#just with a little bit of brain getting a bit silly in the background of my mind

[angeltism]

so fucking bored oh my god ughhh

[emeritusemeritus]

Charming Witches [Fred Weasley]

Title: Charming Witches [Fred Weasley]

Pairing: PregnantWife!Reader x Fred Weasley, background Hermione X Ron.

Timeline: Set after canon (Fred lives!)

Summary: Ron has an embarrassing issue and unluckily for him, Fred is the only one that can help.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, babies, established relationships. Sexual references throughout. Fred has a bit of a breeding kink- shock. Just a silly little drabble I couldn’t get out of my mind. Fred is a bit mean and sarcastic to Ron.

Word count: 1.6k

"You're, you know... well, sort of, um."

"You'll get there eventually Ronald," Fred jokes with a straight face, half listening to his brother's whispered fumbles whilst he pours himself and his wife a drink, not bothering to offer his youngest brother one. If Fred had even bothered to look at Ron's face, he'd have seen he was as pink in the cheeks as a bottle of love potion, his blush so vivid that he looked ready to erupt with a face full of dragon pox any moment.

Ron clears his throat, trying again, as he casts a nervous glance around the Burrow's kitchen, checking no one was hearing this. He didn't know why he'd chosen Fred of all people to have this conversation with, in theory George would have been a much better choice but he didn't have the same 'qualifications' as his twin, seeing that you and Fred had been together for absolutely years.

"Well, umm," he freezes under Fred's quick but glance, silently telling him to spit it out. "Well you and y/n, you're in sync aren't you... Sexually?"

Whatever Fred was expecting to hear eventually tumble out of his brother's mouth was not even close to the reality and he can't stop his eyebrows from shooting halfway up his forehead instinctively in disbelief.

"Did my very pregnant wife give it away?" He snarks, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of the beer he'd poured, openly enjoying the discomfort his brother was radiating. "That might have been your first clue."

Ron somehow looks paler underneath all the blushing and Fred is revelling in his ability to make his brother squirm.

"Well, yeah I suppose," Ron mumbles, beginning to get defensive and deeply regretting opening up to the trickier twin.

"Calm down Ronald," Fred says, "you and Granger having bedroom troubles?"

"No!" Ron bites back a little too quickly but his resolve breaks under a few seconds of Fred's probing gaze, arms folded in an unconscious power stance. "Maybe."

He's quiet again for a few moments and Fred is uncharacteristically patient whilst he waits for Ron to collect his thoughts.

"How many times would you say is normal, like in a week?"

"Don't know if there's a 'normal' Ronniekins," Fred says with a shrug. "Most days and twice on a Sunday?"

Though he hides it this time, Fred revels in the look of utter horror Ron's eyes convey and it's like he can see the cogs in his brain working on overdrive, emitting smoke as they crumble and break. Evidently, his answer was light years away from what Ron had hoped for. He knows that his wife being ready to pop at any second only helps Ron believe his words and he mentally thanks Godric Gryffindor himself for the overly fortunate timing.

"Don't think it matters mate really; as long as you're both expecting about the same." This time, Fred actually thinks he's being reassuring.

"She just wants to read all the bloody time, even in bed! It's like I'm a bloody afterthought."

"Have you even met your girlfriend?"

This time it's Fred who pauses when he meets the icy glare of his younger brother. He sighs and a slightly awkward silence falls between the pair as they both try to think of how to fix whatever was going on in Ron's mind, hoping that two head were better than one.

"You two alright?"

Ron jumps out of his skin when he hears your slightly concerned greeting upon seeing the two brothers, Fred especially, in near silence.

"Don't tell me you forgot I was here," you joke to Ron, walking over to Fred as he holds out your waiting drink. "Been your sister in law for five years! Plus the bump makes me pretty memorable," you add with a smile.

"I'll say," Fred says with a wink, the cheeky glint in his eyes ever more sparkling as he looks at your bulging tummy, unashamedly ogling your pregnant form. You gently nudged him, silently telling him to be quiet but as you do so, you catch a slightly glare aimed at your husband from Ron.

"Am I interrupting? " You ask outright, sensing tension.

"No," says Fred almost immediately.

"A bit," Ron admits, cringing slightly before he lets out a loud yelp, having been smacked upside the back of the head by his older brother for his disrespect. He grumbles slightly under his breath, absently rubbing the back of his head where Fred's hand had connected to him and let's put a deep sigh.

"You're a girl," he says, averting his eyes anywhere except directly on your own.

Fred snickers at Ron's feeble and clumsy attempt at starting the conversation but opts to take a long swig of his beverage to avoid anymore laughter spilling out, though his delight still shines through his eyes.

"Only when it's not a full moon," you jest, trying to slice through the awkwardness Ron is emitting.

"Forget it, you're as bad as he is."

"Firstly I'm offended," you say, reaching out for his arm gently as you feel his begin to pull away, ignoring your husband's opposition. "Secondly, yes I'm a girl... go on."

"Well," he pauses, gathering courage, long ginger lashes covering his shy eyes that still raise no further than your ankles, "say Fred suddenly didn't want sex."

"Wouldn't happen."

"Fred shush."

"Well... say suddenly he wanted to read at nighttime over having sex."

"Again, wouldn't happen."

"Fred!" You hush him again, this time more firmly.

"How would you go about trying to, you know, fix it."

You were certain you'd never seen Ron this vividly pink in the cheeks before, he looked like he'd been decorated up to display in Umbridge's office.

"That's the problem? Hermione wants to read instead of sex?" You ask, not really seeing the big issue, but trying to say it gently so that you didn't spook him.

He nods, "but it's all the time," he adds, justifying his gripe.

"Well," you say, lowering yourself into Arthur's seat at the head of the kitchen table only a few feet away, unable to stand much longer. "Play her at her own game."

"Eh?" The brothers ask in sync, their faces scrunched into an almost identical confused expression. You simply shrug.

"Make yourself less available to her, pull back a bit," you say, taking a sip of your drink to wet your lips. "Start reading in bed just like she does, act like you're not interested in just sex."

"So I act like I'm not bothered even though I am?" He asks, still not following what you're saying.

"Sort of," you say, trying to find a better way of wording it.

"Reading's always been her favourite thing to do hasn't it? Join in on it. I'd bet on my life that she has a fantasy of you in bed shirtless reading beside her. Stop making advances, let her come to you."

"That's actually quite clever," he says after a few moments of consideration.

"It's been known."

"Shirtless?" He asks with a frown, seemingly fixating on that point.

You chuckle nodding, "well you have to still appeal to her, you don't want it to just be a study session do you?"

"Right, right," he says with a nod, a slight smile returning to his face before it dramatically falls away in an almost comedic move.

"I don't have a book."

"What do you mean you don't have a book?" Fred says in a flabbergasted manner, earning a slight but unconscious raise of your eyebrow. Though you didn't comment on the irony of his words considering you couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him so much as skim the daily prophet.

"I don't really have one," Ron mumbles quietly, "unless my quidditch annual counts."

"It doesn't," you say firmly.

"So I need a book," Ron says firmly, as if he was cementing the plan in his mind, nodding along with his thoughts until he finally makes eye contact. "Thanks y/n," he says with a smile and a nod of his head before he walks away, a bounce in his step.

"Think it's actually gonna work?" Fred asks as you pry yourself out of the chair and walk to stand next to him as you place your empty cup in the sink.

You let out a little chortle and shrug, "well if it doesn't, at least Hermione can read in peace."

Laughter bursts out of Fred and he pulls you close, bump nestled between you as he delights in your words, realising you had absolutely no idea if the plan would work.

Later that evening when everyone was preparing to leave the Burrow after another wonderful family dinner, Ron pulls you and Fred to one side before he left, away from the eyes and ears of everyone else.

"Thanks again for earlier," he says, clearly feeling more at ease about his issue. You smile warmly in reply, happy to help.

"No problem little brother," Fred beams, as if it was him that had offered any advice.

"Oi Ron," you call out quietly to get his attention as he turns to leave. With a smile, you reach down into the bag on your shoulder and pull out an item you'd gleefully searched for in Fred and George's old bedroom after the conversation. "Just incase my advice doesn't work."

Ron frowns reaching for the item you were handing him, a frown that only deepens as he reads the title of the book he was now holding. Fred's laughter is sudden and booming as his eyes land on the once familiar item that had him cracking up laughing, realising instantly what it was.

Twelve fail-safe ways to charm witches.

"Oh piss off."

Taglist part 1

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[sylviathejester]

TIRED.

maybe it’s time to say goodbye, ‘cause i’m getting pretty fuckin’ tired.

PLATONIC!JOHN PRICE x TEENAGER!GN!Y/N

warnings: mentions of death, foster care (this is my first time writing about foster care, excuse me if there’s any imperfections), attempted suicide, slight swearing

author note: this is separate from the poll. please tell me if the spacing is a turn off, it’s for aesthetic purposes in this oneshot, slowing your reading like Y/N’s world momentarily stills at the thoughts.

word count: 859.

Death. You’ve been thinking about it for days on end, what does it feel like? Your foster father, Jonathan (or as everyone calls him, John), says it’s Cold. Chilling. Scary. But what if it isn’t? Some people die with a smile on their face, so perhaps it could be the same for you?

Foster family after foster family. Abusive, neglectful piece of shits who only foster for the money. You’re afraid John might be the same.

The poor man, however, actively tries to convince you he isn’t like them. He does movie nights every Saturday, he actually listens when you talk, every word you say doesn’t go unnoticed. And his efforts don’t go unnoticed by you, not at all. He’s gentle. He’s a gentle man.

But you’ve had enough.

You’re scared shitless, some families acted like they were “mental health advocates” until you showed signs of burnout, depression, and even a tinge of anger issues, that’s when they threw you away.

And you’re just at your limit with John. The mask is.. slowly.. cracking.

John’s been a sweet guy, and he does everything in his power to make you feel okay, safe, happy. But you don’t budge. But you don’t show that you’re not budging, you show him a happy person, someone you’re not. And you’re getting tired.

”Mama was a bit naïve, and her daddy was a blinded thief. He went and stole away what was left of the remains of a family. “ Another Empty Bottle by Katy McAllister plays, you forgot the last time you heard this song, but it was one of your favorites when you were younger, more innocent, unaware of the shit going on between biological Mom and Dad. Unaware of the abuse. Perhaps your soul always felt like something was wrong, and your brain caught up later.

You sit on the couch, the TV on. You briefly look at the movement, the show must be some silly romcom, how cute.

Your phone’s music and the TV served as background noise, initially done to shut away the thoughts, but they’re.. lingering..

John was out of the house, buying groceries. He tried to persuade you to tag along; “You haven’t been out the house for a couple of weeks now, Y/N. you better go out!” He said, in that sickly sweet and kind voice of his. But you insisted on staying. Being tired from staying up was your excuse, and he let you off.

You paused the music and turned off the TV, and laid down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. It wouldn’t hurt to.. at least try. If he comes back before you actually do it, you can act like you never even tried, it’d be fine.

And if you succeeded?

But wouldn’t he be upset? Sad? He’d feel like he failed you. He never did, he never will.

He’d understand, surely he will.

Suddenly, you find yourself in the kitchen, in front of the knives John kept hanging on a shelf. For some reason he leaves them out in the open.

You grab the sharpest one, or rather, the newest knife. You look at it, and your reflection stares right back, as if to plead with you to not do it, think about it.

You ignore its pleas.

You slowly place the knife right under your wrist. Your breathing’s heavy, your heartbeat’s accelerated.

Should I do it? Should I do it?

Should I-

Warmth, but not from your wrist.

Your shoulder? Is it the grim reaper paying a visit?

You look over slowly, and your stomach drops. It’s John.

You look behind him, the grocery bags are on the floor, the different things he bought scattered across the floor.

“Hey.” He speaks a little louder, which causes you to look at him. He puts two fingers under your chin, keeping it in place.

He slowly takes the knife from your hand, sliding it across the counter; away from your hands.

“Are you okay?” Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Warmth, but not from your wrist.

Your eyes? You must be going blind.

Warmth, but not from your wrist.

Throughout your body, are you in Heaven?

No, you’re in John’s arms. Maybe that’s your own, twisted little version of Heaven. Isn’t Heaven the place where you feel eternal peace? John gives you peace, albeit not as eternal as Heaven, but he’s your Heaven on Earth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“ You sob into his chest. He merely shushes you, running his hand up and down your back.

It’s 11PM. You and John are on the couch, you’re holding onto him like a koala hugging a tree. It’s been silent.

“What made you want to do it?” He breaks the silence as he whispers the dreaded question.

“John, do you- will you still want me here?” You look at him.

Silence.

“Pardon?” He raises a brow.

“Will you still want me here? You won’t- give me back, right?” You look at him: expectant, hopeful.

“Of course not, Y/N.” He hugged you a little tighter. “You’re stuck with me.”

Maybe he won’t leave like the others did.

At the realization, the world felt a little brighter.

[kurokens]

In The Middle | Satosugu

anime/manga: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru & geto suguru

words: 798

pronouns: they/them

request: none

notes: probably an overused prompt but idc sue me, i needed to write one of my own. im a sucker for misunderstanding. i haven't written anything in such a long time, it's been a while im sorry, satosugu have been on my mind for a while, and i needed to write something with them because i love them so fucking much. it's gonna be a series, so hopefully i dont disappear after one part lol... later on it might be specific on some insecurities bc i need it and i thought well let's just share it with the world and other who might need it. sorry for any mistakes T-T

not proof read

song rec: SHE'S - In The Middle

genre: hurt comfort, fluff, slowburn, a little bit angsty, poly?

warnings: bad english not my first language, satosugu are in a loving relationship, misunderstanding, pinning, a lot of pinning on satosugu's end, reader is so oblivious (is that the right one?), insecure and self conscious reader

You've always told yourself you weren't the type to live with anyone, you liked your quiet and your peace. Alone in your little bubble, without a soul to disturb it. And yet, here you were awoken by your roomates lover quarrel in the room next door, for the hundredth time this week.

"Don't you love me anymore? Am I not enough for you?" a whiny voice whisper-screamed "Satoru, my love, it was a dream, it was all in your head." an exhausted voice replied

"So what?? It doesn't mean anything? Are my feelings not valid?" Gojo huffed.

"How are you so dramatic so early in the morning? Let's go back to sleep come here.", Geto carefully lifted the blanket so his boyfriend could go back exactly where he belonged, asleep and quiet in his arms.

Such occurences weren't new to you, you could even say there were your daily life, that's why you laughed hearing the bickering couple, and turned around in your bed to try and fall back asleep while their muffled voices could still be heard in the background. This was without counting on what part of their conversation your brain decided to pick up on next. "I dont know for how much longer I can do this Sugu.." Satoru sighed. "Me neither love, but there is nothing much we can do about it.They live with us." His black haired lover replied. "I know, ugh I know, but it's getting so much harder everyday. Seeing them is becoming unbearable. I can't stand it anymore, we need to do something." He went on. "Shh, I know, I feel the same. But we can't just drop this on them all of the sudden and expect it to go well." The oldest reasoned.

