back backrest, pressing the soles of his feet against the splintered wood to launch himself towards the table. For a solid moment, he felt like he was flying, gravity’s efforts in taking a hold of him being all for naught as he soared through the air without a care in the world, paying no mind to the altitudinous distance between him and the floor. He was certain that he would make it to the table, only for the realization that he was about to crash into it at full force dawning on him a moment too late. And crash, he did. He smacked into the edge of the table, the impact knocking the air right out of him.

Ooooooh…that looked like it hurt. Feo grimaced, and a pained expression made itself at home on his face. He made haste towards the bagged boy, offering a hand—that of which Fib gratefully took as he was still reeling from the ever-painful mishap. That was going to hurt tomorrow…

“You okay…?”

“. …Yeah…” The strain in Fib’s voice could’ve told otherwise. He was…just gonna lie down…yeah…wAIT no, he simply couldn’t! They had a heist to pull, and he wasn’t going down with a fight. But gOD that hurt like a bi-

“Okay…you take one side, I take the other.” Feo motioned the other boy over, who was making a speedy recovery (surprisingly enough). With stuttered breaths, Fib crouched down so he could easily slip his hands underneath the bowl, which was a lot heavier than he thought it would be. Thankfully, the burden was shared among both him and Feo, so it wasn’t as overbearing as first expected. But it was heavy nonetheless, and they were very small.

But underestimating these two would be a fatal mistake on anyone’s end. They sure packed a punch coupled by something they’ve never fallen short of… *jazz hands* strategy! Or at least some semblance of one.

“Alright…ready? One…two…one...two…”

With every hushed ‘one’, both Fib and Feo moved the foot closest to the edge in sync. And with every ‘two’, the other foot followed. It was a steady, cadenced process that worked wonders. Before they knew it, they’ve reached the very edge. Now…getting down from the table posed yet another challenge. This pudding better be worth all this effort…or Fib would’ve nigh-broken a few ribs for nothing.

His body felt strained, as did their chances of making a seamless escape with the giant bowl of pudding. And to make matters worse, footsteps were approaching, slow and lugging; surely belonged to the fat simpletons—whose minds dwelled on nothing else aside from their stomach—that often roamed around the ship. Oh no, those fat and ugly guests weren’t scoring this viand of a treat before he and Feo were. After everything they’ve been through, they should at least have THIS. Maybe for once, they could rest easy on a full stomach.

━━ ⋆✵⋆ ━━

They made it…

Not unscathed, as eluding the rapid guests on foot whilst holding a heavy glass bowl proved to be a dilemma in itself. But, they were able to get away with not-so-rotten luck. Fib never pictured their “seamless” escape with a lot of holes and loose threads, but he was satisfied with the outcome nonetheless as he sallied forth with Feo and their score towards an empty room.

Well…I wouldn’t say empty, seeing how the first to greet them were a couple of nomes. Though I wouldn’t say greet either, since they scurried off and dashed for the nearest hiding spot the moment Fib and Feo entered the room. The pair deposited the bowl down onto the floor, Feo kicking a pesky sausage away in the process.

Alas! What Fib thought was a false hope built on paper-thin chances of survival became a reality. They’d gotten away with nabbing a bowl of pudding. While this seemed trivial to any outside observer who knew not of the barbaric circumstances they were born in, it was a feather in the pair’s cap. Not only was this another success under their belt, it proved that they could work well together as a team. Yes, there were flaws in a few of their methods (e.g. Feo running in without a plan), but not everything was bound to go as swimmingly as one would expect. Besides, things turned out, didn’t they?

Feo took a moment to catch his breath, the toll this heist had taken on his body finally hitting him with the force of a bullet train. A small “heeeyyy..!!” caught his attention, his gaze redirecting towards the boy donning a paper bag.

“. .You okay..?” It was obvious that Feo was just as spent as Fib was, but it wouldn’t hurt asking.

Feo nodded—which was more of a tired bob of his head. “Y.. Yeah…I just need to uh.. sit down,” There were no chairs in sight. “Oooor not. I’ll…I’ll lean,” He props his hand up against the wall, which now served as a support beam. However, that did little to stave off the exhaustion in his weary arms and legs and he felt himself slipping with every passing second. “Or just…straight up collapse…” Aaaaaaaand onto the floor he went.

Fib felt bad for laughing, but he was relieved that it didn’t draw any offense from the other boy sprawled on the floor, who too found himself spiraling into a fit of laughter ( albeit, breathy having been worn to a frazzle). The bagged lad strolled on over to Feo’s side, taking a seat on the floor next to him. It was obvious what their next course of action was, but neither had the energy to get up and find a utensil of the sort. Not like they had the time to snag a cutlery or two while dodging guests that rampaged the halls like there was no tomorrow.

Fib casted his unseen gaze down at the other boy, paying heed to every minute detail about him. The way his chest rose and fell with every steady breath, his arms resting on either side of his head, and his long fringe sticking to his forehead with sweat. Fib hesitated for a hot second as he reached a hand towards Feo’s face, combing his fingers through his bangs by means of brushing them back a bit. With every strand of hair cleared away, he could get a good view of the clandestine top half of the boy’s face. Feo’s eyes slid open, like curtains parting to reveal a chartreuse mise-en-scène, embodying an untouched plantation with its thriving, dense growths; undefiled and free from corruption. He’d has never seen Feo’s eyes up close before. He’d gotten a coup d’oeil a few times in the past as they peered up at Fib through the long fringe, quite like a komorebi through a canopy of leaves. But being able to view them without any obscurity left the same, wonderful ache one would attain when gazing upon a sea of stars.

The paper-bag’ed boy hadn’t realized he’d been staring ‘til a good few minutes had passed, which was long enough to be deemed awkward—as attested by the subtle left-to-right shift of Feo’s eyes, like tree branches dithering by the gentle force of a zephyr.

Fib withdrew his hand and turned away, clearing his throat. Feo mused over his reaction, suppressing a small grin threatening to make itself apparent.

As a last-ditch effort in ridding them of the awkward tension permeating the air, Feo propped himself up on his elbows, casting a grateful smile up at the flustered boy. “Hey…thanks for having my back…”

Fib’s head swiveled back around so he was facing him (had he looked a liiiiitle closer, he could see Fib’s eyes widen by a fraction of an inch through the peepholes). “O-Oh.. it’s…nothing.”

“No. It’s not,” The clarity in Feo’s voice shook the other boy to the core. Not in a bad way, of course. Something about his hard-bitten tone of voice shunned every doubt or pretension of dispute, which was always followed by a swell of reassurance. It.. was something he could find comfort in. “Now it’s my turn to ask. Are.. you okay..? You crashed into the table pretty hard back there…” How Feo can shift from earnest to timid in a matter of seconds was beyond Fib, who prodded at his abdomen. It was a bit tender, but it wasn’t horrible.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’ve been through worse.” While Fib stated that in a manner to assure the boy that he was faring alright, it seemed to have accomplished the exact opposite.

If Feo wasn’t knackered out to the point of exhaustion, he would be pressing on that matter further. He couldn’t bear the thought of his bagged companion wagering his life on the off-chance that he’d flee from the many imminences the world threw his way. And the fact that he’d placed Fib’s life at stake during this “pudding heist” deposited a well of guilt in the hollow of his chest. But yet again, he was far too tired to dwell on it. His body was demanding the sweet release of sleep (no, not death) at this rate.

“If you’re sure..” Feo sat up, his bangs—which was long overdue for a trim—falling over his eyes, much to Fib’s dismay.

“I’m sure..! I’m sure’ing my head off, see?” Fib vigorously nodded his head, the paper bag bobbing at the sudden movement. This earned a soft giggle from the other boy, one reminiscent of tinkling, handheld bells. ‘Twas music to one’s ears, summoning a hint of cheer to a usually cheerless atmosphere. Even the nomes were beginning to ease up, identifying these two as not a foe, but a friend.

And Fib didn’t have to see the other boy’s eyes to picture two, upside-down crescent moons paired with the toothy grin plastered on his face. An imaginative young fellow he was, always trying to fill in the blanks somehow, even with what little he could pick up on through the little eye-hole cutouts of his bag.

It’s safe to say that he discovered the first two wonders of the world that day: Feo’s eyes, and Feo’s voice.

[sociallyawkward--fics]

hi xy time for what is becoming my annual checkin! how are u! i feel like since its been abt a year i have to infodump abt all my character development hold on i'll speedrun it. my pronouns r it/its zhey/zhem or (less preferred) they/them. and i have settled on those. it/its is the only one thats ever given me gender euphoria, took 4 years but i got there. ummm realized i have autism (undiagnosed). love the stimming and the being insane abt fictional characters the rest isnt that great. got anxiety meds!!!!! oh my god xy!!!! life is so good now antidepressants r a girls best friend. also. hold on ur never gonna believe this. i have adhd meds now. the crowd goes wild. was like yea doc idk i just think the anxiety meds r not improving my ability to focus what was that u said abt adhd^__^ n she was like hmmmm ok i cant diagnose u but i can give u this adderall u dont need a diagnosis for n if its like glory hallelujah we'll just assume u have it and GLORY HALLELUJAH. ive cleaned my room like more times in the past few months than i have my entire life im WINNING. i cant rly feel if its working but i'll sit down to write or smth n i wont get distracted every 5 seconds n the mental block that keeps me from doing things is gone!!!!! life changing stuff just wish i had it before my grades fuckin woooo splat. um my gpa is 2.2 weighted im like. ok well now that i have adhd meds im working on it -H (i feel like. ok i think tumblr made it so ur asks can be longer but fuck all those liberals n their woke agenda (joke) i am all abt tradition babey i'll be back for a pt 2 rq)

ummm rly into books love books. "thats old news h everyone knows that" but like im being wonderfully unnormal abt them<3 there was this one series the ascendance trilogy n i was fucking OBSESSED w it when i was younger n i learned there was a 4th n 5th book recently so like. the trilogy thing was a fuckin lie. but i obviously had to reread the series so i could read the new books n im still so obsessed w the series its so banger for a middlegrade series. got so unnormal abt it i made a 7hr playlist for the main character bc everyone elses sucked so much ass i just had to. still in the process of rereading but yeah. also theres this OTHER series the raven cycle i read recently n im also obsessed w that these series r all like my ideal books they hit all my favorite tropes. yeah just being rly unnormal abt books thats my current obsession. also. drawing. im so good at it u wouldnt believe. next fuckin van gogh right here. n honestly i dont even care abt going off anon it just bothers me bc my ROUTINE. the TRADITION. its just not the same. but i'll go off it just for u to show u some of my banger art. at a stage where im pretty frustrated at my limitations but that doesnt mean i cant recognize that im fucking awesome ok hold on again -H but yea ok to finish up what have u been up to! tempted to just ask what shows/game/etc uve been into but also i am exerting a little of my brain power to realize some ppls lives dont revolve around those. so just liek what have u been spending a lot of time doing. how is writing going! wait what r ur drawing skills just out of curiosity draw smth for me (if ur comfy ofc n dw i completely understand if it fuckin sucks taht was me just over a year ago) -H (when i was younger i used to think that ppl couldnt be good at writing n drawing they had to choose one. exerted my baby brain power to be like. it takes too long to get good at them u can only do one. then saw a book w the cover art credited to the author n i was like woahhh this is fuckin crazy living my younger selfs pipe dream)

----------

The way I have had a reminder on my phone to answer these asks for MONTHS but my executive function has been GARBAGE i am so sorry my friend it was not intentional to leave this sitting for so long i am so sorry!!! (also between the two of us this got Long so i am putting a read more so i don't take up a big block of people's dash in my return from the dead lol)

thank you for pronouns update! congrats on meds!! i gotta get me some of those so i can Detroit: Become Functional lol. I am rooting for you with your GPA!!! Also lol, love that we are following tradition of multiple asks still even with the tumblr updates letting asks be way longer now lol, it is just Familiar To Us

I will have to look into the ascendance trilogy!! My sibling is also obsessed with the raven cycle, but i have not read it yet (still debating if i want to or not, have been for YEARS lol, because i keep hearing "author problematic" and then never remember Why because i have Goldfish Memory). I will not post your off-anon ask with the artwork unless you want me to (want you to feel comfy on the blog and sending asks and I know you prefer anon!), but i will say that your art is AWESOME, my friend!! you are SO good and you're only going to keep getting better! I am glad you enjoy it!

Also bestie. This is a neurodivergent space lol, my life also revolves around shows/games/books/etc. they are the only thing that make the monotony of life and job-having under a neurotypical capitalistic society bearable lol. I actually have been getting back into reading ACTUAL BOOKS lately which feels GREAT (because reading Actual Books when i am so tired and Non-Functioning all the time is Hard lol), i am finally going through my seemingly-endless TBR and also have reread some old faves this year. Games-wise, the only thing i ever think about is still the Dragon Age games, Alistair is the love and light of my life lol. Show-wise.... i am in Limbo because of the Exhaustion, tragically, and also just waiting on new seasons (OFMD). Witcher has a new season out, but i have not watched it yet because Energy and also i have no motivation to because the last season they put out was so bad (even if i hear this one is good, i have lost trust lol)

Writing is. Not quite going lol. I have not finished a fanfic in ages, and also have made little to no progress on any of my original work attempts either, tragically. Hopefully things look up for me soon cuz I wanna get stuff DONE again lol, this blog has become so quiet and near obsolete because i cannot FINISH anything and it is TRAGIC.

Also, I have little-to-no drawing skills, but I also unfortunately do not have much energy to apply to drawing you a picture atm :(( maybe someday. Sometimes I can draw something that makes me go "omg i am not Awful, maybe I could actually put thoughts and energy into learning this as a skill" and other times it is like "i will never put pencil to paper (or stylus to screen) ever again" lol. Maybe someday when i am doing Better again i will hopefully have the energy to draw you something!!

[kongkhoi]

do i need to tell you again?

character: scaramouche

warnings: smut, degradation, dom scaramouche, biting, teasing, orgasm denial, blowjob, swallowing cum, hair pulling, creampie, afab reader

word count: 1.8k

a/n: not proofread, enjoy (?)

“sc-scaramouche! ah-”

you’re laying on the bed, the man above you pinning your wrists down into the plush surface. his head is in the crook of your neck, hungrily licking and sucking, marking you as his. he relishes in your sounds and in your scent, his control slipping with every noise you squeak out. he wants to take you then and there. 

it’s absolutely hypnotic to him. how sensitive you seem to be, how he can feel your hands clenching tighter, how your thighs are on the verge of shaking from desire. he wills himself to prolong the moment. extend his patience. 

after all, who knows what cute sounds you’d let out if he were to.. 

you let out a repressed squeal when he bites down into the soft flesh of your neck, leaving you panting. you try to hold back your noises, biting your lip. 

“bastard,” you manage to spit out. “that’s gonna leave a mar- nngh!”

you’re interrupted when he harshly sucks on that same spot, almost making him laugh at your sudden silence. he smugly chuckles against your skin, continuing his kisses. he trails up your now-sensitive neck, to your jawline, to the corner of your mouth. you can’t stop the mewls that spill from your lips, your mind going blank. 

he takes a second to see what’s become of you. face flushed, lips rosy and swollen, pupils blown wide, marks littering your neck. with a low growl in his throat, he licks his lips at the sight.

“already so needy. i’ve barely even started,” he teases, his voice lilting ever so slightly. it sends a shiver down your spine.

you open your mouth to respond. to deny, to retort, anything. but his lips crash into yours before you do, robbing you of whatever you had to say. his kisses are breathtaking. ravenous but reticent. rough and yet ever so slightly laced with sweetness. before long, he has your back arching and your hips desperately rolling into his--despite any of your claims to want otherwise. heat pools between your legs more and more by the second, making you crave for any kind of relief through friction. but you wouldn’t dare let him know about that.

scaramouche pulls away, meeting your eyes, loving the way your eyes look distant and hazy. smirking, he releases your hands to trail one down to your slick cunt sopping with arousal. your eyes widen at his touch, wanting to become undone with just his fingers alone, only your pride stopping you from outright begging.

