#love the flashes of images and the way their creation changes in their head

[kitonmitons]

i love the way The Bear portrays inspiration and the creative process. Like yes it literally feels and looks that way

[staticl0ve]

The Pig and the Fox - Chap 1 - Connor x AFAB!Reader

Pairings: Connor/AFAB!Reader (no pronouns used) Rating: Mature/Explicit/NSFW 18+ Link (AO3): Read it Here Chapters: [ Chap 1 ] [ Ch 2 ] [ Ch. 3 ] [ Ch. 4 ] [ Ch. 5 ] / 6 Words: 3.3k Warnings: implied drug use (supporting character), so much swearing, reader does wear feminine attire Summary: When a thief meets a cop, they’re on the opposite sides of the law, two flips of a coin. However, there’s more to life than things being black and white. In a post android revolution, not much has changed for the common citizen. The rich get richer and the poor, well, they work. They adapt. They sacrifice. You straddled that fine line, one toe in the light and one in the dark. So does Connor, but you don’t quite see that yet. Notes: Based on that ask for “Tear You Apart.” I see you anon and I made this way longer than a oneshot (oops). ✨💙

Chapter 1 - Law and Disorder

When you think of America, you’re probably thinking of a star spangled banner, waving in the air as a marching band proudly plays a tune inspiring pride and patriotism. Pay no mind to the country’s shores dimming away into a rising sea and rockets with their red glare gleaming over oil rich lands. Across an ocean, the same melody was once but a pub song, meant to be slurred out of drunken mouths like 99 Bottles on the Wall.

Since the young country’s founding, the nation quickly led the global markets in pop culture, science and technology. By 2018, a young CEO of a tech startup changed everything with one invention, a perfect creation, beautiful, unchanging and with a mind that was sharper than its creator. An android, straight out of science fiction. The invention handled everything from household chores, babysitting, surgery and even replacing the role of an intimate partner. One could only imagine the fallout that occurred across the job market.

By 2038, the country was too busy bickering across political aisles, gaslighting and finger pointing instead of helping a neglected populace. Like adding water to a grease fire, tempers flared as people began to take out their frustrations on the androids. Eventually, the machines had enough. An android killed a man out of self preservation and a little girl was held hostage.

The story had changed and the media was quick to paint an image of a temporary truce, an us versus them. But machines were more level headed than their organic counterparts, wanting only peace, equal rights—the expected fundamentals. One peaceful revolution, a series of lawyers and they got it all. Love em or hate em, their freedom meant things quickly returned back to the status quo—for the most part.

For those still lost and purposeless, they found their way out with the dawn of cybernetics. In an effort to compete with the machines, people began embracing synthetic alterations. Surgical procedures ranged from minor implants to full limb replacements. X-Ray vision? You’ve got it. A machine gun for an arm? Still pretty fucking illegal but you bet someone had one.

The cybernetic market was also a hit for those in it for the aesthetic of glowing eyes and hair that could grow at will (very popular with middle aged men). Others found more…nefarious uses for their upgrades. Murder was a little extreme for your tastes. Thievery was more your thing, or a little something you might call, wealth redistribution.

Bold colors, the same as the flag, flashed wildly at a mansion in Palmer Woods, one of Detroit’s wealthiest neighborhoods. A patrol car idled in the rain. Not only were the roads slick, the weather was all doom and gloom, discouraging outdoor activities. Police normally didn’t make appearances in the sleepy suburb, but tonight, a house party was disturbing the peace.

From high up, a curtain was slightly drawn in a nearby home. Unlike the one next to it, the guests were not expected.

“Fucking pigs,” your associate, Leo hissed under his breath. He was attached to the shadows in the room, dark hair hidden behind a beanie, arms crossed with a teal blazer wrinkled around clenched fists. For a rich kid, he always managed to be short on money and his father, Carl Manfred, was beginning to catch onto why and halved his allowance. It wasn’t uncommon for people like Leo to chase wild parties and find himself doing dubious work to pay for his new habits. He would blame his circumstances on his father’s neglect, or as Carl saw it, the best a divorced man could do while balancing a large art career.

As a buyer of Carl’s gallery work, you knew him first, then Markus and met Leo at a bad place and a bad time. Carl’s eldest son had gotten himself in some trouble during an exchange of goods, a fight over bags filled with red crystals. You leveraged your trade name, Fox, and saved him from one hell of a beating. Despite your best judgment, you dragged him under your wing and to your surprise, he was good at keeping your side gig a secret. While you weren’t the type to pry, you didn’t love what he did with his free time but you did tell him, “If you’re going to do dumb shit at least I can keep an eye on you.”

You watched after him like any good sibling would, even though he already had a younger brother, Markus. But Markus was an android that shared all of the same passions their father had, which did not rest well with Leo who lacked any artistic talent. A story…meant for another rainy day.

“It’s just the one patrol car, you don’t think they tracked us…?” he pondered.

“Relax,” you replied. Your fingers were holding a bedroom curtain open by a sliver, enough to spot the cop car parked across the street and the two passengers exiting the vehicle. “They’re not here for us. I bet a neighbor called in a noise complaint about the house party.”

“Damn, you think we can finish up soon? I was hoping to meet my buddy there.”

You tried to ignore how shifty his eyes got around the word ‘buddy’ and the subconscious twitch of his fingers rubbing the tip of his nose.

“Right,” you scoffed, returning to the center of the room where an empty desk sat.

The home you cased was nearly barren, the owner too busy or too preoccupied with his other homes to bother decorating with personal touches. Paintings of generic scenery hung in each room and the walls were all the same drab seashell white color. This boring, Crate and Barrel style home belonged to a former investor of Cyberlife, your target for the evening.

“This shit we’re doing…we’re the good guys right?” Leo asked. It was a peculiar question since he never had a problem with what you were doing before.

“There’s no good or bad, we’re just here to balance the scales. Our target has been happily benefiting from the services our taxes pay. It’s time we got our share.“

“Wait, taxes pay for stuff?”

Distracted, you had to turn around to give him a look like you were talking to a child.

“Yes, they do. What are you twelve?”

“I’m Twenty-Nine!” he shot back, standing up taller and puffing his chest out. You knew he never worked a day in his life and mostly survived off the money his father sent him.

“Oh, so you do have a seat the big kids table then,” you snickered.

“Just—forget what I said and worry about the safe, okay?”

You went back to checking out the oak desk. At a glance, it looked like the rest of the home, plain and unimportant. You ran your bare hand over the surface, enjoying how smooth it felt. The new upgrades to your limbs offered retractable fingerprints and you were pleased to know you weren’t one of the unlucky few to lose all feeling in your hands as a result of the implant.

Your skin warmed along your veins, the circuitry embedded in the skin revealing angular lines of light that traveled from the back of your neck, down your spine and to your fingertips. The artificial lenses in your eyes spun, adjusting to see something beyond human perception. As the room shifted from reality to a virtual grid, a blue line trailed from a panel on the desk and to the wall across from it.

“There,” you announced and injected the lock panel with a combination breaker. Numbers clicked away, cycling and flickering hundreds of formations. Off in the background, you could still feel the bass of the party next door, shaking up the dead stillness of the place you were in. It was interrupted by a constant buzzing. Out of the corner of your eye, Leo stuffed his hand into his pocket, bringing out a phone.

“Fuck,” he whispered, gloved thumb fumbling with the red end call button. “Shit.”

You caught a small glimpse of a face on the screen, an older man who if not for his age, would be just as problematic as his son.

“Sorry, Fox,” Leo sighed out. “Won’t happen again.”

“S’fine.” You shrugged but kept an eye on him. “I hope it wasn’t important?”

Alright, so you pried sometimes.

Leo wasn’t looking his best tonight. Sweat was beading down his brow, his feet fidgeting and creaking the hardwood. He shook his hand dismissively at the desk, half to tell you to let it go and half to redirect your focus. You did, returning to blocks of text streaming down your sight. Numbers cycled until it finally halted on one set. Your lips curled, finger drawing a pattern on the panel.

A disguised safe door clicked open on the wall, revealing a small square box filled with thin, rounded glass tablets. On the surface, they looked like trading cards with cute monkey graphics but you knew this set was worth millions. These cards weren’t all that different from rare paintings and a few controversial auctions were all it took to make them seem exclusive. It was a little funny, the obscure measures the super rich took to funnel their wealth.

“That’s all of them,” you declared, grabbing a handful of holocards. Placing them in Leo’s care, you didn’t have time to celebrate when an alarm broke. Dramatically, your shoulders slumped, head thrown back as you groaned.

“Leo!”

Wide-eyed, he jumped, panic racing across his features. “Shit, I swear I got all of em.”

“Could have been a silent one. Fuck, and the cops are right next door.”

You dashed to the blinds, cursing once when you saw the officers on the neighbor’s lawn turn their heads from the alarm. Pulling away from the window, you worked out your backup plan.

“Cover your face,” you said while lifting up a handkerchief tied around your neck. He mirrored you, bringing a holographic mask up. It shimmered, forming around his face until he looked like a pixelated blur. “The door to the back yard, take it. I’m going out the front door—”

He looked more concerned as the words sunk in, “What? You’re going to run into them!”

“That’s the idea. Come on!” You raced forward, shoving him through the doorway. “We meet up after, a different spot than last week. You know the place right?”

Leo stammered out an affirmation of sorts as he stumbled down the stairs.

“And change your clothes!” you shouted after him.

Through the windows, you could spot the cops, one older and one younger, making their way to the front door. If you were to be honest—you stretched out a little, fingers intertwined and reaching for the ceiling—this was your favorite part when a heist went wrong.

Explosive energy surged through your veins, blue light rippling across skin, glowing brighter. You shot off your feet, racing quickly through the home, making a loud banging noise as the door swung open. Rain hit your exposed skin, cool pinpricks chilling your hands and face.

“Halt! DPD!” That must have been the younger guy, his voice energetic and closing in much closer than the other officer. Behind him, his partner sighed, arm bracing his back as he jogged to catch up.

“Connor! Wait!” the older man shouted. He gave up after a few paces as the rain slowed him further.

Pigs needed to run every now and then. You stuck out your middle finger and hopped over a fence. Connor’s faint cry of “stop” got lost between backyard sheds and fancy trimmed bushes.

First things first, the rules to a neat getaway: befriend the neighborhood dogs.

A large canine, out on its pee break ran up, bared it’s teeth with a vicious snarl. It calmed instantly when you threw a milk-bone and you were back on the run. The man chasing you felt close behind, the dog reacting to his presence only moments after you left.

The other rules were tedious things of the past like cardio. But who needs cardio when they’ve got implants? Wind bit your face as you raced through neatly curated suburbia. Some might say you relied too much on your cybernetics but you saw it differently. You designed them for a living, suffered the pain of your body rejecting the technology and when it all finally came together, you used your new advantages to your benefit. 

Well, you weren’t soulless. A lot of the money you stole got laundered, turned legit and anonymously donated to nonprofit organizations you trusted. What was leftover went to your daytime front: a condo with a view, a sweet android dog waiting for you at home, and your side hobby of collecting art.

As homes drifted off into the distance and the streets felt more open, you glanced over your shoulder.

“Oh, fuck.”

The cop from earlier was still on your tail and it was then that you realized a small…blue…ring on his temple. You’d never seen an android that could keep up with your off market cybernetics. Double fuck.

For those taking notes, every successful getaway requires a back up plan to go with the back up plan. There were a handful of locations where you had emergency transit parked in hiding. Your fingers twitched, skin pulsing in a pattern. Blocks away, a motorbike’s engine came to life.

“Not another step,” Connor ordered. His shadow stretched to your shoes, his posture tall and shoulders squared to intimidate. “Move and I will have to use force.”

“Fuckers like you always do,” you casually responded, not at all deterred by his threat. The bike was going to take a few minutes to arrive so you had to buy some time. Your gaze dipped to his utility belt. Taser, gun, baton…oh, handcuffs, fun. “So, how do you wanna do this?”

His head tilted slightly, curiosity chipping away at his authority. “What can I call you?”

“You can…fuck…right off.” You didn’t miss the flash of gold from his temple.

“Would you prefer…” His LED pulsed until it eased back to a calm blue. “Fox?”

Your fists clenched. He couldn’t possibly make out who you were with what little you were revealing. Communications used for this assignment were heavily encrypted, although…it wouldn’t take a super computer like him long to compile data from the dark web and find a trail some associate of yours failed to cover.