Your heart shattered on the other side of the wall, now sitting against the headboard, an unstoppable flow of tears falling down your face. You were a bother? You thought the three of you were friends, shit, scratch that, best friends. And yet, yet, this was how they felt about you. Fuck fuck FUCK You needed to calm down, it's okay, you're okay. It must have been a nightmare, yeah that's right, a nightmare. Your brain loved playing tricks on you, waking you up in the middle of the night with the most vivid and realistic nightmares ever, enough to send you into full blown meltdown. Nothing to worry about, it was just a nightmare, nothing else. That's what you told yourself and yet when you woke up you couldnt shake this weird feeling in your stomach. You contemplated staying in your bed all day and avoid your roomates but that would be silly to ignore them for something that was potentially just a dream. So you shook the silly feelings away and got out of your bed, made your way to the kitchen to make some breakfast. Your two roommates were already there, being lovey dovey in each others lap and the weird feeling made its way back into your stomach. "Hi there." You greeted tiredly, only to be met with an echo of short hms, and not even a nod to accompany the cold greeting. The lack of acknowledgment not helping with your already overthinking mind, you decided to take a quick breakfast and just leave them be. It could just be a coincidence, nothing to worry about haha, right? Or so you thought, because you were back in your room mindlessly scrolling through tik tok when you once again hear the muffled voices of your roommates. Your brain screamed at you to put your headphones on and drown out their conversation, but you couldn't get yourself to do it, and you decided to listen to them, to at least finally be able to know whether or not you dreamed what happened last night. And maybe you shouldn't have, but what else could you do now but listen to the cruel words of the ones you once considered your best friends. "Suguru, we need to do it soon. I can't even handle looking at them in the eyes anymore, let alone utter a word to them. We can't keep going like this." Satoru complained. "I know 'Toru, I know, but you need to understand it's not as easy as you think it is." You heard the black haired man answer. And it was enough for you, you needed to get out of there. You obviously were no longer welcomed here, and the sooner you left, the better it would be, for both parties. So inbetween tears you picked up a bag and threw some spare clothes and anything that you could think of in your frenzy state before you ran out of there, determined to never come back, at least not for a while.

here u gooo!! sorry i've been away for a while, i've been finding it hard to write and staying focused, but i missed it so much, especially for these two. i'll try not to take too long to write AT LEAST a second part, but would love to do more than this bc i want it to be extremely slown burn and a little bit angsty krkrkr

part 2 is here!!

[merrybloomwrites]

The Rake

Summary: You start having nightmares that disrupt your sleep, but luckily your boyfriend, Spencer, is there to help you through it.

Word Count: 1.8K

CW: mentions of creepy stories, nightmares

AN: This story is inspired by the Smosh Mouth episode that came out on October 21, which honestly did manage to creep me out a couple of times.

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

Nearly everyday after work you go for a thirty minute walk. It’s always nice to go outside and enjoy some fresh air after being cooped up in the Smosh office all day. 

Plus it’s the perfect time to listen to podcasts. On Mondays you get to hear the first half of the newest Smosh Mouth episode, and you finish it up on Tuesdays. 

Walks are skipped on Wednesdays, as that’s the day you and your boyfriend, Spencer, spend together. 

It’s a perfect system in your eyes, one that you don’t plan on changing any time soon.

Today’s Tuesday, and you pull out your phone to press play on the podcast you’d started the day before. This week’s theme had been creepypastas, and it’s been fun listening to Shayne read out these weird stories.

You do admit that they’ve creeped you out a little bit, especially the one about the doll who demanded teeth. Shayne is an excellent storyteller, and it’s interesting to hear the different voice he uses for these stories. That, plus the eerie background music and noises they add in, really works to give those spooky, somewhat uncomfortable vibes. 

Add on the fact that the sun sets early now and you’re ending your walk at dusk while you listen to the final story about “The Rake”. You’re truthfully a bit freaked out by it, but then the episode ends with some banter from Shayne and Amanda and you move on. 

The rest of your evening passes as it usually does and by the time you get in bed you’ve completely forgotten about the creepy stories.

But then a nightmare wakes you up, and even though you’re now awake, you’re still terrified. Because it looks like something is sitting on the edge of your bed. You’re frozen in fear for what feels like minutes before you’re finally able to turn on your bedside lamp.

Once you’re no longer in complete darkness you can see that nothing is there. You take deep breaths and tell yourself that it’s just a bad dream. There is no weird creature in your room to torment you. You’re just stressed and your brain conjured this image to mess with you.

That’s the rational explanation. But it’s hard to be rational at 4:30 in the morning. 

For the next hour you try to fall back asleep. But it’s no use. You toss and turn, open apps on your phone, try to read a little bit, but nothing is chasing away the dream. At 6am you give up and get out of bed. You decide to take a morning walk today since you won’t be going on one this evening, and maybe getting outside will be a good change of scenery to reset your mind. 

It works, and by the time you arrive at Smosh you’ve forgotten about the dream. You are, however, completely exhausted from waking up so early. 

Spencer notices this immediately, as he gives you his normal good morning kiss. 

“You seem sleepy,” he says as his hand goes to your waist, his thumb rubbing circles on your hip. It’s one of his comforting gestures, and it’s most welcomed right now. 

“Had a weird dream that woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep,” you answer. 

“I’m sorry baby, you want to talk about it?”

“No, I'm good now. Just tired.”

“Okay. If you want to talk, let me know. And I’m staying at your place tonight so I’ll make sure you get a good night's sleep,” he says with a wink, causing you to laugh. 

Just like that, any lingering tension has left you, thanks to your kind and silly boyfriend.

“I’ve got a meeting I need to prepare for, but I’ll see you later,” he says, leaning in for one more quick kiss. With a parting squeeze to your waist he turns and walks away to start his work for the day. 

You do the same, and after a few hours of working at your desk, you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. Just as you're about to get up in search of caffeine, Spencer appears. 

As though he could read your mind, he hands you a mug saying, “Thought you could use a little pick me up. Made you some tea.”

“Thank you, this is exactly what I need right now,” you say. You take a sip and feel a pleasant warmth inside, not only from the tea, but from the fact that your boyfriend, who never drinks tea, has learned how to make it just perfect for you. 

As you sip your drink you reach out a hand. Spencer reaches to link his fingers with yours, and the two of you sit there for a couple minutes in comfortable silence. After this brief time spent together you both return to work. 

You don’t see Spencer for the rest of the day, since your lunch breaks don’t always line up, so it’s extra nice that you’re spending tonight together. 

Once you wrap up your last task of the day you walk over to Spencer’s desk to find him still engrossed by the document on his computer. You wait patiently, not wanting to break his concentration. When he gets to a stopping point he looks up and says, “Hey, sorry, I just need to finish this before I head out.”

“That’s fine, I’ll pick up the food on my way home,” you reply.

“Thank you, I’ll be at your place within the hour, promise.”

“Looking forward to it,” you say before leaning down for a quick kiss. 

You drive home, grabbing dinner as promised, and Spencer gets to your place not long after you do. You enjoy the food before lounging together on the sofa to watch mindless sitcoms. Spencer also keeps his word of tiring you out, the night ending with both of you very satisfied. 

Though all you want is to fall asleep, you definitely need a shower. It’s not what you want to be doing, but when Spencer decides to join you, it becomes much less of a chore. 

The two of you get ready and finally fall into bed. You’re truly exhausted, and as soon as Spencer spoons you from behind, his arms secure around your waist, you drift off to sleep.

But once again you jolt awake, pulse racing as you see what looks like a figure at the edge of the bed. Having felt you move, Spencer shifts beside you. He sits up sleepily and murmurs, “What’s wrong?” 

You try to explain but you’re still frozen by fear. Spencer becomes more alert and notices how wide your eyes are, how quickly you’re breathing. He turns on the lamp and scans the room. 

Seeing nothing to cause alarm he turns to you and again asks, “Baby, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“There was a thing, like a person or a creature or something. At the end of the bed,” you reply shakily. 

“A person in the room?” He asks to clarify. 

“That’s what it looked like but then it disappeared!”

“Okay, just, stay here a minute and I’ll check the apartment,” Spencer says, starting to get out of bed. You’re grateful for his bravery, but there’s no way you’re just going to stay in bed like a sitting duck. 

You get up as well and grab the metal softball bat leaning against the wall. Spencer watches and asks, “Have you always had that there?”

“Just since my moms last visit,” you answer. “She cleaned out the basement and thought I should have it for protection. But can we please focus on the possible intruder?”

“Right, yes, ok,” he says, getting back to the task at hand. The two of you search the apartment, but find nothing. 

You feel better knowing that your apartment is definitely empty, and with Spencer once again holding you protectively, you manage to fall back asleep, not waking until your alarm.

Both of you are needed in a meeting that morning so you quickly get ready and head to work. Once in the conference room, you sit next to Amanda, Spencer on your other side. Even though you’d slept more than the previous night, it’s clear both of you are still sleepier than usual.

“Busy night?” Amanda asks, her voice suggestive, but joking. You know what she’s implying, and though she’s kind of right, you don’t need her knowing that.

“Bad dream,” you say simply. 

“Y/N thought there was a creature on the bed,” Spencer adds. 

“Well, she was right, wasn’t she? You were there,” Shayne says from his spot next to Amanda, causing you to laugh. 

“Heyyy, rude,” is all Spencer has to say in reply. 

“Did you listen to the podcast this week?” Amanda asks.

“Yea of course, I listen every week.”

“And you had a dream about a creature in your bed?” is Amanda’s next question. You nod yes in reply.

“A creature like in the Rake?” 

“Holy shit. Yea. One hundred percent the creature from the rake,” you say, mad at yourself for not putting the pieces together.

“You got a nightmare from us telling stories on the pod?” Shayne asks. “That might be a first.”

You start laughing at how ridiculous this all is before sliding down and resting your head on the table. You’re embarrassed, not only that you had a nightmare because of a comedy podcast, but that everyone at work will absolutely know this fact by the end of the day. You’re already imagining the pranks that you’ll likely endure in the future because of this. 

And of course the pranks do come. In the following weeks, plenty of people joke around about you being scared of the Rake and sometimes pop out at you to make you jump. All of this is a totally normal and expected part of working at Smosh.

But what you don’t expect is Spencer’s reaction. Instead of laughing and messing around with the others, he’s always serious and checking in. He makes sure that it’s not upsetting you, and promises to talk to the others if it is. 

While you reassure him that it truly doesn’t bother you, it’s nice to know that he’s so fully there to back you up. You’d been on your own until you found him, always taking care of yourself. So having Spencer there to help take care of you feels so foreign, and yet, so welcomed. 

The teasing and pranks may get old eventually, but you don’t mind them. Because everytime it happens, Spencer is right there with a smile and a kiss to make sure you’re okay. 

And that makes it all worth it.

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AN: Thanks for reading! Lmk if you have any requests!

[forkloverr]

MORE OLDER LEON HEADCANNONS!!!

I thought I would take advantage of me and @pixieishottogo 's older Leon brain rot AND also answer this ask that had been sitting in my inbox (SORRY!!) anyways.... infinite darkness Leon supremacy <3 🤍 - No silliness (if you know what I mean) but Leon gets a little mischievous at the end 🤍 - calls reader 'princess' 🤍 - An older Leon was in mind while writing this, but to each their own :)

stubble.

The moon is piercing through the windows, various lamps and small lights illuminate the space around you. Soft jazz is quietly playing in the background. It’s approximately 2 AM, and instead of being honked out and snoozing in your warm comfortable bed, you’re hunched over the stove, cooking a warm meal for your husband, Leon, to come back to. He had been called to an impromptu mission earlier that day, and you just knew he wouldn’t be coming home at a reasonable time. So, you sacrifice your precious sleep and prepare a home-cooked meal for him to enjoy as he rests his aching body. You softly rub your droopy sleepy eyes, picturing a sad Leon standing in front of the microwave heating up some instant ramen. That is NOT how your husband is going to look tonight, and you were sure of it. Who knows how much time had passed, it seemed like these noodles would never be done, and maybe, just maybe, you could rest your eyes a little…. It couldn't hurt, right?

As sleep seductively enchants you, a hot prickly sensation overtakes you as haunting lips plant on your neck. Large sturdy arms slither around your waist, and just before you could scream bloody murder, a familiar husky voice appears. “Well well, what is this? Isn’t it a bit late for a princess like you to be awake?” Leon whispers, kissing your cheek as those last words exit his mouth. Your body immediately relaxes, the threat of a (very hot) murderer killing you as you're making homemade ramen no longer exists. Through an obviously fatigued voice, you reply, removing your hand from the pot to rest upon his scarred hand. “I didn’t want you to come home lonely and hungry..” You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, realizing how corny that sounded out loud. (Or maybe it was the steam from the noodles) Leon’s arms squeeze you gently, his head moving back to your neck. “Mmm… How sweet of you, now I feel guilty for not bringing you anything as a repayment.” Then and there you could tell what mischievous plan he was formulating in his beautiful brain. He knew your weakness, HE KNEW very well what it would do to you. And perhaps just wanting to see you squirm, he did just that. Once again pleasant goosebumps arise from your neck as Leon kisses your neck, purposely letting his stubble graze your sensitive skin. You start to giggle, his touch heating up your whole body. Just like he imagined, you squirm beneath his touch, softly grasping at his arms that were keeping you captive. Oh but he doesn't stop, in fact it almost encourages him to keep going. It feels like lava is pooling in your stomach, and butterflies are traveling up your throat, transforming into those sugary sweet giggles he craves to hear. His steamy breath ricochets off your neck, teasing you for more. “Have I messed with you enough dear? I don't think so… maybe just one mor-” The sound of bubbles boiling over the stove interrupts his snarky torture, and immediately reminds you that you were supposed to be watching the noodles. “Oh..” You squeak. Leon finally releases you, spinning you around to look at him while also turning the heat down on the stove. Placing one calloused hand along your jaw, he kisses your lips softly. “Thank you for this love, but after we eat, don't think I’m done with you..” He winks.

[tteokdoroki]

aali!! i've got jock!yuuji & weird fem!reader girlfriend on the brain. what if reader has an off day, maybe just a bunch of minor inconveniences that lead to her soured mood, and to make her feel better, yuuji has an entire night full of selfcare ready for her? painting her nails, buying her favorite face mask, massaging her feet, putting lotion all over her body for her after a hot bath, and a brand new fluffy robe to cozy up on the couch in. 🥺💜

oh rei this is so sweet what if i sob :((

imagine yuuji begging coach gojo to let him off practice early so he can run around campus and get you your favourite snacks before your last class is over. he’d been texting you the whole day and he just knew his baby wasn’t having a good one, so he does his best to make sure your day ends right !!

of course he preps his dorm, finds one of your favourite scents and buys a diffuser for it (no candles unfortunately), loads up a playlist of your comfort songs and makes sure he has a selection of his hoodies lined up for you to pick from when you come over. yuuji arrives to your last class five minutes before it finishes so he can wave to you through the door, watching you perk up a little bit when you see him grinning at you from behind the glass !!

as soon as you’re out he takes your hand in his, kissing the backs of your knuckles ever so softly n asks you “mind if i walk my favourite girl back from class?” just to make you giggle and call him silly like you always do. of course, you agree and let an eager itadori guide you to his dorm :((

of course, your favourite take out is on the way (he knows your order off by heart) while yuuji boots up your comfort movie to play in the background as he does your nails. you can tell he’s really trying, he’s even mastered the French tip and has bought some deco stickers to help spice up the colours you chose. between each completed nail, you get a kiss to your lips or to your hand, and a gentle reassuring smile from the jock you love so much :(

yuuji feeds you while the bath runs, dabs at the corners of your mouth to get ride of any sauce and holds your drink up to your lips. if you protest he just laughs softly n shakes his head “what kind of boyfriend would i be if my girl has to lift a single finger?” he’s so in love with you, just wants to take care of you n baby you.

by the time your bath is done, i think it gets really intimate like :( allowing yuuji to help you out of uncomfy clothes and letting him help you step into the water — not too hot and not too cold. he lathers you up in your favourite soap while humming the melody to your favourite song and sits beside the tub in silence when you don’t feel like talking anymore. like he even does your oil cleanser and then your water based one before you do face masks together and itadori makes silly faces at you from under the hello kitty sheet mask ouh its so wholesome :( <3

he practically carries you back to his bed, bundled up in a million luxury fluffy towels he’d sourced from coach gojo and dries you off slowly between a massage with lavender oil :(( and if you start to fall asleep from how relaxed you are, yuuji pulls your favourite hoodie of his over your head and lets you nuzzle into his chest for a good night’s rest <333

[narfin-frood]

Silly question but how do you art?