“look at this, he hisses. he brings his hand into view, his fingers glistening with your slick. aware of every detail, you take a sharp breath in, entranced.

“such a slut. this wet already? i can only wonder what goes on in your head right now.” he smirks. bringing his fingers to his mouth, he slowly drags his tongue along them. he maintains eye contact, not for a moment missing any of your reactions.

the feeling in your gut tightens at that, almost making you whimper. 

with your hands now free, you flip him over with you on top. you’re freeing his cock from it’s confines when he grabs your hair and tugs, making you moan and look up at him.

“ah, ah, ah,” he reprimands.

it’s a simple gesture. yet for some reason it sets a fire within you. you want to see him cry out in pleasure and yet you obey, staying a hair’s breadth away from his angry cock. you’re eager and awaiting, even enjoying the ache his grasp on you brings.

so you feign annoyance. “what is it this time,” you grunt.

“as nice it would be to have you doing this on your own accord, i could only imagine what a view it would be if i did...this.” his grip on your hair tightens enticingly.

“open,” he commands, and you do, leaving your mouth wide open for him to use like a toy.

not wasting any time, he brings your head down onto his cock. you gag at the sudden intrusion and he lets out a low moan at the sudden tightness your throat brings. tears sting the corners of your eyes and your glare shoots daggers up at him, making the man laugh.

“it only gets rougher from here. but i’m sure you already know that, whore.”

you suck harshly on his dick in retaliation, shutting him up with a grimace.

he thrusts up into your mouth again, building up a regular pace. gagging and choking on his cock, you elicit long, drawn out moans from scaramouche. fucking his cock into you deeper, his breath hitches, his other hand tangling into your hair as well. 

you swirl your tongue around his length and groan, making him pull your mouth off of him.

breathing heavily, he demands, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“can’t handle it?” you chuckle. the spit your escaping from your mouth and the darkened blush on your face drives him crazy. before he can answer, you blow hot breath onto the tip of his cock.

eyes darkening, he grips onto your locks once again, his cock filling your mouth. the even faster pace and the lack of air makes your head spin and your vision blur.

heavy breathing fills the room as you continue to struggle for air, the man above you adoring just how tight and warm your throat is around him as his visage contorts in pleasure. the tears falling from your lust-shrouded eyes is the icing on the cake, and it’s not long after until scaramouche shoots hot cum down your throat.

he releases his grip on your hair and you pull off, wiping the tears from your cheeks. you’re finally able to breathe when he shoves you onto the bed again, your back meeting the cushiony mattress.

scaramouche positions himself between your legs, gripping your thighs so tightly it was sure to bruise. but you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t like it. after much anticipation on your end, he hauls your legs over his shoulder, and easily slips his cock into your sloppy cunt, making you cry out.

“hah, you’re not even putting up a fight anymore. has my stupid little slut finally come to her senses?”

you manage to squeak out a response.

“hm? speak up,” he sneers.

“yes!”

he raises an eyebrow and pauses. “yes, what?”

you hesitate to answer. but the way the desire pools in your stomach is more than enough to make you swallow whatever dignity you have left. anything to relieve the burning ache that only builds.

“i... i need you to fuck me, scara. please.”

“not good enough.” he begins to stroke his cock, to send a message. “if you keep this up, i’ll leave you here and get off by myself. so tell me. what do you want me to do to you?”

your throat bobs as you gulp. with a deep breath, you beg. “please. please i need you to fuck me, scaramouche. i-i’m your dumb slut and only yours, just pl- ngh! ah s-so big!-”

upon his bottoming out into you, the only thing you can do is curl your toes and throw your head back in pleasure as his cock drags so deliciously between your walls and his skillful fingers rub circles into your sensitive clit. you can only grip the bedsheets and watch with blurred vision as he thrusts deep into you.

scaramouche fucks into you and ravages you better than you ever could with those fingers and toys. almost pulling out, he rams back into your tight cunt, making you scream. “i can’t -ngh- i can’t, scara-”

“take it,” he growls in between thrusts. “you’re gonna take anything i give you, understood?” 

his head perfectly aimed at that spot you love, hitting it with every thrust makes your mind go blank. it feels so good, you can’t help but babble out incoherent “yes, thank you”s and “feels good!”s. the coil tightening in your stomach and the way you clench around his dick tells him everything he needs to know.

right before you can cum, he pulls out of you, eliciting a whine from your lips, now bitten raw and red.

“hah,” he pants. “bend over. the side of the bed. c’mon, you can do it.”

it takes a few seconds to process. “b-”

“do i have to repeat myself?”

you blush and shake your head, doing as he says. your ass now exposed, back arched, cunt dripping, you manage to comply. the lack of vision you have in the new position sends goosebumps across your skin.

he rests his hands on your hips and caresses your ass, making you shiver. he lines up his cock to your welcoming entrance, groaning at how it sucks him in so nicely. wet, hot, and tight for him, he bottoms out into you. its cruel and torturous, the pace he sets. his cock kissing your g-spot, you press into the mattress at the pleasure it gives you. but you want more. and he knows it.

“more! please,” you sob. “f-faster!”

“all you had to do was ask.”

the harsh thrusts and his fingers digging into your stomach bring you closer and closer to your high. your whimpers and moans come out higher pitched as you near your climax.

it hits powerfully, amplified by your previous denied orgasm. you near scream into the bed, your sobs muffled and your tears flowing. but he doesn’t stop there. you’re still sensitive when scaramouche bends down to whisper in your ear, “god, you’re so -nngh- so tight! does my cock feel that good? going stupid already?”

you try to respond, but can’t form the words. your tight hole clenching tighter around his cock at his venomous words.

“you like that? is that gonna make you cum? go on, then.”

your thighs have long given out, your body convulsing under him. mind screaming from the pleasure the overstimulation brings, hearing nothing but scaramouche’s voice and the sound of wet skin against skin. it’s all too much. you cum for the second time, making him groan at the feeling.

he thrusts harder into you, causing you to cry out. his voice husky and moans broken, his hips stuttering, and his legs giving out, he cums inside. the hot liquid shooting deep mixes with your own slick and cum, slowly dripping out as he pulls out of your used hole. he uses two fingers to swipe up as much as he can and stuff it back into you.

“good,” he pants.

you tilt your head to the side, face red. “mmm. good?”

he nods. he moves the stray hair away from your face and sits down, fixing your body in a more comfortable position. “yeah. we’ll sort things out in the morning.” he pulls a blanket over the two of you. “rest up.”

you sigh as you take one last look at him. “alright.”

[writingmochi]

chapter ii. chiaroscuro

cast: grunge kid!yeonjun ✗ art student/painter!fem.reader

synopsis: you’re an out-of-place art student living in your childhood hometown, pursuing your dream of becoming a painter. one day, you were given a mysterious responsibility as you try to not get your childhood best friend killed

genre: coming of age, college/university au, childhood best friend au, supernatural au, angst, fluff, mature content (sensitive topics and eventual smut)

based on: video game life is strange (2013)

word count: 6778

taglist? closed

warning(s): mention of drugs, dead animal, blood, traffic accidents, minor character death with significant repercussion (if i forgot some, let me know)

message from the moon: remember that this story is fiction. do be careful and read the warnings at the top as both the chapter and the series as a whole will contain serious and sensitive topics. thank you very much for the love that you’ve given to the first chapter and the series! hope you enjoy chapter ii and have a good read :D

masterlist

strolling the downtown area and having small talks with the boy beside you makes your mind and soul flutter. you haven't explored the downtown area much and see how it has transformed between the past years and now. with most of the free time you have, you use it to hang out on-campus or around its grounds, do projects in your room, eat food at the mini-market, or grab a coffee with minjeong at one of the cafes that the students go to.

maybe that's why you haven't seen yeonjun around…

the area doesn't look like it change much from your memory, all of the buildings still look fairly the same with only a few renovations. but, after a closer look from you, it did change. a few of the places that you visited when you were a child isn't there anymore.

you recognize a building that used to be a bookstore and a small library, the place that you and yeonjun used to frequently visit to read books. you remembered slouching against the shelf together reading about what happened to percy jackson until 16:00 when your mom pick you up because she and yeonjun's mom were worried that you two haven’t arrived home. well, that place is now a two-story italian restaurant with the chimney of the pizza oven protruding from the first floor, complete with the signature red, white, and green color palette. a similar situation also landed the ice cream parlor you and your family used to eat at. yeonjun said that they moved somewhere else but still opened for business.

that is until you saw a familiar building that triggers your nostalgia. so vintage yet still able to maintain its aesthetic for all these years. yeonjun walks in front of you as he pushes the empty american-style diner’s glass door. the chiming bell on top of the door alerting the old woman behind the counter.

"yeonjun, welcome."

yeonjun nodding his head. "the usual lunch and make it two." tilting his head, gesturing to you behind him. the woman looks at you with wide eyes.

"oh my god..."

she went out from the other side of the counter to then hug you. you stood there, confusion still roaming your brain. she realized that you didn't reciprocate.

"you don't remember me, do you?" you looked at her after she pulled back, tilting your head. "miss ahn? the one that always serves you donuts when you came back from school with yeonjun?"

"let's go (y/n)!" the boy in front of you with the shiny blue backpack and missing right sock screamed. you’re holding the straps of your purple backpack and walk behind him slowly, dragging your feet against the concrete because you didn't put your shoes on properly.

the bell chimed as yeonjun pushed the glass door. "miss ahn, two strawberry donuts please!"

miss ahn stops what she was doing as she chuckled to see yeonjun enthusiastically ordered. you, on the other hand, were slowly raising your foot on the steps one at a time, feeling your shoe dangles as you move.

"right away, young man." miss ahn said after she served a man his coffee. you sit on the available stool with yeonjun beside you, taking his hot wheels wallet out and pulling out some money.

"wait, i'm going to pay for my donut myself." you also open your front pouch.

"no! i'll pay." he pouts.

you looked at him in defeat, knowing that he will retaliate again and again if you still insist. "fine." you let your legs dangle from your seated figure and straighten your uniform skirt.

"two strawberry donuts for the lovely kids," she exclaimed as she puts the plate down. miss ahn then picks up the money that is in front of yeonjun and you both said thank you in unison.

"jinx." you blurted.

he groaned and immediately munch the donut in front of him. you giggled beside him and start to eat the pink donut in front of you. you savor the sweetness and the hint of sourness of it while moving your feet back and forth unconsciously. but then, you felt that one of them becomes lighter. you look down and around for the missing shoe to see it sit beneath yeonjun's stool.

"pssst!"

no reply.

"hey." yeonjun glances at you, his cheek full.

"can you help me grab my shoe? it's underneath you."

yeonjun, still munching his last piece of donut, scrunches his eyebrows at you and tilts his head. you rolled your eyes.

"please, yeonjun?"

he swallows his food and reaches for the shoe to give it back to you. "you're welcome." he smirks while you rolled your eyes again. he then asked after you finish putting on your shoe. "why aren't you using your shoes properly, anyway?"

"because you dragged me out of the classroom when i'm still putting it on." you wrapped your arm against your chest.

"hurry up then!" he muffled while wiping his lips with a napkin.

"says the boy with a missing right sock." you chuckled, staring underneath him. he, looking confused, follows your eye line to his foot and tilts his head.

"oh..." you both laugh. miss ahn feeling giddy seeing the wholesome scene unfolds while wiping a cup.

"oh yeah! yeah, i do! how are you, miss ahn?" the memory of your youth flooding back as you felt her warm hold on your shoulder.

"oh well same old, same old. i’m always doing great." miss ahn nods to you. the salt and pepper showing in her hair and the wrinkles on the corner of her eyes and mouth creases as she smiles. she excused herself back to her station to make the orders as you sit opposite yeonjun in a booth.

"so..." he spoke.

"so..." you replied.

he leans forward and punches your upper arm lightly. "hey!" you pouted, holding it pretending to be hurt.

"why didn't you tell me you're here?!" he asked so loudly the sound resonate on the walls. you’re glad that there is no other customer other than you two.

"well, i didn't see you at all until today." you replied as you put your bag beside you. "and, and i didn't see any familiar faces enrolling in the institute. so i just put two and two together and thought that you live in another town now." you put your arms on the table, interlocking the fingers.

"touché." he replied as he also puts away his stuff to the table, rearranging his phone, wallet, cigarette box, lighter, and keys. you continue fidgeting your fingers as the silence consumes you both. seeing the multiple vehicles rolling on the street from the large window beside you.

"how have you been?" you look back at him as you questioned.

he did a big sigh while staring around the diner. "good, how about you?" his eyes landed on your face.

you thought about what happened today. you got a vision about a blizzard obliterating haeyang. you gained an unexplained ability to rewind yourself to a near past and live through the same moments again. you just saved your childhood best friend from being stabbed.

"good too. i guess." you replied while looking at the surface of the table, the corner of your mouth lifts up slightly.

"is it because that you meet me or?" he taunts.

"well, one of them.”

you heard someone clearing their throat and found miss ahn with two plates in her hand. "your order." she looks at both of you with a grin as she placed the plates of burger and chicken wings in front of you both. "the drinks aren't finished yet and i’m also making some donuts so don't leave before they're finished." she remarked, wiggling her fingers to you both.

"yeah, we're not." yeonjun looked at you surprised as you replied. "i mean, we have so many things to catch up so we're going to take our time," you said as you looked back at him. feeling a warm aura, the aura that you haven't tapped into for a long time.

she nods and turns away from your table. you heard your stomach rumbling as you look at yeonjun who quickly grabbed his burger and took a bite of it. he is still the same in that aspect.

you chuckled and follow suit. yeonjun then asked, "you're studying in the institute, what major?"

"fine arts, how about you?" you looked at him anticipatingly.

"well, i actually don't enroll there." your eyes widen.

"i don't go to college." yeonjun answered.

"oh..." you quickly eat a piece of wing. you saw him tilt his head.

"what did you expect?" he questioned. you wiped your mouth with a napkin, erasing the sauce smudge away from your lips.

"well... i thought you’re enrolled there because you looked like you're familiar with the campus grounds." you licked your lips and sipped the drink that miss ahn gave just a few seconds ago. never have you thought that yeonjun will not go to college. he knows the institute pretty well for someone not studying in it, specifically that alley.

"most of my 'friends' goes there." he put up an air quote while speaking 'friends', making you question who minhyuk is to him now.

"so… what do you and your 'friends' do?" you follow his air quote as he smiles at you behind the glass that he picked up.

"well they provide me with entertainments like weed and booze, but i’m not with them. they're just nosy as fuck and trying to get their noses under everything." he rolled his eyes and wrinkle his nose. he is not friends with minhyuk and minhyuk’s crowd. noted.

yet, something doesn’t feel right.

"why's that?" you blurted out. the yeonjun that you knew back then used to have so many friends outside of your friendship. because of him, you start to know your other childhood friends. the ones that you suspect have left the town to go to someplace better for them. the ones that make you conclude that none of your childhood friends are attending the institute, including yeonjun.

"i don't want to have any intimate connections anymore with anyone, really. well, other than you of course since you’re here now." yeonjun answered then roll his tongue on his bottom lip before pushing it inside his cheek. "i felt like an outcast and so i just said 'fuck it, let's be one.'" he continued.

the fluttering that stops before rive up again when you heard what he said. first time talking after a decade and he already wants to rekindle your friendship. it makes you realize how much you have craved for more connections to your past, the place where you currently reside hasn't fulfilled that completely. but after hearing what he say, one thing came to your mind.

this yeonjun is different. even with some of his habits that you know that he might still possess.

he might not be the same boy you know.

coming from the same early upbringing but diverge to separate ways.

you resume eating when yeonjun spoke. "how about you? what have you been up to? i already did my saying so let's talk about you." yeonjun pushed his empty plate near the edge and finish drinking the milkshake from his half-full glass.

"well, not much really. i went back here and study here. i don't have any other friend in the institute besides the girl whose dorm is across mine and i paint, yeah." you summarize your ordinary campus life in one sentence, realizing how uneventful it is.

until today.