You weren’t confident you could take on a machine that hunted other machines since your implants were optimized for dexterity and speed. However, Connor didn’t look terribly intimidating with his large doe eyes and delicate angular features. Compared to your sleek black, waterproof clothing, your adversary was a sad, wet dog. His hair was soaked, flat and his police labeled windbreaker was two times too large for his lean build. That all changed when he lowered his chin and the whites of his eyes caught the glow from a streetlight. As he stalked forward, you recoiled marginally, muscles pulled taut.

“Do you like to tango?” you asked, redistributing your weight until your feet were squared with your shoulders. You grinned, canines baring back at him, a sly fox sizing up a hog. “I’m a really good dancer.”

You didn’t wait for him to reply, dropping low with a fast sweep of your leg to his ankles. Any other person would have collapsed to the ground but Connor was quick to right himself mid fall, using the momentum to wrap his hand around your arm. Everything moved as if frame by frame, droplets of rain falling at an angle, your eyes widening and him dragging you into his hold.

What you failed to realize earlier was that this android wasn’t your average run of the mill PC200 or PM700, law enforcement androids meant for guarding, observing and patrolling. Connor was an RK800 and now, as you were about to land face first into his chest, you remembered you had seen him before. There was a man lingering at the edge of the stage during Markus’ big speech but your personal investment in the deviant leader’s wellbeing had you fixated on Markus. Great, how unlucky for you to be arrested by the one and only deviant hunter who’s specs were still unknown.

Alright, one last back up plan, because of course you were prepared.

You were prepared, weren’t you?

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court,” Connor said as he caged you into his chest. Your head smacked his jaw and he continued with little effort despite your thrashing.

“Let me go!”

“You have the right to talk to a—”

“Fuck off!” Your elbow connected with the center of his chassis, making him loosen his grip. It wasn’t enough but you were able to free your arms. Your hand glowed as you gripped his neck, forcing an interface. Connor’s body seized up, turning him into a still mannequin. His eyes were frozen open, the brown dimmed to a dull gray as his LED glowed an angry red. Waving your fingers over his face, you breathed out a sigh of relief.

Normally the program you ran acted as a temporary sedative to use on androids and you weren’t sure how effective it would be on an RK800. Your escape plan was here, headlights approaching and washing your tangled figures in yellow. Pushing free of Connor’s grip, a shock worked its way up your arm, the same one that touched his neck.

“Ow! What the f—fuck…?”

You glanced back up at him, watched the red of his indicator spin to gold and knew you had no time to think about anything that wasn’t getting away. The sting had mellowed out into a small fizz but the cybernetics in your arm never calmed on your way to the meet up spot.

Beneath the cover of a park tree, Leo’s leg was nervously shaking as he tried his best to appear casual. He had changed from his original get up, as did you. Anyone walking by would figure he was out on an oddly late date. He had bagged the cards in a bright pink bag full of white hearts with a single rose sticking out.

“Fox! Thank fuck, I thought for sure they got you.”

You cheerily held up a bag of oily goods, filled with fries and nuggets.

“What kinda friend would I be if I left you standing out in the cold?” Your smile grew wider when you caught sight of his disguised bag. “What the hell is that?”

He roughly snatched the junk food and handed—tossed more like it—the bag of cards to you.

“It was all I could find at the drug store!”

You caught it with ease, bringing the rose to your nose. With your other hand, you brought out your phone. An app for exchanging currency flashed before him. Leo fumbled around, wiping his salty fingers on his pants and you had to hold back a laugh.

“I knew you’d be hungry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied and placed his phone next to yours. The screens flickered, numbers counting up on one side. He watched the change with rapt focus, brown eyes wide as if hypnotized. His ashen face was washed in the white glow of his screen, drawing deeper lines on the purple, almost bruised skin beneath his eyes. You’d seen that look on other faces before and the ending was not so happy.

“Hey…you should call your dad sometime,” you said.

Leo broke from his trance, pulling away and stuffing his phone back into his pockets.

“I know.”

The silence was accompanied by glimpses of polished stone on fresh dug soil, the smell of cut grass. Your hand on a cool surface, flowers in hand.

You pressed the rose back up to your nose, nodding back at him.

“See you around, Leo.”

“Don’t get caught, Fox.”

Your fingers throbbed again, the blue glowing beneath your jacket.

[vikenticomeshome]

Cyberchase: How It All Started (Episode 1)

This comic was later renamed to Cyberchase Web Adventures Episode 1.

When I make posts about certain Cyberchase characters or important events, I sometimes show panels from the prequel web comic "How It All Started", which was released online in December 2001, a month or so before Cyberchase premiered. I have restrained myself from just posting the whole thing, since I don't own it.

However, it is no longer available on the live pbskids.org website. It is available through archives, but there are some difficulties in tracking it down due to missing images in some places. Additionally, even when it was available on the live pbskids.org website, it was free for all to view, so posting it here wouldn't hurt anyone.

The best way to enjoy the web comic is through the FlashPoint Archive Project. This is because the webpages used simple animations in some places. Essentially, each comic page is treated like a tradition animation cell. They have a background layer, and then the webpage places images on top of it that can be exchanged for one another. This produces simple three-frame animations for things like flashing lights or repetitive arm and eye movements. This isn't something I can easily reproduce on Tumblr, since it isn't like posting a single animated GIF. There may be some round-about way to convert it (i.e. take video of the webpage animating and convert it to GIF), but I'm not going to do that. So, this will just be still images. There is no author or illustrator credited for this. The webpages mention a copyright of 2001 for the Educational Broadcasting Corporation, but I don't know if they actually assembled the content in-house, or if Nelvana or WNET did it. I just want to make sure that everyone is aware that I do not own this. I am presenting someone else's creation here, in an unedited form.

There is one other thing I should point out. When the comic was originally released in 2001, it has a certain framing to it.

However, in 2002, the Cyberchase website got redesigned, and the comic was changed as well. Some animations were removed, some images were replaced with lower-quality images, and some assets were altered to fit in a new frame. They started calling these webisodes to fit in with Cyberchase Web Adventures, which included an original Poddleville story and one about Hacker trying to knock over Tikis in Tikiville.

I prefer the original framing, and I dug into the archives to find as many panels with the original framing that I could. However, I was unable to find the original framing for a few pages. It may be possible for someone with better Photoshop skills to try to put the assets back in their original forms. I'm not that person, but the assets are on the Internet Archive and the Flashpoint Project for anyone who wants to try. In those cases, I will use the new framing. All of the images necessary to understand the story are intact. However, there are some special cases that I will note when we get to them.

Anyway, my plan here is to show the panels, transcribe the narration and dialogue, and make some commentary at the end. So, let's begin.

Narration: Cyberspace... A place where time and space are one... A place where the lines between reality and imagination no longer exist... A place where anyone can go and anything can happen.

Narration: Throughout Cyberspace there are thousands of places called cybersites, each very different from the other, and all under the watchful eye of their thoughtful and peace-loving leader: Motherboard.

Narration: The heads of several cybersites gather for an important meeting with Motherboard to discuss the future.

Narration: Motherboard tells everyone that all is well, and reminds them that peach and harmony are the key to the future.

Dr Marbles(?): Together we are strong

Assembled Heads(?) of Cybersites (Ava of Symmetria, Sheriff Judy of Sensible Flatts, The King of Happily Ever After, Zeus of Mt. Olympus, an unknown character, Ollie Nollie of Solaria, Lucky of R-Fair-City, and Two-Headed Sam of Castleblanca): To Motherboard

Editors note: Motherboard is absent from this panel during this version of the comic. I'm not sure if this was supposed to be a shot from Motherboard's POV, or if they just wanted to wait another page before showing her. That speech bubble is so far away from Dr. Marbles, that I wasn't sure if he was even the one saying the line. Maybe they were implying that Motherboard was speaking through the screen behind Dr. Marbles, even though it doesn't have anything on it.

The second version of the comic adds a screen with Motherboard to the background layer, implying that it was supposed to be her saying the line all along. This is confusing.

Narration: Motherboard exists in a vast, hi-tech computer center known as control central.

Narration: Motherboard is the brain of the giant computer system that oversees all of Cyberspace.

Narration: The brilliant Dr. Marbles is responsible for keeping Motherboard's parts working smoothly and efficiently at all times.

Dr. Marbles: Your memory is now optimized, Motherboard.

Narration: Needing an assistant with a high level of intelligence, Dr. Marbles assembles a cyborg who calls himself The Hacker.

The Hacker (thinking): Hmmm, someday I'll take over all of Cyberspace!

Narration: Wanting an assistance of his own, Hacker makes a robotic Cybird he names Digit.

Digit: Yoikes!

Narration: One night, while Marbles is away, Hacker removed the Encryptor Chip from Motherboard... ...and hides it inside a secret vault.

The Hacker: Without the Encryptor Chip, Motherboard cannot function. Ha-Ha-Ha!

Digit: Stop! You can't do this!

Narration: Digit needs to figure out the combination to the safe so he can replace the Encryptor Chip inside Motherboard before it's too late!

Digit: This is definitely not going to be easy!

Editor's Note: And then, we play "Crack Hacker's Safe". This game still exists on the pbskids.org website almost 25 years later. It was done in Javascript, so it survived the death of Flash that took out most of the rest of the Cyberchase game library. Feel free to pretend that Digit is the one pressing the buttons for these panels. Make up dialogue if you wish.

Narration: Congratulations you did it!

Narration: With the Encryptor Chip safely back in place, Motherboard tells Hacker he has to leave.

Motherboard: Your hostile actions cannot be tolerated, Hacker. You are no longer welcome here.

Narration: The power is drained from Hacker and he is placed inside a remote-controlled Cyberpod.

The Hacker: Someday... somehow, I'll return. And when I do, I'll take over all of Cyberspace!

Dr. Marbles: Page down, Hacker. Your file is closed!

Narration: Hacker is banished to the farthest reaches of The Northern Frontier.

The Hacker: NOOOOOOO....!

Narration: Neither Motherboard nor Dr. Marbles realize that Hacker has taken Digit with him.

The Hacker: I'll be back! Ha-Ha-Ha!

Digit: Yoikes Lemme outa here!

Narration: Check out webisode 2... ...and find out about Hacker's Evil plan ... and what happens to Digit!

Editor's Note: So, we have the narration inviting us to watch webisode 2. Normally, you would expect the alt text attached to the web page to match the text for the image, so that if someone was unable to load the image, they would still get the text. The alt text is: "Tune in next week and find out about Hacker's evil plan and what happens to Digit!"

This leads me to believe that there was a different version of this image back in 2001 that had narration that was either the same as the alt text, or more similar. However, it appears that that version of the image was replaced, and the original version was not archived.

That's the end of the comic, so let's get to my commentary.

So, what do I think about this comic? I enjoyed reading it. I like the idea of The Hacker's schemes to topple Motherboard starting before the main virus. I find it a bit odd that he was able to remove the Encryptor Chip without either Motherboard or Dr. Marbles being alerted instantly, since it is an essential part.

I suppose Digit was already a good guy at this point. Otherwise, he would have looked the other way, Motherboard would have ceased function, and we wouldn't have gotten the show at all. Now, Digit never being a bad guy is a controversial idea in the fan community. If he was always against The Hacker's evil plans, then it removes the idea of him being genuinely bad and having a change of heart later. I'm also not sure why The Hacker took Digit along after he foiled his plans this first time. Perhaps Digit was able to hide this betrayal from him at the time. But then, who else would have known about The Hacker's secret vault, or the fact that he stole the Encryptor Chip?

It is questionable how much of this is still canon. The Hacker's origin story in particular has been expanded in the years that followed. The modern story talks about him wanting to help Motherboard, and then turning evil later. Meanwhile, this original origin story had him turning evil immediately. At this point, they had not even created the young Hacker that we see in flashbacks, since he only appears (from birth) in his final form.

The show has also animated a flashback of Dr. Marbles exiling Hacker in the same cyberpod. But then, we got Season 5 Episode 6 "The Flying Parallinis, where his banishment involved being trapped on top of Mount Wayupthere until the Parallinis accidentally released him. Both items may have been ret-conned in Season 12 Episode 8 "Hacker Hugs a Tree", when we see him banished via portal. He is also alone in that episode, so he didn't bring Digit along with him in that version of events.