Or more like, how is your process to draw? Your lines and posing are so loose and show the feeling of a character so well, like, how do you make your art so real with only a few lines is what most amaze me. Anyway I hope I'm not bothering you and that makes sense, thanks for reading!<3

you're not a bother, don't worry! i'm not sure if there's an appropriately concise answer to a question like this, but i'll try to explain my process for poses a bit, and if there's anything else specific you'd like to know about my process, feel free to ask, and i'll try to answer!

for posing, i find it's very helpful to start by thinking about what situation the character is in. you don't need a location or a background or anything (unless you're being #serious about it). for this, i chose "picking up something way too heavy" (cont. under cut, wall of text ahead)

keeping it very simple is key!!! do not worry about details!!! i am very bad at this. i love to add a little detail or two, like his eyes or his little expression, but i have to catch myself before i get too into it, otherwise i'll forget the point of what i was doing and/or get bored. use just enough strokes to get the point across, and stop there (for now).

i draw fast and loose, with long strokes, which also happens to help with the problem that happens if you start with any specific part of the body. it's important to start with... everything at once, or else you won't be able to see what needs to be changed or fixed until it's too late and you've already decided on where you want the head and the left arm to be!

to display effort & strain without just contorting the character's face, you gotta think about just how heavy the object is, how one would go about grabbing it comfortably, and whether your character is smart enough to lift with their legs.

wander is great (read: BEST CHARACTER DESIGN EVAR. i love him kisskisskiss) because he's not grounded in any sort of reality until necessary, and his limbs have no bones, but he still has specific proportions and volumes to refer back to if you get carried away with the wackiness. posing a character made up of several noodles of varying widths is very simple, because you can do basically whatever you want to push and pull and make it as clear (and/or as funny) as possible.

start with your line of action, in this case the long line connecting his neck and his left foot. think about where the floor is, so you can make the feet of your character and whatever else is touching it coexist in the same reality. think about clarity: big, simple shapes are your friends, and if you're not getting the gist of the pose through the silhouette alone, try again! there's NO shame in hiding the first layer and doing a couple more sketches until you land on something you really like. Don't polish a turd, especially if you yourself think it's a turd. it'll make you feel like you're wasting time, and drawing is about having fun and experimenting, so if it's getting boring or frustrating, it's time to try something else.

wander and other characters with no bones and no rules are great for posing because you can do things like make their arms bend the wrong way just to play with the clarity of the pose. this:

un-breaks the arms and makes a little more sense for somebody with elbows, but some clarity in the action is lost when the arms don't curve upward and away from the very heavy object he's straining to pick up.

grounding your characters is both more complex and easier than it sounds, and it unfortunately requires you to think about perspective (i know. i know. i know it sucks and it's confusing. i hated it for a very long time but once it clicks, you'll have it in your brain forever)

fudging a perspective grid is fairly easy, just draw several parallel lines and have them get closer to each other as they recede into the distance, and then do it again in the opposite direction. you can use the transform tool in whatever program you use most to fudge this for even less effort, by just getting a png of a grid and fucking with it

now that you've got your floor, think about those feet. the grid makes it fairly easy to envision how a shoe would look sitting on that floor:

this is also where having an understanding of volumes comes in handy, because things farther in the distance will in fact look smaller, but it's up to you to figure out just how much smaller it would be in comparison to the other identical thing with the same volume that's closer to the camera. usually it's almost negligible, but it becomes easy to spot if it's a little off.

and here's the pose i settled on! i made his noodle arms more extreme for extra XD factor and i put him on his tippy toes for that extra bit of height!

a lot of the principles i'm talking about in this post i mainly pick up from consciously watching my favorite cartoons (and live action shows) and if i really, really like the way something is done, or if i see something that i've never really registered before, i'll screencap it or i'll pause or i'll just keep thinking about it until i draw again.

this is called "building a visual library" and it's the #1 easiest and most important way to practice. it requires no drawing, unless you want it to. look at lots of art by artists you love, and if you see something and you think to yourself, hey, this looks really good, by all means, absorb it.

art is great and it's really fun and there's literally nothing wrong with taking inspiration where you can find it!! seriously!!! absorb your favorite parts of every art style you find cool and fun and put it into your own! you're the only person who can draw the way you draw, and while replicating an art style is fairly easy (or it can be, depending), matching it perfectly is Literally impossible, so don't worry about being derivative. Nobody will notice, and if they do, it's okay to say you're inspired by them! encouraged, even!

my own art style, like everybody else's, is a frankenstein's monster containing all of the things i've loved before!!! and i think thats beautiful and if anybody tries to tell you you've gotta be 100% original and have "your very own style", they're a filthy liar and they're definitely (consciously or not) already taking inspiration and reference from the things they themselves find cool and awesome.

ANYWAY. wall of text over.

TLDR: draw quickly, use long strokes (try not to pet your lines), have a specific situation to put your character in, get familiar with volumes and proportions, and have fun!!!

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Rat Bastard - Part 2

Pairing: You x Kyungsoo

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 8800

Warnings: There were too many beds, Enemies to Lovers, Spiders (imaginary spiders in a fictional story, as fake as you can get)

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Not a single soul had spoken a word to you in more than three hours.

You’d spent the first two of those three hours watching saved Netflix movies on your phone. You still didn’t have any signal and after two solid hours of mindless television, now you didn’t have any battery either.

The third hour was spent laying on your bed, the one situated as far away from him as physically possible, in various positions of extreme unrest and terrible boredom.

Your latest position was an upside down pose with your legs propped up vertically against the wall and your head hanging off of the edge of this tiny bed. It was weirdly comfortable feeling the way the blood pooled deep inside of your brain and your view of this room flipped upside down, the ceiling was the floor now. If you walked across it you’d have several speed bumps in the form of fluorescent tube lights to contend with. One couldn't just walk straight either, there were a few big ceiling fans that might slice up your ankle at a moment's notice if someone happened to flip the switches on the walls. You wondered if the fans still worked. They all looked as if they hadn’t spun in years and you found yourself finding common ground with them for it had also been years since someone had flipped your switch and sent you spinning. You probably had a few cobwebs too. Maybe even some loose wiring.

You tried closing your eyes but this room, with its lifeless cement walls, was too still and too quiet. You started to hear new sounds the longer you existed in this perpetual state of oppressive silence.

You could hear your own heart beating inside of your chest. It was a noisy racket. You could hear your own annoyingly steady breathing and when you held your breath you could hear your absence of breathing and then worse, the count down to your eventual suffocation. You could hear that timer and the small grunts of your lung muscles fighting against your own death and the noisy gasp for air when your survival instincts kicked in and jump started your breathing again — your silly brain refused to let you die. Again and again you listened. A gurgle in your stomach paired with the twinge you felt with the growl. The sound of your throat constricting and the saliva that pooled inside of your mouth was swished backward and swallowed down your throat, temporarily closing up your ears and the sound of the pressure that changed as it went down. Every sound that happened inside of you was up for grabs. Every twitch and breath could be a source of some stimulation for your brain. Eventually your ears drifted further.

You could hear wind outside and some sort of groaning sounds of what you assumed was the building you were stuck inside the belly of, shifting and shaking with the strong winds outside. Even those sounds eventually shifted to the background of your focus and at the tail ends of the third hour you swear to God you began to hear him.

A small shift on top of his bed at the far end of the room. The quietest throat clearing. A rustling of, now, dry cotton fabric as blunt nails scratched three times over an itch on his skin. A deep breath pulled into his lungs slowly and exhaled through plump parted lips. Once you’d managed to tune into the sound of the air of his lungs, you heard another breath. A steady in and a steady out. A quicker, deeper pull of air as his rhythmic pace stuttered just a bit, and the eventual evening out again of his breaths. Was he asleep? Had that lucky bastard actually been fortunate enough to drift off to sleep and spare himself some of this agonizing boredom?

For absolutely no reason you could imagine, and there really was very little reason happening inside of you right now anyway, you could feel the pace of your own breathing even out. It felt almost involuntary the way you felt compelled; with his inhale, your lungs breathed in. With his exhale, your air left your nostrils and you pursed your own lips just a little, allowing some of the expelled air to pass over your tongue and slip over your lips. Your next inhale was perfectly timed again and you didn’t even have to think about the exhale; you were in sync.

It was absolute madness that you were paying attention to this. The only thing that saved you from actual insanity was that you were aware of how insane this was. The really insane people didn't know they were insane, right? This could be what you told yourself. This could be your absolution.

How much longer could you stand? You could always…leave, right?

You weren’t technically trapped inside of this room. Your mind was drifting through the memories of walking into this place following Sara who navigated the confusing hallways easily. She knew the way. You did not. You recalled walking by a few doors and many dark corridors with many large and mature spider webs in some of the corners.

You pictured leaving this room and walking with fake confidence. Just a harmless little journey. A bit of exploration without a flashlight, through some of the sections of this bunker that didn’t receive the benefit of the generator's power.

The exploration would quickly grow spooky with the soundtrack of the howling winds and the lifelike groaning of the building around you as you prodded on down an unknown path. And when you felt the first strings of sticky spider webs brush against your skin, you would soldier through them. When you felt the bigger, stickier ones attach to your arms and legs and lightly pull against you as you tried to take them off, stubbornly transferring them from fingers to hands and thoroughly coating you so that no amount of flicking could shake them loose and when shaking turned harder you’d only gather more webs. Your cool exterior would crack as the panic set in. They would cover your arms, your torso, reaching up to your neck and your face. And by the time the spiders came out, with their pokey legs and their angry jaws sinking down into your skin, the screaming wouldn’t help any. Screaming would only give them another dark and damp orifice to crawl inside of and bite down, giving you some sort of tongue infection caused by their venom that didn’t even have a cure yet because the scientists that study spiders hadn’t had a chance to reach this part of the world to develop their anti-venom yet. Your tongue would turn black and fall off. The spider would lay eggs inside of your windpipe and burrow into all of your tubes, spreading their venom and eggs and crawly legs and biting jaws and you would die an agonizing death, alone in the darkness.

You reached a hand up and scratched at a tickling sensation you felt on your arm. You swear to god you felt the slight tingle of tiny traveling legs the more you pictured trying to leave this room on your own just because you were bored.

What would your obituary say? ‘A testament to her generation’s short attention span, she couldn't tolerate even the slightest bit of boredom. She bravely ventured out into the darkness where she was eaten alive by man eating spiders just for something to break the monotony.’

You heard a real sound. The genuine squeak of old mattress springs compressing on the far side of the room. The squeak was more than just someone shifting in the bed. This was a squeak of real movement. Kyungsoo was moving.

You heard the push off of a body from the bed, followed by shuffling footsteps moving in your direction.

You turned your head to watch him. From your vantage point he was defying gravity and walking on the walls of this upside down room. The silent man caught your eye for a second as his hand landed on the doorknob and he pulled it open.

“Where are you going?” You couldn't help yourself. You had given yourself the heebie jeebies with all the spider thoughts and even though he sucked, he was the only other human being here that you could use as a spider shield. Surely they would go for him first. He smelled good and had soft smooth skin, easier for tiny fangs to bite into. You’d already planned on pushing him through the webs first.

“Out,” he said flatly.

You tossed your legs away from the wall and sprung to life. Leaping to your feet, you reached the door before it slammed shut and you pushed yourself through the opening taking several frantic steps to catch up with him.

Your steps were very quick. You were fueled by fear as you moved and you hadn’t been paying attention enough to his steps to catch the moment he reacting to the sound of you coming up behind him.

He stopped walking forward before you had a chance to shift and you embarrassingly hurled yourself into him, bouncing your chest right off of the warm, solid wall that was the back of the man. You hadn’t braced yourself at all. Your nose bumped against the back of his head.

You bounced off of him with a surprising force. Why did he have to stop so suddenly like that?

You stumbled when you hit him and took three tiny steps back to keep your balance upright and covered your nose with your fingertips. You managed to keep the small yelping sound from the impact concealed under your hand but it felt implied with the obvious thud of both of your bodies hitting together.

Kyungsoo spun around halfway and looked into your surprised face.

“Where are you going?” His eyes bounced against your face lightly and you quickly closed your wide-open mouth and dropped the hand from your nose.

“Out,” you said with a shrug and a tiny lift of your chin.

It wasn’t as if you weren’t allowed to leave, right? You didn’t need to stay back there in that room all alone. You had been planning on venturing out all along. You couldn’t help it if you just happened to leave at the exact same time that he left, and you just happened to be traveling in the exact same direction that he was traveling in.

His eyes narrowed on you for a moment, no doubt jumping to his own conclusions.

You stood your ground, crossing your arms over your chest to really sell it and you did your best to ignore the light tickle you felt running up your leg just above your sock. Spider. Big hairy spider crawling. The second he gave up and turned back around, resuming his forward momentum, you reached down and swatted away whatever it was you’d imagined crawling on you.

Your hand came back empty which you took as a good sign. You hadn’t squished something with a belly full of a hundred eggs against your leg. You didn’t feel the scattering feet of thousands of tiny babies crawling up your leg, under your shorts, seeking refuge in your own personal orifices.

While you’d done an excellent job of matching his breathing pace back inside the room, you were doing a shitty job of walking at the exact right speed to keep up with his quick legs. He wasn’t outright running away from you but he was definitely putting some cardio in right now. This was the pace of a speed walker at least. You caught up to him though and you even managed to read his posture enough to catch yourself from running into him again when he abruptly stopped and turned fully around to face you again.

His eyes were wide and his eyebrows were raised.

“Stop following me,” he warned with a low voice. Yes, yes. The very menacing man is very threatening. You tried not to visibly roll your eyes.

You simply shook your head and shrugged your shoulders in full denial.

You had no idea what he was talking about. The man was losing his mind. You were just out for a stroll. This was a big coincidence and frankly he was acting silly with his suspicions of you.

“I’m not following you. I’m just…going out.”

“Going where?” He challenged.

“Out.” You countered, “Out. Out of the room, just out.”

He definitely seemed like he had a destination in mind as he moved. You wondered if he got some sort of a grand tour of this place that you didn't get before you arrived. He knew you were full of shit, and you knew you were full of shit, but of course you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. You wanted to see what he was up to and where he was going because you were not about to be left back there in that silent concrete tomb all alone while he explored and adventured over here doing who knows what.

You’d gathered enough to know that he was headed toward whatever room was behind that solid big blue door at the end of this hallway.

You were going to witness it. You needed something. Anything.

He gave up again and he was moving.

You were on his tail, stepping inline right beside him where he walked so you could pry some intel from him. He obviously knew more about this place than you did.

“What’s in there?” You asked, pointing to the blue door.

“Kitchen.”

“Ooo, a kitchen.”

You reached for the handle when he reached for the handle and you pulled at the door when he pulled at the door. You pushed yourself through the narrow opening when he pushed himself through the narrow opening and you found yourself shoulder to shoulder with this man as he pushed hard against you, trying his absolute best to beat you through this doorway. You weren’t about to just let him have it. The struggle made you grunt and you could feel his body tensing beside you. The struggle turned into a silent shoving fight of hands, elbows, and fingertips; causing you both to get stuck right in the middle of the doorway. The hard wooden door frame on one side of you and a brick wall of a man’s shoulders and thick biceps on the other side of you, pushing you back, forcing himself to move through the doorway before you could manage, with sheer brute strength.

He grunted and pushed back harder and he popped out on the other side of that doorway first.

He won.

You wrinkled your nose and scowled at him, deciding then and there that if it came down to it, he was getting fed to the spiders.

Beyond the doorway the room opened up into an industrial looking kitchen space. It was lit up and to your surprise was occupied with five people. Five whole people were in this room. Their surprised heads turned to look at the doorway the moment the door opened and five people witnessed the fight to get through the doorway with varying expressions of curiosity on most of their faces. Two faces, the two people you found most familiar here, Sara and Mr. Chen had different looks in their eyes. More amusement than confusion.

“There they are! You two are right on time.” Mr. Chen smiled widely with a note of excitement in his tone that you struggled to return with your greeting. You felt too caught off guard with what seemed to be happening inside here.