"honestly, i always thought that you're gonna become an artist in some way back then. you love to draw stuff in my room." you chuckled after hearing what he said. "i still have some of them tucked away in my closet."

yeonjun used to have so many coloring books that his mother bought but he got bored easily so when you came to his house and he played on his nintendo ds, you complete his coloring book instead and maybe doodle in it too. yeonjun usually asks you about why you colored with a certain hue for a certain outline or what your doodles meant. it's good to know that he still kept his childhood stuff.

"how's the city?" he suddenly asked. you gulped the last piece of the burger while thinking.

the city was both your somewhat new, optimistic start and the starting of your so-called demise. when you stayed there for your teen years, you got the realization that you don't belong there. even though you had some friends that you hang out with, you don't feel a strong connection with them. your mind still wanders to the smell of the ocean back in haeyang. those feelings of loneliness made you take painting as a hobby. the sea has always fascinated you since you're a child. how it is both calming and chaotic at the same, becoming one of your muses.

flowers also become one of your favorites after you learned their different kinds of meanings after a brief mention in class made you buy a book about them. you then learn to paint them and both of your favorite things now become your signature style that is known by people.

"i don’t… know how to describe it in a sentence," you replied. "i don't feel any strong connection with the people there. but while i'm there, i realize that living in haeyang is my true calling. i also got my love of painting there." you put your empty plate on top of his.

yeonjun nods and said, "we're just a bunch of outcasts, are we?" you chuckle after hearing what he said.

thinking about what happened in the city, why your adaptation to the new environment never is 100% optimized, you felt the loneliness. how you don't feel connected to your friends because their interests are much different than yours, and probably how you were raised as well. the city so full yet you fill empty. because of that, you embrace the term 'outcast'. not knowing that kilometers away from each other, your best friend uses the same term to describe himself.

"yes, we are," you answered.

in your eyes, you are one. and you embrace it until now. even though you have minjeong now beside you, she also considers herself an outcast, villainized by her fellow violinist. yet, the sense of being an outsider makes you appreciate life because drama doesn't revolve around you. you hate being in the spotlight, and instead, gain comfort from being at the back of the curtains.

an eye for an eye. a horrible social life for a better life filled with no obstacles.

you both then exchange each other's number, see a notification on your screen with the name 'your best boy, yeonjun', making him smirk as you look at it with a flush on your cheeks.

a few more talks and two strawberry donuts later, you pulled out your wallet when yeonjun stopped you, saying that he'll pay. "i have owed you so much back then. let me pay, okay?" you looked at him, he retracts his hand and you replace it with the money from your wallet.

the bell chimes as you both go out of the diner after saying goodbye to miss ahn. you both on the sidewalk walking back to campus. "hey, do you wanna go to my house?" yeonjun quickly said, walking backward while looking at you. going back to yeonjun's house is going to be a trip full of nostalgia. you remembered that you forgot to ask about his family back in the diner. you do want to know how his dad is doing nowadays.

"sure, my first class is gonna start at 11 tomorrow so it'll be fine."

"fuck yeah." yeonjun exclaimed as you both continue to jog. but then, at the edge of the concrete path, you notice a kitten. the kitten is in a stance, preparing to cross the street. yeonjun continues to talk and face you while walking backward, making your ears on him but your eyes on the cat that speeds through the road, not noticing a van from the corner of your eyes and see it went through your point of peripheral. a pool of blood forming on the ground.

the sound of your hissing makes yeonjun's eyes widen and turned him around. "oh fuck, poor kitty." he quickly went to the road with you being on the sidewalk. him not noticing that the light is still green and a speeding cargo truck came from the end of the road. yeonjun tries to pick it up with you seeing the truck as it runs on the road. heading to where yeonjun is.

"yeonjun, watch out!" you raised your hand.

then you felt like you were pulled back and you close your eyes.

-

as you open your eyes, you noticed money and a countertop. a hand drags the money to the palm and counts it. you look to your side to find yeonjun standing on your left and jump lightly as you hear the sound of the cash register.

"oops sorry!" miss ahn quickly said. your grip on your bag tightens.

you just rewind time. again.

"the change, (y/n)." she pushes her hand forward for you to pick it up. at the last iteration, you pick up the change. but now, you quickly blurted out.

"no, keep the change."

you showed a small smile to the woman and heard yeonjun chuckle. "okay then. have a nice day you two. come again!" miss ahn hooted as you both walk out of the diner.

"of course we're coming again. miss ahn!" yeonjun replied, earning a giggle from miss ahn as the bell for the entrance door dings when he pulls.

if you want to save yeonjun, you have to save the kitten first.

you don’t know if this might work or not, but it was what your mom taught you back in the city...

"wait, miss ahn!" you step inside again. miss ahn was in the middle of throwing the trash. "can i keep the chicken remains? it's for stray cats..." you lips on a straight line, hoping that this plan will work.

"of course!" she picked up a few sheets of tissues and place the remains of the wings that you've eaten on it. "you did this in the city, did you?" she questioned as she glances at yeonjun leaning against the open door. you nodded and said your farewells to her. yeonjun, propping the door open, let you out first and use his long legs to take a few strides, making him walk beside you at the same pace.

"let me help find you a stray cat while we walk to campus." yeonjun said as he puts his hand inside the pocket and turns around, walking backward. "and i wanna invite you to my house, you have the time, right?"

"well my first class tomorrow is 11, so i have time." you replied, similarly to the one you said before.

"fuck yeah!" he suddenly turns around and continues walking beside you, remembering that he wants to help with finding the stray cats. the change of events from the diner results in him facing the same way as you. you clench your fingers together as you walk beside him. hoping this will work.

"ooh, found one."

you see his body striding forward and see the same kitten that you saw before near the edge of the sidewalk. as you walk closer, you heard him luring the kitten. it approaches him and you saw him picking it up, resting it on his arms as it looks adoringly at him.

you did it, again.

you slowly looked down at your hands, the hands that possessed the powerful ability you can't imagine ever coming to you, as you heard the voice of someone clearing their throat beside you.

"(y/n)?" you glance up to see yeonjun with the kitten gripping against his t-shirt. "the food?" he tilted his head.

"oh yeah," you replied as you quickly took out the leftover chicken remains, placing them on the concrete whilst yeonjun placed the kitten down, quickly stepping to the laid-out tissue and eating the feast. you then squat down, yeonjun followed, as you look at the kitten enjoying its meal. thinking that it was supposed to be dead before you made another chance.

"i think we should adopt her." you glance at yeonjun as he spoke, seeing his eyes on the small kitten and running his finger on top of the head. "we should give her a name."

looking at the colorful furs of the kitten as she eats her food while looking around, its innocent face and curious eyes staring between the food and you two, you quietly blurted out, "pansy."

not noticing that yeonjun heard as he now look towards you. "that’s cute, it’s a flower name, right? what does it mean?"

“it symbolizes the love or admiration of one person to another. by the looks of it, she is a pretty curious cat and i saw that she was admiring you while you carry her, same as she did towards the food before eating it,” you added as you both stood up.

“nice!” he then fist bumps you, something you have both always done since you were little.

"we're gonna be such great parents."

you glanced at him after the words came into your ear, "we?" you pointed your fingers between the two of you.

"yep, little pan here needs a mother too you know." yeonjun rolls his eyes. you smiled as you heard the nickname when you felt the kitten now rubbing against your legs, you picked her up and propped her against your chest.

"let's get you home." yeonjun said as he patted her head, face nuzzling into your clothes as you hear her purr. you both continue walking to the campus grounds.

as you arrived, you immediately ask, "where's your ride?" while seeing the mostly empty parking lot. yeonjun then guides you by pushing you gently with his hands on either side of your shoulders from behind until you saw a brown-based pickup truck parked at the corner of the lot, almost unseeable as it blends with the color of the lower part of the building beside it.

you stood in front of the truck with its worn-down paint as he goes to the driver’s seat and ignites the car, slowly patting the kitten in your arms so that she won't get shocked by the sound. as the truck came to life, you felt a tight grip on your chest and heard meows coming from pansy. you quickly soothe her by rubbing her head and back.

yeonjun went out and help you open the truck door as you can't do it because of the kitten in your hands. "when did you get this?" you asked after you put pansy down between you and him. the vibration of the truck shakes the seat.

"my dad got this back when i was in high school. i also said to him not to repaint the body cause i just love how unique it is with the imperfections." yeonjun replied as he changes the gearshift, lurching the truck forward and going out of the campus grounds.

you lean yourself against the door, glancing at the town and its nature, both the sea and the hills. feeling the breeze of wind gushing and making your hair float. yeonjun turning on the radio with a pixies song coming from it, glancing at you as he steers the truck down the road.

-

seeing the houses coming from the horizon. you recollect your memories of the way that you used to go to when you want to visit yeonjun at his house and also your way to your old house because it's only a few blocks away. the truck moves to a stop in front of the house that you gladly remember despite the change.

even though the exterior paints are different than the last time that you saw them, you can identify the similarities with the one that popped up in your head. you saw the window on top of the front door, belonging to none other than yeonjun's room. but now it is covered with blinds, not the usual cloth curtain he has back when he was a kid.

"let's let pansy sleep. we're gonna set up a space for her in the backyard later." yeonjun said as he turns off the machine, the rumbling of the truck stopped. both of you went out of the truck and discovered a sedan with its hood open, hearing the clanking of metal tools against other metals. you see a man behind it, sneaking to look at the front to see who arrived.

"hey, big guy!" you heard the roughness in the man's voice, you saw his head peeking behind the hood and saw his eyes widen, landing on you.

"(y/n)?" the man's head now completely visible as he looks at you, yeonjun guiding you forward to stand beside him. the man now stood beside the front of the car, rubbing his hand against his jeans.

he is yeonjun's dad, now years older than what you remembered.

"hi, uncle choi," you replied, smiling warmly. that is how close you are to his parents and him to your parents. both of you treated each other's parents as a part of your own family, which makes both of your family closer too. treating each other more than what parents of two best friends do to each other.

you remember how close your dad and yeonjun's dad were back then. how they usually help each other with cooking the food if there is a dine out at one of your houses and how they talked about cars, especially since yeonjun's dad is a mechanic. they were always exchanging dad jokes that they usually going to give to you both respectively, annoying both of you.

as you look between the father and son pair, you admire how much of the resemblance between them, especially given that both of the men have tattoos painted on their arms. yeonjun's feature wasn't as prominent to his dad back when he was young, even his dad also thought that he looks like his mom more back then. but looking at the changes with the years going by, the pair looks like each other so much that it gives you shivers.

uncle choi now standing beside yeonjun, you notice how yeonjun now is taller than him, he opens his arm to hug you and you accepted, yeonjun grins seeing his dad and his best friend meeting up again.

"how have you been?" uncle choi questioned, his hands now behind him.

"yeah, well..." you curled your shoulders. "i've been good," you replied as you nodded.

"you grew up so well." yeonjun nodded alongside his dad. you thanked uncle choi as he guided you inside the house.

as you took off your sneakers, you glance at the front area, seeing a few recognizable pieces of furniture now placed in a different part of the room. seeing how the living and dining room looks practically the same with a few changes, the most noticeable ones are the nonexistence of family photos.

"i still have some parts left unfinished. make her feel like home." you heard his dad mumble to him and he left back to the garage.

"you want anything to drink?" yeonjun said from behind you.

"water is fine." you replied as you take a look at the first floor, feeling that parts of the house are emptier.

yeonjun guides you upstairs as he brought a glass of water in his hand. opening his room door with his free hand. the distinct smell of cigarettes and ray beams of the sun from the covered window hitting you.

his room now looks mature and in the style of what he wore. collages of band logos, concert brochures, and quotes covering one corner of the room in front of a desk with his laptop. more of the bigger band posters littering across his room, leaving the nude sandy wall open. his wooden closet open with shirts hanging inside and outside of it. clutters on top of his bedside table and cabinets. a shelf full of covered vinyl discs and jewel case cds with both a radio and turntable on it. a tall mirror leaning against the wall with the door to his bathroom beside and his unkempt bed across from it.

the room that you always went to every time you go to his house. back then still very much plain and blend in with the rest of the house. now, it sticks out like a cloud of smoke in a clear sky.

"my room looks different than the last time you saw it," he commented, putting your glass on the desk.

"very." you dropped your bag beside it and yeonjun sat down on his bed, patting the seat beside him to let you sit and drink your water.

"how it looks to you, artsy girl?" you chuckled as yeonjun leans in to whisper.

"very normal, i guess! it suits you though." you peered at him.

yeonjun sighs as he leans his body, laying himself on the bed. "i've worked hard with this. happy that someone appreciates it."

you continue to look around and notice a few pictures of little yeonjun scattered in his room, either him with his mom or his dad, and most are the three of them. a very contrasting difference from the one downstairs.

"how come there are no family photos downstairs?" you covered your mouth after you suddenly blurted. "shoot, i'm sorry. you don't have to answer-"

"nah. i'm fine with it." yeonjun rolled his eyes, the expression on his face that he now uses is the same as what he used back in the alley.

"so my dad married someone again back when i was eleven." you heard yeonjun reply. you join him in laying down on his bed, not wanting to leave him alone. "someone that i despised. i got the feeling she married my dad because he is hot and that's it."

"at the start, she was very nice but i knew that there is something sinister behind it and i was right. one week after the wedding, she starts to take control of everything in this household. dad was very much in love that he is blinded with what she did to the house and me." you turn your head to face his side profile. he gnawed at his cheeks and gritted his jaw.

"she made me take down the family photos, saying that she wants no traces of life before her in this house. instead of throwing it away, i put them here as i know that she has no balls to go in my room. not that i allowed her in anyways." he gestured to the closet, pointing to where the rest of the photos are now.

"this room is literally my safe haven from this fucking house. i don't allow anyone in here even my dad." yeonjun turns his head to face you. "well, except you and... yeah." his body now faces you.

you and another person.

knowing that he had someone alongside him when you were gone makes you feel a bit better.

you glance at one of the photos of him and his mom. "how's your mom?"

yeonjun sat up and looked back from his shoulder at you. "i know that she is feeling good. just visited her grave yesterday."

you return to when that first tragedy happened back when you were 10, the tragedy that makes you not want to leave yeonjun behind. the day that his mom died.

you were playing at his house when his mom go outside to buy some groceries. a few minutes later, the landline telephone called into the house with yeonjun picking it up, you stood beside him. you remembered how his expression of relaxation that he has let out on his face for the day slowly fades, his eyes starting to water, how the first tear left his eye as the call ended. how haunted he is. you took the initiation to call yeonjun's dad who is working in his workshop as yeonjun was in a state of shock. a few minutes later, you heard the sound of the vehicle in front of the house and yeonjun's dad brought both of you with him to the hospital.

the staff said that she got killed in a hit and run and died on the spot. a few witnesses think that the driver was drunk when they killed her. the enforcement failed to find them as they were driving too fast, escaping knowing that they did something wrong.

that day, a piece of yeonjun died. you soothe him as he sobs in your shoulder, letting your tee wet from his tears and snorts. you tried your best to calm him down, but you were also in a state of shock.

because of it, you can't bear to tell him that you were going to leave for the city five days after the accident. you got to tell him after the funeral. with you wearing your dark outfit and him wearing his black suit alone in front of the now covered gravesite, you told him that you have to leave him. you saw another wave of sadness in his eyes, him asking you multiple questions being the most prominent one that still aches your heart.

"what about us?"

at that time, you also are against leaving because now you weren't carrying yourself alone, you also carry yeonjun with you. you were yeonjun's support system in the hardest moments of his life at that time, and the support system wasn't supposed to leave the system they are supporting. but there you were.

yeonjun then accepts the news as you don't have the authority to let you stay here by yourself. on the day you were moving, yeonjun and his dad visit your home and help you pack up your belongings, furniture already left the home and on its way to the city. your parents thanking yeonjun's dad for everything he has done to both them and you, hoping that he can overcome the hardships he was facing and sending love and strength. you were hugging yeonjun so hard and tight that your back was sore at how tight he pulled against you, promising each other to never forget about each other anywhere you are going to be in the future.