Also, can we go back to the board room with the leaders of a few of the Cybersites?

This was early days for the show, so they only had so many characters created. Now, Zeus makes sense. He is the king of the gods on the Mt. Olympus Cybersite. The King from Happily Ever After also makes sense. Judge Trudy makes sense, I suppose. Back then, we only really knew her and her sister, Sheriff Judy, from Sensible Flatts. This was long before Sensible Flatts had a separate mayor.

Ava from Symmetria is an interesting choice. She runs the factory that produces the symmetrical objects, but is she also the head-of-state on that Cybersite? We don't see anything on that Cybersite other than the factory, so maybe the site really is just the factory.

I'm surprised to see Two-Headed Sam here. We know he runs the Cryoxide factory in Castleblanca, but this isn't really an Ava situation where the entire site is just one factory. Is Sam also the head-of-state across Castleblanca? That would explain his monopoly on the Cryoxide business, and it is a concerning conflict of interest. This was before the mayor we all remember from the Halloween Howl.

Ollie Nollie was the cart driver on Solaria, and Lucky was the cab driver on R-Fair City. I get that Solaria is mostly a vacation resort, and R-Fair City is an amusement park. But it's still weird to me that these two would be the heads-of-state over there.

Does anyone recognize the character in the top right? I can't find any reference to him.

Edit: I was looking back at S01 E21 "Less Than Zero", where we see a meeting of the Cyber Council. They used the same room, and the characters are in much the same arrangement. Our mystery character is replaced by the Mayor of Poddleville. The Mayor of Poddleville is easily the most senior member here, due to his place in the pilot. So, I'm a little surprised that he was the one character to change between "How It All Started" and this episode.

We also get Lachesis, one of the three fates from Greek Mythology, seated across from Dr. Marbles. I'm not sure why only one of the three fates gets a seat at this table. Why would Olympus get two representatives on the council?

[lunarbuck]

Reset - Ten

​​Товарный вагон

Pairing: The Winter Soldier x f!Reader

WC: 1.6k

"I know, but I believed enough for both of us."

Warnings/Tags: fluff <3

series masterlist | my masterlist | ao3 | @hydravictrix | fic playlist

AN: this is the last chapter 😭😭😭😭 i'm so so sad but i love it so thank you for being here haha I'm sorry it's short, but it just felt right to end it like this <3

please feel free to send me any requests for one-shots /drabbles /headcanons you have for this series!! even though I'm done writing chapters i would love to continue writing for these characters &lt;3

chapter 9 / author's note

5 Years Later

Куколка

You run your hands in the cold water, feeling it splash on your face. Clay melts from your skin and runs in circles down the drain. It’s your third favorite part of making pottery.

The first is molding the clay with your fingers, creating something straight from your mind. 

The second is the face James makes when you bring home a new creation. He gushes, as much as the stoic man can gush, about how impressive the pottery is. How you’re a creative genius. He flatters you, but you enjoy it, so you let him do it.

You say goodbye to the two other women you worked with today and make the walk back to your house.

Construction ended pretty quickly after it began. It felt so good to build a home with James. It’s your own; it is no one else’s.

You find James and Alpine out on the front porch, asleep in a chair positioned perfectly in a sunny spot. A baseball cap covers James’ eyes and most of his face while Alpine basks in the warmth of the rays.

When he’s like this, guard down and peaceful, it’s hard to believe that he’d once been the man that turned that SHIELD safehouse to ruble. Your mind flashes with the image of him, the Winter Soldier, as he emerged from the darkness as if born from it. His strength seemed to grow, sucking the mana from the earth below him. 

Everything was so dark after that moment. He was often your only ray of light.

You look at him, and in hindsight, you realize you probably should have done things differently. But knowing what you know now, going through what you’ve gone through, you wouldn’t change a thing.

You love him. This much you know is true.

It’s love like fire, like the end of the world. It’s ancient and terrifying, but it’s yours. You love him powerfully, ruefully. You know he would go to the ends of the world, smite all those in his path, if only you asked.

Even though you try not to, you wake Alpine as you walk past the pair of nappers to enter the house.

She stands and stretches, pressing her paws against James' chest, arching into the sun, and swishing her tail. She jumps off of his lap and rubs against your legs, welcoming you home.

James wakes when Alpine meows loudly, requesting you to feed her. 

"How was it today?" James asks through a yawn, shifting his ball cap back up on his head. 

He's let the scruff on his jaw grow out just a touch, but his hair stays clipped short, just like the day you'd cut it all those years ago.

You still cut it every few weeks on the back porch. 

"Pretty good," you reply, leaning against the door frame. James makes no move to get up from his chair, and you don't mind. He looks good enough to eat right now.

His blue henley stretches perfectly over his muscular chest and arms. His construction job keeps him moving and in shape, which he enjoys. His skin has tanned from all the time outside, giving him a healthy glow compared to the ghostly look he had while living in the compound.

You drop your bag inside and make your way over to James’ sunny spot. You perch yourself on his lap and sink into his embrace, loving the way it feels when he wraps his arms around you.

Over the past few years, you and James dropped any walls that had remained after the move to Vietnam. He opened up to you about some of the torture he’d endured, the missions he’d gone on, and other battles fought in the name of Hydra.

Even though it was difficult, you told him stories of before. Of growing up, of your family. Even, occasionally, of Steve.

James surprised you when he listened to you talk about the man that used to occupy your every thought. He tried to understand, but he never apologized.

And still, you have not asked him to. You don't need one.

"I was thinking of going into town for dinner tonight," James says, squeezing your leg to get your attention.

"That works for me," you say, smiling into James' chest. 

Despite all odds, life is good to you and James. You're not sure what either of you has done to deserve it, but you're thankful for it.

You savor every moment.

Later, as you and James eat dinner, you reminisce. The two of you swap stories of your time together. Even the time spent in the compound can now be looked upon through a new lens, one of understanding and what you can only call appreciation.

You know it's messed up, a doctor would call you crazy, but you would not be the person you are today without that experience.

James laughs and nearly chokes as he recalls a moment two years ago when alpine got scared of a cucumber he'd left on the counter. She jumped so far into the air that you were certain she'd hit the ceiling.

You giggle along with him, a movie of memories floating through your mind.

Over the past few years, you and James had turned into a practically normal couple. Lunch dates and evening walks, playing with the kitten before bed, confessions of love in moments of passion.

You never thought you'd have it, the normalcy and simplicity of it all.

Once the sun has set, you and James lay out behind the house on a blanket and watch the stars. 

Back in the States, there was too much light from the city to see them. But here, here they are so bright.

You tell James the stories of the constellations and how when you were growing up, you'd thought they were little holes poked in the sky. 

"Where'd you think the light was coming from?" he asks, rubbing your back as you curl into his side, resting your head on his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Steady as a drum, his heart.

"I thought it was the sun." He laughs lightly, and you can't help but join him. "I thought the sun would get tucked in at night, the sky as its blanket. But the blanket was old because the sun had had it for so long, so it had holes in it. That's where the stars came from."

"That's beautiful," he whispers.

"It's silly," you reply, shaking your head at the story you'd just told.

"I thought they were angels, watching everyone and keeping them safe each night." You shift so you can see him as he talks. He stares up at the sky, and the stars reflect in his beautiful blue eyes. "I thought that every night, the angels would come down and sit in their spots in the sky. I wondered if they knew what was happening to me, if they knew what Hydra was doing to me."

Silence stretches over time for a moment as you sit with what he's just said. You don't know how to respond, how to comfort him.

"I know they saw because that's when I found you. You saved me, мой ангел . They sent you to me, and you saved me."

You could spend lifetimes tucked into James' side.

You could spend centuries here under the stars with him.

You could spend millennia loving him.

"There were times when I didn't believe it could work, that we would make it," you whisper.

"I know, but I believed enough for both of us."

The first time you saw him, you thought he couldn't be real. But now you know, you know like you know yourself. You know like you know how to breathe.

Of all the uncertainties in life, you have your constants.

James and Alpine, and that's all you need.

James

Five years with мой ангел , and somehow it is like lifetimes have passed, but at the same time, every day is new as if it were the first. 

Every day when I would come home from work, I would find her working on some new project either in our home or in town. She and Alpine befriended everyone they could, and I am happy to share her kindness with everyone around us.

People are wary of me because of my brooding, but I have managed to attract the attention of a few young boys. They like hearing about the world, the places I've been.

Sometimes, I teach them self-defense. I enjoy the lessons, doing something good with the skills that are branded on my DNA.

There is nothing better, though than seeing моя куколка standing in the home we built.  

Marriage is not something that either of us are really interested in. We are not religious, nor do we care much about what any government thinks of us.

Instead, a few months ago, we went on a trip to the ocean. We stood knee-deep in the water and bared our souls to each other. 

Words like a prophecy poured from her lips, and it brought tears to my eyes. I knew then and there that we would never be parted. This is how it was meant to be. 

Now, as we stare up at the stars, I know that I have been given a second chance. A clean slate. A new start. 

I will live this life with мой ангел , and I will never take it for granted. I will be the man I want to be, the man she deserves. 

She leans up on her elbow, looking down at me now. Her eyes reflect the stars, and I know she is truly an angel. Sent to earth to save me. 

The first time I saw her, I knew.

She was mine, and I was hers.

Two lives intertwined by fate.

Translations:

ангел = angel

куколка (f) = little doll

принцесса (f) = princess

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[liptonsbabe]

The Daugthers of Saturn

A Wolfpack saga

Vol I. Titan

Sam Uley x Female! reader

Summary: Saturn's fate depends solely on its daughters

Warnings: none(?

A/N: So, as you all know i'm new in this twilight thing but i looooove the wolfpack so much and my mind works so fast so here it is a whole saga about our favorite boys! Please if you see something you don't like tell me and i'll change it. As always, english not my mother language so pls let me know if something's wrong. Enjoy!

Caelus spun rapidly on its axis and Saturn quickly followed suit. They were thousands of milles away from each other, but their rotations didn't slow down. You were at the center of the universe. The other planets hid to watch the fight between father and son and you wondered what you were doing there, in the middle of space floating above a constellation that murmured beneath your feet.

Then the two enemy planets rotated more strongly and from their movement emerged two men. Caelus stood imposingly in front of Saturn who, imitating his father, slowly walked towards him. Your heart raced, watching the two unknown men slowly approach you.

The space between the three of you closed. The constellation beneath your feet disintegrated and in return you stood on a golden stone that Saturn created for you. He attacked Caelus, his father, and squeezed your arm tightly.

His eyes were gray like granite and his hand on your arm was warm, like a welcoming embrace. You didn't understand what was happening, nor how you managed to be in that place, to breathe and be in front of two planets that had become men.

Caelus recovered from the attack and Saturn pulled you towards to the aquarius nebula where his territory began. Caelus vociferated in rage and Saturn grabbed you by the cheeks pinning his grayish gaze on yours.

"You are my daughter. The first, but not the only one. You must find the rest. My fate depends on it."

He said. His voice was soft, like the voice of an understanding father. You stood in your place watching Saturn's sparkling eyes. Then Caelus ran like a panther towards you and Saturn made you fall from the nebula, floating in the void.

You awoke to the tapping on the car window where your sister was trying to get your attention. Apparently you had already arrived at your new home and there was a lot of unpacking to do. You woke up, your muscles aching from sleeping so uncomfortably in the car and all the miles you had to travel from your old home. You stretched your arms, sighed and got out of the car being the last one to do so.

The rest of your siblings were already pulling box after box out of the moving truck. Your father was standing in the doorway watching them work and your mother was inside giving indications on how she wanted everything arranged. You shook your head, putting on your jacket before heading out.

La Push had a terrible weather. Humid, rainy, cloudy. The rest of the family talked to your father about the disadvantages it would bring to the pack, but he just used his Alpha voice and said that those had been old Hasen's wishes.

Grandpa Hasen was the elder leader of the sons of Caelus, the tribe to which you belonged. He had been the alpha in his time and had been the son, grandson and great-grandson of alphas. Now it was your father's turn and in the future it would be yours.

The sons of Caelus were a pack of wolves ruled by the planets. They talked, but they only talked to old Hasen and he communicated the message as best as he could.

Hasen didn't speak, neither did he open his eyes and the little he moved was for the council meetings that were held in an extraordinary way. Two weeks ago old Hasen awoke from a dream and, after years of not opening his eyes even to help himself to walk, he did so to say that the whole pack had to move to La Push, Washington.