In here Doh Kyungsoo was a different person. The shift was jarring. He was friendly and smiling and bowing politely, shaking the hands of the three other people in the room. Making their acquaintance. Being very pleased about it. Catching their names and using them immediately to commit them to memory.

He was grabbing a stool and pulling it up, taking a seat around the big stainless steel countertop as if he knew it would be there and he knew something was coming.

Your feet were slower to follow him in here. The more you looked around you began to notice details. There were bags of supplies on the counter. Nothing bad there. Enough food and goods to get you all through the week without being able to leave this place. Pots and pans and kitchen utensils were on the stoves and you could even smell something delicious cooking in here. Aside from the kitchen equipment, you also saw bags, small office supplies for writing. A few had power banks charging their phones. There were wired earpieces unwound on the tables and a portable radio that was on low, giving some weather related reports.

There was a big white board with scribbles on it. The moment your eyes zeroed in on it someone else cleared their throat and another person grabbed the whole thing and flipped it upside down. You were still able to make out your name written there before it was flipped. Below your name, a small list with different bullet points. Details about you. Very basic things. None of it bothered you much. What did send a wave of annoyance though you, was the other column with Kyungsoo’s name written atop and a matching bulleted list. In all other instances that would have also been fine. The real issue you had was the single red hand drawn heart that sat in between both columns.

Someone in this room, maybe even all of them, had been crafting a scheme, it seemed. A scheme that warranted a red heart. It seemed that the five of them thought they were still working on a love match, despite the hurricane outside, despite the change of setting, despite the fact that there was no way…not even if he was the last man on this entire island… not even if the rest of the world ceased to exist and it was up to the two of you to repopulate the human race or it would face extinction…there was no way. RIP to humanity.

Your eyes reached for Sara. She avoided you as you expected she would. The single sheet of hand written paper she held in her hands was her excuse.

It seemed that they had been working hard to prepare something for you both. A fact that surprised the hell out of you given the current limitations and the unusual circumstances, but something that struck you as even more shocking was the nonplussed expression on Kyungsoo’s face. He merely sat down on the stool, chatted with one of the staff members who was preparing some dish on the other side of the counter and acted like he did not find a single thing about this puzzling.

The howling wind outside grew louder for a moment and the lights flickered.

”Okay then. Let’s get started shall we? The first thing on the itinerary that I’m sure everyone has read, the first event tonight is dinner. And of course the meals you will enjoy will be a fine dining experience. Made with locally sourced ingredients and freshly made in house. Luckily Javier, our head chef and our wonderful staff here prepared for such an emergency situation and even though we may be temporarily displaced here in this shelter, we will do our best to give you the most authentic Shifting Sands experience we are able to. Whatever we are lacking in facilities, we hope to make up for with our passion and sincerity.”

Wait a minute, there was an itinerary?

You never got an itinerary. You looked down at Kyungsoo and where he sat leaning his elbow against the countertop and the man seemed much too relaxed in his posture for him to also not have an itinerary. In fact he was the one who came here at the exact time that this event had been scheduled to take place. Not only did he have an itinerary, but he also had planned on coming here for a fancy schmancy dinner without telling you about it; and even had gone out of his way to dissuade you from following him here.

Mr. Chen continued speaking, “Now in the grand fashion of the Shifting Sands Resort. In spite of the unconventional kick off of the Seventh Annual Singles Retreat, and in accordance with the fine print, A. K. A. the terms and conditions that you both agreed to and signed during registration—”

You leaned just a little bit so you could ask Kyungsoo a question without the rest of the group hearing and without interrupting the explanation of what today’s dinner menu would be. It smelled delicious and you were sure you would enjoy whatever they gave you. You’d been getting pretty hungry actually. You hadn’t had a thing since the snacks on the airplane and you’d been trying to ignore your own stomach growling for the better part of three hours since you weren’t sure what kinds of emergency provisions this place had been stocked with. Now that you could smell the food you actually began to relax a little bit. You even spied some alcohol in one of the corners. Some tasty high end food and some cocktails sounded like exactly what you needed right now.

“I didn't get an itinerary,” you whispered over his head, “did you get one?”

Kyungsoo heard you but did not look up at you. His eyes remained fixed on the man in the suit giving his talk.

“Mhm,” he mumbled.

Mr. Chen continued. You admit now you may have missed a bit, “…and your partner will complete a series of fun activities designed to test…”

”So you knew this was going on and you didn’t tell me?” You gasped with the realization of his dirty trick he’d tried to get away with, “You even tried to leave me behind back there!”

“bring you both closer…”

”It's not my job to take care of you, Princess.”

You stretched your hands out toward him but stopped just short of making any actual contact. You did, in great imaginative detail inside of your mind, bring your hands right up to him and wrap them tightly around his exposed neck, letting your fingers dig into the sensitive and squishable windpipe that supplied this man with oxygen and allowed him to say such rude things to you; shaking and squeezing hard enough to get him to make that satisfying ‘GAK GAK GAK�� sound just before the lights went out.

“…and of course, the ———— the specially prepared five-course meal our head chef, Javier, has ready for you. It smells delicious doesn't it? If you don't eat it, we certainly will.”

Mr. Chen and company were all giggling amongst themselves.

Your hands were still raised for attack when Kyungsoo looked up at you but you were quick to drop them and hide them behind your back as you pushed a sweet smile up to your face. If he had noticed your murderous thoughts he didn't mention them because he was looking up at you with his big brown eyes as if he had something else on his mind entirely. Why was he suddenly interested in what you were doing? Why were his eyes so clear and big?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he whispered under his breath. Whatever it was seemed to have shaken him up a bit. You suddenly wished you had been paying more attention to tonight’s menu.

The next words Mr. Chen spoke sent a chill down your spine.

“If you lose, you’ll face some stiff penalties.”

Wait a minute…

“Although you will still have a chance to win some basic ingredients with certain…limitations attached to their use. Break those rules and you lose ingredients one by one. If you aren’t careful you could find yourself dining on plain white rice tonight.”

He couldn't be serious. You’d agreed to this in the registration terms? You had to be imagining this. Maybe you’d gone mad with hunger.

“Dammit. Son of a— ” Kyungsoo was still having a dramatic reaction under his breath. There was cursing. For once you agreed with the man. There was no way you had agreed to this.

He was standing up and he reached a warm hand down and he grabbed ahold of your wrist, pulling you toward the side of the room with an oddly serious look in his eyes. You hadn’t expected to suddenly be manhandled so your legs reacted with hesitation. He had to pull you a little bit harder to get you to actually move but you protested, “What? What’s happening?” You were unprepared. You felt more confused than you were hungry, if that was even possible.

“Were you even listening? This is why you don't have an itinerary. Come on, we have to win dinner. I’m so damn hungry.” With his complaint, your stomach sounded out in agreement as it growled noisily enough for him to hear it too. “Good, maybe you’ll be motivated enough to cooperate.”

“Cooperate? What are we even doing?”

“Games, Princess. Are you slow? We need to play together and win the right to eat that dinner they’ve got us smelling.”

The games, had your partner been anyone else but him, would actually have been fun. They might actually even be something you could win.

You couldn't wrap your brain around feeling bamboozled. When you raised your hand before the first game to ask, “Excuse me, I never got an itinerary,” the upward inflection at the end made it sound like you asked a question and Sara, who had been setting up for a game, was the one to respond.

“Each pair received one itinerary to share,” she said as she moved to another table where she filled a big plastic bowl with cotton balls. She lifted an index finger and pointed at Kyungsoo. “He’s got it and was told to share it.”

His big eyes looked at you and then away from you. Between your hunger and his crimes against you, you couldn't bring yourself to say anything to him. You felt on fire inside.

It had been sabotage after all. This was who he really was. The more you learned, the more you wondered if the universe had saved you that day you’d been stood up by him.

There was a game involving little plastic spoons and cotton balls, the object of which was to work together to scoop up cotton balls while wearing a blind fold with a spoon held between your teeth and place them into a bowl on top of the other person’s head. It required both parties to get close enough to each other to be able to feel where the bowl was. The goal was to get five cotton balls in the bowl. Five cotton balls and you would eat dinner. Just five. This could have been so easy if only you could trust yourself to touch him without wringing his neck.

When time was called and you removed the blind fold you had a single lonely cotton ball inside the bowl on top of his head. His skin was flushed and he looked slightly damp from the effort. He wouldn't meet your eyes. His straight black hair was tousled on top of his head and it laid in a way that was infuriatingly attractive for how much of a scoundrel he was.

The second game was an instant loss. It was some sort of a trivia game in which you had to act out the name of a popular song for him to guess. The man did not know a single of the top 5 hits making their rounds on social media right now. The next round was him acting out the titles of popular animated movies. You hadn’t watched an animated movie since The Land Before Time betrayed your trust and scarred you for life.

The last and final game was back-writing. He drew something on a sheet of paper stuck to your back and you had to guess what it was. He was allowed to choose his own drawing.

It started out well enough. You were 80% sure it was a pair of eyes. Something with a pair of perfectly round circles. Not too big, not too small. There was a smaller round circle in the center of each bigger round circle and there was something wrong with you when he drew the next part. It should have been something easy, something with a face, but there was something strange you were feeling coming out of the tip of his marker.

Something that threw your mind back to more than three hours ago, the little bickering fight you had with him in the room. His wet shirt and muscles below the shirt. His toned and defined bare chest and — and yours. Your transparent top. That comment he made about your wet t-shirt and about just how much he had been able to see of you. The red hot embarrassment you felt when you realized he had seen everything. You’d dwelled on it for a significant amount of time during the time spent upside down on your bed in solitary confinement. His marker was making a double sweeping motion below the circles. The shape of your breasts below your round areolas and perky nipples in the center. There was no mistaking it. You felt your face grow hot. Your breathing quickened and you could feel the upset brewing inside of your belly. How dare he?

Nipples.

Nipples in the center of breasts. No doubt as seen through a wet transparent pink t-shirt and a very sheer lace bra.

Was this man drawing your own nipples on your back?

You gasped out loud at the thought and before you could control yourself you whispered out a scandalized, barely audible guess.

“N-n-nipples?”

“What did she say?” The two people across from you were whispering to each other. “I think she said nipples.”

“She didn't say nipples.”

“She definitely said nipples.”

Kyungsoo’s marker had stopped drawing. You turned around to look into his face, spinning further in some foolish attempt to see the paper that was stuck to your back in the process.

“Did I get it? Did you draw my nipples? Just to fuck with me, right? Because you saw them earlier?”

Kyungsoo’s jaw was clenched and his marker was still hung in the middle of the air. His face was pink and his eyes were closed.

“My nipples, she said. My nipples. He saw her nipples earlier”

After a few seconds he lifted a hand to run over the length of his own face and he reached for the cap of his marker, quickly covering it and tossing it onto the table in front of you with a noisy clatter.

You were straining, reaching behind you to grab the paper with your fingertips. You ripped it off and quickly brought the paper around to look at it.

It was Pororo. The little cartoon penguin from the children’s television show. It was a pretty good likeness. He did a great job. It didn't resemble a pair of tits at all.

You were a fool.

Across the room, you heard the squeak of a dry erase marker. Someone was writing something on the white board. Sara had made a note below the little red heart that sat in the center space between your names.

- he saw her nipples

“I saw his nipples too. Put that down.” You had your finger lifted and you were pointing at Sara. After a few seconds of her looking at you she turned back around and the marker was squeaking again. She placated you and made it even again. You were temporarily satisfied to see, ‘- she saw his nipples too,’ written below the heart.

“I think one of them is more significant than the other.” One of the staff members, Jun spoke up.

“That’s what I said,” Kyungsoo said in agreement.

“Right?” Jun was going now. “I mean a guy’s nipples, that’s everyday stuff. But when a guy sees a woman’s nipples…that’s first base at least.”

Sara was squeaking again. Long slow squeaks. She was circling the ‘nipples’ bullet points. Beside it she wrote “1st base.”

“Wait a minute,” you spoke up, “how is that first—”

“That's not—” Kyungsoo started to object too.

”Okay,” You were both interrupted by Mr. Chen, clapping his hands together, “let’s move on. So you lost the game. That means we get to eat the five course dinner Javier has prepared.”

Another squeak sounded out as Sara flipped the white board over, effectively ending the discussion that the two of you probably weren’t ever supposed to witness anyway. Heads were nodding around the room. You were outnumbered.

Soon you were distracted by a new task he was explaining.

“Not to fret my lovelies, We still have a kitchen loaded with fresh ingredients for you to win. These games will be easier. I’m not a monster,” He was laughing to himself.

Kyungsoo had come to stand by your side and was leaning in to whisper something to you as you tried to pay attention this time to Mr. Chen’s instructions.

“I need you to stop fighting me if we are going to eat anything. We just need a few things and I’ll cook something good. Can you just be nice for like an hour?”

Was he asking you to make a deal with the devil right now? Yeah you would win these ingredients but you weren’t about to forget how he revealed the incident with your nipples during the drawing game.

“You didn't have to do that…talk about the nipples thing like that.”

You felt his hands on you then. He had gripped you by the arms and he spun you around so you could look into his face. His eyes were wide and his expression was deeply, deeply flabbergasted.

“Are you stupid? You did that. You did it. I drew Pororo. I never said anything about your goddamned nipples. They would never have even known about your nipples if you hadn’t said it.”

Oh he was heated. He must also get grumpy when he is hungry.

But he was right. His eyes were full of fire and passion and you replayed the recent betrayal again in your head. You remembered Pororo now. You had just been in such a rush to blame him for everything that you forgot yourself for a bit. You felt like maybe your brain didn’t work right around him. Maybe it had been the strict no carb, low calorie diet you had been on for the month before this trip. You’d packed plenty of sexy bikinis and you’d finally reached a level of confidence in your body at the expense of your own health to wear them. This was supposed to be a beach vacation, afterall.

“Oh yeah, sorry. Yeah that was a good Pororo. I’m just so hungry, I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

The fire in his eyes went out and his expression softened a tiny bit. If you hadn’t been watching his face so closely you might have missed it, it was so subtle. He was looking very closely at your face. His frustrations were replaced with something else entirely. Something you’d never seen before. Something you didn’t feel comfortable commenting on here. You didn’t need that kind of observation written down anywhere that could come back and bite you in the ass later.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

You closed your eyes with his difficult question. You couldn’t remember times anymore. You’d changed too many time zones to get here. “Barracuda,” you whispered with a little head shake. You really did feel awful. You could feel a sticky dampness on your skin.

“Hey, can she get like a banana or something, I don't think she’s okay.”

You’d had something shoved into your palm. Something sweet to eat. You lifted and you took bite after bite, chewing and swallowing and you were steered to sit down. Sara was beside you as you slowly began to feel human again and you looked up into all the faces in the room, admonishing yourself for seeking out one face in particular. You had no business looking for him first.

“I’m okay now. Thank you, Sara.” You patted the back of her hand twice and you stood up, keeping careful control over where your eyes wandered. Sara seemed to be looking at you much too closely and after a few moments she looked behind her where Kyungsoo sat on his nonchalant stool with his nonplussed elbow propped up on his aloof countertop as he waited for you to get your shit together already so he could eat something at some point tonight. She looked back at your face with a slight narrowing of her eyes before she was standing up and making her way back over to that goddamned white board.

You had to ignore the squeaks. She was reading into things again. She had watched way too many romantic comedies and read too many romance novels.

Mr. Chen was explaining the game as her marker squeaked and squeaked and before you had the chance to read what she wrote, the whole board was flipped around again. You’d caught enough only to notice another two entries had been made into the love column between both of your names. You had no idea what she added, and the curiosity was probably going to give you an ulcer.

Mr. Chen wasn’t exaggerating when he said that the games for the ingredients would be easier. They were laughable really; very basic trivia questions that either of you could have answered back in elementary school. You both soon had a pile of things that Kyungsoo would surely be able to spin up into something amazing. You’d never tried his food before but Claire had once said one of his dishes had almost made her leave her husband, so you were sure it was about to be good.