"oh, shit! she's home" yeonjun said as he stood up, hearing a rumbling of a car in front of his window.

you quickly stood up. "oh fuck, pansy!" yeonjun then walk around his room, thinking of something while rubbing his hair multiple times.

"wait, you can't bring home pets-"

"yes, she doesn't fucking allow it. learned the hard way back then when she literally put away a stray cat i brought home from school on the streets." yeonjun looked at you. "and i know that you can't bring pets in your residence hall." he added as you follow with a nod.

you stood in front of him, grabbing his shoulders. yeonjun looks distraught and his hair all over the place. "let me handle this." you remarked.

after a few minutes and a door closed later, you and yeonjun go down to the living room. hearing the rustling of grocery bags in the kitchen.

"babe, help me with-" the voice stopped, you look through the doorway to the kitchen and find a woman wearing a black blazer, her face turned from an almost frown to a look that exudes professionalism. you stood your ground as you look at her.

you knew her. she is minjeong's violin teacher. the head of the concert that minjeong will do next month. the teacher that minjeong always complained to you about.

"oh yeonjun, who do we have here?" she said with a smile. you heard yeonjun hissed lowly behind you.

"she's a friend." yeonjun replied and you took a step toward her, opening your hand to her.

"nice to meet you, mrs. choi." she shooked your hand as you continue to introduce yourself, glancing behind to see that yeonjun is now gone, taking care of pansy.

"let me help you." you quickly remarked with mrs. choi remarked back.

"it's okay, i can handle it. you want something to drink?" you shook your head.

“i was actually going to wash the glass myself if you’re okay with it?” you move forward to the sink as she give a small nod.

seeing and hearing the woman yourself never came across to your mind. knowing minjeong has always complained to you about her, even cried because of what she said to her, and yeonjun describing her that she never took her role as his mother figure seriously irks you. seeing how she smiled at yeonjun and force a much better 'normal' look to try to impress you makes your stomach churn. how come someone can be this vile?

"i think i've seen you at the institute before. do you go there?" she asked, continuing to put the groceries into the cabinets.

"yes, i do." you replied after you closed the tap, reaching for the soap.

"what major?"

"fine arts."

she nods her head. "i'm one of the professors in the music department, violin specifically."

you give her a polite smile as she continues what she's doing. "how do you know yeonjun?" you heard her talk with a low tone when saying the name of her supposed son. the goosebumps started to form on a patch of your skin.

"we're friends since we were children. then i have to move out. i just saw him again today." you answered and put the now clean glass on the rack at the counter beside the sink.

you felt your cardigan pocket vibrating and fetch out the phone from it. you open the notifications to find yeonjun sending you a picture of pansy sleeping soundly in a box in the backyard shack, the place that you and yeonjun picked because it is now abandoned. sending him a thumbs up, you looked up and excuse yourself to mrs. choi. "i have to go back to campus cause i have an early class tomorrow."

she looks back at you and gives a warm smile. "do you have a ride?"

"yeah, yeonjun will bring me back."

you saw the woman roll her eyes, "okay, take care." you thanked her and walk out of the house as quickly as you can. saying a farewell to his dad who is still fixing the car as you brought yourself to yeonjun who is leaning in front of the truck door. you quickly pushed him to his side and climb into your side. as the truck rumble and move back to the road, you let out a huge sigh.

"what happened in there?" you look at yeonjun, gnawing your lips.

"you forgot a part where you say that your stepmom is a professor in the institute." yeonjun glances at you, raising an eyebrow.

"she's my friend's teacher who she really dislikes." you saw yeonjun gritting his teeth. you then continue. "well, i know because my friend always complained about her all the time after every class, especially now knowing she's going to perform at the concert and your stepmom is the director."

yeonjun let out a chuckle. "at least i'm not the only one that knows her true colors." you leaned back to continue.

leaning against the window, looking outside while hearing the beats and melody of the song on the radio, your childhood best friend beside you driving, seeing the sky turning from blue to orange to magenta, rubbing the palm of your hands against each other, feeling a slight chill.

today has been the most stressful day in your life, yet you feel contempt. your heart feels a little fuller. a day where you get your connection back from the past that you have unconsciously searched the entire time you're here. but with the newfound responsibility and a prophecy-like vision that you saw, you felt like something is going to change you and your life as a whole. you still don't know why you gain the powers and why is it you out of all people. maybe you have time to discover that, knowing that your support system is back with you.

taglist: @bubblejunnies @rein-deer-stuffs @kookthief​ @papiibuprofen​

can’t tag: @meowchikatt

© writingmochi on tumblr, 2021-2024. all rights reserved

[angelguk]

omg so i sent in an ask re angst jock jk n oc ! but then i also realized its highly possible these 2 break up at one point while in uni mostly bc of the "are we dating bc its convenient" kinda dilemma and then it just pushes them apart bc they think theyre losing theirselves while being in such a close relationship,,,cue save ur tears by theweeknd BUT i just know when they grow up a lil bit more, theyll end up together <3

here we go! (the beginning of the end....may be...)

didn’t include save your tears as the soundtrack but may haps for the follow-up :3

pairing: jock!jk and oc

warnings: angst, yes the break-up scene, jaykay being an ass (a very huge one motivated by his own insecurities and selfishness – translation: he’d rather break her heart and carry that weight than be the heartbroken one), chayoung is no longer Seed of Doubt but something else (still up for debate but she’s fairly nice here), not edited but hey atp that’s part of my branding (also i would like everyone to consider that oc is not the greatest gf ever like guys don’t hate jk alone!!)

soundtrack: bags, clairo + stay, gracie abrams + say you know, alina baraz

(titled — honeymoon fades)

Jeongguk’s contact name hasn’t lit up the screen of your phone for six days now and you haven’t seen his face for just as long. It’s weird to go from constant incessant  communication to complete and utter radio silence. Not a single meme deposited in your Instagram inbox, no random notification from his Twitter. Just silence, quiet brewing silence. 

It breaks two days later when Chayoung finds you coddled under your duvet, mouth stuffed with the saccharine sweetness of mint chocolate. (Jeongguk kept a stash of it at your place but who was around to eat it anymore apart from you?). 

“And why do you look like you live in a dumpster?” She’d hummed, ripping open the curtains you’d involuntarily welded shut. 

“Because that’s how I feel inside,” you’d retorted, pushing aside your laptop. The screen is stuck with an image of an idiotic character named Nabi kissing the spawn of Satan. You hope for her sake it works out. Chayoung had huffed at your response, fondly whacking your head with a stray pillow. 

“Well get over that feeling cause we’re going out tonight.” A declaration, the fierceness in her feline eyes a warning that you’re not allowed to even think of saying no. That doesn’t mean you hadn’t tried – sorrowful eyes and pouted lips as you begged her to spare you. But Chayoung is a force of nature, one that could easily wreak havoc on your delicateness. And she does though, with a string of comments that propels you out of the miserable burrow you’d dug up. 

“You’re killing everyone, you know?” She’d supplied, yanking open your closet. “You’re sulking, Jeongguk is shutting down. He’s said like five words since this whole...thing...you have going on.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at that, toying with the corner of the large grey shirt donned on your body. Jeongguk’s shirt. One of his favourites actually. You’d thought about stealing it after spying it on his obsessively neat laundry pile, but after seeing your wandering eyes he’d given it to you instead. 

“He always does that,” you’d said after Chayoung had whipped her head in your direction, curved eyebrows perplexed. “I mean, shut down. It’s his emotional response to things that bother him. Complete detachment so it hurts less.”

She had just stared at you, a long meaningful look at left your skin prickled. 

“Huh.”

“What do you mean ‘huh’?”

A measured step forward, her body weight sinking into the edge of your mattress a moment later. “I mean, you know him so well.”

“Of course I do he’s my best-friend,” you’d said, indignation coating your words

“No–No you're not getting me. You know him. You know he wouldn’t make the move to reconcile–”

“But he should!”

“You told him to go away! He’s trying to listen to you even though he’s hurting!”

And maybe that was it, that simple implication that you were causing him pain that had you pausing, reviewing the things you’d said to him – the things you’d felt. 

“But,” a timid rebuttal, “I just–I just need him to show me that he cares.”

“He does,” Chayoung had returned. “So much. And he misses you. He’s probably just afraid that you don’t feel the same.”

“But I do! He knows this.”

“Does he?” A question in her eyes, one that you’re afraid you know the honest answer to. 

You say things and never mean them, he had said, eyes hard.

That had hurt you but perhaps he was right, there are things you hadn’t told him, feelings you hadn’t truly expressed. And Jeongguk had always been good to you, so understanding and caring, trying to fill the places were you lacked. Wasn’t he the one who planned the majority of your dates? Remembered all the important milestones of your relationship while you contributed the bare minimum. You hadn’t even told Chayoung about the surprise he had planned for your one-year anniversary, the shame of your own choice hanging heavy over your head. 

So that’s why you’re here, staring at the back of his head forlornly as the music drifts around you, flashing florescent lights bathing him a hazy glory. He hasn’t seen you yet (something you’re thankful for because oddly enough you feel sick to your stomach). It feels like you’re skating on thin ice, waiting for the impending crack to sound through your heart, ice water swallowing you whole immediately. Chayoung is the one who pushes you forward, gingerly plucking the idle drink from your hand, Jimin aiding her efforts with a soft smile your way. 

It’s time for you to try the way Jeongguk has, put aside that bumbling ego that oversees your actions and adopt the humility he’s always granted you.

“Go,” she murmurs. “He misses you.”

And God you hope he does because you’ve missed him too. 

Except the moment his honey eyes land on you you know he hasn’t.

“Jeongguk,” you mumble. Yoonoh is frozen beside him, concerned gaze flicking between your faces. Your own eyes are stuck on him, the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips, the subtle hint of the dimple in his cheeks. 

You’ve missed him, and it slips from your heart and brims in your eyes, vision blurry as your blink those stray tears back inside. 

“Hi,” you add, when his silence doesn’t break.

“I should probably go,” Yoonoh lets out, awkward words bumping into the wall of tension standing firm between you to. He settles a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder, sending him a look that feels loaded. “See you guys later, right?”

You nod, finally noticing the lump clogging your throat. “Yeah, sure.” Jeongguk just hums, the edge of his cup caught between his lips. Yoonoh flees within seconds, leaving you to wade through this alone. 

“I–I know you’re not happy with me right now, but please, can we just talk?” He blinks at you, it feels like a premonition. “Please?”

“Okay.” The simple word fills you, like a hollow you weren’t aware of finally found the cure needed. 

“Okay,” a small smile on your lips. Jeongguk’s face is still unreadable. He guides you up and away from the deafening sound of the song bleeding from the speakers, into an empty room, the door closing behind him muting the music and giving way to the own pounding in your head. Nobody says anything for a second, both of you navigating this uncharted territory of animosity. Until Jeongguk sighs, melting into the bed at the centre of the room. You follow suit, allocating enough space between the two of you. You’ve ever had to do that before.

“You said you wanted to talk?” Jeongguk finally cuts through it, eyes unforgiving when he glances at you.

“I did! I do–Just Jeongguk,” you can’t help it drifting out. “I miss you.”

Nothing, not even a flicker in his eyes. He eyes shift to the floor instead. “Okay. I that what you wanted to say?”

“No–No not just that! I’ve missed you Jeongguk and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that i went off on you like that and I’m sorry I haven’t been the best towards you and I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like I didn’t care about you–or made you feel like the things I said or did had no meaning behind them. Because they do–they do because I love you. I love you so so much and I’m sorry if I made it seem like otherwise.” You automatically extend out for him, hoping to grasp on his thing floating to fast away from you. Jeongguk shifts and you hand tumbles down to the empty space between you instead, halted by his hesitance. 

His head drops into his palms a second later, a broken exhale leaving his lips. The motion cause the silver bracelet on his wrist to slip down the length of his arm. It jolts something in you. Jeongguk had given you a matching one but you’d ripped it off after the last argument and hadn’t considered putting it back on. But Jeongguk was still wearing his. 

“Do you really?”

“What?” He’s staring at you know, doe eyes cloudy.

“Do you really love me?” There, that stupid evil vile question that you thought you had the answer to but the words vanish in your head the longer he looks at you.

“I do–what? What are you implying? Of course, I do.”

“Of course, you do,” Jeongguk echoes. His eyes turn to the window located over his shoulder. You can see his head working through something, and you’re suddenly terrified fingertips itching to wander through his curls and coax those thoughts from his head. 

“Jeongguk? What the hell are you talking about? Talk to me, please.”

He sighs again, at it feels like your heart splinters. A sudden shake of his head and Jeongguk twists back to face you, a silent tear falling down his cheek.

“You don’t love me.”

“Wh–What are you talking about? I do! And how can you decide my feelings for me?”

“No. You don’t love me the way you think you do–the way you should.” It feels like he’s saying it to more than you, like he’s saying it to himself. “Maybe this the wrong choice to make. You know. Maybe we shouldn’t have done this.”

You shatter just like that, shards on the floor as you stare him, this person that you thought you knew. And maybe the feeling is mutual because Jeongguk is staring at you in a similar way, searching for the courage to say the words you know lie in his heart. Like a loaded cannon, waiting for the match to strike and leave you lying in pieces. 

“I think we should break–"

“No,” you cut him off with an adamance that you didn’t know existed until right then. “No, you’re not gonna say that and we are not doing this.”

His eyes narrow then, jaw set. “This is not about ‘us’, I’m doing what’s right for me.”

“How is that right? Huh, Jeongguk? Don’t you care about this? Don’t you care about me?”

He looks away then, ignoring your questions, his throat stuck. 

“Jeongguk...” You reach out again, and he allows it, shoulders sinking with the weight of your hand on them. “Don’t you care about me?”

Another heavy exhale, his eyes blinking hard. “I do. And that’s why this won’t work, not the way it should at least. I really think we should end this, or at least reconsider the reasons why we’re together. You say you love me–you say you always have but really–really think about it. About me and us and what we are. I’m sorry, I really am but I just can’t do this anymore.”

He rises then, your outstretched hand tumbling down to the empty space he’d left behind. You can’t move it, can’t breathe, your heart hurtling out of your chest and onto the ground where it lies, fragmented beyond repair and bleeding bare. You glance up through tears, watch him open his mouth and then it and look away. 

“Do you mean it?” You finally ask, and his eyes snap to you. He knows what you’re saying. There’s a pause that stretches out for eternity, coloured by the sound of the ringing in your head.

“Maybe.” It cuts right through you, lodging itself deep with intent. And then you just have to nod, swallow the scream clawing at your throat. He murmurs one more apology before his feet carry him away, and you watch, forlorn as you burn his frame into your memory, as your whole world walks out the door.

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part I (x reader insert)

Summary: Our favorite couple has some catching up to do.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (or xOC)

Category: hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings/Includes: descriptions of Mexico and prison; they have a sleepover, but it’s just talking and sleeping 🥰

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: Here we go!!!!! We’re picking up from right where we left off in tmsidk part X.

Song Rec: The Luckiest by Ben Folds

Series Masterlist

———

“Do you— would you want to— come upstairs?” he asked.

Spencer stood in front of her, unsure of what to do with his hands. Y/N was absolutely radiant— bathed in the very last of the golden daylight and more beautiful than he even remembered. All he wanted to do was hug her again and never let go.

She shook her head, and he tried not to instantly deflate. “I have to feed Roald.” She smiled a little at him and restarted his heart. “But would you want to come over? We could order somethi—”

“Yes— yes.” She let out a quiet laugh at his eagerness, and he wanted to hear that sound every day for the rest of his life. “Can I— I just want to drop this stuff off and change, and then I’ll, um.” He gestured vaguely to her. “Should I drive you or do you want to walk or I can just— meet you? Whatever— whatever you want.”

“I’m gonna head back now and take care of Roald. Take your time, and just— well, here.” She held out her hand. “I’ll put my number in your phone, and you can just text me when you’re on your way.”

He fumbled the phone out of his pocket, placed it into her outstretched hand, and nearly vibrated with the way her fingers brushed over his. She stared at the unsophisticated phone in her hand. “You weren’t kidding about the technology thing, huh?”