Your father didn't understand why, but he didn't object the decision. If Hasen had had a vision then that meant that the creator father spoke to him in his dreams and laid out the path for them to follow. The rest of the sons of Caelus were unsure about establishing their home in La Push cause, as it had been for hundreds of years, the Quileutes and the sons of Caelus hated each other.

You stepped out of the car feeling the breeze hit your body but your own warm held back the cold. You shook your head trying to dismiss the dark dream you had just had. It was impossible for Saturn to have communicated with you. Your creator father was his enemy and the sons of Caelus abhorred Saturn since the creation of the tribe. You denied, telling yourself that you had spent too much time listening stories.

Rosé, your sister, was waiting for you on the porch carrying a heavy box in her arms. She raised her eyebrows when she saw your sleepy face and hair in a tousled bun. Her bright smile made you blush.

"Sleeping beauty, were you waiting for the prince's kiss to wake you up?"

"Not really. I didn't know we had already arrived."

"Fifteen minutes ago. The others are inside helping to unpack. I thought it was good to let you rest a little longer."

"Thanks, R."

You decided to start helping carry the last of the boxes inside meeting your father's stern gaze. He was a good alpha, but as a father he left a lot to be desired. You didn't have an enviable relationship nor did they have a perfect one, but he was your father, the alpha of the pack and you respected him.

"Take that to my office" he told you in a growl. You nodded making the tousled bun move and your hair fall unruly to the sides. Your father looked at you reproachfully again "Do as I told you and for the love of our father, pull your hair back."

Rosé was right behind you. You were both about to do as your father had told you when the scent of other wolves stopped you all from your actions. Your father pulled you close to him putting you and your sister behind his back and your twenty brothers protected the rest of your sisters in the same way. The strangers approached revealing none other than the new generation of Quileute wolves commanded by Joshua Uley's son.

They crept closer. Your brothers formed a barrier between them and your father. Still, the Quileutes came close enough and looked disdainfully at the vastness of your home.

"Get inside now," said your father. You and Rosé didn't move but were curious about the arrival of the wolves. Your father gritted his teeth "I said get inside the house."

You two did as he asked standing on the threshold and leave the boxes aside. From that place you could see the one who appeared to be the alpha climb the porch steps being stopped by your brothers. Your father gave them the order to let him pass and their faces met.

"Son of Caelus."

"Quileute" your father replied looking him up and down. The boy had no shirt on, only a pair of shorts. The boy half smiled

"We could smell you all from our side of the beach."

"Your side of the beach" ironized your father "I didn't know we were limited to just walking in the woods near our place."

"Well now you know" said the boy. You moved closer, quietly stepping out until you were behind your father's back "You're not welcome here."

"Who says so?"

"The treaty you signed years ago"

"That treaty died along with Ephraim Black. There is no shared territory, this place belongs to us as much as it does to you and this house is mine and my pack, so I don't want to see you around here, boy, was I clear enough?"

"Why are you here?"

"Our creator father brought us."

"Caelus spoke to you? After all these years?" asked the boy. Your father's face turned red with anger.

"That's none of your concern, quileute. Get off my property, now."

Your father turned around to enter the house bumping into you. He squeezed your arm feeling anger rise up to his ears when he saw that you hadn't tied your hair back. He pulled you to the side and you were facing the quileute's alpha as he held you so you wouldn't fall.

Your eyes met. A bond tightened and images flashed through your minds of the two of you together, happy and embracing somewhere on that beach. Your heart pounded and the quileute's arms around your waist became soft.

But then reality hit you like a bucket of cold water.

You imprinted on a quileute.

The worst enemy of your own pack.

[bestialchorus]

“The Invisible String” (Falling for Donna Beneviento)- Chapter 1

Donna quietly gasps as your fingers lightly brush against each other. The head of the house immediately jerks her hand away in response, acting as if the minimal contact had burned her flesh. Despite her reaction, she doesn’t completely pull away, instead her hand freezes in midair as she mentally processes what to do next, her fingers ever so slightly shaking. You watch the scene from the corner of your eye, feigning ignorance as you pick up the brush you were originally reaching for. The last thing you wanted to do was embarrass her by drawing attention to her sudden jitteriness. You take no offence as you’re well aware of how her anxiety can manifest in different ways. You instead begin painting the face of one of Donna’s latest creations, giving it your own touch of life, avoiding her gaze.

To call the air between you both as heavy would be an understatement. For Donna was quieter than usual, if that’s even possible, while thoughts plague your mind. Thoughts filled with unspoken words that prick at your tongue, wishing to be set free. You sit in silence as all

that can be heard throughout the Beneviento home is an old grandfather clock ticking away down the hall. You couldn’t help but be grateful for the ancient clock as its presence always helped anchor you to reality, an issue that proved to be difficult whenever you were near the shrouded woman.

The tension you currently feel is nothing new.  For months it’s been bubbling beneath the surface, quietly peeking through now and again. You always felt it in the woman’s presence but chose to never vocalize it, naively hoping it would go away….but it never did.

For months you desperately tried to repress how the puppeteer made you feel, only to fail miserably. Every moment with Donna threatened to take your breath away, from the passing glances, accidental touches, and restless dreams you had no control over…but how you craved them. The longer you spent within the Beneviento home, the more you tried to sever any hope of the woman returning your affections. For to hope was to dream and dreams didn’t last long within reality’s grasp, not when you were a common painter and she, a woman with status and power.

For some reason, the tension in the air feels stronger than usual or perhaps it was simply all in your head. Perhaps you’re finally being punished for your naivete as your affections now threaten to flood your system. Your heart begins to pump faster as you imagine finally confessing to the woman in black. To think, a brush of fingers would be the final straw.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

This all-started months ago when a shadowy member of house Beneviento had informed you had been summoned. You couldn’t help but feel anxiety bubble in the pit of your stomach as you automatically assumed the worst. All you knew about Mistress Beneviento were the rampant rumours that swirled around why she chose to conceal her identity at all costs; some say she was born with a monstrous appearance, others believe the flesh off her face had completely melted off in a horrific accident, while someone else had personally told you she was probably a cursed body with no head at all. You had never been one for rumours, but you felt nervous all the same, what could the head of a house want with a simple artist like yourself? Surely, she could afford a painter of well-known status if she wanted a portrait done.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The pathway towards House Beneviento would only fuel the stories of horror and enigma attached to the mysterious family. Isolated on a wintery cliff, overlooking a grand waterfall, you feel every inch of your being telling you to go back the closer you get to the eerie house. Despite the status of the Beneviento name, you see no sign of life surrounding it; no groundskeepers or servants to be spoken of.

The heavy wooden door closes behind you with a loud creak. Your confusion only grows as no help comes to announce your arrival, the space is seemingly empty. Despite the home’s quiet nature, you can’t help but find it surprisingly “cozy” as deep rich wood surrounds you. Lights create a warm glow throughout the space, contrasting with the harsh winter winds you hear rattle against the windows.  

A voice suddenly speaks from the top of the stairs, making you jump back. You jerk your head towards the sound as your gaze falls on none other than the mistress of the house, Donna Beneviento. Off first glance, she is as mysterious as all the rumours suggested, covered from head to toe in a long dark dress and veil, showing no skin except for her hands. Despite the image, you don’t find her as unnerving as you originally thought you would. Sure, there was definitely something about her that was almost otherworldly but so far, not in a threatening way.

“Welcome to my home, Lady Y/N.” She greets in a low and soft voice.

You hold a hand over your heart as you wait for it to relax, she’s truly given you a fright but you’re more concerned of how she was able to appear without making her presence known. Surely you would have heard her steps against the wood, right? You shake your head of the thought as you try answer as politely as you can, having no experience interacting with anyone from the four families.

“Of course, Mistress Beneviento. It’s no trouble at all, how ah…can I be of assistance?”

The woman takes a pause before answering, almost frozen in place. You feel a bit awkward under her “gaze”, wondering if she’s silently judging you from under her veil. Finally, she extends a hand towards the hallway to her right, no rush in her movement as she answers.

“Perhaps it is better if I showed you.”

You follow her upstairs, and she leads you to a room filled with porcelain dolls, each dressed to reflect a unique personality. Upon closer inspection, you take in how much love was put into them; from ornate detailing to masterful craftmanship. Out of every scenario you could have imagined you’d find within House Beneviento, this could never have been one of them.

Donna’s voice comes out almost in a whisper.

“I could use your help bringing more to life…I’m aware of the skill you possess.”

Most would find her phrasing a bit bizarre, but you picked up on the vulnerability in her voice, highlighting just how much these dolls clearly meant to her. You turn towards her and notice how she softly runs a thumb over her other hand, you assume it to be a self-soothing technique. The gesture makes you notice how nice her hands are in shape, delicate yet slender and her nails perfectly painted.

From that day on you became Donna Beneviento’s artistic assistant, helping her paint, build and touch-up her “children”.  Days turned into weeks and weeks into months as you worked side by side in her large workshop. You honestly enjoyed the work but quickly found yourself enjoying her presence even more.

The image of the eerie woman quickly sheds away the more you get to know her. Ultimately what lies under the veil is a timid woman who preferred not to draw attention to herself. From what you can pick up, it seems all Donna wants is to live comfortably in her home while pursuing her passions. She enjoys needlework and keeping countless journals. She has little issue working well within the night whenever she started a new project of any kind. She is a far cry from the stereotypes attached to her status and rumoured state. The head of House Beneviento was instead an artistic soul who was gentle in mannerisms as she was with you.

Donna would openly concern herself with your health, showing worry whenever you got little sleep, little did she know she was often the reason for it. Her gentle voice and stunning hands would plague your mind deep within the night, refusing to let you rest. You quickly changed the subject whenever she brought up the dark circles under your eyes, embarrassed they’re from imaging how her touch would feel against your skin.

The head of the house was also unsurprisingly a great listener. You first take notice of this once your favourite tea appears one day in her kitchen, remembering you had told her about it a few weeks ago. Soon after, desserts begin to appear in her fridge once she found out you had a sweet tooth. Eventually the woman would presence you with high quality brushes you always wished you could try out. Going forward you always tried to be mindful of discussing anything she could end up buying you, not wanting to take advantage of her generosity.

You remember the day you worked in silence as you processed the woman’s “gifts” as she never directly gave them to you but simply waited for you to notice their presence. Deep down you always wished they meant something more, but you quickly shook the thought away. You instead decided it must be because you’re working on her dolls. You’re just a worker to her and nothing more.

“Y/N, is everything okay?” She asks, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Hmm? Yes, I believe so. Why do you ask, Mistress? Are my strokes off?” You eye the small doll in your hand.

She lightly shakes her head, “no, your work is impeccable as always. It’s just..you’re normally more talkative.”

She almost sounds embarrassed when she answers, as if it was silly to point out the observation in the first place.

“Oh, right. I just thought I’d give you a break from my usual ramblings.”

You answer lightly while flashing her a smile, trying to hide the reason for your silence. A pregnant pause follows, and you wonder if you answered too casually, you quickly try to rectify your mistake by apologizing but her voice interrupts you.

“…..I like your voice.” She says quiet enough to be a whisper.

Your heart skips a beat at the confession and at first you feel you MUST have misheard her, that is until you notice her doing her usual self-soothing technique.

Your curiosity for what laid under Donna Beneviento’s veil would quickly disappear as you found yourself slowly falling for the soul of the woman beneath it all.

Months after that interaction, you find that very same woman slowly moving her shaky hand back to yours, gently covering it, making your heart stop.

[ilikemesometaetaes]

Don’t Hold Your Breath ~ jjk

Chapter Six (M)

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes​

•••> Summary: As the CEO of an international government security company, you have the world at your fingertips. Living life lavishly and extravagantly has become the norm. Behind closed doors, however, you host a past that renders you lonely and, quite frankly, miserable. It’s only a matter of time before your past comes back to bite you right in the ass.

•••> Pairing(s): Jungkook/Reader, Taehyung/Reader (slight)

•••> Inspo: This fic is inspired by the song “SAVAGE ANTHEM” by PARTYNEXTDOOR. Thank you to @dariangarcia​​, @btssmutgalore​, and @junghoseokit​​ for supporting my work. To my mamas, Kaitlin, Adora, Lauren, Lanie, Lu, and Sher.