You should have been more on alert. The games were too easy, you should have known that this psychopath Mr. Chen had something up his sleeve.

“Now, If you recall earlier I mentioned that these ingredients that you won come with certain …limitations to their use,” He was explaining again.

“Only one of you will be allowed to handle these ingredients and cook them,” He said.

The limitations were just that. You were both made painfully aware that the use of these ingredients carried with them the extra rule that only one person would be able to cook.

Well that was easy. Kyungsoo would cook. He was literally a chef. You weren’t that great in the kitchen anyway. You could do very basic things but nothing fancy like he could do. Just when you’d allowed your posture to sag a little bit Mr Chen hit you both with the other half of the rule.

“And the one who cooks, will have to be blindfolded as they do it. Whoever is not cooking will be allowed to see, allowed to speak, and allowed to touch the other person, but none of the ingredients. Only the cook will touch the ingredients and as long as ingredients are touched, the cook must remain blindfolded. Any ingredient the non-cook happens to touch will be forfeited. You will have one hour.”

There it was. You felt so very tired.

You felt blindsided. This was ridiculous. One glance at Kyungsoo told you he had similar thoughts about this. It was evident now that those easy ass games to win these ingredients was a sham and the real game was starting right now.

Kyungsoo had reached your side and you could feel the warmth of his arm as he leaned in beside you.

“So, I guess I will cook. You’ll be the one telling me what to do. This isn’t my kitchen, but just tell me where things are and it might work. You wouldn’t,” his eyes narrowed at you and he lifted a finger to lightly gesture in your direction, “you wouldn’t try and actually kill me, right?”

“Kyungsoo,” you rolled your eyes at his silly question, “I promise I will not intentionally kill you today.” It was the best you could do. You were about to blindfold this man and give him fire and blades. You would probably do your best.

“I guess that’s the best I’m going to get. A flimsy promise.”

You had a sudden thought and you reached for his arm, pulling him back from the pile of ingredients he was examining as he got the kitchen area ready.

“I just had the best idea!” You heard your own excitement. “Let’s just eat the ingredients raw. Like a salad maybe.” You’d been looking at the mounds of veggies, you saw zucchini, lettuce and tomatoes, Picking up the mandoline and pretending to slice the cucumber as you added, “Sometimes you need to eat an entire cucumber,” with a giggle. He didn't laugh. He didn't get it.

He looked at your face and shook his head back and forth. He was not online enough to get the reference.

“Are you a grizzly bear? Eat this raw?” He asked bluntly while motioning to the entire fish complete with head, scales and tail fins that laid on the countertop in front of him. “No way am I wasting this. Look at its eyes. This was caught this morning. Right Javier?”

“Yes, Chef Doh!” Javier shouted in excitement from the big table where the crew, Mr. Chen, Sara, Javier and the two younger staff members, Jun and Roxy, were already eating the fancy dinner, just as Mr. Chen had promised they would. It looked and smelled delicious and you frowned toward Kyungsoo, giving in, out of defeat to whatever maniac-esque idea he had about cleaning and cooking this entire fish while blindfolded.

“Just because I’m eating doesn’t mean I’m not watching you two. Remember the rules!” Mr. Chen shouted across the table between bites, lifting his steak knife and pointing it toward you for emphasis.

Kyungsoo had his blindfold on. You waved a hand in front of his face to make sure he couldn’t see anything and you even dipped your head down below his face to see if he could somehow peak through the bottom. He gave you no reaction and you motioned to the group at the table that the blindfold was secure.

Kyungsoo was just standing there and you very quickly realized the entire point of this.

You had to touch him.

“Umm…” you mumbled out, “I’m going to touch you. Just a warning,” you added lamely.

“I figured you might,” he monotoned and you lifted both of his forearms so his hands were elevated, grabbing each of his hands you turned them palm up.

Ignore this.

This was survival.

Ignore this, it’s not even happening. You repeated this to yourself again.

His skin was warm and smooth. The backs of his hands had some of the softest skin you’d ever felt below your fingertips and you had to actually cradle his hand within yours to hand him the vegetables. He was standing beside the sink, washing things. It was a splashy, messy thing. You grabbed his wrists to guide him to the colander and towels.

“Which way is the bowl?” His hands were reaching across the countertop.

“Left,” you said while also trying arrange the cutting board and knife on the counter.

His hand reached out fast and he knocked a head of lettuce, sending it flying as it rolled off the counter onto the floor.

You heard giggles at the dinner table.

“Sorry, I meant right.”

“Right?” He reached right and found the bowl easily. That lettuce was gone. You weren't allowed to pick it up.

“Yeah, I get them mixed up. Sorry,” It was definitely your mistake. You always had trouble with the horizontal directions. You didn't know what it was about them but they never came out right the first time. Not when you were rushed and didn’t have a chance to really think about it.

“You get right and left mixed up?” Kyungsoo was talking now, he was lining up carrots and zucchinis on his cutting board and he was carefully feeling everything with his fingertips; the location of the knife, the location and orientation of the vegetables and he made a quick cut of the tops of the vegetables, clearing the scraps away with the blade.

“But they never change. Right will always be right. You only have to learn it once.”

“Feels like it moves to me, I guess. I never get it right. East and West too. I’ve always been like this.”

“Ahh, so just touch me next time, instead of saying right or left, okay?,” His small concession left you feeling odd in a kind of warm way. It wasn’t judgmental or pushy. Just accommodating. You didn't dwell on it. He was chopping. He was quick, even without his sight you could see the small touches he made with his finger tips curved in a way to direct the blade. The resulting slices were all perfectly even and he made such quick work of the vegetables you actually had trouble clearing the spaces as he worked. You had to work twice as fast as you thought you might to keep up with him.

The team of staff members had slowly finished their meal and had made their way to the countertop to watch.

One thing that struck you was how very calm he sounded here. Nothing felt urgent or angry. He was very controlled in this environment. There were small whispers.

“Where is the filet knife? It’s long and skinny and very sharp.” And you would respond by leading his elbow in the direction of the knife handle, always being sure to hand him only the handles and never any parts that might injure him. He found a rhythm naturally; moving around the space as if he could actually see where he was going. He even mixed something sweet looking into a container and popped it in the freezer behind him with minimal help from you.

Each of his questions received a quick response from you. Each instruction received immediate action.

“Can you fill the two saucepans on the stove with water and put them on high to boil? She can touch the water, right?”

“I need tweezers and a damp paper towel placed above the cutting board.”

“Where is the trash?”

You were moving as instructed, feeling quite proud of yourself when you’d anticipate something he needed and giving it to him the second he began to ask.

“Towel?”

“Here.”

“Oil?”

“Right here.”

“Garlic?”

“Here it is.”

Eventually a sauce was made. Fish was cut up in sections with a little, “are you very hungry? I’ll make bigger pieces,” as he touched the filet with his fingertips to gauge the size and thickness of the cuts.

Maybe this was your calling. Maybe you were meant to be a seeing eye person for a famous chef. You cleaned up behind him with ease, leading him to the tongs and even letting him know the moment you thought his frying pan was hot enough for the fish. He reached a hand out very close to the pan and you pulled his back hand fearing he might not realize how hot it was.

“It’s okay, I need to feel it.” He got very close to it and said, “You’re right, it’s perfect.” You felt about as full as you could. That was a compliment, right?

He hovered with his tongs over the fish and asked, “do I have it?” And you adjusted his position just a little before you confirmed, both with a soft “yes” and a little tap of your fingertips over his hand that held the tongs.

From your peripheral vision you could see Sara scribbling something on that damned white board of hers.

Most of his mixing and seasoning seemed to be happening by smell. You noticed he leaned in very close to smell everything he was using. Mixing sauces was done by smell too. He would add more of something after getting a good smell of it and finally he dipped his pinky finger in to taste the result. He was mostly quiet as he did this but after a few simple nods of his head he must have particularly liked something he came up with because he dipped his finger in again, holding it out in the direction of where you stood.

“Try this,” he said and you stared at his outstretched finger with some thick light colored sauce on the end of it. Both of your hands were full. You were holding the next things he would need for the fish and he was shaking his finger, looking for you, “where did you go? Taste this.”

You leaned then, letting your lips part over the sauce and trying to get only the sauce between your lips. You left behind most of it on his finger.

What you tasted though, was almost magical. How in the hell did a flavor like this come out of that random pile of ingredients you both won in the games?

“Oh wow,” you remarked honestly. Kyungsoo pulled his hand down and stuck his finger back into his mouth licking off the rest of the sauce you left behind and nodded his head in agreement.

“Good, right?”

Behind you, there was a furious squeaking as Sara wrote yet another bullet point on that blasted white board. Probably calling this little exchange your first indirect kiss with the man. Probably highlighting how you hesitated before moving in and how nonchalant you acted about it while your ears turned bright red from the embarrassment of technically having swapped saliva with the man.

Your hour for cooking was almost up. Mr. Chen had been occasionally announcing the amount of time remaining and you were gathering plates for him to serve things up.

“He can’t see can he?” Someone asked as they watched him work. The other members of the staff were enthralled and you watched in wonder as he plated dishes in pairs, starting with some puree he had made, swirling it beautifully on the bottom of the plate before placing the fish on top and topping the whole thing with two different sauces. On top of all of it went some sprinkling of something bright green and bright orange. The other plate had a chopped salad with greens, nuts and fresh fruit. He even pulled a sorbet out of the freezer for dessert and you could hardly believe this man had really made all of this in an hour while blindfolded. Even with your help the results itself were remarkable.

When the timer went off he removed his blindfolded and looked down at the spread, giving the smallest nod of approval.

“Now don’t go doing something stupid like falling in love with me after you eat this, Princess.”

It had been a joke, of course. It was received as a joke and the room erupted in chuckles. You had trouble with forcing the laugh in a way that was natural and convincing and you knew the reason why.

It was because part of why you’d been so hurt by everything cruel and mean that he had said and done to you so far was because you knew deep down inside that you were already very much in danger of doing the very thing he had warned you against.

So you did not laugh at his joke and the food was probably the most delicious meal you’d ever experienced in your entire life.

You did not laugh at his joke, not like Javier who chuckled whole-heartedly from the kitchen as he took taste tests of everything Kyungsoo had cooked.

You just ate your delicious food in silence and avoided the curious eyes of Sara who, alarmingly, also did not laugh at Kyungsoo's joke.

Sara who only watched you while you avoided Kyungsoo’s eyes for the rest of the night.

Sara, who came to some sort of conclusion that required her to stand up, walk up to her insufferable white board and squeak, squeak, squeak out some new bullet point below the hand drawn red heart that sat between your names.

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

[yooglefics]

Intentions don’t mean much.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!partner Wordcount: 670 words Genre: Angst. Hurt / comfort. Established relationship. Song drabble. Summary: Yoongi is having some bad days and, in the end, deciding to keep it to himself to not worry his partner is not the best idea. More info under read more.

Includes: Mentions of bad mental health, implied depression. Nothing too dark but Yoongi overthinks a lot. Lack of communication. Author's note: A little drabble inspired by The Craving ( Jenna's version ) because I just had to write something after listening to it. Is pretty short but I kind of like it as is, because it can be read with the song in the background uwu. Hope you like it! If you do please remember to leave a reblog, like, follow, comment or send an ask, donate on ko-fi and what not. As always, thank you for reading <3

He is scared of putting too much weight on her shoulders, of driving her crazy because of his thoughts, and fears; the problems in his head, the ones that don't even have anything to do with her.

On bad days he tries to be reassuring. Holding her hand while sharing a cup of coffee and cuddling with her on the couch. Yes, it’s a bit selfish because it does good to him too, knowing she is with him even when his psyche reminds him of the possibility that they, too, are part of something temporary. That it could end sooner than expected, which is not much to say since he doesn't want it to end at all.

Is not that he doesn't believe she loves him, of course not. He believes everything she says, even the little conspiracy theories she rambles about at night in their bedroom. But, his brain tells him, life is unpredictable and the world goes around and around and around and…

When it gets too bad he spends most hours of the day in his studio. Even sleeps (or at least tries to) there. She brings him lunch and he kisses her cheek or forehead, sweetly and full of love. An attempt to not worry her.

Some nights, as he lays on the leather couch, he hopes she will knock on the door, looking for him and asking him to come to bed. He would say yes, even if that meant just playing with her hair as she fell asleep on his chest while he lays with his eyes open and his mind never shooting down.

But it doesn’t happen. 

Is still dark outside when he hears her socket steps against the wooden floors, the beeps and trumps of the coffee machine following close behind, and he decides to join. 

“Isn't it too early for coffee?” he asks, leaning in the doorway.

“Is six, just one hour early.”

“Oh.” 

“How did you sleep?”

He keeps quiet, a bit confused with himself as to how he didn't realize so much time passed.

“Did you sleep?” She asks instead, tone different this time and he doesn't like something in it.

“Don't worry about it.” He tries to dismiss, coming closer and wrapping his arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder while they wait for the melancholy sounds announcing their beverage is ready.

But a sniff comes instead.

It takes a second for his tired brain to register it, yet is quick to react when she tries to move away, hugging her firmly against his chest. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Is silly.” she murmurs back.

“Tell me anyway?”

“Is just… after so long, I don’t know a lot about you still. And I wish I did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry about it. I don’t know what just—” 

“Hey,” he softly calls out, turning her around as he looks for her gaze, “don’t apologize for it. Is on me, I’m going through some shit but I’m okay.”

She worries her lip between her teeth before asking, “Have you slept at all in the last few days?”

“A little bit.” Pretty vague, not wanting to bring concern around his insomia. But her eyes get glossy again and his open in surprise. In realization that doing that is what is upsetting her. He hates that. “I slept a couple hours yesterday after lunch, maybe that’s why I’m still awake.”

“You aren't tired then?”

A different kind, he thinks. And considers answering that while she fixes his hair, but he still isn't sure. “Maybe you just need to do that for a while so I don't wake up until tomorrow.”

That makes her smile and her eyes fall to his again. But is hard to ignore the bags under them and the bigger issues. “I'm going to the store later, I'll bring you that tea we saw the other day. We can drink that before going to bed and see if it helps. Deal?”

“Deal.”

♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @sexytholland , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @itsmina29 , @nariee02 , @ktownshizzle .

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[konigsblog]

I’m sorry this is a ramble but this thought plagues me and I just can’t write so . Spare me my agony here; older stalker Konig.

He sees you at work, some pretty young thing at a seedy diner or bar, barely old enough to be employed there at all. Too young to be working, you’re something he thinks should be housed away and pampered like some dumb pet, so silly of you to not settle down already. Low hanging fruit is what he takes you for, with how naive and innocent you seem; no concept of the world, of seedy men like himself with too much time and money on his hands, his red flags too visible to anyone who knows what to look for. And you poor, poor thing have no clue what he’s like, his faux charm and large tips and solid build blinding you of his true intentions.

He watches, becomes a regular, gets to know you and make small talk and leave fat tips and cheesy compliments that make you giddy and flustered despite the odd air he has about him or the way your coworkers whisper that he’s no good. Eventually his regular appearances turn into him staying til close, then offering to walk you home his possessive streak covered up by vigilant protectiveness that leaves you dizzy with his little touches to your arm or the small of your back, the nearly parental way he kisses your forehead at your door.

Little did you know he’s been planning the whole time; memorizing your work schedules, your daily schedule, the things you eat or drink, places you go on your days off, watching you through your apartment window or sneaking in when you’re out of the house to raid your dirty laundry or leave a gross surprise of his cum in your leftovers. He’s a shadow in your life, always lurking in the background of every scene no matter where you are or what you’re doing. Eventually he’s sneaking in when you’re asleep, so silent for such a behemoth of a man, so he can paw at your soft and prone form while he pants and spills into his hand like a dog in rut while you’re none-the-wiser, unaware of the way he smears his soiled hand on your skin, your cunt, your pillow or sheets.