He ran a hand down the back of his neck and shrugged. “I prefer to keep things simple.”

“I haven’t seen a T9 keyboard since I was in high school. This is a relic,” she laughed and then gave him a soft smile. “And… very you.”

He watched her fingers as she pressed along the tiny keys, still sort of in shock that she was here, that he was getting a second chance, that she wanted to do this with him. She handed the phone back to him and then stuffed her hands in her pockets. “So, I’ll see you in a little bit?”

He nodded and gave her his best smile. She stepped forward into his space, and his eyes went a little wide as she leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. She stepped back with a smile, then waved and turned on her heel headed to her car.

He stood rooted to the spot until she had disappeared from view, then let out a long breath and looked down at the small screen of his phone at her contact information. His lips twitched at the name she’d given herself.

Miss Honey <3

…

Forty five minutes later, Spencer smoothed down the front of his cardigan and blew out a sigh. He’d spent five of those minutes reveling in the magic that was Y/N, and the other forty convincing himself that she’d already changed her mind. But he was a man in love, and so he was standing in front of her building, willing himself to press her buzzer.

He was jolted out of his stupor by the buzzing of his phone. He pulled the device from his pocket and saw her name on the tiny screen, hesitating only a moment before pressing the button to answer. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He could hear her smile through the tinny speaker, and it immediately set him at ease. “I was just checking to make sure you remembered where you were going.”

“Yeah, I— I’m outside now, actually,” he confirmed.

“Oh, great! I’ll buzz you up.”

The door buzzed open, and Spencer pocketed his phone, stepping into the small foyer. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants as he made his way to the staircase. He had barely taken the first step when she called, “It’s the third floor!”

He barely resisted the urge to take the stairs two at a time. When he reached the landing of the third floor, she was standing in the doorway in a purple sweatshirt, sweatpants, and fuzzy socks with dragons on them. He couldn’t help but grin.

“Hey.” She returned his smile. “Come on in.” She moved aside and waved him into her apartment.

He stepped over the threshold, and she closed the door behind him. “I can take your coat. Feel free to leave your shoes there. Roald will be in hiding for the next half hour or so,” she informed him.

He shrugged out of his coat and handed it to her, looking briefly around the tidy space. The walls of her living room were a calming mint green, adorned with plenty of art and photographs. Her couch was a blush pink velvet, exactly as soft as she was.

“Okay, I’m starving,” she admitted, turning to hang his coat in the coat closet. “We can order pizza, Indian, Thai— any preference?”

He shook his head. “No, whatever you want.”

She closed the closet door and cocked an eyebrow. “So if I wanted to order a huge pizza with extra cheese, you’d be cool with that?”

“Sure, absolutely,” he nodded.

She tilted her head. “Even with your dairy thing?”

He was surprised that she even remembered such a tiny detail from all those months ago, and his heart would have fluttered if he wasn’t so focused on making as few waves as possible. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d made a mistake letting him back in, and he didn’t want to do anything that would cause her to rethink her decision. “Well, it’s— it’s just a sensitivity, not a true allergy. Although it’s gotten a bit worse in recent years. But really, whatever you want to do is fine.”

He suddenly struggled to make eye contact, feeling overwhelmingly awkward and out of place. Now that he was here in her apartment, it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. He cracked the knuckles on each finger as he waited for it. She let out a small sigh, and he braced himself for impact.

“Why don’t you come sit?”

Her voice was quiet, and then her hand on his arm was soft, and she was leading him to the couch and sitting down next to him. She kept some distance between them, placed her hands in her lap, and then she was still for a long moment. He could feel her eyes on him, but he wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know if she wanted him to say anything at all.

“You know I forgive you, right?” The question was tentative. He met her eyes, and he didn’t see the regret or pity that he expected. There was something else there; something he couldn’t quite decipher. “Because I do. Forgive you. You apologized, and you meant it, and you allowed me space and time to process. And that’s— that’s all I could have asked for.”

As seemed to always be the case, the task of articulating what he was feeling began to crush him under its weight. The words were there, but he couldn’t get the order right. If it were anyone else, he would have just evaded the conversation entirely. But he’d promised her that he would try. After everything he’d put her through, she deserved that much.

He breathed in through his nose, expelling it in a sigh. “I’ve just— I’ve spent the last month thinking about this— about you— pretty much exclusively,” he admitted, staring at his hands. “And I’m just realizing that I never really… allowed myself to think about what would happen next, because I wasn’t sure that this would happen at all.” He gestured between them and then looked at her. “And now I’m here— with you, and I just— it’s…” He let out a sigh.

“Doesn’t live up to expectations?” she prompted.

His eyes went wide, and he moved closer to her on the couch. “No— god, no.” He instinctively reached for her hand, felt that electricity again when she allowed him to lace their fingers together. He was already making a mess of things. “You always exceed expectations.” He shook his head, and she squeezed his hand. “I just— I don’t… I don’t wanna mess this up.”

She covered their intertwined fingers with her other hand, rubbed her thumb along his. “I don’t think you will. Something tells me you don’t typically make the same mistake twice,” she inferred.

He laughed a little at that, and she gave him a sweet smile, and then she said, “So, no pizza. How about Indian?”

…

They were just cleaning up the last of the take out containers when Roald made his way out of Y/N’s bedroom.

“There he is! Hey, buddy,” she cooed, leaning down to give Roald a quick pet. She gave Spencer a sheepish smile. “He takes a while to warm up to new faces, so don’t be offended if he’s not—”

She was stopped mid-sentence by Roald’s decision to make a beeline for him. The cat stopped to give a cursory sniff before weaving between Spencer’s legs, purring loud enough that they could both hear it. Her mouth dropped open a bit as he leaned down to scratch between Roald’s ears.

“He— he is never that friendly,” she said incredulously. “There really is something about you, Dr. Reid.”

He looked up at her with a smile. “I’m just glad he approves. Would have been kind of awkward otherwise.”

“He’s a very good judge of character, so that bodes well for you,” she confirmed.

“Oh yeah?” Spencer scratched underneath Roald’s chin, grinning at the contented cat. He brought his gaze back to her, standing back to his full height when he realized she’d moved… a lot closer. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he watched her eyes track the motion.

“Yeah.”

He thought back to that night nearly two months ago, the way his mouth had verged on violent when she’d kissed him. He hated that their first kiss was tainted with his foolishness, that he’d marred that memory for them both. He couldn’t take it back, and he wasn’t certain that she wanted to kiss him now, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” she breathed.

He brought his hands to her face and used a gentle grip to pull her in. She rested her warm palms against his waist and let her fingers dig in, holding herself steady as his lips met hers.

He kept the kiss as soft as she deserved, opening his mouth to let her in but letting her lead and take him wherever she wanted to go. Her hands slid around to his back, and she tugged him in closer. He left one hand cradling her face but moved the other to the small of her back and pulled her flush against him.

She huffed out a tiny breath against his mouth, her lips turning up in a smile that he could feel in his toes. She brought one hand up to his jaw, rubbed her thumb across his cheek and then wound her fingers into his hair. She tangled them in his curls and tugged just enough to break the kiss, pressing their foreheads together with a sigh.

“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’m just gonna wipe our first kiss from my memory and replace it with that one,” she murmured.

“I’m very much on board with this rewrite,” he agreed.

“Excellent.” She used the hand in his hair to pull him forward into another quick kiss. Roald made his presence known at their feet with a loud meow, pulling a laugh from both of them.

They de-tangled themselves from each other, and she ran a hand through her hair. “It’s getting late.” He nodded in agreement, although he never wanted this night to end. And then she continued, “Do you wanna, um— do you wanna stay the night? I’m sure I can find some comfy clothes that’ll fit you.”

He’d been a ship on a turbulent sea for the past two months, just barely staying afloat at times. It had been heart wrenching and nerve wracking and terrifying— and all of his own doing. And in one night, she’d anchored his vessel amongst the crashing waves. A solution kit, a hug, forgiveness, a kiss, and now this.

His racing mind came to a standstill. The near constant noise was quieted. The turbulent sea became calm, still waters.

“I’d really, really like that.”

…

Spencer ended up in an XXL t-shirt from a school fundraiser and a pair of stretchy bike shorts. Y/N had managed to scrounge up a new toothbrush from the back of the cabinet, and they brushed their teeth together with foamy smiles in the bathroom mirror.

It had taken very little convincing for Spencer to agree to share the bed. Y/N climbed in under the covers, settling back against the pillows and turning down the duvet for him to join her. He held up one finger and disappeared out into the living room, returning a minute later with the solution kit in hand. He moved to the bed, sliding in between the soft sheets and pulling up the duvet.

He leaned back against the pillows and turned toward her, opening the box. “This is the most incredible thing anyone has ever done for me,” he admitted. “Can you, um— explain them to me? Some of them I figured out, but others— well, I just want to hear you, really.”

She scooted closer to him and leaned over to look in the box. “The first few are pretty self-explanatory. This one,” she said, pulling out a picture of her with her hands over her heart and belly, “is taking deep breaths until you’re calm and ready to try again. This one is reading a favorite book— which I know will take you about five minutes,” she joked.

She retrieved the card with the clip art book, and then the one behind it with a pencil and paper. “You can try to write down the difficult thoughts and feelings to get them out of your headspace.” The next card had a picture of an old rotary phone. “Hmmm, almost a match to the dinosaur phone you actually have,” she teased. “But it’s an option to call someone. Could be your mom, or a friend, or—”

“Or you? Could I call you?”

She looked up to find his eyes on her and smiled. “Yeah. You can call me, too.” She pressed a soft kiss to his mouth, and— not for the first time that night— he could not believe how lucky he was.

She drew back to pull out the next card: a clip art rendering of a desktop computer. “Oh! This one is for researching something. I know you’ve got a seemingly endless encyclopedia of knowledge up there,” she tapped on his temple, “but there’s always something new to learn. And teaching yourself something can help you feel capable in moments where you’re feeling— a little helpless.”

There was also a small wooden puzzle cube in the box. She took it from the box and held it up in front of them. “I know your IQ will probably solve this thing in fifteen seconds, but at least it’ll be a nice fidget toy,” she laughed.

The last card in the box was a picture of a timer. “This one might seem kind of dumb, but sometimes it helps me to set a timer to remind myself that feeling shitty is a temporary state of being.” She held the card between her fingers and shrugged. “Even if I’m still feeling less than great after the timer goes off, it usually gives me the boost I need to move forward.”

She gathered all the cards in her hands, shuffling them and then placing them back in the box. “You can add your own options as you think of them. This was just a starter set.”

He closed the lid of the box and set it on the bed between them. He reached for her hand, and she immediately threaded their fingers together. He rubbed his thumb along her impossibly soft skin and took a deep breath.

“The timer isn’t dumb. I, um— I did something similar in prison.” She squeezed his hand. “I kept track of the— the days on this little spot on the wall. Every time it felt like I couldn’t take another day, I’d count the marks and remind myself that I— that I’d survived that long. That I could make it another day.”

He went quiet, and Y/N sat up a little in bed, brushed her free hand over his hair. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.” It wasn’t a lie. He wanted to talk to her about it. He wanted to talk to her about everything. He wanted to let her into the shadowy corners of his mind that he kept from everyone else.

“If you’re sure, then I’m right here.” She pulled their intertwined fingers into her lap and leaned over to press a kiss to his shoulder.

When she pulled back, he let out a long breath. He watched her thumb as it traced an unwavering line across the back of his hand. “I was, um— I was in Mexico getting an experimental Alzheimer’s drug for my mom. I’d been going down there for a few months, and it wasn’t ideal, but the medication really seemed to be helping her. And I was just— I was desperate. Desperate for anything that would give me more time with her. More lucid, meaningful time, you know?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

“It wasn’t the, uh— drug that got me arrested,” he admitted. “There was an unsub— one of the serial killers that we put away a few years ago— a psychopathic, narcissistic hitwoman who had this— I don’t know, vendetta against me, I guess. She, um— she manipulated another woman into drugging me and framing me for the murder of the doctor I was getting the medication from.”

He could feel her eyes on him, and he drew his brows together. “I know the— the whole thing sounds completely absurd— fictional even,” he admitted. “She used a mix of drugs called sevoflurane and scopolamine to trigger dissociation and hallucination, which made it really— um... For a long time, I couldn’t tell which of my memories were real and which were drug-induced delusions.”

He focused on the motion of her thumb against his skin. “The team got me out of the prison in Mexico, but because I went against FBI protocol when I crossed the border, the Bureau wouldn’t fund my legal representation here. Emily hired a great lawyer, but the judge was less than sympathetic. And it really, um— snowballed from there.”

He took a deep breath. “I was sent to Millburn, which is a maximum security prison, and then I didn’t get the protective custody detail, so I was in general population, but I didn’t want to hurt people or move drugs, so I got the shit kicked out of me for a while, and then my friend Luis was killed in front of me, and I—”

Spencer didn’t realize he was crying until Y/N’s hands were on his face, wiping the tears before pulling him into her arms. “A-and then I poisoned the drugs, which just ended up hurting a bunch of people who didn’t deserve to get hurt. And then I got outed as an agent, and my mom got abducted, and I stabbed myself to get put in solitary, but I wasn’t safe there either, and I really thought... I was sure I was going to die there.”

He wrapped his arms around her middle and tucked his face into her shoulder as the hurricane of his agony swirled and raged and then swept out as quickly as it rolled in. She soothed his cries and held him against her, never rushing or shushing him. Eventually, his weeping dwindled to quiet sniffles, his heaving breaths faded to drawn sighs. She kept him anchored through all of it, rocking him gently from side to side and calming his shattered frame.

When he finally quieted, she released him and pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. His chest tightened at her tear-stained cheeks, and he brought his hands up to wipe at them uselessly. When his hands fell back to his lap, she sniffled a little before taking a deep breath, releasing it on a shaky sigh.

“The choices you made kept you alive, Spencer. They were—  impossible, horrific choices that I’m sure just—” She shook her head, searching for the right words. “I’m sure the weight of the guilt and grief has to be unbearable sometimes,” she surmised. “And there’s nothing I can say that will make that any less true.”

She cupped his face in her hands, swiping at the fresh tears with her thumbs. “But I’m... I’m so selfishly thankful for every choice you made. Because it was the perfect set of decisions in that it brought you here. To me…” The tears tracked hot down her cheeks, and she took a shaky breath. “And I feel so unbelievably lucky and so incredibly grateful to have you.”

He had her wrapped up in his arms before she’d even finished the sentence. “I never believed in luck,” he mused. He pressed a kiss into her hair and closed his eyes. “I’m still not sure if I do. But I can tell you that I’m the luckiest.”

———

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[meruz]

once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous) 

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury​ Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL. 

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool​ UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close. 

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually  that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

[ganymedesclock]

[enters the cat door.] Pale King? :)

PK is great because while we get a lot of impressions of what he's capable of, overwhelmingly his work is left for us, self-evident and finished, in such a state that we are not given hints on how he did it or what he did. This obviously has a lot of canon significance to who he is as a person-

(especially when the nature of much of that work is itself somewhat inscrutable; how exactly does he record his voice in whispering stones that only speak to certain parties when the rest of the setting is limited to actually writing things down?)

-but basically what it amounts to is that it's headcanons all the way down, baybey.

PK is... obsessed. This, to me, is the thing that stands out to me at an immediate glance of anything he was capable of. He fashions himself as a rational arbiter; possibly even a thing emotionless, unbiased, but really, it's obvious that certain ideas drove him so powerfully that anything, including unimaginable agonies and cruelties- barely factor. His mind as we explore it has very few guards that try to drive us out and kill us, few true barriers that stop us from moving forwards- but an enormous, vicious, whirling mechanism, beautiful and terrible, that polices every inch we move. You can proceed, the white palace says, if you're perfect. If your timing is perfect, if you never dare the metal teeth that surround you, if you choose exactly the right things and move only as the space is designed to move- and if you are willing to suffer, truly and awfully, then you can proceed, the palace is yours, it is open and the barest adversity will stop you.