•••> Word Count: 7.81k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Tags: Jungkook x Reader | Tattooed!Jungkook | angst | smut | ceo!au | rockstar!au | CEO!Reader | Rockstar!Jungkook | AU!BTS | Exes to Lovers

•••> Warnings: angst, dirty talk, sexual teasing, heartbreak, cursing, pining, depression, breakup, emotional instability, arguing | Warnings are written specifically to chapter.

Copyright © 2021 ilikemesometaetaes. All Rights Reserved.

Taglist: @dariangarcia​​​ @apurpledheart​​​ @itsgottabeyoo-ngs​​​ @hytibm​​ @namjinsbaby​​ @ggukkieland​​ @fan-ati--c​​

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, say so in a comment to this chapter or the DHYB Main Page, or send me an ask!

NAVIGATION: Chapter Five (M) <- | -> Chapter Seven (M) -> Mini-Masterlist -> Series Masterlist

•••> Official Playlist 

~#~

“I put the dirt into dirtbag. Still got your jacket in my bag.”

THEN.

“Kookie!” You screamed in between breaths, eyes watering at the struggle. “Stop! Please!”

“No way!” His laugh was buried in your hair as he pressed his face against the back of your head. “Apologize!”

“For what?” You wheezed, attempting to get away from the curling fingers that tickled your ribs relentlessly. His long legs were wrapped around your body, restricting your movement and effectively taking away almost any opportunity to escape.

“For calling me a singing demon!” His hands continued their assault, sending you into another laughing fit. You fought helplessly against his tattooed arms.

You wanted to bite back, but the lack of air in your lungs prevented you from doing so. Your heart beat wildly, adrenaline spiking and arms flailing against his grip. Desperation flooding your mind, you wrapped your hand around the one that caged your neck and dug your nails into his flesh in hopes that the pain would get him to weaken his hold.

Jungkook only laughed again and hummed teasingly. “Oh, just like that. Harder, baby.”

Squirming didn’t help much, but when you shifted your hips and felt something poking into your spine, you huffed with defeat on the horizon. His obvious boner signified that he liked your struggle- a clear indicator that there was no way he was letting you go any time soon.

Unless…

With another shift of your hips to grind your ass upwards on him, seating his dick between your clothed ass cheeks, you let the situation take over your body with your brain rewiring into a horny mindset in order to distract him.

“Jungkook,” You whispered through a gasp, hoping the change of pace would throw him off. It was a stunt you always pulled; whether it be during an argument or sex, changing the pace would unfocus your boyfriend’s attention and give you the upper hand.

Sure enough, Jungkook’s embrace around you loosened so that he could give himself more room to slide his manhood against you.

“Oh, baby...” He grunted into your ear with a sliver of surprise tainting his lust.

Slowly, so as to not trigger him, you slid one hand down his stomach and slid two fingers below the waistband of his shorts. With your body on top of him, you couldn’t go further inward, so you settled on harshly scraping your nails across his hip while you dug your other hand harder into his forearm.

“Please.” You said with more air in your lungs. Finally, you could breathe.

“Are you begging for me to fuck you?” His dick twitched against you, desperate to bury itself between your thighs. “Or are you pleading for mercy? Tell me, Y/N,”

Jungkook flipped the two of you over so that your chest pressed into the bed and his entire body pinned you to the mattress with a swift cant of his hips. “Which one is it?”

For a moment, you rolled your eyes and struggled to look at him from your compromised position. It wasn’t until your eyes caught sight of the numbers on the clock sitting on the nightstand that you began struggling with a new burst of concern in your mind.

“Jungkook!” You wheezed. “The time!”

“Answer my question, Y/N. I can stay here all night. The stage can wait.”

“But you’ll be late!” Your voice increased in volume.

“Only if you continue avoiding my question…” Jungkook trailed off for a moment before he leaned down to murmur softly in your ear. “Well, I’ll only be late if you refuse to let go of your pride to ask for mercy and beg for my cock instead. I will rearrange your guts if that is what you’re asking for.”

You huffed in frustration, the desire to fuck your boyfriend dissipating with his words. You knew that Jimin would be through the roof by now, searching high and low for the lead singer of BTS to dress him properly.

“Mercy.” You finally grumbled in defeat, not wanting to delay him any longer.

Almost disappointedly, Jungkook grunted as he removed his weight from on top of you. “Fine.”

“I’ll go turn on the car.” You got up and swiped the keys off of your dresser, thankful that you were still dressed in your internship clothes.

“You go do that.” Jungkook chuckled whilst sliding his shorts off of his body to reveal a very obvious boner tenting his boxers that you pretended to be oblivious of. “You’re a master at turning me on so I trust you with that.”

“Ew.” You grimaced at the poorly-delivered joke. “That was terrible.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was clever.” Jungkook chided.

“Not at all.” You quipped. After you watched him slide a pair of jeans up his muscular legs, you turned to leave. You just needed to make sure he got dressed. “I’ll be in the car.”

~#~

Jimin’s knowledge of art always mystified you. His prowess wasn’t the type of intelligence like knowing how Picasso depicted the loss of innocence in Guernica or how the melting clocks of Dali introduced surrealism to the world of art- no, that was Taehyung’s strong-suit.

Jimin knew how to create his own version of art that left viewers wistful and in absolute awe by making a stage the vessel of his masterpieces.

As you sat on the balcony, overlooking the crowd while they all thrashed and jumped to the beat of Hoseok’s bass drum and the duo of guitars that was Namjoon and Jungkook, you just had to sit back in your chair and stare at the composition that was Jimin’s show.

Flashes of blue and red lights swept across the crowd, printing themselves temporarily into the crowd’s retinas so that when the opposite color came back, a light hue of purple was brought into the experience for a fleeting moment. Short puffs of fire whenever Namjoon strummed a power chord warmed your face, even from the distance in which you sat from the stage, and lasers shot through the crowd every time Yoongi penetrated the sounds of his group with the keys of his keyboard.

Graphics on the jumbotron behind the band, which were also of Jimin’s creation, outlined each member with curls of dark, tentacle-like wisps that matched the purple hue of the crowd with its raven color.

The last song of the setlist, Blue and Grey, was one you were all too familiar with. The lights faded to a soft blue for a moment as Taehyung began the first strong notes with his bass and the crowd in the venue whooped and hollered in excitement- Blue and Grey was BTS’ most popular song. A year and a half into their journey of being a band and they already had a crowd favorite.

As Taehyung continued his bass line with his guitar and tattooed strumming arm put on display by Jimin’s spotlight, Jungkook leaned into the mic and began strumming his own guitar.

“Where is my angel?”

You sighed and leaned forward in your seat, loving the way Jungkook’s voice carried throughout the performance hall.

Taehyung accompanied Jungkook with the intro until Hoseok joined in to transition into the first verse with his high hat and snare drum.

Once the chorus hit, you couldn’t help but stand from your seat as you began to feel the power of BTS’ music rocking the venue.

“I just wanna be happier. To melt the cold me.”

Jungkook’s neck veins bulged from his skin as he belted out the notes, sweat dribbling down his temples from exertion. Even as he huffed for breath in between his lines, the image of him dressed in all black and owning the stage while ripping his fingers through his guitar strings was one you could never get tired of.

The songs were full of angst- the dark, unspoken feelings that not many people talked about- and you loved how you heard them from Jungkook through music. If only he were this honest when it was just the two of you.

“Don’t say it’s okay, ‘cause it’s not okay.” Jungkook closed up his lines with a heartbreaking tone that every fan in the crowd sang along with as Namjoon prepared to sing his part. For a brief moment, your boyfriend met your eyes across the large venue.

“Please don’t leave me alone. It hurts too much.”

~#~

NOW.

You walked into your building, grateful for the warm protection it offered against the freezing winter of New York City.

Noticing the lack of staff around, being that there was only the elevator operator and the receptionist sitting behind the marble counter, you glanced at your watch to check just how long you spent working.

20:17, your watch read. You had been working in front of computer screens and reading contracts for almost 9 hours.

“Greetings, ma’am!” The receptionist stood from his chair. “May I be of any service to you this evening?”

You shook your head to the man and continued on your path to the elevator where the other employee in the lobby waited to take you up. “None needed. I’ll be leaving momentarily.”

“Very well. Please let me know if you need anything.” He sat back down and turned his gaze to the computer in front of him.

The sound of your pumps echoed against the vast but empty room until you stopped in front of the elevator where the woman already had the doors opening in preparation.

“Good evening, ma’am.” She said lowly.

“ ‘Evening.” You responded, stepping inside without another word. The woman kept the conversation at that, which you appreciated, so you smiled at her in gratitude after you placed your key in the penthouse slot. She returned your smile with her own before the doors closed to encase you in silence.

The ride up was quiet, warranting you to pull out your phone so that you could read over your conversation with Taehyung again.

Why am I wearing think socks? I hate thick socks.

Read at 8:01 pm

Trust me. You’ll regret it if you don’t.

Is that so? Why?

Read 8:03 pm

Just wear the damn socks, Y/N.

Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?

Read 8:04 pm

Negative, captain

Tf

Why am I a captain now

Read 8:04 pm

Cuz I said so. Now stop talking or you’ll make me give away my position

Alright.

Read 8:05 pm

I said stop talking

…?

Read 8:05 pm

Fucking hell.

You let a small giggle slip past your lips at how normal the text conversation was. It was as if you never stopped talking to him, slipping into the normalcy of having Taehyung back in your life as quickly as it had been to cut him out of it. You zoned out for a moment in thought.

The strange sensation of friendship didn’t take any getting used to as it settled itself back into your bones and filled your heart with warmth like it never left- like the ice covering the beating organ was only temporary. As you stood alone, staring shallowly at the increasing floor numbers, you smiled in content.

The elevator slowed as the cabin came close to reaching the top floor, bringing you back to your senses. Sliding your phone back into the pocket of your slacks, you looked up once the elevator doors opened, only to drop your briefcase to the floor loudly.

Jungkook sat against the wall beside your door with his knees tucked under his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs. At the sound of your clumsiness clattering on the ground, his gaze snapped to you as he scrambled to stand up.

Anger flooded you immediately. You wanted to backhand him and rip his hair out. You wanted to scream and cry and lose your shit. However much you wanted to hurt him, though, you could not afford catching an assault charge on the man who defaced you once before.

There was a break of silence as you stood staring at him, unsure of how to handle the punch in your mood while the memories were forced to surface in your mind.

“Y/N…” Jungkook trailed, breaking the tangible barrier of tension. He took a step forward whilst obviously hesitating. “I-”

Instead of screaming at him, you went for the more sophisticated and controlled route to keep your lividity at bay whilst stopping his sentence in its tracks.

“How did you get up here?” It was a sensible question to ask. You just wanted to prevent him from deepening the conversation.

“I pulled some strings.” He murmured, looking down almost shyly, before piping up with more confidence. “But listen, I-”

“Save it.” You cut him off again, unable to control your facade much longer. “Get the fuck out of my face.”

His anxious expression turned worried- desperate. You didn’t miss the way his eyes became more expressive than you’ve ever seen them. “Please, Y/N.”

“Please what, Jungkook?”

“Please just give me a moment to speak.”

For a beat, you pondered his request. Taehyung’s words weighed heavily on your mind. We needed to talk.

Fuck talking. You have been done talking for ages.

“Wow.” You scoffed coldly, ice barriers slamming back into place over your heart. Taehyung had been able to melt them away, but Jungkook put them right back with fierce determination to completely ruin you. “You just want to take everything from me, huh?”

“Y/N, what-“ He blinked cluelessly, caught off-guard by your sarcasm.

“I gave you years to speak, Jungkook. I gave you everything.” You stepped forward, the boiling rage overtaking your body, and came to a stop in front of him with the fury of a charging bull. You wanted him to feel small and vulnerable.

“What else could I possibly give you? I have nothing left.” He took everything. The veins in your body were emptied and exhausted of every single ounce of energy to fight for someone.

You were unaware of the way Jungkook’s fists were clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white and his nails dug into his palms.

You failed to notice how much he trembled under your gaze, physically struggling to protect his butterfly from your wrath.

Your vicious swings at the dainty being of hope were nothing compared to what he, himself, had done to it. Jungkook found it ironic that you gave him an aspect that he was just barely strong enough to protect yet took the darker things from inside him and destroyed them as if they were mere placeholders- as if you were his puppeteer.