When he finally takes things further, too determined to do anything but hoard you all to himself, he’s so sweetly condescending as he relays just how long he had planned everything, how cute and stupid you were to never realize what he had been doing all this time, the bits of himself he left around your apartment, on you, inside of you as a precursor to him claiming you fully. You’ve already consumed so much of his seed, you’ll be fine taking it from the source like a good girl Schatz, nicht? Sure his cock is big, but he knows the best ways to stretch your tight hole already, so you’ll be fine! Just stop thinking and let him have you already, he’s worked so hard for you, your the center of his world. His stupid little Liebling, pathetic and confused as she struggles against her bindings and his hands, no choices left but to plead until her voice dies and give herself over to him, because nothing could convince him to accept no as the answer.

anon, my jaw is on the floor, i absolutely adore older stalker-könig and his creepiness. (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

CW: RAPE/NON-CON, AGE GAP, STALKING. 🪦🕊️

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. 18+

my brain rots at the thought of könig sliding inside for the first time, holding your wrists down beside your head as he begins rocking gently. the way he cocks his head to the side almost mocking you, taunting you for being so easy, so pliant, and so vulnerable and naïve around him. the faux sympathy and empathy leaves you longing for his sweet praise, but when you're slapped for falling for the mask he puts on, you sob harder with his slicken cock hammering against your cervix, stuffed inside that inexperienced cunt. it's as if you wanted this to happen, to be used and controlled as if you were a puppet, with your inappropriate and flirty comments after each cheesy, overly sweet compliment he gives you, unaware of his seriousness, how this was a part of his plan to reduce you to a mutt, with your purpose being to serve a man, könig.

he hides himself so well, and you take the bait, falling for the façade of a gentle, older male with sweet intentions. looking back, you can only let out pitiful and pained cries as you connect the dots and realise your stupidity, finally realising what you fell for, how stupid you must look on your back begging for him to stop when he'd given you so many hints and chances to flee, your voice becoming quiet and strained as you plead. the rough texture of his old, scarred skin over your mouth to silence you, against your soft and supple skin, your body shaking with each thrust, showing you what you're worth, what your purpose truly is.

könig shows you what reality is, getting you out of your stupid head, that's doing you no good as he continues with his violation and assault. he teaches you that life isn't fantasy, how you don't know everyone and their intentions or who they truly are, or how you'll fall for it and become a wolf's prey within seconds due to your kindness and naivety, how you never accuse anyone and hope they mean well, too naïve for your own good and assuming the best about everyone. leading you to be forced to take every inch of the man's experienced, hung cock, with your eyes glistening and horrified, and the smell of him on your bedsheets reminding you, or the cum stains along your shirts and panties.

or, perhaps the bruises and marks he leaves along your skin as a warning, or maybe as a sign of ownership - who you belong to, who owns you.

how could you be so foolish? :(

[neristudy]

Stuff that I use to study languages when i'ts a slow day, a bad brain day, or I am simply a bit sick

We simply can't give 110% every day. So, we need ways to study that don't take more than 15 minutes and are quick, convenient, and accessible from phone.

And don't get me wrong - yes, when you're sick, go sleep and rest. This post is only for the situations where you lie in bed and you feel mostly fine, and really bored, but getting out of bed makes you dizzy.

Lesson in an app

My favorites are the one with no ads and no freemium, for this is Babbel, Clozemaster (you can read on how i use it more details here), and Flashcards - but honestly, check them all!

Write in appstore or playstore "/your language/ learning" and get all the apps that looks even a bit useful to you. Try them, delete the one that is not a vibe to you, and try new ones.

Just skip Duolingo, I beg of you. You'll have more learning by just changing language in Candy Crush or something, and the ammount of ads/money you need to pay it is really not worth it.

Youtube

Open youtube, and put on some silly little video in your target language in a background. Maybe it's gonna be Peppa Pig in German. Maybe it'll be Dead Space's cartoon in the same language. Just make sure that whenever you'll have a downtime and would wanna something on a background, it'll be in your target language.

You probably won't listen to the details anyway, but you'll pick up some phrases or rhythm of the language one way or another.

Nice tip - try searching for fandom videos in your target language. You know, you might find your new favorite channel that way! Plus, you can try turning on subtitles.

Discord language learning channels

Even 15 minutes of chatting with your friends in your target language can be a much better thing than nothing. Plus, you can whine to them a little about your misfortunes. Whining (in moderation, of course) is very useful - it will both shatter your friends' illusion that “ everybody else is doing well, but not them ” and allow you to de-stress a bit.

Remember - this is a marathon, not a race.

Anything worth doing is worth doing half-assed. Forget being perfect!~

[infiniteanalemma]

Nobility in Baldur's Gate

Edited to add: I never expected my silly, niche post to get as much attention as it has! I'm giving you all forehead smooches! 😚💋 I've gone through to clean up some things up as I've found new information. I also added a list of nobility that I've found in game and other sources to the end of the post. Thanks, y'all! I'm glad I'm not the only one to wonder about this stuff. Good stuff in the reblogs, too!

Baldur's Gate has dug itself deep in my brain, so I apologize to my poor mutuals who didn't follow me for BG3 content getting this onslaught of posts. Please bear with me until my hyperfixation wears off. 🙏

Now, I'll admit up front that I'm no expert in DnD lore*, so if I get things wrong, please feel free to correct me or just add in stuff I may have missed. I'm going off of what I've found in-game and my Google Fu skills.

That said, I do know enough about DnD to remember that Baldur's Gate nobility are called patriars, and that there are only a relative handful of actual patriar families. I was thinking about my "canon" Tav, Velassa, and her background in BG3. She's a modified OC that I plunked in-game during Early Access, so I made her a noble. It was just part of her existing character that I didn't think too deeply about. It was only after I starting playing that it occurred to me to wonder what exactly "a noble" is to a native Baldurian.

That got me digging a little more into the current state of the Baldurian nobility as of BG3. I don't know who--if anyone--needs or wants this, but I put this together for myself and decided to share it for anyone else who might be interested. I realize that this is probably pretty niche and it's rambly and long af, so I'll put it under a cut.

So, for starters, here's a list of all the patriar families, including "fallen" houses that are barely hanging on: Belt, Bormul, Caldwell, Dlusker, Durinbold, Eltan, Eomane, Exeltis, Gist, Guthmere, Hhune, Hlath, Hullhollyn, Irlentree, Jannath, Jhasso, Linnacker, Miyar, Nurthammas, Oathoon, Oberon, Portyr, Provoss, Ravenshade, Rillyn, Sashenstar, Shattershield, Silvershield, Tillerturn, Vammas, Vannath, Vanthampur, and Whitburn

From what I've gathered, Exeltis, Provoss and Ravenshade are all more-or-less destitute. Also, the Szarr family (Cazador's family) were patriars, but were believed to be entirely wiped out. No living descendants makes them a dead house, rather literally. 😏 (No, I'm not sorry.)

Now, we learn that Wyll's father is Ulder Ravengard, the Grand Duke. This brings us to the first point: There are four Dukes, known as the Council of Four, and the Grand Duke's job is to be the tie-breaker.

Traditionally, one of the Dukes is also the highest ranked officer of the Flaming Fist--that's Ravengard, who was a Fist promoted up through the ranks. Wyll tells us that his father was born lower class, and quite a few of the patriars seem to scorn him for that. The other Dukes are Belynne Stelmane, Dillard Portyr (more on him later) and Thalamra Vanthampur (more on her later, too). Of the four, two are patriars: Portyr and Vanthampur. We don't know much about Stelmane's past, except that she was a brilliant businesswoman, politician and--as we find out later--member of the Knights of the Shield. Apparently, you can't buy your way into the patriars, but maybe you can buy your way into being a Duke.

Skipping ahead a bit, when the player shows up to Gortash's coronation, there are a group of mostly patriars sitting in the boxes leading up to the front of the room. I'm listing them by seating arrangement, with box 1 and 2 being the left and right closest to Gortash, and 3 and 4 being farthest. (I don't know what, if anything, the seating arrangements imply. The second box has eight people, compared to four for all the rest.)

Lady Ailis Belt, Baron Callem Bormul, Lord Rugger Shattershield**, and Lady Alia Durinbold**

Lady Ruth Linnacker, Lord Sarken Eomane, Lady Freida Oberon, Lord Raylen Jannath, Lord Myer Ravenshade**, Lady Madeline Whitburn, Lady Beatrice Provoss, and Duke Dillard Portyr

Lady Winstra Hullhollyn, Admiral Peil Hullhollyn, Lord Randolph Vammas, and Lady Eshvelt Guthmere

Lord Milon Tillerturn, Lady Silifrey Sashenstar, Lord Petric Amber**, and Lady Haeril Birch**

Here's some pictures of the nobles sitting together. (Sorry for the terrible quality! I slapped it together for my own reference. 🙈)

The characters marked by ** aren't human, which is interesting because the information I found said all the patriar familes are human except the Shattershields. Myer Ravenshade is listed as human if you examine him, but he has a dwarf model. That might be a mistake, but I'm including him anyway. Alia Durinbold, from a presumably human patriar family, is a wood elf. Again, this could be a mistake, but unless Larian winds up changing it, it could mean that interracial marriages that once may have been looked down on are now becoming more acceptable. Petric Amber is also a wood elf, and Haeril Birch is a high elf.

Those last two are interesting because they are the only ones in the boxes who aren't patriars. If not for them, I'd have assumed the coronation was simply a demonstration for the patriars alone. Their inclusion means this is something else.

Digging around, my conclusion is that all the listed people are members of the Parliament of Peers--a 50 person advisory party to the Council of Four. However, what I found says that it's pretty rare for all 50 to attend meetings, and the usual group is between 20-30. There are exactly 20 named individuals listed, plus a group of unnamed "patriars" standing at the front.

Here they are, for what it's worth:

One thing I noticed here is that most of those listed here are Lord/Lady, but there are three other titles: Duke, Baron and Admiral. I've already talked about the Dukes. Looking into the patriars, the Hullhollyn family are notable for having a fleet of ships, so it makes sense that one of them would be an Admiral. That leaves the Baron.

I couldn't find anything about what it means to be a baron in Baldur's Gate. Going on real-world peerages, a baron/ess is generally the lowest "rank" of nobility. Basically, it's someone who was an official landowner (usually of an "important" bit of land) under the feudal system. Well and good, I suppose, but presumably all the Lords and Ladies of the patriars own land within the city. This particular Baron is also a patriar, but given that one doesn't need to be a patriar to become a Duke (normally a higher peer than a baron), that may not mean anything.

(Apparently, the term "Duke" was originally meant somewhat jokingly. That said, it still carries the weight of a title even if not the conventional one.) We don't see any other titles between Duke and Baron, so what does that mean?

This isn't canon, but my assumption is that it means the Baron owns important land outside of the city. This would make sense for Baron Bormul, given that the Bormul family apparently have investments in silver mines and vineyards. Assuming they own the mines/vineyards, that may make those lands "important" enough to the city for their owner to earn a title. Alternately, the Bormul family also has counterparts in Amn, so maybe baron is an Amnian title that got passed along. That's getting a bit far afield for me, though. 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, among the group at the coronation, pretty much everyone supports Gortash becoming Archduke, with the exception of Lady Sashenstar (an old woman who really isn't too impressed with this commoner) and Duke Portyr, who expresses some hesitation at the whole thing.

Duke Portyr is interesting here. Except for Ravengard (who is thralled and conducting the ceremony), Portyr is the only Duke present. Now, Stelmane is already dead, so that explains her absence. Vanthampur is also missing, which is interesting. Portyr first, though: he was Grand Duke before Ravengard. He's the one who re-instituted (Edited: and originally created!) the Parliament of Peers to make the day-to-day decisions of running the city, and ceded the title of Grand Duke to Ravengard. He's described as being conflict-averse, so it makes sense that he'd go along with Gortash's coronation, even though he's clearly unhappy about it. Also, the current leader of the Fists is also a Portyr, likely still Liara Portyr, the Duke's niece and Ravengard's second-in-command.

Thalamra Vanthampur is an interesting character, too. She's the head of the Vanthampur family, and part of the Descent into Avernus story. Apparently, she's the one who got Ravengard to go to Elturel before it sank to the Hells, intending to take his place as Grand Duke. From what I read, she also conspired with the Dead Three's cults to murder people in a bid to discredit the Flaming Fist. (The murdery bits were undoubtedly left to Bhaal's cult.) We never do find out anything about Thalamra Vanthampur in this game (I assume that's probably cut content). (Edited: She is mentioned in one of the in-game texts as having been killed, which was one of the possible outcomes of Descent into Avernus. Larian chose that as their canon, just like the fate of Elturel and Zariel.)

The only Vanthampur we do meet is Carnelia Vanthampur, who is in the Guildhall and describes herself as "a peer of the Parliament". She's willing to work with either the Guild or the Zhentarim. Nervously of course. Also interesting is that, on the Bloodstained Parchment hit list, is a Varri Vanthampur, whose gravestone you can find in Candulhallow's Tombstones shop, reading: "Varri Vanthampur. Unwanted in life, welcomed in death."

Interesting, hm?

Also on that hit list is Fridrik Hhune. The Hhunes apparently have links to the Knights of the Shield, from what I looked up--the same group the Emperor led with Stelmane. The only Hhunes we meet in-game are Blaise and Gheris Hhune, two of the werewolves in Cazador's ballroom who are brothers according to the dev notes. With them is another werewolf of a different patriar family, Duver Rillyn. This suggests Cazador has been going after members of patriar families, which sort of fits with what we know about his plans. We really don't find anything else out about them except that they consider Cazador to be their master and Astarion says they're new.

We also can talk to a Flaming Fist who mentions that Hurlbut Hhune is the father of Henrietta Hhune, who used to be secretly engaged to the Fist in question, only for her father to decide to arrange her to marry fellow patriar Derque Rillyn, who the Fist describes as "a major arsehole."

That conversation is interesting for a few reasons. For one, it tells you that arranged marriages within the patriar are a thing. Also, this Fist is a Manip (essentially a Sergeant) who can't ask the other Fists for help because "the Fists don't mess with wealthy patriars, they've got the Watch to back them up." That's aligned with what Devella can also tell you: "There are patriars on the murder target list. I'm oathbound to secure them first, so I'll be heading to the Upper City next." If you say that the Fist should protect everyone: "Not from around here, are you? We're in Baldur's Gate - this is just how things work."

This brings me back to my original issue: what is a Baldurian noble? The patriars are canonically nobles, of course, and they're undoubtedly seen as the "most important" of the nobility. From there, it's not much of a stretch to say that anyone who has earned the title of Duke is now a noble, even if they aren't patriars. I'd go so far as to say anyone on the Parliament of Peers (and their family by association) is a noble^, given that non-patriars Petric Amber and Haeril Birch are considered Lord and Lady. The information I found about that is that there are approximately twelve non-patriar members. If Amber and Birch are two of them, that leaves another unnamed 10.

^Edited: Looking at the dates, I realized that the Parliament of Peers is a very recent change to Baldurian governance. Duke Portyr originally created it after the three other Dukes on the Council of Four were assassinated. It was clearly meant as a temporary measure, but my guess is that the patriars liked having more official say. Not to mention the non-patriars who managed to get a seat. This has all happened within even the youngest of Tav/Urges' lifetimes.

Personally, I'd also assume that branch families of the patriars probably also count as nobility. By branch family, I mean those that marry out of the main line but whose ancestry stems from a patriar family. From what I've seen by naming conventions, Baldur's Gate seems to use patronmyic lineage--ancestry is generally passed to the sons, and wives take their husband's surname. So, if a daughter marries out of the family, she'd no longer be a part of her father's family lineage, but still would be considered nobility. These branch families likely still maintain powerful influence and connections from marrying into wealth, which would make them a good political/financial choice of marriage alliance, despite no longer having the main branch patriar family name. These families are also probably the ones most likely to find a place on the Parliament, too, but likely have to jockey for position if their "representative" dies (or otherwise leaves) and a new opening in the Parliament is created.