This is not the mind of a person who lets things go easily. This is not the mind of a person who is actually detached. This is a beautiful machine, elaborate, precisely calibrated, and it makes miracles.

And it is, quite frankly, an absolute inhospitable nightmare. It might as well be the surface of the moon, not for alienness, but for the sheer ludicrous notion that anyone could live or love there. His mind is a haunted house to end all haunted houses; it'd be a fine locale to find in Silent Hill. The few rooms that actually seem like recollections of real places- the nursery, the workshop, the throne room- are all unsettling in different ways.

The nursery is the loveliest and also the most unattainable; a place for two people who are never coming back to the person who left them behind in the first place and didn't even set a chair for himself- the workshop is cluttered, creepy and miserable, nowhere you'd expect a god to make miracles; the throne room is bleak and dark, and has pillars set like fangs and the only chair so hard and uncomfortable it won't save your progress or give your player character a second of rest.

There is only one mention, anywhere in the game, of coldness associated with anything even adjacent to PK- the description of the pale ore characterizes it as "emanating an icy chill"- and when I remind myself of this, actually go looking for it, it shocks me. PK, to me, is so powerfully and intensely an ice person. Not just in the superficial senses- oh, he's cold, oh, he's callous, oh, he suppresses his emotions and opposes the fiery, sun-aligned Radiance; but that while neither of these gods have any ability to "get over it" whatsoever, the way they hold onto things is drastically polar opposite.

Radiance boils. Simmers. Screams and writhes and rages and pulses to her emotions. Those infected by her plague begin to feel as if they are burning alive the more her influence extends. She is a heat that stokes itself higher and higher and higher, to frenzy and fury, and the coldest it can get is if she methodically banks herself down to coals to pretend for a single utilitarian moment she's not as angry as she is, so she can whisper sweet words just long enough to coax someone onto the cinders.

PK... freezes over. He holds onto things perfectly, as if they never left, as if they never changed. When you walk over the nursery memory it looks just like White Lady could come by and put an infant Hollow in the cradle and sit down to rock them to sleep. It's so clean. So expectant. So empty.

And yet, there's something completely inhospitable to life about it. How could anyone live here? How could anyone be happy here? The game Silent Hill: Shattered Memories has a theme of a happy childhood frozen over in invading ice; that's very much what comes to mind here, even if Hollow's childhood was troubled long before they'd have anything to do with this room. PK ices over, is a person who stopped his own heart at one point just to serve another purpose and, superficially indifferently, left that body behind to rot without any sort of respect or acknowledgement. @rukafais drew a headcanon a very long time ago to the idea that PK could just will his own blood to stop flowing, and that's long one I've stuck with- a living person who is at odds with himself because of this absolute glacial inhospitality.

PK is also... clever. Inventive. One could almost argue too clever for his own good. If there's one way his obsessions are utterly unaffected by this ice and sense of detachment, it's that while Radiance is revolted by, fears and hates the void, PK... was fascinated by it. It's probably the most dangerous non-Radiance thing in the kingdom to him and yet he built his palace right next to the abyss; built a great lighthouse and a smaller alcove room that- unlike the spaces in his own mind- you can actually imagine him sitting, maybe for hours, maybe for days- just staring at the void sea. Dropping things into its grasp only to fetch them back out. Pouring it into shapes, and seeing how it held.

This also seems to convey itself in the shapes that his magic takes, or that similar pale white magic in other places (such as around the dreamers' monument) form; they are extremely intricate. Impossible filigrees of light that dangle in the air. Nowhere is this more obvious than the Pure Vessel fight, the moment where Hollow is remembering what they once were- at the point they were trying to be everything PK wanted of them, everything PK cares about. Hollow's attacks in that fight are beautiful. Ornate. The temporary spikes summoned from the ground have the same woven, 'watered' pattern that we see on the Pure Nail once Ghost acquires it.

So these ideas, of PK- icy stillness, obsessive detail, and insatiable curiosity- condensed for me a lot into how I imagine him fighting or handling situations. I imagine him as fighting with a spear very keenly- not just long reach, but that I associate PK very strongly in my mind with the concept of dissection and vivisection. Everything in its place, labeled, named, and known, consecrated by the light with identity and purpose- the hungry, predatory curiosity of a hunter picking apart prey, but with enough academic backing that they're looking for something more than the juiciest pieces to eat.

So, I imagine PK fighting with spears, and impaling or cutting implements... in that I imagine him fighting like a surgeon, pinning and mounting something or herding it into place.

[pynkhues]

Ahhhh your Logan backstory analysis was so perfect, never even considered the Noah factor of love= staying and enduring abuse! Haha, yeah I had read and loved your Rose/Kendall take. It was a connection I thought of when watching safe room, great to see someone do a full thing on it. Thinking about Rose and Noah, I think its likely that Logans past relationships were defined by powerlessness. Aside from Noah's abuse, there would have been a great deal of powerlessness with Rose (1-3)

if she was mentally ill (Rose Williams and Rose-mary Kennedy seem likely inspo). Having a mentally ill family member can be painful, helplessly watching worsening symptoms and praying it doesn’t end in your worst nightmare, which for Logan it seemed like it did. At the same time, there is also the anger/ resentment that you cant express because they cant help it. Would it make sense for Logan to transfer his feelings of powerlessness and anger from his formative relationships onto his current?

Finally he isn’t the one begging to be let in, the one who can be left, the one who can be hurt with no consequence. If Kendall is reminiscent of Rose, could Logan’s need to ‘keep him close’ whilst tormenting him partially be a way for Logan to express his unresolved feelings regarding his relationship with his sister?

(x)

Gosh, anon, I'm so fascinated by you bringing up Rosemary Kennedy and Rose Williams, because you're right, they do feel like significant references, especially with the Kennedy's being mentioned directly in comparison to the family in both 3.06 with Connor's presidential campaign, and 3.08 with the podcast. Rosemary had crossed my mind before, but I hadn't even thought of Rose Williams, and I think you're right. The show is so thoughtful with how it utilises names, places and plots, and those two women both having the same name and being the sisters' in dynastic families feels like a really clear reference. Given both Rosemary Kennedy and Rose Williams were lobotomised for mental illness too - - just, oof. If we're supposed to understand that was the way Rose Roy's story ended too, it feels like an even greater layer of tragedy for her character than suicide. It's a type of killing impossible to comprehend.

In answering your question – yeah, I think Logan's the exact sort of person to project the powerlessness of his past onto the present. His entire career I think has arguably been about that – he's a survivor through and through (and it's actually one of the things I loved about him and Marcia originally, because I think the show made it pretty clear that that survivalism and endurance was what connected them), and everything about the way he's raised his children feels like a response to the way he was (and wasn't) raised. God, even him getting full custody from Caroline of the golden trio feels like a direct response to his mother sending him, Ewan and Rose away as children and never seeing them again.

If we are to understand that Rose was mentally ill in a similar way to Kendall, which I do think we are (and I suspect given Kendall's arc this season, the show seems to be finally putting big markers in that he's bipolar), I think it completely makes sense that Logan would project Rose onto Kendall. It contextualises a lot of Logan's specific dynamic with him too (and actually I think with Shiv as well, as his daughter), particularly in the sense that Logan's most conflicting, protective, tender and emotionally punishing moments are with Kendall.

Logan wants all his kids in the business, but it's Kendall he wants to share the glass wall with – kept right where he can see him, and it's him Logan worries about when a gunshot goes off in the building, and him who he sends Greg to keep an eye on and him who he doesn't let drive anymore, and yet it's also him who Logan frequently punishes the most. He can't handle any of the kids dissenting, but Kendall's the only one he's fired, the only one he's called nothing and nobody, the only one he's tried to disinherit.

Of course, Kendall's the only one of the four of them who's acted against Logan as significantly as he has, but I do think it's interesting that Logan actually hasn't punished Roman and Shiv in remotely similar ways. Particularly Roman, who was involved in the attempted coup, and hugely botched the Pierce deal by texting Naomi. Logan called him a moron but otherwise seemed to let it go, and there's probably something in there about his lack of consideration for Roman broadly and Logan knowing Roman'll come to heel, but I think as a point of comparison, there's something to be said about Logan being especially reactive when it comes to Kendall.

Like you said, having a family member with mental illness, especially unmanaged and undiagnosed mental illness, can be extremely painful, and even putting speculation about Rose aside, it's textual canon that Logan has managed it with both his first wife and with Kendall. If we do add Rose to that mix, which again, I do feel like we're supposed to, I think there's a lot to be said about this storm of unmanaged trauma and survivor's guilt that likely lives in Logan, and it plays out, I think, in a degree of powerlessness with Kendall. Logan knows already that there's nothing he can do about the drugs, he knew there wasn't anything he could do about the shoplifting, so in both instances, he cleaned it up, and his conversation with Kendall in 3.08 implies he's cleaned up a lot more than just that.

A part of that's just in Kendall being a rich kid with a dad who can, of course, but I don't know. I don't think anything in the world makes Logan feel like he's in free fall in the way Kendall does, and I think a big part of that is because Logan's seen how this story ends.

[redrosesartcabin]

So yeah, I wrote the thing based on an anon message for @itsme-star

I made it a Barley x (female) reader (based on my self insert character) fanfic ‘cause I had to be a little self indulgent lmao

I hope you enjoy it! It turned out longer than I had planned xD

——————————————————

The double-decker couch

Barley x (female) reader fanfiction

———

Around three months ago:

Y/n’s boyfriend, Barley Lightfoot, had knocked on her window… with small stones… in the middle of the night:

At first her ear just twitched and the noise had mashed with the dream she was having, but the more the noise repeated, the more her consciousness felt pulled into the physical realm again, and with a groan, she had to face the reality that the noise would not stop until she got up (she already had a suspicion as to who was causing the noise).

With a heavy sigh, y/n forced herself from under her comfortable blanket, before ripping the window open.

‘Of course it’s him’, she thought, looking down at Barley as he waved his hands up at her, somehow wide awake.

‘How much energy can a person have?’, she asked herself, before she motioned with her hands, that she’d come outside.

“What in the world are you doing here?”, she asked as she arrived, whisper-yelling at him.

“Well you know how it is my lady: sometimes one just drives around at night after finishing a campaign of quests of yore and sees the poster of a double-decker bus and then one might think: ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if one could have a couch after that structure?’ After having had thought about a new couch for a while and ‘wouldn’t it be cool, if one might be able to build that with their girlfriend?’”

“I can’t say I relate, though I am impressed by one having the idea”, she said, deliberately accentuating the word ‘one’, as she couldn’t now but smile at her beautiful dork, “And I have to say I love the idea, though I still have to decide whether it was worth waking me up at three a.m… but for now I’ll just say yes, because I love you too much to be mad at you for this”

“I know: I’m irresistible”, he winked, pulling her closer to him and engaging her in a sickeningly romantic kiss.

“As nice as this is, I would still like to catch up on some sleep. We’ll write later and you tell when we should start building”

“I actually thought… you know… that maybe now-”

“Don’t push it”

“Right”

Now:

It hadn’t been easy. First they had to scavenge several junkyards for old couches (because let’s be real: They were both poor college students and buying material or new couches just was too expensive), who weren’t completely busted. Then they had to figure out how to build the thing.

After studying art for a while, where y/n had to do a bunch of installation projects, she had gotten significantly better at building things with woods and such, though she still wasn’t an expert. And whilst Barley also got crafty from time to time, he also wasn’t a master.

But somehow, after sweat, and even a couple of tears after y/n once got her hand stuck under one of the couches, they had finished it: The double decker couch.

“This-”, Barley said, pointing his finger at it, “This is beautiful”.

It was a yellow and a green couch, connected through metal poles and stabilized with old wood planks with two ladders placed on top of it and just enough space between the couches, so that one could sit up straight. It sort of looked like a bunk bed, but with couches.

“It is. It really is”, y/n agreed, looking at her bandaged hand, “totally worth busting my hand”

“Totally worth going through every junkyard in the city”, Barley added.

“Totally worth being awake once for 48 hours”, she added as well.

“This should be awarded some kind of price… maybe I’d also just be happy for some money for a wellness weekend ‘cause my back could really need a nice massage”, Barley groaned, touching the small of his back.

“Hard agree”

They stayed standing there for a while, looking at it, before y/n occurred a question that should’ve occurred to her much sooner.

“So-uhm-”, she started, “what do we actually do with it now?”, she asked

“Sit on it of course. You sit below and I above so I can feed you grapes like you’re a roman emperor”, Barley explained matter of factly.

“That sounds lovely darling but that’s not what I mean”

“What seems to be the issue then?”he asked, a little frustrated. What could she possibly have to say now? After so much hard work?

“I mean… where do we put it?”, she asked with a sincere expression which immediately washed away his annoyance, “because it certainly won’t stay in my parents basement”, she stated.

“It’s certainly more worthy than this old, dusty room with your family's junk. And also because this place is crawling with bugs that I will have to remove every time because you’ll just screech and run away until it magically disappears”

“Hey!”, y/n interjected

“It's true!”

“Ok yeah fair enough, though seriously- where? I also can bet’ya we can’t put it anywhere in our homes either. It probably barely fit under the ceiling”

“Yeah no”

A moment of contemplative silence spread across them.

After a while, Barleys thoughts wandered to the night where he had gotten the idea. He thought about his beloved car-

‘OH. MY. GOD. That’s it!’, he thought to himself.

“I got it!”, he then yelled excitedly, his face contorted into one of the most adorable expressions y/n had ever seen anyone wear. No matter what it would be: She couldn’t but say yes to that smile.

Still she asked, “What’ya got?”

“You know how I got my idea from a poster with a double-decker bus?”, he asked her, still smiling like he had won the lottery

“Yes?”

“And you know how I have a van, right?”

“No”, she answered sarcastically, “I know absolutely nothing about your most prized possession of a van that you called Guenivere the second after you sacrificed your first Guenivere when on a quest-”

“Ok I got the gist”, he chuckled, “but ok hear this: Since I have this wonderful van, this wonderful BIG van-”

“Wait a minute: You really want to put the couch in-”, she interrupted as she realized what he was saying, but got immediately interrupted back as he realized she had caught on

“Yes! I absolutely am”

“Dear lord… but ok I have no better idea, let’s do it”

“YES”

“Barley I am telling you, this is NOT working”, y/n huffed as she let her side of the construction gently land on the ground once again.

“Come on, just one more time!”, Barley pleaded.

“You’ve been saying ‘just one more time’ for an hour!”, she argued, “there is no way around: this just doesn’t fit inside the van. You underestimated Guenivere”

“Hey! There is no underestimating Guenivere! It’s not her fault”, he pouted.

“Ok ok ok... Sorry Gueni”, y/n said, giving the car a sincere pat on one of the back doors. She has gotten used to treating the car similar to a pet, “but seriously: We’ve been trying this at every angle, and as cool as Guenivere is, she can’t magically shapeshift”

“Magically shapeshift”, Barely repeated her last words, suddenly deep in thought, before an “ohhhh”, sound escaped him, “wait here my lady, I’ll be back in a sec”

“O...k”, she said, a little confused.

Five minutes later, she saw Ian storm out of his house, his hands clenched around his magic staff, with Barley closely behind him. “WHAT'S THE EMERGENCY?”Ian yelled as he came to a hold, which caused his brother to almost crash into him.

“I need you to make Guenivere big enough so that our self made double-decker couch fits into her”, Barely explained, breathing as though he had just run from death.

For a moment nobody said anything to that before Ian and y/n both shouted

“WHAT?”,at the same time.

“So much for an emergency”, Ian also mumbled, a little annoyed at his brother's antics.

“I mean: If she’s too small, then we can just make her bigger, right?”

“Technically yes but I think you didn’t consider a very small, tiny detail”, Ian commented.

“And what would that be?”, Barley asked irritated, not understanding what the issue was.