You were too stressed to realize the toll it took on Jungkook to keep his act together. He needed to keep the door open long enough to be your friend. Anything to prevent losing you. Earlier, his demons swooped in and overtook him, suffocating him to silence once again, but for the first time, they ebbed away at the mere thought of you.

As he walked down the street with his stage persona flowing, the simple thought of your name empowered his butterfly to beat its wings so fiercely that it blew away all of the impending smoke and dark tentacles of smog that threatened to overtake his vision.

Once he thought of you, he thought of everything.

Your anger was justified. He understood that now. Watching you huff breath after breath following your question was somehow relieving- you still cared enough to be pissed off. Jungkook forced himself to look on the bright side of the encounter with you; he made himself see that you were still passionate about the past. You were passionately upset and he couldn’t be happier.

He had seen you with Taehyung. He saw the way you were happy again. Jungkook wanted a part of that because he was too selfish to back off and stay dormant in your life- too determined to make you silence his demons.

Even if it was just as a friend. He could deal with that.

“You’re right.” Jungkook stated.

You paused in your tracks at the concession. Anger no longer blazing- staying right where it was- you quirked an eyebrow at him. Any time the two of you fought, he would never come even close to alluding that you were right.

“You’re right and I’m sorry, Y/N.”

An apology.

Words always seemed minimal to you. Unless to communicate information, you found that words filled with feeling didn’t mean much from someone you didn’t know.

After Jungkook, anyone that told you they loved you was promptly deemed a liar. Kate worked hard to make sure you were aware of the fact that she would actually take a bullet for you because of how much she loved you. She spent moment after moment proving to you that she cared deeply even though she didn’t have to put up with you.

Your parents, despite not talking to you much, expressed their love and gratitude whenever you sent them money. You knew they were hard workers like you and didn’t have time to worry about trivial things like words. Instead of taking the easy way out by simply telling you that they loved you, they showed you.

But Jungkook, who claimed to love you in the way that a lover would- the only person to actually do so- lied.

You could never trust the words in that way again.

Still, you couldn’t help but be taken by surprise.

“I’m right? Really?”

“Y/N, you’ve been right since the beginning. I took and took and just stopped giving back. I understand that you’re angry and I want to fix it so that you don’t hate me anymore. I want to make it right.”

You were silent. You hadn’t expected him to admit his fault so easily. Jungkook changing the pace of your conversation ruined your momentum, sending you stumbling and scrambling for thoughts.

Jungkook sighed for a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line as he let his eyes drop to the floor in your silence. He wasn’t about to lose the opportunity to elaborate further, though.

“Look, I know I fucked up. Bad. I know you can’t possibly forgive me right now, but I want you to know that I’m sorry for the things I’ve done to you.”

Your automatic reaction to being emotionally pushed came back, closing you down and disguising you as a cold woman.

“What the fuck do you know? What the fuck do you know about how badly you fucked up? I don’t need your lame-ass apology, Jungkook. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. Stop pretending that you do. Sure, we fucked a little and kissed a few times, but that’s all that it was.” You grit out the last few words, lying through your teeth. “Now please move. You’re blocking the door.”

Shockingly, Jungkook obeyed. He stepped aside and clasped his hands behind his back without another word, allowing you to walk to your door and open it.

Don’t look back. Don’t look back.

No matter how many times you repeated the words in your head, commanding yourself to abide by the mantra as if it were law, the emotions in your head managed to break through and force your head to turn back after stepping through the doorway.

Jungkook stood as still as a statue, staring at you with a blank expression that was almost eerie. You glanced down quickly, unable to maintain the eye contact, and noticed that his knuckles were clenched.

It was almost as if he was a completely different person because of the fact that his appearance was drastically different from that of BTS Jungkook. The man that stood in front of you was no rockstar. He was not an idol nor a role model that millions looked up to.

He was a scared boy. The fear that riddled his eyes was extremely difficult to miss and it made him seem almost small whilst standing in the small junction between the elevator and your penthouse.

You shut the door in his face impulsively, hoping that you wouldn’t have to see him again.

Backing away from the door slightly, you waited until you heard the elevator signal that its doors were closing before going to look through the peephole. You finally released your breath and slumped against the door when you saw that he had left.

Without his presence putting you on edge and keeping you on your toes, you could finally reflect on the conversation that just transpired.

He admitted his wrongdoings and apologized for them. He showed you his belly and became vulnerable. He admitted defeat.

Jungkook wasn’t an apologetic person in the slightest; he wasn’t a forgiving one either. In all the years that you had known him, he was headstrong and stubborn- if you looked past the part where he closed himself off and cheated, of course.

This Jungkook, the one you had just spoken to, was not the one you remember. Maybe you were right. Maybe you didn’t know him anymore.

Your phone vibrating in your pocket distracted you from pondering any further over the epiphany, prompting you to pull it out and fumble with it to get away from the confusing subject. You were thankful for the distraction.

Kim Taehyung (BTS)

I’ll be out front in 15 mins

Cursing internally, you left the idea of Jungkook behind you and rushed to change into clothes better suited for the cold weather.

It was a given that a small smile pulled at the corner of your lips when you slid thick tube socks over your ankles. You hadn’t actually worn tube socks in ages because they didn’t exactly go with your usual professional style of suits and heels.

You zipped your coat up about three-fourths of the way before turning to look at yourself in your mirror with a huff.

Suddenly, you were bombarded with a memory as it flashed before your eyes.

“You know you look good, babe.”

You giggled as Jungkook came up behind you to look at you in the reflection, setting his chin on your shoulder while he used his tongue to toy with the hoop pierced into his lip.

“Thanks, Kook. Just want to look my best is all.” You met his eyes in your bedroom mirror, smiling softly.

“Well, you look beautiful.”

You were left staring at the empty space where his face was, unsure of how to react as you stumbled back from the intrusion. Another meaningless scene came barging into your senses before you could process the first.

“Wow…” You trailed off as you looked at the angry red spot on Jungkook’s chest. A brand new tattoo, the size of your hand, raised out of his skin and shined under the luminescent light of the tattoo parlor. With the tattoo artist cleaning up his station behind the two of you, you were left to admire his beauty in his reflection.

Jungkook stood shirtless in front of the full-length mirror as he smiled brightly at the last tattoo to complete his set. Your eyes drank in the way each exhibit of inked art contrasted with his smooth, caramel expanse of skin while you stood behind him.

The new piece, which was almost large enough to touch the Chinese characters stamped onto the side of his neck and the back of his ear, was a depiction of an angel falling from the heavens. The detail in the blackening feathers attached to the angel’s back was mesmerizing, drawing all of the attention from the rest of the tattoos covering Jungkook’s chest.

“Is there any special meaning behind it?” You asked, knowing that your boyfriend had a few meaningless tattoos that were part of his ‘woke-up-and-it-was-there’ collection.

For a moment, Jungkook stayed silent as he studied the work of art in the mirror. It wasn’t until you called his name again that he answered your question while meeting your gaze in the reflection.

“Nah. It just looked really cool to me.”

You pressed your hand to your forehead and looked away from your mirror, wondering why- now, of all times- you just had to remember those small memories.

You didn’t miss him- you know you didn’t. But something within you twisted at the thought of being with him- the memory of how it felt to be his.

The disconnect between the feelings of your heart and the thoughts of your mind, ever so obvious, shifted. His apology was unexpected, to say the least, but it was also surprisingly heartfelt and pulling on your need to forgive.

Saved by the bell, your landline phone began to ring.

You rushed to the bedside table and grabbed the phone from its dock, pulling it to your ear.

“Ms. Y/L/N? It’s the front desk. Mr. Kim Taehyung is here and waiting for you.”

“Got it. Thank you. I’ll be down in a moment.” You hung up the phone and grabbed your wallet and keys before shuffling over to your desk to grab your briefcase on instinct.

“Wait,” you spoke aloud, laughing at yourself and withdrawing your reach. “I don’t need that.”

As you opened the door to your penthouse, the sound of something lightly hitting your door had you looking down.

A small, navy blue bag, the size of your palm, swung from the doorknob and hit lightly against the wood from the momentum of you opening your door. Confused, you unhooked the loop from the doorknob and looked inside the bag to find a familiar-looking box inside.

Gingerly, you pulled it out and opened it. In the way of the box’s contents was a folded piece of notebook paper with your name scrawled across the top in Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

You held your breath after reading the note and looked down at the small charm.

Since you gave me yours, I’ll give you mine. -jk

In the fabric of the satin display lay the familiar gold chain that Jungkook gifted you those few years ago, but, instead of the small J that you were so familiar with, lay your own initial.

You knew Jungkook’s way with words well enough to know that the small note connected his intentions to the chain. You were instantly pulled back to the night that he gifted the necklace to you in the first place.

“It’s beautiful. Happy one-year, babe.” You whispered onto his lips with a smile.

After you sat back into your seat, Jungkook walked to your side of the table to put the chain around your neck. “I obviously have the describe how much this necklace means so that you never take it off.”

You laughed. “I wouldn’t even dream of taking it off, Kook.”

“I still need to explain. It was like a message from heaven when I saw them in the jewelry store.” He pouted, returning to his seat. “So the idea with these is that we’re wearing parts of each other. You’re wearing the part of me that belongs to you and I’m wearing the part of you that belongs to me.”

Jungkook continued as he raised his glass. “So even though you think this necklace is yours because it’s your letter, it’s actually mine.”

You cocked your head in confusion, struggling to understand the concept. “What are you talking about?”

“It sounded so much better in my head, I swear.”

You understood the idea now.

Push off the emotions. Don’t think about them.

You were hellbent on ignoring the weakness, knowing full well what path you would go down if you let them get to you.

Instead, you made your way down to the lobby with the bag gripped tightly in your mitten-clad hands, heading to the desk with determination furrowing your brow. Even as Taehyung stood from the small sofa in the lobby upon seeing you, you did not spare him a glance.

Forcefully, you thrusted the bag into the receptionists’ face, internally wincing at your rude gesture.

“Please put this in the lost and found. I have no idea where it came from.”

The receptionist did well at hiding his expression, however, you could still see a sense of somber recognition behind his eyes. You decided not to press him seeing as you want to avoid the topic of Jungkook like the plague.

“Understood, ma’am.” He took the bag from your grasp before you had the chance to rethink addressing his slip of emotion, placing it in a drawer by his knee. He looked back up and gestured to Taehyung after locking the drawer. “Mr. Kim is here for you.”

You sighed in a mild sense of accomplishment, forcing yourself to shut out the regret and sadness for giving away a formerly precious memory, before turning to face Taehyung with a small smile to mask your inner turmoil. Your smile faltered when you noticed that Taehyung mirrored the same expression on his face that the receptionist wore.

“What?” You asked, walking to him.

“I just-” He looked down for a moment, scowling, and you noticed he had placed his small barbell back into his eyebrow. “-nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Why won’t you tell me anything?” The two of you had walked to the door, stopping before going out into the cold so that you could finish your conversation.

“Like I said before, it’s not my place to say or judge.”

Taehyung opened the door to an icy gust of wind before you could protest, chilling you into a mind-numbing stupor as you whispered, “Holy fucking shit.”

“Good god, it is freezing.” Taehyung mumbled, linking an arm around your body and ushering you towards his SUV across the sidewalk.

Once sat inside the warmth of the cabin, you shivered in satisfaction at the heat gracing your body.

“Please tell me we’re not going to be outside for whatever we’re doing.” You pleaded to him. The light from the city was filtered by the darkened car windows, however, you could still see Taehyung’s shoulders moving up and down when he chuckled.

“Unfortunately, we are, but fortunately, I brought some heat packs for us.”

You whined in protest, looking up to the GPS screen in front of the driver to see if you could identify where the two of you were going. Without a route plotted, you were left even more curious.

About twenty minutes of small talk and a brief roast session targeting Hoseok later, you sat in front of the ice skating rink at the Rockefeller Center.

“We’re ice skating?” You asked, suddenly in shock. You hadn’t been ice skating since-

No. Stop it. Your mind warred with itself as it suppressed the memory threatening to spill over into your eyes.

“You’re quite the detective.” Taehyung’s sentence was drenched in sarcasm, functioning as the perfect distraction, and prompted you to lightly shove him with a giggle as you exited the vehicle.

“I thought I was a captain.” You pouted against the cold, pulling your hat down on your head even further in hopes of retaining your body heat and warmth from the van.