If you've read this far, as a treat you can have some crappy close-up portraits of the nobles at Gortash's coronation, grouped together in their respective boxes. 😚

* For what it's worth, I'd count myself as a casual DnD player. I have some knowledge of DnD--I've played BG1 and 2, Planescape: Torment, along with some general cultural osmosis. I've had friends who played the tabletop version, but for one reason or another, I've never played it myself.

[wispforever]

Some thoughts on Itachi

So, I've seen a lot of comments circulating about my tags on this post, and I'm intrigued at the interest. I didn't expect it, as I see much more pigeonholing of Itachi's character than honest to god analysis. No hate- I'm no stranger to Kishimoto's writing. Some of his characters were unfortunately butchered or never given the chance to be developed properly, and Itachi is most certainly no exception. That said, I like to grant him a bit more nuance than I see on most blogs. I think people get a little wrapped up in the supposed "moral implications" of exploring how Itachi was also a victim of the system, as well as someone who victimized many people. But it's silly to equate character analysis and context consideration with condoning genocide.

I have a good laugh every once and a while at the metaphorical gymnastics people do in order to stay in the good graces of a bunch of internet trolls who are just Waiting for any opportunity to tell you you love murder and think it's delicious just because you made a post exploring a character's background. Media is grey; it's layered and wonderfully complex. There are many wrongs and rights in every story, and many wrongs and rights within those wrongs and rights. That's what I love about Naruto. Often times it's really too much like real life. Instead of people being black and white, right or wrong, bad or good- they're usually in a tough situation, trying their best and falling short, don't have all of the information, acting with good intentions or acting on what they believe will bring about a lesser evil, and then end up hurting others.

But it is much easier to assign blame and move on. A so-called bad person will always be the perfect scapegoat for issues bigger than them. In Itachi's case, the fascist government in the Leaf. It's easier to say Itachi could have just refused and decided not to be involved, than to recognize that like almost every other character in the narrative, he was under extreme duress, living in a military state. He was a child whose existence, along with all the other children and adults in the Leaf, was only valuable as long as he could serve as a tool for the war machine in the shinobi world's fucked up political system. And saying this is not the same as saying he was not capable of better decisions or that everything that he did thereafter or in general should not be read critically or subject to hypothetical consequences. It is the same as a saying his actions cannot be fully understood without complete context, and the themes of Naruto will never come through if every villain is just "evil" with no further nuance. And it would be boring too LOL

That said, I love to think about Itachi's situation back then. The ages in Naruto are a bit muddled, a little inconsistent, subject to change and interpretation, but Itachi was a child when he murdered everyone in the Uchiha compound. Most sources say he was 13. It should go without saying that someone so young isn't capable of the same decision-making or critical thinking as say, a 30-year-old, someone whose brain is finished developing and has much more experience on Earth.

Itachi's experience at this point in his life is informed by his age, and it's obviously informed by his childhood, as he has no other place from which to draw conclusions. Itachi grew up in a warring state. He saw people die and was subject to extreme violence in his formative years. To make matters worse, he was taught that war was inevitable and the only thing he could do to guard against it was kill others before they got the chance to kill him (threaten the village). Thusly, Itachi internalized at a very young age that what was in his power was to minimize damage (to himself, to his village, and to the world). What was not in his power was to stop this violence entirely (by adopting a critical mindset and going against fascist powers).

A part of this I think people often forget is that Itachi has absolutely nowhere to adopt this mindset FROM, as even though his father and the other members of the Uchiha clan seek equity in the Leaf, if they were to overthrow the Hokage and create a new system, it would still presumably center around the same ideals (minus, of course, the oppression of the Uchiha as a group). Fugaku is the head of the Uchiha clan at this time. As someone who imposed near impossible performance-related expectations on both of his sons, and withheld love and affection whenever they came up short (so often that it was at the cost of having any considerable emotional bond with either of them), there is absolutely no good reason to believe that Fugaku would reform the Leaf using a non-fascist ideology. And if he did, there is no good reason to believe that he would be some kind of visionary LMAO

This is important to remember because when it comes down to Itachi's decision to either kill everyone in the Uchiha compound and his family, or be part of the coup that would overthrow the Leaf, some people treat it as though it's a choice between fascism and non-fascism, which it most certainly is not. And if it was, Itachi, as a child who had grown up immersed in this ideology, would not be able to appreciate the difference. This context allows us to understand further what Itachi was really weighing in that moment. Accounting for his young age and limited worldview, the only valuable difference in this moment to Itachi was the amount of bloodshed that he would "allow" to happen. Essentially, he sees the options as follows:

Either give in to Danzo and kill everyone in the Uchiha compound, or facilitate a coup where the current government is (hopefully) overthrown and risk starting another war.

Here, Itachi pauses. He has known war. He knows how it affects children, adults, families, and whole nations. The peace he's living in currently is bought with blood, but it's the only peace he's ever known. The alternative is horrifying. And a war in this context, Itachi likely thinks, would be his fault, as he has now been put in the position to "prevent" it. Danzo and the whole shinobi system have groomed him into thinking so. Itachi, at age 13, cannot understand that there would be no war; it exists only as leverage for Danzo's argument at this point. His sensitivities are being played on.

Fugaku, though he is not the same as Danzo, offers about as much help as he does (that being none). Fugaku has no interest in avoiding war; if a war breaks out, it's justified because it will still mean his clan will no longer be living in oppression. This idea is valid, as fascist systems and discrimination can only cease to exist when we rise up against them; unfortunately, this most often calls for righteous violence, as the oppressive powers will not be moved with peaceful shows (not to mention they are willing to go to extreme lengths to avoid losing their hold on the people they have crushing power over, i.e. the Uchiha massacre). But Fugaku has no words to explain this to Itachi, who fears the worst and further fears being responsible for the worst. All he does is act as if it's a moral failing that his 13-year-old son is unwilling to stage a coup, which he believes could mark the abrupt end of a peace that's only just begun.

That said, let it be known that Itachi does appreciate this situation with SOME nuance, though it isn't of the kind that might have enabled him to see he was being manipulated. He at the very least understands that Danzo is a warmonger and oppresses those he fears (the Uchiha). He understands that the rights of his clan have been sorely disrespected, and that the issue needs correction. He understands the anger of his friends and family. This is why it takes him much deliberation before he can even come close to making a decision. He plays both sides right up until the end, listening to Danzo, as well as Fugaku and Shisui, paying attention to the current atmosphere in the Leaf as he tries to decide.

It is something he doesn't want to do. Here's where I get to the part I put in the tags of my drawing.

In this situation, it's almost worthless to write an analysis about Itachi's feelings at this time, his understanding of what was actually going on, his loyalty to his clan or his loyalty to the Leaf, because really, he could not grasp it. He was never prepared for this. He never knew he would be asked to make a decision he could only understand as "your family or the world?"

Itachi was put in a position that had no happy ending. There was no decision he could make that would not hurt. That could not result in a cataclysm that split him right down the middle. There was no version of this story that a 13-year-old could carry out thinking "I have done the right thing."

And that's the important part. Both sides asked him to make this decision, and so both sides are guilty of placing an immeasurable pressure on a child who should never have been put in such a position. Regardless of ideology, regardless of price, regardless of oppression or loyalty or devotion or any other thing- someone else should have made this decision for Itachi. Someone else should have been responsible. An adult, at the very least. Someone who COULD understand the implications of both options. Someone who COULD go forward and appreciate the evil of fascism and know that a coup was necessary. Itachi was never capable of such a thing. If he made the "wrong" decision, than every child who can't explain to you what a fascist government in a military state looks like and explain what the difference is between a hate crime and resisting a hateful power, is also wrong. Here is the nuance. These are things a 13-year-old in this universe cannot be expected to understand unless they are taught. And Itachi had no teacher. Quite the opposite. There were only forces pressing him from both sides, saying "choose."

Had his father done this for him, had Shisui been in this position, had any other adult Uchiha acting as a spy been put to this task, it would be a much different narrative. But of course, it had to be Itachi, who Danzo knew he could manipulate. It had to be a child, someone skilled enough to do the job, but inexperienced enough, afraid enough, to be willing to sacrifice everything they had to see the mission through. Someone you could whisper "greater good" to and have them hand over their well being on a plate. Someone who didn't understand they had the power and strength to destroy the system threatening them.

On a narrative level, Itachi exists to illustrate this point. How young people are systematically indoctrinated to serve a greater purpose, be it under a specific government, religion, or otherwise. We see it in real life fascism, in real life cults. There's no mistake. It isn't an accident that Itachi's story begins like this.

Which brings me to the rest of his life. The reason I drew the picture in the post referenced at the top. Itachi's character is a bit of a mystery the rest of the anime. Be that because of bad writing or an intentional omission, his motives, thoughts, and opinions are largely left ambiguous. However, there are still a few moments that interest me as far as the implications of his development.

When Itachi first comes back to the Leaf village, he faces Kakashi. On the one hand, this could simply be a narrative tool- the big bad meets the big good. He takes Kakashi out of commission! The first rogue shinobi we see who is able to defeat the pillar of the Leaf, the Copy Ninja, and without even breaking a sweat!

On the other hand, I find the brutality of Itachi's attack very intriguing. Again, it could be the tough guy act, but he's able to keep three jonin busy easily using standard genjutsu (with the help of Kisame). It wouldn't be a stretch to say that using the tsukuyomi is overkill, and at a considerable price, we learn later.

Why then would Itachi, who has been shown to have excellent battle intelligence, who is strategic to a fault, be willing to jeopardize his health among other things just to... scare the Leaf? Make sure Kakashi wouldn't be a nuisance in the future? Sure, the last one would make collecting Naruto less complicated, but they dispatched Kakashi easily enough, and surely Jiraiya, who Naruto was with at the time, would pose a bigger problem than Kakashi.

It doesn't make strategic sense, which makes me wonder if Itachi has a special animosity toward Kakashi. Being his superior in the ANBU before the Uchiha massacre, someone who was willing to conduct surveillance of the Uchiha compound without question, Kakashi could have become a symbol of the indifference of the Leaf for Itachi. He could very well have been a reminder of the inoperable position Itachi was put in when he was still a child, and Kakashi, of course, was an adult. Another adult who did nothing. Noticed nothing. Did not help Itachi.

And while I'm certain that Kakashi would have taken severe issue with the goings on in the Leaf at that time, judging by his reaction when he finds out the truth in Shippuden, Itachi knows him only by what he did then. Facilitated surveillance of the Uchiha compound, was a supportive superior, but nothing greater. A bystander whose compassion, while well meaning, was entirely unhelpful.

I don't think it's far fetched that Itachi fucking crucified Kakashi because he was so angry at what being in the Leaf did to him. At some point, as he got older, he realized how terrible it was. He realized there were people like him. Children who were "born killers". Pawns in the game of the shinobi powers.

After leaving the village, Itachi joins the Akatsuki, who are also seeking peace through war (another story). He is supposed to spy for them, but doesn't follow through in any enthusiastic way (that we're shown). He works alone for quite some time, or else with a group (briefly he was shown with Conan and Kakuzu). He is partners with Orochimaru before he's expelled from the Akatsuki. He is partners with one of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist. He grows up and meets many people, sees lots of stories unfold. He learns that he isn't in a minority. Many shinobi are just like him.

And then, as an adult, he is partnered with Kisame, who he finds excellent camaraderie with because of their similar backgrounds. We see in this relationship that he understands what happened to him and what he did enough to acknowledge that, while neither of them are monsters, as many people say, they are human. And humans make mistakes. Humans are complicated. Wrong and right and wrong and right. They understand each other, and Itachi understands more clearly what the world puts these children up to. What it forces shinobi to become. That it isn't all his fault, but he still did it. And so he is responsible. He appears to be able to live with that.

But when he returns to the Leaf, those feelings bubble up. He hates the Leaf. He hates that system. He hates what he did. Maybe he even hates being a shinobi, how his excellence was weaponized, how being an Uchiha doomed him and his clan. And for what?

Itachi is played as a character who is only sensible, only logical, only interested in practical things, has nothing to express. But the way he behaves toward Kakashi in that moment bares all his grief and anger. I just like to think about it. We have so few moments where we get to see Itachi genuinely. The fight with Kakashi, the Sasuke/Deidara fight, his thoughtful moments with Kisame. Just makes me wonder what could've been if Itachi's story had gone a little differently.

Anyway, if anyone would like me to expand on any points or has additional thoughts, feel free to hop in my ask box or leave a comment. Thanks for the interest, I love to talk.

[toomuchracket]

stress relief (sweetheart!george x reader fluff)

first george fic, who cheered?! day 8 of promptober. a weird little (well, long) fluffy end of high school moment about exam stress, and hitting things and smoking weed and kissing your new boyfriend to make you feel better. i've absolutely not a clue what came over me while i wrote this. but i think it's fun. and i hope you lot do too! <3

you're stomping down the street towards your house when your phone rings. digging it out of your bag, your grumpiness ebbs slightly when you see it's george on the other end of the line. "hiya."

"hi, baby," comes the gravelly reply. george's voice is enough to send you into a fit of enamoured giggles anyway, but hearing him address you with the pet name - a recent development, a free add-on that came with the "girlfriend" title during the summer - has you practically skipping down the street. "how'd it go?"

the reminder of the horrible mock exam almost threatens to block out the enjoyment of talking to george, a black cloud over the sun. "fucking awful."

"doubt that," george replies. there's a shuffling sound in the background on his end; you know, even without seeing him, that he's moved to lean his elbow on something so he can adjust the phone and listen to you better. "but tell me all about it."

"it was just… bad. the questions were all worded so weirdly. felt so fucking thick trying to read them, g," you sigh, kicking at a stone on the pavement. "so obviously i've no idea if i answered anything correctly, because i couldn't fucking understand what they were actually asking, and if i don't pass this then i don't get to sit the actual exam, and then i've got no bloody chance of getting into uni."

your voice breaks on the final word, and so does the invisible dam keeping your tears in. despite doing your best to keep any sobs at bay, george immediately clocks that you're crying and goes into reassurance mode. "baby…"

"it's fine, i'm fine," you sniffle. "sorry, i know i'm being silly. how are you?"

"worried about you, angel. i don't like how stressed out this exam's made you feel, recently," george admits. "and i'm not letting you dwell on it from this point on, alright?"

"babe…"

"you answered every question, i take it?"

you frown. "i mean, yeah, but-"

"no buts, baby," george's voice is firm; it does something weird to your brain. that's new. "you answered every question in the paper to the best of your ability. don't try and argue with me on that one, angel. i know you did, because you never half-arse anything, and it's one of the things i lo-like most about you. and there's nothing more you can do about the exam, so there's no point dwelling on it, even if it was as shit as you say. yeah?"

you sigh. "yeah. you're right."

"i know i am," george's voice is smug, but it softens as he continues. "wish i was there to give you a hug right now, though, make you feel better."

"me too," you say wistfully, unlocking your front door and shrugging off your jacket before heading upstairs. "but i'll get one off you at the party tonight. or several. actually, i might not even let go of you the whole time."

you flop onto your bed, rolling onto your stomach and kicking your legs in the air as george laughs and says "i'm not gonna complain about that, babe. speaking of the party, what d'you want? matty's picking up in a bit."

"are you smoking?"

"was gonna, yeah. want some?"

"please."

"sweet. he says he's already got wine if you want it, too, but he'll get you vodka if you'd rather have that."

"no, wine's good," you say. "thank him for me, please, and tell him i'll pay him back later."

george laughs. "i've got you covered, babe."

you facepalm. "george."

"what? you've had a hard day. let me treat you."

there’s silence for a brief moment, as you ponder and then decide against debating with your boyfriend (even thinking about calling george that makes you smile); as stubborn as you are, george is ten times worse. if this was an in-person debate, a strategically-timed pout would give you the upper hand, but you'll never wear him down via phone.