“You are aware as a supposed magic expert, that I can’t only enlarge the trunk, right? I would have to make the entire car big, and that would lead-”

“-to the entire street being filled with the car”, y/n finished the thought, apologetically laying her hand on Barleys shoulder, “I’m sorry my love. It was a nice thought”

“Dang it”, Barley breathed out, “I was looking forward to make my own uber-van-couch-double-decker-business”

“Hm”, y/n simply hummed. She had known from the beginning it would probably go south, but his enthusiasm had given her hope.

“Sorry Barley”, Ian said quietly, now feeling bad for having been so harsh beforehand , before slowly heading inside again.

Y/n and Barely sat down on the edge of Guenivere’s trunk, tired and disappointed that it all hadn’t turned out like they wanted as they looked at their creation.

Y/n leaned against Barley’s shoulder, lovingly rubbing her cheek against him like a cat (she loved doing that).

After a while Barley decided he had enough of sulking, standing up to go to the front to put on some good old metal (which luckily she enjoyed too).

As he however returned to the trunk, he noticed some ropes laying around.

He had used ropes last time to tie up some of the material he had bought for their project, so they wouldn’t move around- what if though…

“Ok I’ve had enough”, Barley decided, “I WILL have my double-decker-couch-van for more people to ride with me and my buddies and if its the last thing I’m gonna do!”

“Barley, what are you-”, y/n wanted to ask, but as she saw him pick up the ropes from the trunk floor, she understood, “- Are you sure this will work out?”

“Nope”, he answered truthfully, “but I will surely try!”

She was still skeptical, but at the same time she would try anything with him, and if it meant helping him tie a double-decker-couch to the roof of his van.

“If you believe it can be done, I will too”, she smiled, giving him a quick peck on his cheek, “let’s do this!”

It was eight p.m. The sun was almost behind the horizon and the streetlamps threw dodgy looking lights in the middle of the street and kept the corners dark.

But the elven couple, who stood in front of a yellow van with a double-decker couch tied to its roof, couldn't help but see what they had accomplished: Which was accomplishing what, at least the female elf, had thought was impossible… yet again.

“I can’t believe that worked”, Y/n mumbled.

“Told ya”, Barley hushed back.

“Should we drive around? See if anyone is crazy enough to go on a drive?”, she asked.

“You bet we are. And tomorrow… and whenever we can. I’ll be the driver and you the tourist guide.. or maybe some kinda sturdess, after all you’re good lookin’”

“Oh hush”, she giggled, visibly blushing

“And-”, he continued, though not without giving her a good wink after his compliment, “then we’re gonna show the dear people of this town another perspective to life”

“That we can promise”, she laughed, “that we sure can”

[wiypt-writes]

Guilty As Charged

Guilty As Charged: Bucky Barnes One Shot

Summary: Defence Attorney James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is the absolute bane of your life…

Pairing: Lawyer AU Bucky Barnes x Reader (Frenemies!)

Warnings: Bad language words.

Word Count- Under 2k

A/N:  This was originally posted on my old blog ages ago, but I’ve just given it a little polish and thought, seeing as I’m on the Bucky Train at the moment, I’d bring it back. Also, my knowledge on US Criminal Law is sketchy at best, so humour me…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist // Main Masterlist

*******

In God We Trust, the words set about the Judge’s podium were fixed in your vision, motes of dust moving freely in the rays of sunlight which were streaming through the large, ornate windows of the court room and you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, concentrating on expelling the nerves you were feeling with the air that left your mouth and lungs.

No matter how many times you were in this position, the reading of the verdict still got to you. Your gaze turned to the jury, as the judge did the same, that all important question ringing across the room, the air stiflingly tense.

“On the charge of murder in the first degree, do you find the defendant or not guilty"

“Not guilty.”

Fuck.

Cheers from the defendants family drowned out your loud groan as you rubbed at your temple. Looking over at your colleague, Sam, you shook your head in utter disbelief.

The judge continued through the remaining charges, second-degree murder and voluntary manslaughter, and your despair grew as the same verdict was returned for each.

You’d lost. And it stung, not merely because of your near perfect conviction rate, but for the family of the victim you were one-hundred percent convinced the accused.

"Y/N this wasn't your fault.” Sam stated in a low voice but you simply sighed again and shrugged.

"I was sure they'd see through his lies,” you glanced over to your right where the defence team, headed up by James Buchanan Barnes of Barnes and Rogers Law firm were shaking hand with each other and their defendant. Barnes' face was arranged in the usual smug look that you always had the urge to slap right off it. His partner, Steve, glanced over at you and gave you a genuine, sympathetic smile.

He’s always the most courteous out of the two, the one you actually didn’t mind dealing with when it came to cases.

"He fucking did it Y/N," Sam's voice was almost a growl, "I know he did."

"Well in the eyes of the law he didn’t." You stated, standing up.

The commotion continued behind you, as the defendant was told he was free to go. Making sure to keep your head down, you hastily shuffled your papers back into their respective files and packed your briefcase up. Picking up your jacket, you shrugged it on, smoothing down pencil skirt before you head to leave the courtroom before Barnes can pipe up with his usual smart ass quips. But you're not quite fast enough. "Commiserations Miss Y/LN, can't win em all." The familiar Brooklyn drawl hit your ears.

"Buck," Steve sighed "c'mon pal..."

You grit your teeth. You know you shouldn't rise to it, but you just can’t help it. The man is an utter jack ass in the courtroom. Spinning to face him, you shot him your best contemptuous glare, the one you always reserve for those people you really cannot stand, and looked at him like he was something you'd just trodden in.

"You know Barnes, there is such a thing as being gracious in victory as well as defeat." "Defeat?” He asked, looking at Steve with a puzzled expression on his face, “no, not sure what that is." "Eat shit.” You mumbled before turning to Sam who was stood behind you, watching the exchange. You nod to him and the two of you continued up the aisle towards the exit. The victim's family were congregated outside and all at once the start barraging you with questions.

"How did that happen?"

"You said it was a cert he would go down!”

"What about a private prosecution?”

You sighed and turn to look at them, you were exhausted. "I'm sorry.” You shook your head. “That new evidence that his attorney submitted, it was just threw too much of a doubt into the juries mind..." you held your hand up to gently silence them. “If you're serious about a private prosecution then I can meet you next week to discuss and put you in touch with a few people but I’m sorry, as far as the State’s involvement goes…I can’t do anymore."

Escaping as quickly as you could, you and Sam headed back to your office. After a short meeting with your boss, the District Attorney, who was as pissed as you were that the prosecution had failed, you emerged feeling twice as tired and battered as you had when you’d left the courtroom.

As Sam stated, there was only one thing left you could do. Drink alcohol. A lot of alcohol.

It was a short walk to your preferred bar, having decided to abandon your car and collect it in the morning. You were going to get drunk. Really drunk. "Hey Y/N, hey Sam." Clint, the bar tender greeted you. “I hear it wasn't a great day.” You looked up and saw he was pointing to the TV behind the bar. It was on a news channel, focussing on a report from earlier that afternoon which wasn’t surprising. The case had thrown up huge public interest ever since the body of the teenage girl has been found in the alleyway in Queens. The defendant confessed but somehow, the new evidence submitted was an alleged recording that the defence had gotten their hands on as proof the confession was taken under duress. If you were being totally honest, you had to admit that it didn't sound great, the officer did seem to be leaning heavily on the defendant, but the other evidence was, no, IS overwhelming.

But all it needed was that little seed of doubt, which the defence sowed expertly, and the jury couldn't convict. And now, thanks to Barnes and Rogers, specifically Barnes, in your mind a dangerous killer was walking free. As you stared at the television, you saw Barnes on the screen with the defendant, all smiles and Steve at his side. Barnes greeted the press with a raised hand. "Clint turn it over man." Sam almost pleaded and Clint shot you both a sympathetic look, before he pointed the remote at and flicked the report over to a mundane, late afternoon game show. You ordered 2 beers, and then settled at the bar on one of the tall chairs, crossing your bare, heeled legs as you and Sam began to dissect the case. You couldn’t help it, you always did this, analyse where you went wrong or right.

The pair of you got that enthralled in your discussions, that before you know it, it was an hour lager and you're now four beers deep... and Sam was fielding an angry phone call from his wife, Natasha. "I gotta go, boss." He sighed, apologetically, “it’s my little girl’s dance recital at six and if I miss this one, Nat’s gonna hang me out to dry!” You waved his explanation off. “Its fine, Sam. Oh, and take the morning tomorrow. That case has had us working all hours and I don’t intend on being there till lunch. Clint, gimme a bourbon please?" "Don't let Barnes get to you.” Sam sighed. “You know what he is like" "Smug, arrogant and annoyingly self-righteous.” You nodded. “Yup, I got it.” Sam smiled and dropped a friendly kiss to your cheek. "See you later." Clint slid the glass of bourbon over to you and you smiled before pulling out your phone to check a few emails and your social media. You were just reading through an article about a Billionaire in Manhattan who had designed some kind of metal suit that allowed him to fly (because that's gonna end well), when a familiar voice broke your concentration. "Can I buy you a drink?" You rolled your eyes and looked up at Bucky Barnes as he leaned on the bar, still in his suit, although he had dispensed of his black and white tie, and opened his top button. This was another thing you hated about him. He is utterly gorgeous. Like GQ cover gorgeous, especially in his sharp suits and silk ties.

And he fucking knows it, too. "Depends." You shrugged, throwing back the remainder of your bourbon. "Does it come with a side helping of irritating smugness?" He chuckled. "I'm off duty, Doll so no."

"In that case I'll have another Monkey Shoulder." You slid the empty glass back to Clint. "Take it you're not driving home?" Barnes asked, his azure eyes running over your bare legs. "Well if I do and I get caught, I'm sure you can get me off any charges.” You replied sharply, shooting him a look that made it clear you caught him eyeing you up. And it isn't the first time either. That's another reason you clash so much in the courtroom. Sexual tension. Fucking jerk. He barked out a laugh "You're really not happy with me are you?" "Not particularly." You shook your head, thanking Clint as he pushed the now full glass back to you, with a small wink. It's a double, you noticed. That should set Barnes back a bit. Bucky reached for his beer and after a pull he looked directly at you. "Come work for me." He said and you groaned.

Not this again. "I'm a prosecutor." You rolled your eyes. "Not a defence attorney. I told you that last time you asked. And the time before, and the time before that." "I'm nothing if not persistent." He winked, turning in his stool so he was facing you. "Besides, I can teach you the ways of the dark side." "You’d love that wouldn't you?" You snort. "Oh, Sweetheart you have no idea." He leaned forward slightly, his elbow on the bar and this time he is blatantly staring at the flash of skin that was showing above the buttons on your blouse. "My face is up here, ass hole." With a smirk he raised his deep, blue eyes and they locked onto yours. Despite yourself, you feel your breath hitch slightly. Dammed him and his sex appeal. "Why are you always this insufferable?" You eventually tore your gaze away from his and picked up your drink, glancing up at the TV as an excuse not to look at him. "Ah come on Y/N, don’t be like that." He reached out to squeeze your hand which was resting on the back of the tall chair you were sat in. "We could make a great team..." You raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "Professionally.” He added, his eyes not leaving yours as he took another large drink of his beer, and you pulled your hand away from under his. "I'd kill you within five minutes of us being in the same office." You glared at him as you took another sip from your drink. He chuckled and eyed you again, “to be fair I'm not sure Stevie would be able to function with a beautiful dame such as yourself in close proximity. He still flusters around any woman that isn’t his Peggy.” "That's because Steve is a happily married man." "So am I." He shot back. Ah yes, Mrs Barnes… "Your wife deserves a medal. She must have the patience of a fucking saint to put up with you." You said into your glass. "I have other hidden qualities which mean she's prepared to overlook my slightly less favourable personality traits." He quipped, and you looked back to see that lopsided grin on his face that flips your stomach. Behave Y/N. "They must be very hidden." You mused, and he let out another loud laugh.   "You're killing me, Doll.” "Good." You drained your glass. The liquid burnt your throat and you could feel the effects of the alcohol from the last few hours as your brain started to hum. You looked at Barnes who was watching you, his eyes shining with all the cheekiness of a teenage boy and you know you need to leave before you do something stupid.

Like snogging his dumb, handsome face off. "I think it's time I got going." You said simply, standing up. Barnes gave a nod, draining his bottle. “Yeah I should be making tracks too. Wife to see to, you know how it is.” You stood and he did the same, and you realised he was holding up your jacket, ready for you to slide your arms into. Narrowing your eyes slightly at his sudden chivalry, you couldn’t help the small smile that flickered across your face as you turned and allowed him to help you into it. His hands dropped to your shoulders and he span you round gently and smiled with those perfect teeth, a smile that lit up his beautiful face, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "Lead the way Mrs Barnes.” He instructed softly, dropping a tender kiss to your lips. "You know it's a good job I love you,” you smiled, sliding your arms up round his neck. "Yeah, I know." "Although right now I'm struggling to remember why." "Well, when we get home I'll just have to show you some of those hidden qualities I was talking about, see if they help jog your memory.” You bit your lip slightly at the dark flash of desire that flit across his eyes, and you leant up to brush your lips across his stubbled jawline. "Unanimous verdict,” your voice drops slightly as you pull back and he smirked again, “guilty as charged.” You tossed Clint a good bye, linked your hand into your husband’s and he walked you outside into the brisk wind, his arm pulling you close, his lips pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Yeah, James Buchanan Barnes might be an insufferable, arrogant ass hole in the courtroom, but outside it he's simply your Bucky.

[house-of-no-regrets]

No Regrets [in the wee hours]

Took a bit longer than expected, but I’ve finished the next little story! Hopefully I’ll be able to keep a decent pace on these. No overarching plot, just little stories in the same universe with the same characters. Warning for ~*murder*~ in this one!

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I've been all-too-easy to wake up since I was a child; I'd often needed to go from dead asleep to functional, if groggy, as soon as I heard my father demanding action or attention. While I no longer need that reaction time, the old man long since locked up to rot, my brain is set in its ways and very convinced that I need to be able to bolt out of bed and fight God if a dust bunny moves too quickly in my vicinity.

Which is how I found myself waking up in the middle of the night, the sudden shift in the atmosphere bringing on consciousness with all the subtlety of a foghorn.

My room was silent, still, but I knew without opening my eyes that there was a spirit somewhere, and I didn't even give them a chance to speak before I pointed at the sign posted on my wall, barely shifting from my comfortable snuggle in my blanket and not even opening my eyes. Yes, this happens more often than I care to admit. No, I do not enjoy it. At all.

"Resurrection hours are noon to eight. I'm still alive and still need sleep to function."

There was silence, but the presence didn't leave, so I groaned and raised my head, finally opening my eyes to see the translucent, vaguely glowing, and unfortunately blurry spirit at the foot of my bed.

It did finally speak in a bewildered voice.

"Um, I'm being murdered."

Ah, fuck.

I grabbed my glasses from the bedside table and put them on. The spirit at the foot of my bed was tallish -- I've always been bad at estimating height, maybe half a foot shorter than Yvette? Five-nine... ish? -- and seemed to be in his twenties. There was a considerable dark stain on his chest and belly; likely blood, and the cause of his death. The newly-dead tend to show things like that, as they haven't had the time to get used to modifying their form.

I really hate it when brand new ones find me. I'm not sure how it started, but it seems like more and more often, now, the dead are drawn to No Regrets before they even realize they're dead, at least if they're the type to need my help. Wish I wasn't the one who had to break it to him. I'm not great with people.

"Sorry, bro, but I'm afraid they succeeded. Where was it? I'll get the police over there."

"Uhh... my house. I think. It's a little..."

I sighed. Right.

"You're probably a little out of it still... fresh dead usually are. C'mon, I'll take you around until things look familiar."

Climbing out of bed, I headed over to grab my hoodie from the back of the chair. I learned the hard way that sleeping is not a tits out sort of occasion when you're liable to get the dead dropping in at all hours of the night, so I sleep in pajama pants and a tank top. Little too chilly for tank tops outside, though. I shoved my phone in my hoodie and my feet into loafers, then started heading out of my room and down the hall.

"You remember your name?" I asked, trying to make conversation and learn what I could.

"Uh, Davis. Craig? Craig Davis."