“You are.” Taehyung laughed again. “Captain Detective.”

You only rolled your eyes at his playfulness before you turned to face the rink from the sidewalk. A person passing behind you and bumping into your back lightly had you cursing New York City’s busy and bustling population.

Seeing all of the people on the rink, you instantly remembered that you did not inform Jay of your whereabouts.

“Do we have security?” Worry riddled your brain as you turned to look at him with your eyes widening in a panic. You became hyperaware of all of the possible outcomes to Taehyung being identified in such a crowded place.

Taehyung sighed as he walked you up to the ticket booth. “We don’t. I just want to have a normal and plain but fun time with my friend- without someone glaring at me like they don’t want to be here while they breathe down my neck.”

Despite understanding his statement, you couldn’t help the automatic stress to being in public without any form of protection.

“Taehyung,” You warned, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Y/N,” He mocked your tone childishly before leveling it to his regular voice. “Relax, weirdo. We’re here to have fun and people are too busy having their own fun to notice us.”

“I doubt that.”

It wasn’t until you got your rental skates tightly secured onto your feet and began walking toward the ice that Taehyung mentioned a vital detail that he definitely should have mentioned prior to arriving at the center.

“You what?” You were baffled to say the least.

“I can’t skate.” He sheepishly brought his hand to the back of his head and adjusted his trapper hat under your scrutiny.

“Then why did we come?” You were almost yelling at that point.

“Because Brian told me that you liked ice skating!” Taehyung gripped at your fingers tightly, anxiety getting the best of him.

Fucking hell, Brian.

“Did he?” Your laugh was almost hysterical because of how wrong he was. You were becoming increasingly hesitant about giving your personal assistant a raise now.

Still, it was worth the effort. Brian was just trying to help the world’s most popular bassist when he came to him in need of information. It was a decent attempt.

“Yeah,” Taehyung huffed. “He did.”

“Well, Tae, I’ll have you know,” You moved towards the ice rink with determination. “I haven’t been ice skating in ages and I hardly like it. Hopefully, I still have muscle memory.”

“Oh god.” Taehyung groaned, tipping his head back as the feeling of imminent and utter chaos ensued. “Fucking hell, Brian.”

As soon as you stepped on the ice, you realized that you were still perfectly coordinated enough to complete the task.

Taehyung, on the other hand, clung to the walls like the world was attempting to swallow him into the ground. Dutifully, you stood next to him with a cautious hand on his back in the case that he went tumbling.

The sight was one to behold.

Kim Taehyung, hard core rockstar- the physical definition of a stereotypical ‘bad boy’- with tattoos littering his skin and a glistening eyebrow piercing that was winking at you from under his gray trapper, stood hunched over and afraid as he moved baby step-by-baby step to proceed further around the rink. You couldn’t help but giggle as the man who possessed the prowess of an elegant panther on stage adopted the likes of a stumbling newborn giraffe within the span of five minutes.

You were still concerned for him despite how funny it was. Tentatively, you reached your hand to grip his shoulder and urged him to look at you.

“Tae, are you okay? We can do something else if you’d like.”

“No, it’s okay.” He wheezed in effort. “I got this.”

Making a show out of how brave he was, Taehyung stood up straight on shaky legs and began progressing forward by attempting to walk on the ice.

“I can show you how t-” Taehyung cut off your offer before you could finish it.

“I’ve been shown countless times how to skate and the best I can do is walk and maybe slide forward a little. I’m a lost cause, Y/N.” Even though he seemed upset, Taehyung couldn’t help but crack a smile at how clumsy he was.

You smiled pitifully at your clumsy friend before you stepped in front of him. “Here, hold onto my shoulders and we’ll slide forward together.”

All Taehyung could do was begrudgingly agree, hating the idea of having to lean on you for support but wanting to remain close to you for the majority of the night. Once he placed his hands tightly on your shoulders, you moved.

At first, you skated slowly so that Taehyung could adjust to the feeling of being pulled forward. Once he got the hang of keeping his legs locked so that you could move around easier, you skated at a normal speed.

After about ten minutes of joking around and catching Taehyung’s slipping form a handful of times, your mind was left free and without defense.

You hadn’t realized how vulnerable you were because of it.

“Y/N, slow down! I can’t go that fast!”

Your breathing came to a halt at the voice that echoed in your ears.

“Here, hold my hand and we’ll skate together.”

Panicking, you rushed your mind to shut it out. No. Stop.

Unknowingly, the chaos in your mind and the desperate need to get away from the memories had you gradually increasing your own speed to subconsciously escape your thoughts.

Taehyung’s nervous laugh and call of your name in warning fell on deaf ears while you furrowed your eyebrows in concentration.

“See? It’s easy. Just step and lean. Step- and lean.” His hand clutched yours as if he was trying to squeeze all of the blood from your fingers but you only squeezed back in reassurance.

“Don’t let me fall, please.”

Taehyung’s skate crashing into the back of yours served as the perfect distraction, yet it only lasted for a split second as the two fo you went tumbling to the ice in a hauntingly familiar manner.

In the process of falling, Taehyung had managed to wrap his arms around your waist and twist his body so that he could take most of the impact from the ice. Landing on top of him with an ‘oof’ reminded you of the last time you went ice skating.

Even with your face mere centimeters from your friend’s, all you saw was him.

Taehyung’s small puffs of air against your lips were an indicator of how close you were to kissing him. Truly, you could kiss him if you wanted to, needing only to relax your neck and let your head fall to close the rest of the minimal gap between you. He looked up at you with wide eyes, holding onto your gaze with an unreadable expression on his face.

All you saw, however, was a small mole dotting the underside of his lips. Fuck, you wanted to kiss Taehyung and rid yourself of the nightmare, but you couldn’t shake the sensation of how wrong it felt to kiss anyone but Jungkook.

“Y/N,” Taehyung called your name cautiously and pulled you from your thoughts. Instantly, your eyes welled with tears at the realization of how fucked you were.

You yanked yourself from him with abandon, needing to get far away from the reminder that you couldn’t move on.

Kim Taehyung was mature. He was kind and respectful- everything you could ask for in a man- yet the thoughts of Jungkook and the good memories you had with him outweighed the bad, preventing you from truly letting go.

Before Taehyung could protest, you stood and left him on the ice, making for a quick exit. You wanted to go back and help him up so that he wasn’t in danger, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at his face in this setting.

Instead, you skated off the rink and walked to the skate rental area, plopping down on the bench weakly to untie the laces. Once you did so, you set them on the counter and waited for your boots with your eyes on the ground. You didn’t want anyone to see you on the brink of crying.

“Y/N!” Taehyung’s voice was loud and attention-grabbing. You had half the mind to be concerned that he would cause people to notice him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you finally got your boots and rushed to put them on. Taehyung was finally off the ice when you slid the first boot on.

“Y/N,” He called your name again, awkwardly approaching you with the blades still on his feet. “Please, talk to me.”

You could only sniffle in response and continue to put your boots back on, a fresh wave of tears welling in your eyes and threatening to spill onto your cheeks. You’d kept them at bay thus far but Taehyung was making it extremely difficult as his comfort approached you. The welcome yet heartbreaking aura he exhumed paired with your teetering emotional stability wouldn’t fare well in such a public setting.

Without hesitation, you stood and walked away once you were done securing your shoes back on your feet. Again, you felt the urgent need to be alone.

And again, Taehyung was right behind you as he ran without putting his shoes back on.

“Y/N!” He grabbed you as he called your name more sternly, forcing you to face him. Your eyes met his briefly before you looked back down to the pavement and cursed yourself once a tear slipped out. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Because I-” Your breath caught in your throat as it constricted due to the beginning of a sob building in your chest. You cleared your throat and struggled to breathe your way through your response- one you had trouble communicating. “-I just can’t.”

Taehyung grimaced, looking around with concern, before he ushered your body to begin walking away from the busy area.

Once you were a good distance down the street, he grabbed both of your shoulders and forced you to face him once again. Away from the well-lit area of the ice rink, the only light that shone in the middle of the dark night was that of the street lights. With bated breath, you looked up at your friend with your mouth closed tightly so that the sob in your chest wouldn’t come barging past your lips.

The pain was nearly unbearable. It anguished you, knowing that you were stupid enough to think that you could eventually move on from Jungkook. It pained you, being aware of the fact that Taehyung had offered himself to you and you did nothing but continue to look at Jungkook.

But most of all, it hurt that you still wanted Jungkook.

If only you could reach into your chest and tear your heart out so that you couldn’t feel anymore. If only you could shut off your feelings so that it didn’t agonize you like this. If only it were that easy.

Under the light of the street lamps with Taehyung’s look of pity- the one he held as he looked at you across the club on that dreadful night those few years ago- on you, you broke.

As you began sobbing, Taehyung pulled you against his body and backed up into the darkness to give you the privacy to cry without being seen.

The pain stabbed your heart repeatedly; quick blows, shallow at first, became increasingly deep as you drowned in the memories of what once was.

Falling so passionately in love became your biggest regret. For so long, you hated the idea. You hated the fact that you still loved Jungkook notwithstanding the things he had done. You denied the fact until you started seeing the good memories again- until it was an unavoidable and objective truth.

The truth that you still loved him.

As Taehyung held you tightly in his embrace while you held your hands to your face and dug your nails into your skin, you sobbed uncontrollably at how completely and royally fucked you were.

“W-why-” You blubbered into your palms. “-why do I-I still lo-ove him?”

“Because your heart wants what it wants, Y/N. You have no control over that.”

At this point, you had to tell him how you felt- how you truly felt.

“I w-wish that it wa-anted you. I’m so sorry, T-Tae.”

“Hey, now. Don’t say that. It’s a waste of time to wish for things that you have no control over. Don’t waste a wish on something stupid like that.” Taehyung pressed his face to the top of your head, pressing his lips there to leave a small kiss. “Besides, I have someone waiting for me back home so you don’t need to worry anymore.”

Instantly, you looked up at him in shock while still hiccuping. “You do?”

“Of course.” Taehyung laughed warmly, smiling down at you. “I wasn’t gonna be stuck on you forever. One way or another, you move on.”

“It’s been years since I’ve even seen him, Tae. The fact that I still haven’t moved on despite that has to tell you something.”

“Which is why I told you that you still need to talk to him. You can’t move on or do anything about the way you feel unless you communicate it.” He pulled back to bend his body to become eye-level with you so that he could look you in the eyes as he spoke. “There’s things you don’t know.”

For a moment, you weighed his words in your mind. If they’re things that Taehyung can’t tell you because they’re ‘not his place’ to say, then you figure that the matter must be a serious one. Your curiosity was getting the best of you. It wasn’t long before you gave in.

“Yeah…” You trailed off in hesitation, suddenly regretting shutting out Jungkook. “I guess I do need to talk to him.”

“Please just… take your time and be patient with him.” Taehyung winced slightly. “He’s hot-headed but he’s a lot better than he was before. I promise you that.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Taehyung.” You scowled as you backed out of his embrace.

“You know I don’t. I would never suggest that you talk to him if he was the same as he was before.”

A few beats of silence passed before you asked the question that had been nagging at your mind since your revelation of remaining love for the lead singer of BTS.

“Do you think we still have a chance?”

Taehyung answered immediately. “That’s not my place to judge. All I know is that you guys did something sad like being broke up even though you had life.”

“Good god, Tae,” You huffed out a laugh. “Are you quoting Lil Dicky right now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Taehyung crossed his arms and let out a small ‘hmph’ as he lightly stomped his foot onto the sidewalk. “And you can’t stop me.”

For a while, Taehyung let you catch your breath and calm down while looking up and down the street. It seemed as if he was planning something.

Before you could process what he was doing, Taehyung took you by your arm, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, and began walking across the street. You looked up in the direction of your path and noticed that you were heading towards the quaint coffee shop that seemed to be the only open place at the current hour.

Your eyes hurt from crying. Your chest ached from sobbing and hiccuping. Your heart and head hurt as they came to blows with each other. You were slowly beginning to freeze as the calming of your emotions slowed your heart and cooled your body. It was so fucking cold.

You could use a coffee right about now.

~#~

Thank you for reading, reader! If you’d like to check out the rest of my work, feel free to visit my Masterlist!

[mooniefics]

— gaps of sunlight

pairing : armin arlert / reader

word count : 2.9k

tags : heavy angst, fluff (just for a moment lol), tragic romance, death, hurt / no comfort

warnings : detailed descriptions of injury to the reader

summary : every good thing must come to an end, you both knew that. but armin wished that it didn't have to happen like this every single time.