"fine," you sigh dramatically. "thank you, babe. but you have to accept petrol money from me tonight."

"not a fucking chance. i have to drive past your house to get to matty's, anyway. he should be the one paying me."

you laugh. "if you're sure, babe. i'll get you back sometime, though."

"actually, there is something you could do for me tonight, if you wouldn't mind," george says slowly, voice deepening even more than usual. it sends goosebumps down your arms, and any and all sanity out of your head. "you could wear that top you bought at the weekend."

"the black one?"

"yeah," george's voice changes again; you can hear him blushing. "you looked really beautiful in it."

(his reaction when you'd opened the fitting room door last week had made you aware of that thought of his, but it's far nicer hearing him say it.)

"consider it done," you smile. "what time should i be ready for?"

"six? then we have time to get a maccies on the way."

"you do know the way to a girl's heart, george daniel."

george laughs. your heart flutters. "alright, baby. i'll see you in a couple of hours."

"looking forward to it," you smile, clicking your phone off. the goodbye feels unfinished, you think; the three other words you're too nervous to say to george seem to linger expectantly in your throat every time you talk to him, just waiting to be released from your lips to his ears. it's only been three months since you started labelling the relationship, but there were three of "dating" beforehand (following a two-sided drunken confession at matty's eighteenth), and another eight of crushing and pining preceding that - you know exactly how you feel about him. you just don't know when to tell him.

you nearly do, though, when he picks you up for the party later that night. after chucking your overnight bag in the backseat, you climb into the passenger seat and are immediately pulled into an absolute head-melter of a kiss.

george smiles as he pulls back from you. "hi, baby. you wore the top, i see."

"course i did," you grin in response. "have to keep up with you, don't i, gorgeous?"

"oh, shush," george shakes his head, cheeks pink. "right, let's get you some nuggets."

you clap, and your boyfriend laughs, a sound that continues from both of you as you make your way through the drive-thru and then to matty's. in between giggles and singalongs to the blink-182 album in the cd player, you feed george chips and chicken nuggets, the friday evening traffic stopping the two of you from being able to park and eat your dinner and still make it to the party on time. the vibe is in total contrast to your frustrated tears from earlier; now, doing shitty tom delonge impressions with your favourite boy in the world, you're ridiculously happy.

after parking outside matty's house, george turns to you before either of you can get out of the car. "listen, baby," he says softly, bringing a hand up to stroke your hair. "i know it's been a bit of a day for you, and i just want you to be alright - if you wanna go home at any point, tell me, yeah?"

your heart swells a little at his tenderness. you nod, pouting your lips slightly. "kiss?"

"gladly," george grins, lips on yours within seconds. like earlier, this kiss makes your head spin. 

unlike earlier, however, it isn't ended by either you or george pulling away; the two of you are so distracted by each other that you don't hear adam walking across the gravel towards the car. it isn't until he opens the passenger door that you pull away from george in fright, and then he speaks. "matty says no snogging in the driveway."

"tell him i'll do it in his fucking bedroom and see what he says then," george snaps. he kisses your hand. "sorry, baby."

"s'fine. hi, adam," you say, turning to your friend. "how are you?"

"betrayed, actually - you got a maccies and didn't ask if i wanted anything?"

"leave her alone, hann," george says, walking round to grab your bag and usher you out of the car. "she's had a stressful day."

"well, you're in luck, mate - oh, cheers," adam pulls you into a half hug as you pass him your final chicken nugget, and the boys lead you into the house. "matty found an unused piñata in the garage, so you can beat the shit out of that if it'll make you feel better."

"he just… found a piñata? just happened across it?" you ask, mildly bewildered (it's matty, after all), at the exact same time george ponders "what's he put in it?"

"he just found it, yeah. i don't know either," adam shrugs. "and he's literally put joints in it. no sweets. just weed."

interesting.

george nearly pisses himself laughing, while you, as is your wont, ask a sensible question. "won't the force of the hits knock the joints apart, though? like, genius idea to put them there in theory, but will it work?"

"only one way to find out, i s'pose, baby" george says. "here, let me put your bag upstairs. i'll meet you in the garden in a minute, yeah?"

your boyfriend kisses you quickly and hurries upstairs, while you follow adam out to the garden, stopping briefly to hug some of your friends hello. only ross and matty are outside, the former reaching up to attach a unicorn piñata to a tree branch while the latter shouts orders at him. "fucksake, ross, that's far too high!"

"he's right, unfortunately, ross," you chip in, wandering over towards them and slinging an arm round matty's shoulders. "do you really want either of us jumping with a potential weapon in our hands?"

"he already is a potential weapon," comes the grumbling from under the branch.

"taking that as a compliment, actually," matty shouts, steering you away from the tree and hugging you. "hi, darling. where's g?"

"stashing my handbag for me."

"ok, good, because i have news and you're the only person i can tell," matty spins to face you, inhaling deeply and clasping his hands together. "i think i'm in love."

"ok?" you put your hands on your hips, underwhelmed. "you've already told me this, remember? last month?"

"different person. that wasn't real, this is."

"right. and you're only telling me because…?"

"well, it's someone like you i think i'm in love with."

"a girl?" you smirk. "i guessed as much, mate."

"smartarse," matty huffs. "no. i mean, like, she's proper smart. and serious about it. she wants to study law at uni. i'm totally intimidated by her, but i fancy her so much."

he stares at you expectantly. you stare just as blankly back. "and?"

"and i need your help," matty all but wails. "how do i make her like me?"

bless him. you smile. "well, you're in a band. that helps."

"really? even for pulling geniuses like you and her?"

"not to be dramatic, but that day i walked into the music room to tell you lot to shut up and saw george drumming to brianstorm? life-changing," you blush. matty smiles, genuinely. "but also, just don't be a gobshite, yeah? you actually being quite sensitive is unexpected, and it's nice. really."

"ok. thanks, mate," matty pulls you into a quick hug. "i wish she was coming tonight. be a lot more fun."

"we literally have a weed-filled piñata. we're peaking with fun."

he laughs. "true. and i did only meet her today."

you raise your eyebrows. "wait - on the set of your mum's show? have you told denise?"

"do i look like an idiot? actually," matty shakes his head. "don't answer that. no need to tell me."

"tell you what?" george wanders over to the pair of you, hugging matty and pecking you on the lips. "what are you two gossiping about?"

"what we're buying you for christmas," you say smoothly. "and how amazing a gift i'm now obligated to get you, because you won't let me pay for my own bloody weed."

the boys laugh, and george kisses you on the head. "speaking of, ross thinks he's perfected the piñata height. fancy a bit of stress relief?"

"ew, george, not in my house," matty faux-retches, then grins. "kidding. come on, lovebirds, let's beat the shit out of a unicorn and get stoned."

"and other normal sentences he's said today," george murmurs in your ear, making you giggle as you follow your friend towards the tree.

as you near it, ross holds a cricket bat out to you. "heard you were feeling stressed. have at it, mate."

"thanks, ross," you take the wooden stick, turning it over in your hands before turning to look at the host incredulously. "who the fuck in your family plays cricket?"

"how should i know?" comes matty’s equally-incredulous reply. "just hit the horse, please, i need a fucking zoot."

"fine. here goes," you say. "actually, shouldn't we put something on the ground to catch the joints?"

"good point. here," george pulls off his hoodie and throws it on the grass; you're momentarily distracted by his biceps through his long-sleeved t-shirt. "give it hell, baby."

you smirk, closing your eyes and thinking of the awful exam paper from earlier. all the frustration and stress hits your nervous system like a tidal wave; practically vibrating with rage, you swing the bat and hit the papier-mache before you with a satisfying thwack, denting it. the boys cheer, and it spurs you on even more - within minutes, you've beaten the unicorn to a pulp, its contraband insides (mostly) intact on your boyfriend's hoodie, and your insides the most stress-free they've been in a long time.

breathless, you hand the bat back to a wide-eyed ross, who claps you on the back. "impressive, actually."

"thank you," you bow, the boys laughing as they scramble to pick up the joints. george grabs two for each of you and your hand simultaneously, leading you towards the cushioned loungers near the kitchen window.

he sits first, settling you gently on his lap before pulling a lighter from his pocket. you're suddenly extremely aware of the chilly october evening air, and shuffle around so you can half-lean against george's hard chest; you gaze up at him, all sharp jaw and heavy eyes with the joint between his lips. "is this ok?"

"s'perfect, baby," george smiles, hand tracing patterns against the outside of your thigh. he lifts it, though, to take the joint out of his mouth. "you wanna go first?"

you shake your head. george smoking is an incredibly sexy sight; you want a clear head the first time you see it tonight. the flickering flame sharpens his cheekbones in the most beautiful way as he lights the joint, and the way he draws them in as he inhales it is nothing short of stunning. but nothing compares to the way he exhales the smoke, head thrown back in pleasure and faint moans escaping his lips - your thighs clench ever so slightly as he does, which isn't helped by the way he looks at you as he passes you the weed.

he doesn't seem to fare any better while you smoke, though; your eyes close in contentment when the inhale hits your airways (and a little groan of satisfaction involuntarily leaves you), but you open them to find george biting his lip while he watches yours.

it gives you an idea. passing the joint back, you ask a favour of your boyfriend. "will you shotgun me, please?"

george hums happily. "absolutely, baby."

you shuffle so you're sitting directly on his lap, facing him. whether it's the crispness of the night or the weed or just george himself, you don't know, but you're more aware of this particular bodily position than ever before. there's an energy you can't quite describe crackling in the night air - anticipation, maybe.

whatever it is, you like it.

"ready?" george asks, joint halfway to his lips. you nod, loosely clasping your hands at the nape of his neck and leaning forward. he inhales, your mouth opens, he exhales, and you do your best to take in as much of the smoke as you can. 

even though you've been smoking properly for a little while now, the best highs are always the ones you share with george; he seems to intoxicate you more than the drug does. given how much longer he's been smoking, you'd be forgiven for thinking that he doesn't feel the same way, but the speed with which he quickly lays the joint in a nearby ashtray (thank fuck the healys are a family of smokers, by the way) and crashes his lips to yours suggests otherwise. the crackling in the air ceases, but seems to find a new home in your body; sparks seem to fly from your lips to your brain, overloading the organ until all you can think is george, george, george.

yeah, you love him all right.

[strayheartless]

So I don’t know if I’m ever really going to be able to write it coherently because it’s a mess of an idea but I need it out of my brain box. But I have an idea for a fic I’ll probably never write -because as I say ✨coherency✨- and it kinda goes like this:

Cloud is a pretty lonely kid. Even when Tifa tries to include him, he struggles socially and the others don’t really like him. As a way of coping with this Cloud falls back on his imagination and essentially creates the entire universe of kingdom hearts in his head like a maladaptive daydream to cope with his situation.

He has drawings of Sora and the gang all over his room and every note book is filled with complicated plots and backgrounds and ideas for characters. His Ma worries that he spends too much time in his own head. However, she quickly realised that moving his drawings and Writing causes him great distress so she tries to leave them be.

For Cloud Sora is an extension of the outgoing hero he wants to be. The kid who wasn’t necessarily the chosen one but is the best version of himself and is the hero because he’s good.

Riku is his sephiroth type character. He’s the cool kid that everybody wants to be like, and just like us he lives for torturing his blorbo. What Clouds not really aware of as he writes though is that Riku becomes more and more like an extension of himself. There’s an intense loneliness to his character and a repression of something Cloud is really not ready to look at.

Kairi is probably his romanticisation of Tifa and an extension of Clouds own desire to protect the people that matter to him most. Sora wants to protect kairi in the same way Cloud wants to protect Tifa. But like Tifa as the Kairi develops she has a certain strength of her own and a story worth telling.

More characters develop along the way and by the time he joins shinra military he’s got a whole fantasy world (or worlds in this case) planned out in his head that consumes his every waking minute.

Cut to being in the army and Clouds usually got a small field journal with him that he uses like an ideas book that’s full of scribbles and drawings. He’s incredibly territorial about the notebook and has gotten into altercations over it multiple times.

By this point he’s established some other stories. Sora feels really distant to him and he can’t quite reach him. It’s upsetting but around the time he meets Zack Ventus sort of emerges from nowhere.

Ven is quirky, he’s a bit silly and a lot sarcastic. But he’s smiley and friendly and exactly the person Cloud is around a certain second Class soldier…

Hiding his sketches from Zack was never an option. He was never going to get away with carrying his journal around without Zack popping up over his shoulder to ask “whattcha doooin’?”. Once Zack got a little snap shot into Clouds world(s) he wanted to grill Cloud about it every time they hang out. What Zack doesn’t really get though, is that for Cloud it’s not a story… not really.

These are Clouds friends. This is where he feels safest. Being able to talk of them makes them more tangible more real and when the Genesis war starts to get that bit more tense Cloud is stuck in his head As Sora and Riku make a reappearance.

Waking Dreams and nightmares plague Cloud for hours to the point of exhaustion because there’s someone on his island! Someone who shouldn’t be. Zack suddenly gets the feeling that maybe there’s something a little off about Clouds stories. He unfortunately gets his answer when he opens the door to Clouds room in the barracks and finds him crying into his knees and rocking.

“He opened the door, he opened it Zack! He shouldn’t have done that!”

“Who? What door Cloud? Where’s your head at bud?”

“Riku! He opened the door to darkness”

From that point on Zack is very careful about how he approaches Clouds stories. He notices Clouds staring; the times when he will start crying for no reason; nights when Zack will come to get him for dinner and find him scribbling out drawings of dark little shadows and a sword that looks like a key… The night before sephiroth burns down Nibelhiem Zack leaves Cloud scribbling a drawing of Ansem rising up covered by a monster gagged with bandages.

…..

When cloud dreams in the Mako pod it’s confusing. He dreams of Sora Trapped in a white room. He dreams that none of his friends know him and that Riku isn’t what he remembers. He dreams of some of his lesser characters in Black coats and his brain confuses Ventus and Sora to make Roxas.

He dreams that Lea is no longer Lea he’s Axel. He dreams of Kairi with Black hair and Blue eyes but she’s not Kairi she’s- shes…. Xion? He dreams that there’s a girl that’s making Sora forget things, and he’s struggling to remember things himself.

He dreams that Riku won’t show anybody his eyes. What’s wrong with his eyes?! He dreams and dreams and dreams of Sephiroth, in the colosseum, in Radient Garders… no Hollo- hollow bastion… why are you here?!

Get out get out get out get out!

GET OUT!

…..

……..

When Cloud wakes up in the sector seven train station the first thing he registers is that summer vacation is over. No that’s not right. They were going to the beach right? Roxas and Heyner and Pence and Ollette. They were going to the beach, to get pretzels and watermelon and…

Sora?

He blinks and he’s lying on his back in a bed on stargazer hights and When Sora Cries so does he. Why is Sora crying? Where is Roxas?

There’s a tower surrounded by stars, and a wizard who tells Sora that the darkness still exists. He tells him about Nobodies that are the husks of people who have lost their hearts and Cloud wonders if he is a nobody too…

There’s a black feather in the underworld. And one on Mount Olympus when Sora parks the Gummi ship. Cloud thinks someone should be running to meet them with a big smile and questions about Terra… no that’s not right?

There’s a figure in a black coat in hollow ba- radient- hollow bastion. And another one in the underworld. Half way up a mountain in the land of dragons there’s another one, different from the others who won’t fight back.

As Avalanche reach Kalm Cloud makes a beeline for an art supply shop and suddenly there’s flowers in radiant garden again.

When he gets splashed with Mako in Corel he’s sees Riku and Roxas in loveless avenue. No that’s not right. What… what is this place.

“Come on sora, you can do better then that!”

“Oh yeah look which one of us is winning!”

“Stop by once me and him are both hero’s!”

“Oh so never come back!”

… Hello?

This is where I got up to with this idea and I can’t figure out the rest of it, but it’s been bugging me for months. So ✨here✨