"Well, Craig Davis, I'm sorry to hear about your passing. You're gonna need to possess me for this little adventure, by the way, but I'll walk you through it once we're outside."

"I- what?"

Considering how often I find myself lost in normal conversations, dealing with confused new spirits is especially difficult. Still shaking off my body's angry demands for More Sleep was not helping matters in the slightest, either.

"Possession. I'll explain it in just a minute." I rubbed an eye and yawned as I stopped in the foyer to pull a set of keys off one of the hooks on the wall.

Usually, I've got a driver. Not for vanity reasons, but after three or four near-misses caused by Sudden Spirits appearing in the car with me, I elected to hire someone to drive me into and around town as needed. But it was Fuck-This-Shit O'Clock in the morning, and Graves deserved their rest. The dead don't need to sleep, but they can if they so choose -- and it does, after all, conserve energy. The same goes for Yvette and Ashby; it was too early in the morning for most people to be out and searching for a necromancer to kill, so I wasn't gonna disturb them. I could handle a simple spirit chauffeur and 911 call on my own.

The keys were to the motor scooter; it was the better choice in this situation, allowing for more mobility and no passenger seat for any extra ghosts to drop into. That did, though, mean that Craig would need to ride shotgun in my body.

When I got out to the green scooter in the driveway, I paused and looked over at Craig.

"Hey, I know you're probably still a little out of it, so Possession 101." Script time. At least having this stuff memorized made it easier to do while dozy. "Our bodies need to take up the same space, so c'mere." I beckoned Craig over.

"So like… step into you?" He asked. Good, seemed like his head was clearing up some.

"Yeah, that's part 1."

He nodded and complied, crossing the space between us and settling in the same location, the two of us clipped into each other like bugged NPCs. It always felt so weird, those moments before a spirit actually possesses you. A sort of wobbly, in-and-out feeling like physics is trying to crush you and the spirit together, or, failing that, just kick your ass to the ground so you're not both in the same place at the same time.

"A'ight, now turn around and face the direction I’m facing, and overlay your hands onto mine as best you can." It was just a moment for him to obey, and I continued. "I'm not resisting, so you're gonna start feeling like you're being pulled in and pushed out at the same time. Space is trying to equalize. Let yourself be pulled in. It's gonna feel a bit like-"

The whirlpool effect kicked in before I could finish, the sudden snap and release of tension as Craig's spirit sank into my body. I wobbled a bit and grabbed the handlebar in front of me, then shivered at the sudden chill and dizziness. I'm pretty good at taking on passengers like this, but that didn't make it any more pleasant.

"You in there, buddy?" I asked out loud. Especially with new spirits, trying to think at each other was more trouble than it was worth. My lips moved to answer, though it wasn't my voice coming out.

"Uh- yeah. Yeah I'm here."

I grabbed the helmet hanging on the other handlebar and snapped it on, kicking the stand up and plopping heavily onto the seat.

"Great. Let's go."

"Wait, why am I not in control?" came Craig's confused voice. He felt almost frustrated, an undercurrent of emotion that wasn't mine despite being in my mind and body.

"Because this is my body, and I let you in willingly. Easier to keep control when you're letting someone in. Plus," I gave a little snort. "You just died, dude. I've been letting spirits possess me since middle school."

I felt his frustration turn to grumpiness, and then the pressure in my head, like a storm rolling in, that I knew from experience was him trying to take control. I froze and let out an irritated huff.

"You stop that. I'm not dealing with you doing some dumb shit with my body. Either chill out or get out."

"Oh- uh. Just wanted to see if I could…"

"Uh-huh. Anyhow, now that you're together enough to try joyriding, do you remember much about where you were before you were killed?"

I started up the scooter as emotions rolled through my mind, detached and distant, almost like the muffled dissociation I was used to mid-shutdown. Possessing spirits' emotions always felt weird like that, both mine and not mine, held at arm's length. Craig's was especially turbulent for a new death, but given that he had been murdered… I didn't fault him for being a little confused and angry. Even if it did put me a little on edge. 

"Uh- South Pine Street, Dogwood Acres housing development."

"Baller. That's not far from here. Once we get close to your body, you should be able to feel where it is, so I'll have a house number for the police. Don't want to have them scream in all blue lights and loud sirens and have your killer go to ground before they know which house, y'know?"

The muffled flare of anger that I felt was definitely not my own. I took a deep breath, hoped that the killer had panicked and tried to clean up instead of get rid of the body first, and puttered off towards Dogwood.

The housing development was quiet, lines upon lines of identical suburban boxes lit by flickering street lights that cast the sidewalks and yards in harsh white light. The occasional house had the glow of yellow within, but most of them were dormant. Weaving my way through the maze of streets, each one absolutely indistinguishable from the one before and the one to come, I felt terribly exposed -- and alone despite the spirit currently hitching along in my body.

I turned onto South Pine and brought my scooter to a puttering stop, stabilizing it with both feet on the ground. I couldn't help but bounce my legs to replace the vibration of driving; the sudden lack of sensation would ratchet my anxiety up even if I wasn't currently letting a frustrated dead man hang out in my head to catch his murderer.

...I should be more than a little anxious, really, but half-asleep Tabby once again wrote a check that more-awake Tabby is having to cash, and more-awake Tabby is very used to having to deal with the consequences of her idiot decisions. It occurred to me that normal peoples' consequences didn't usually involve murder, but when you live with the dead, you're bound to meet a few killers.

Two houses down, I could feel- not a tug so much as a presence, an echo of Craig's spirit reacting to his body. It was the only one on the street with its lights on and its garage, while not lit, was open. There was a car in the garage, another in the driveway, and a pickup at the curb in front.

"258?" I asked Craig, though I knew the answer already. His anger flared and I felt the oncoming storm again. I snapped at him. "That's two strikes, Craig. I'm sorry for your death, but if you end up driving my body into a crime scene or, god forbid, getting me killed next, I will kick your ass to whatever afterlife you're headed for and stay there to keep kicking it for eternity."

Big words for a short fat lady, but this is, in fact, my body on the line right now. I probably wouldn't be able to follow through on any ass-kicking, but dammit, I would try.

Craig was silent, and I could feel him steaming, petulant like a child denied a toy but with the power of a grown man behind it. With my stomach tying itself in knots and my hands starting to tremble, I dialed 911, hoping it would help quell the rising panic.

"258 South Pine Street. I think there's been a murder. I don't know the state of the crime scene or if the perp is still there, but you might be able to catch them if you hurry. The victim is Craig Davis, white adult male, either shot or stabbed in the chest, likely multiple times-"

"Wait, is this Tabby? The necro girl?"

Oh god I hope that isn't what the operators call me regularly-- I know I'm a bit of a 911 cryptid, since the usual intruder calls are to the non-emergency line, but if I get known as the necro girl I might have to move to a different state.

"Yeah, uh, necromancer, yeah-" I couldn't help but stumble over my words, now, with my train of thought derailed by the interruption. "-uh, murder?"

"Right! I'll send someone."

I murmured a thanks and hung up before she could ask me to stay on the line. I already had to stay around for the cops so Craig could give a statement, and making small talk with the 911 operator was not in the spoons tonight.

I don't like cops much, but in my line of work, they're kind of a necessity. I need to stay on the police force's good side because I need them to remove attempted murderers from my property on the regular. ...and also because graverobbing is still technically illegal, even if I do have the body owner's permission to dig them up.

At least most of the locals who know of me and my employees are chill about it. It took a bit of effort to get to that point, but now at least people don't run screaming from the less-presentable of my employees…

The blue lights of the police showed up fairly quickly, followed almost immediately by the red flashing of EMS. I puttered up slowly and parked my scooter just out of range as the officers set to work surrounding the house, then hung my helmet on a handlebar and walked up the rest of the way to watch the impending train wreck. I could feel Craig's anger boiling higher and tried my best to ignore it; Craig himself seemed to have fallen silent and sullen after I called him out.

"Tabby!"

I was standing just off to the side of the ambulance when someone stepped up behind me and called my name, making me jump and cringe.

"Oh- oh dear, I'm sorry, Tabs. I thought I heard you were the one who called this in!"

I straightened up immediately, face burning. I recognized that voice, bright and smooth and kind and--

"J-Jenna!" My voice was barely a squeak as I turned to face her, looking up at the round, dark face of one of the EMTs. She was a good six feet tall, maybe more, towering above me even in her uniform flats, with a brilliant smile and full lips and gorgeous natural hair pulled through the back of her uniform cap, the streetlight illuminating her from behind like a halogen angel.

Jenna had shown up to one of my early calls for assistance at No Regrets, and then she kept turning up, not every time I was in a situation where I'd be around EMTs, but often.

Concern showed on her face as she leaned to look me over.

"Are you okay? Did you see it happen, or-"

I shook my head, buying time to sort out words by tapping my temple with a finger.

"N-no, I uh- the victim woke me up, he's in here, uh, in case the cops need somethin' from him."

"Oh… are you getting enough sleep, dear? You sound exhausted. Do you want to sit in the back of the truck?"

It took me a second or two to recover from the way she called me dear, my face burning bright red. I couldn't make eye contact even for the second or two I can usually manage so that people don't immediately think I'm being dishonest.

"I- uh- um- w-well, it's, uh, it is like 4am--" I stammered, trying desperately to find words. "I-I guess 'm sleepin' okay, uh, how're… you doing??"

I have never been a great orator and the list of why that is gets a bit longer with every um and stutter.

Jenna's face bloomed into a gorgeous, open grin.

"I'm on 12-hour overnights right now, so I'm basically at least 60 percent Red Bull at any given time. Everyone okay up there at the House? Last I heard y'all were digging up half the lawn.”

I nodded, unable to keep from grinning. At least this was a subject I could talk to her about without making an absolute ass of myself--

"Yeah! The new girl, Chris, she's gotten Daryl and Roy to help her get the vegetable garden going! It's plenty big enough to take care of all of us, and I worked out a deal with the soup kitchen so that they get any of our excess, once things are running smoothly, and I can use their account to buy from that bulk food program that's usually only open to chari- oop-!" I bit my tongue and cringed. Right. I'm pretty sure that's technically fraud and I just admitted to it in front of-

There was a commotion from the house that snapped me back to attention, and the cops were leading a man out in handcuffs. He looked pale and shaken, spattered in blood, and not quite… present, like he had just checked out of reality for his own good. That… was a familiar look. I furrowed my brow. He certainly didn't look like a maniacal killer-

"He caught me with his wife," I said. Well. Craig said. I jumped. Jenna jumped. I flushed and covered my mouth reflexively.

"N-no that was him! The victim!" I squeaked. Jenna laughed, a hearty belly laugh, and covered her own mouth, though she was doing a terrible job of hiding her grin.

"I figured! If he caught you with his wife, it would be an upgrade!"

At this point, you could probably fry an egg on my face. Hell, my glasses were starting to fog up-- I stammered for a few moments, trying desperately to find something to say, and it was Craig who saved me, if you could call it that. I was too caught up in my embarrassment and awkwardness to realize how much anger and frustration he was radiating.

"Motherfucker told me he'd have my job! Son of a bitch thinks he can get away with doing this to me, he's gonna fucking pay--"

The oncoming storm crashed over me before I could get a grip on it, and all of a sudden I was lumbering forward, snarling words that weren't my own, and dragging a gardening pickaxe out of my truck -- Craig's truck -- on my way to the man and the cops--

I let out a shriek, in my own voice, feeling the sound cutting my throat raw. I wrested control of my body back with a lurch, falling on my ass in the yard with the force of it while the silvery-blue form of Craig was ejected from my body, screaming obscenities.

I threw my hand forward, fighting for whatever thoughts and words I could find to fix this. I saw Craig right himself and move back towards me, and the first incantation -- if you could call it that -- that my brain grasped left my lips in a single desperate breath, with a dizzying rush of power--

"INTHENAMEOFTHEMOONIBANISHYOU--!!"

The force of the hurried exorcism rushed outward like a sonic boom, strong enough for even the mundanes around me to feel, and Craig's spirit let out a yowl of rage for a brief second before twisting around itself and collapsing in with a sickening crunch, crushing smaller and smaller until it was gone.

I winced -- not my best exorcism. At all.

As the flare of adrenaline dropped almost immediately and I came back to myself properly, I realized -- blurrily, as my glasses had gotten thrown off somewhere -- at least two officers had their weapons half-drawn at me, though they were looking over at where Craig's spirit had disappeared.

I collapsed the rest of the way onto the grass, shaking, and covered my face with my hands, trying with everything within me not to start crying. I should have realized he'd try something like that, why hadn't I been paying attention- I could have been attacked, I could have been arrested, I could have had to watch myself beat a man to death and I- fuck--

The sob that came out was squeaky and pained, and I pressed my hands harder against my face, like that would stop anything else from going wrong. I should have brought someone-- I shouldn't have let him possess me-- I should have been paying more attention--

Warm tears ran from the corners of my eyes, down my cheeks, to pool in my ears, making my already-trembling body shiver harder with the unpleasant sensation. I'd let myself get complacent, hadn't lost control of a possession like that in years, and- I'd almost- fuck--

"Honey, honey, sit up for me. Tabby? C'mon, let's get you up--"

Numbly, I let Jenna help me into a sitting position, where she wrapped a blanket around me and pressed an open bottle of water into my hands.

"Take slow sips. Are you okay? Just shaken?"

I nodded, some part of me grateful that I couldn't quite see her face properly without my glasses, because I didn't want to see what she thought about me after that. She sighed, though, and sounded relieved when she murmured "Good."

My whole body felt like jelly, trembling so hard I could feel the water in the bottle sloshing around, and I kept flashing from too hot to too cold to too hot again, and I couldn't even sort out my thoughts--

Jenna sat down beside me and rubbed my back. If I wasn't having a complete breakdown, I might have enjoyed it.

I don't know how long it took for me to calm down and clear my head, but the car with the other man had left, and the other EMTs had loaded Craig's body into the ambulance while Jenna sat next to me and made sure I was doing okay.

After a while, though, I blinked and shifted my torso, then opened the blanket more and cursed at the bloom of red on my hoodie.

I heard Jenna curse as well as she stood up, but I grabbed her pants leg.

"N-no, 'm okay," I mumbled, and instead of trying to speak more, I reached to pull my hoodie and tank up my stomach to show bruised, but completely unbroken skin, covered in blood, rivulets following my stretch marks and making it look even worse despite my being otherwise completely uninjured. "See, 'm okay." This was not the first time I've had a possession lead to the dead's cause of death showing on my own body. It wasn't even the bloodiest.

Jenna sat back down, and I could see her leaning in a bit.

"Well damn. Magic ghost stuff, huh?"

I nodded.

"Magic ghost stuff."

I could see the flash of white against dark skin as she grinned.

"So that exorcism… Artemis or Usagi?"

It took me a moment to parse her.question, but all of a sudden I was completely back to myself, just in time to absolutely die of embarrassment.

"L-listen, I- y-you can exorcise i-in anyone's name, i-it's the power and conviction that counts--!!"

"Usagi, then." I could hear the laughter in her voice, laughter that bubbled out moments later. I wanted to crawl in a hole in embarrassment, but- it didn't feel like condescending laughter. I knew what that felt like. She seemed just genuinely amused. "I grew up with Sailor Moon, too."

I couldn't stop the squeak that eaked out, and I covered my face again.

"G-god I hope word about this doesn't get out, people already think I-I'm weird enough, and to- to fall back on anime for magic i-in a pinch is just--"

"Cute," Jenna finished.

I squeaked.

Jenna moved away for a moment, and then she settled my glasses on my nose. I couldn't make eye contact, but I did glance over at her and sheepishly murmur my thanks.

"The officers still want a statement from you, since you made the call and tried to go after the perp, but I don't think they're looking at any charges, given…" Jenna trailed off and looked over at where Craig had disappeared. "...yeah."

I nodded, slowly, and then found myself yawning, the adrenaline drop setting in especially hard.

"...d'you think it can wait 'til tomorrow… 've kinda had a rough night."

"I think they'll be okay with that."