— originally posted 2 / 1 / 21 on ao3 —

armin had been absolutely glowing.

you couldn't get the image of his entranced expression when you saw the levi squad approaching from atop his horse, flushed cheeks and gleaming eyes framed by fair, blonde hair. he was shining in the light of the setting sun, barely pulling his steed to a stop before he was clambering off of it, dashing over to throw his arms around you. he was so warm, nearly squeezing all your breath out of you as he laughed, a sound full of wonder and delight, a cold, briny scent clinging to his skin and clothes.

"the ocean." he said breathlessly, burying his face into your shoulder, smiling into you, "we saw it. we saw the ocean."

but as the evening had wound down, your friend still seeming to be digesting such an experience as he stared off into nothing at the table during dinner, hands stuck in his pockets, fiddling with something for the entire meal. you'd saved your prying questions until you'd both showered and changed into your night clothes, now squeezed beside each other in the space of his bunk, narrow but just enough for the two of you to share.

"it was everything i always thought it would be!" he beamed, throwing his hands up towards the ceiling, turning his head in bed to look at you, "the water was actually salty, it stung my eyes and made my mouth so dry!!" even in the dim light, you could see the unrelenting gleam in his eyes. "it was so much colder and cleaner than the canal, blue and green as far as the eye could see—and it was frothy and white when it washed up on the shore, i wish i would've taken a bottle to bring some of it back!"

he was enchanting to gaze at, the luster of youth having finally returned after all this time it had eluded him. you'd remembered how he'd cried when he had lagged behind during cadet training, after his first few scouting missions, speaking about the untimely deaths of his family, the nights after he'd been chosen to receive the serum and acquire the power of the colossal. and every time you came to hold him, assure him that his pain was real and it was okay to cry, he would always try to tell you that he would be fine on his own, that everything would work itself out in the end without him having to bother anyone. but he never objected when you would gently hold him against you, whisper soft reassurances and let him silently sob, so young yet so full of such an endless turmoil. to see him wearing such an infectious look of glee was enough to make you smile back just as wide.

"i remember when you used to tell me about it when we were younger." you murmured, "all that feels like so long ago.. i'm glad that if any of us could make it to see the ocean, it was you."

you felt confused when you saw his face flush, smile faltering, looking almost sheepish, arms falling back to rest on his chest. "i'm sorry.. it feels unfair to gloat about it when you haven't even been able to see it for yourself."

there it was—the shy, selfless boy that was always there no matter how many battles or brushes with deaths you both saw. somehow, even after achieving his life-long dream, working so long and finally getting a taste of the joy that life should really bring, he was concerned about making you upset by expressing that happiness to you.

"armin, you're so silly." you giggled softly, reaching over to place your hand over his, "this is the one thing that you've always held onto, from the day that we first met in cadet training and all the way to now. seeing you happy could never make me upset. i'd listen to you talk about the ocean forever if it meant that you kept smiling."

his cheeks were a brilliant shade of red, heart beating fast in his chest, shining eyes large and full of gratitude. he reached into the pocket of his pajamas, leaving the hand under yours where it was, presenting you with a small leather pouch. "here, for you..!"

you took it, pulling the drawstring free, carefully tipping out its context into the palm of your hand. your eyes widened at the sight of something unfamiliar, a pale spiral dotted with rounded peaks, such a detailed creation of delicate beauty despite only being the length of your little finger, the hollow interior a smooth expanse of soft pink, light and fragile like glass.

"armin.. what is this..?"

"i don't know! they're all over the beach, hidden in the sand, but it's beautiful, isn't it??" that enthusiasm had returned, a familiar flutter dancing about in your chest, "i only took two, one for me and you, because i want there to be enough for everyone when we all go and see it together!"

you couldn't help your fascination, running your fingers over every ridge and twirl of the foreign token, cheeks nearly aching from the face-splitting beam that you had no way of containing. but you didn't know if it was this relic in your hand that was making you feel so happy, or the fact that he'd been thinking of you in his brightest moment, held you close enough to his heart that the sole memento he brought back from his trip was for you. you couldn't imagine feeling any other way, lying together, murmuring together, sharing such a rare moment of tranquility with the other now that there was a chance for your people to see past the walls that you had thought would confine you for the rest of your life.

"it's beautiful.." you carefully stowed it away into the small pouch, tucking it into your pocket until you thought of somewhere safe to keep it, turning back to face him, "thank you, armin. i love it."

i love you, you thought to yourself. and, staring into his eyes, returning your hand to clasp around his, you were sure that he was thinking it too.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

paradis' first victory had been secured late into the night.

you'd been welcomed in the airship by your fellow soldiers, tugged into hugs that were almost more unpleasant than comforting due to the clanks and jabs of your gear hitting theirs, shouts and cheers shared in the main cabin over the first step being taken to secure the future of eldia and the island, but all you could think of was armin. you had been shocked when he'd accepted the role of disabling the harbor, your head filled with the memories of his despondent expressions when he was pulled from the body of the colossal, face steaming and gaunt and so terribly miserable.

you remember how you'd felt your heart jerk into your throat at the blinding flash from across the crumbling city that your squad had turned into its battle ground, debris raining from the sky and a massive crater where the buildings that had previous stood were crushed under armin, the sole survivor of the explosion being the looming figure of sinew and flesh that towered over everything below it. it only took you seconds to realize that he was in the private room near the cockpit reserved for the superior officers and the orchestrators of the siege, resigning to impatiently waiting for the duration of the ride home to speak with him.

for the moment, you tried to join in on the celebrations for having survived the night, turning your attention at jean's demand for everyone to quiet down. but before you could respond with your question of why, there came the sound of something rolling across the wood floor, the deafening crack of a rifle being fired, then the heavy thud of something hitting the ground.

"sasha!" connie screamed, a barrage of bullets coming from beside you, and the sharp ping of metal ricocheting on metal.

there were footsteps around you as you fell back, a sudden, searing heat burning across your stomach, through your entire body, knees giving out and sending you tumbling onto your back. though the ceiling was just above you, it was almost an incomprehensible image, the sound of voices shouting your name distant and murky, like your head had been dunked underwater. you barely caught jean's face, twisted with agony, his hands jostling you as he pressed hard into your abdomen, pain flaring dully up your spine.

"that hurts, jean.." you coughed, something warm and metallic coating your tongue, speech slurring, "why are you screaming..? what was.. that sound..?"

you didn't understand the sudden wave of exhaustion that was suddenly blanketing you, heavy lids falling shut, only to feel yourself being shaken awake. "open your eyes, don't close your eyes!" jean shouted, voice ringing about in your head, far too close to be speaking to you so loudly.

"tired.. just let me rest... just for a minute.."

you tried to remember where you were, why you were so fatigued, why jean was apologizing so frantically and pushing so firmly down on your stomach. you tried to swallow down the liquid gathering in your throat, sputtering and coughing, watching droplets of red spatter across jean's pale, tear-stained complexion, arm unable to lift and wipe them away like you wanted to. you forced your gaze to steady, squinting up at the lantern above your head, trying to pick out a coherent sound between the shouting voices and pounding footsteps.

the sight of another person falling into view left you blinking, struggling to focus on their face with the halo of light that had been cast around their figure, the spotty darkness clouding the edges of your vision making it almost look like the rays of sun that would stream through the canopy of the forest where you trained with your gear in your cadet days.

"armin.." you whispered, smiling when you realized that he was there, not minding the full-body ache that you felt when he pulled you into his arms, "are you okay? why.. why are you crying? we—you know we won..? we did it..."

you wanted to take his face in your hands like you had so many times, wipe away the tears dripping down his cheeks and hold him against you, but every limb felt like it was weighted to the floor, the thought of even lifting a finger feeling like a monumental effort. but he didn't speak like he usually did, didn't tell you what was troubling him so you could choose the right words to make him feel better, just stared down at you with wide, terrified eyes, obscured by his bangs.

"your hair.. getting too long.."

it was hard to breathe now, the blood pooling thick in the back of your mouth, eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head with every slow blink. you remember when his hair had gotten long enough to fall at his collarbones, how he'd come to you with scissors and a sheepish smile on one of your free days, asking if you'd help him cut his hair.

you'd always helped him cut his hair after that, even if he didn't ask, just sat him down whenever you saw that it'd grown long enough that you had to start brushing his bangs from his eyes or away from his forehead to press a soft kiss there. you wanted to be there—not here, staring up at him crying with nothing to do, but in the comfort of his tidy room, in his warm bed, talking back and forth into the early hours of the morning until you reluctantly left so you could get enough sleep in your own bed. why did you always leave? why didn't you ever allow yourself to stay?

you let your eyes fall shut, concentrating on that memory of home, the sound of his voice calling your name becoming more and more distant despite how his warmth felt so vivid, the fresh linen scent of his sheets and clothes, the sound of snipping scissors and the soft locks of his hair threading between your fingers, falling away from his shoulders and fluttering down at your feet.

when you crawled into his bed this time, you threw your arms around him, the covers settling around you, protecting you from the world just outside of his door. you were so tired tonight, but you didn't have to worry about keeping yourself awake to make it back to your room—you could just stay here, sleep peacefully and wake up with him to go to breakfast in the morning.

you really did love being close to him like this.

you really did love armin.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

armin didn't go to your funeral—he couldn't.

he'd gotten dressed that morning, showered despite how he'd never felt entirely clean after having your blood soak into his uniform and stain his skin, put on his nicest clothes, and yet he couldn't bring himself to leave his room—not when he knew the service would be starting soon, not when someone came knocking at his door to let him know that everyone was leaving then, not even as he watched his friends begin the walk away from the scout dormitories from his window.

every time he closed his eyes he saw your face, low-lidded eyes, lips and teeth stained red, dying yet only concerned with asking about him. he couldn't sleep without reliving that night, or dreaming of all the moments you'd shared together. he was so angry, so upset that he hadn't been able to manage even a single word to you before you were gone forever, didn't beg for you to hold out until you got home and you could get proper care on a medical tent on the ground, couldn't have even told you he loved you one last time. it was unfair, that you had always been there to comfort him for years and yet he couldn't offer anything in return for all that time you'd wasted on him. he couldn't understand why he hadn't been able to speak, why he still hadn't let you go after you became limp and heavy in his arms and stopped wheezing in weak, strained breaths, why he couldn't even honor you by commemorating your memory at your funeral. he had never changed, he had always been a coward. maybe that was just who he was meant to be.

and despite such a deep, ceaseless shame that weighed like lead deep in the pit of his stomach, that murmuring voice in his head that told him over and over that it should've been him instead of all his fallen comrades, instead of erwin, instead of you, he still numbly trudged away from the window and out of his room. he didn't know where exactly his feet were taking him until he was turning open the knob on a door, taking in the sight of your quarters.

he felt his eyes sting, warm tears spilling down his face as he stepped out of his shoes, letting out a small sob as he crawled into your unmade bed, still waiting just as you left it for your return home. he buried his face into your pillows, wrapped himself in your blankets and shuddered despite the warmth enveloping him. he could still smell you on the fabric, forcing his eyes shut and trying to remember what it was like to feel your weight on the mattress beside him, hands reaching out even though he knew there was no one beside him to pull close.

he couldn't believe it had only been a few days without you, it had felt like almost like an eternity. he didn't realize just how much he looked forward to your presence during the day, waited for your soft knocks at his door to let him know that you were ready for breakfast, or how your laughter and words filled the air at mealtimes and kept him company in the night when you would whisper together in his bed. though the curtains had been drawn shut, there were still small gaps of sunlight streaming through the sliver between the drapes, illuminating your bedside table, letting him see the gift that he'd gotten you all those years ago, unaffected by time despite its fragility.

and he could only cry harder as he took the small thing into his hands, carefully clutching it to his chest, remembering how delighted you'd looked when he gave it to you, gazing at him with such gratitude and wonder. he would've given anything to go back to that time, where the most pertinent matter on his mind was whether they'd one day be able to make it across the sea and not mourning the deaths of two of the few friends he had left after all this senseless violence.

he wept until he had no more tears left to cry, shivering and pathetic as he laid there, whispering apologies that you'd never hear, trying to memorize the lingering scent that always comforted him when you held him close, letting himself fall asleep in your bed in the hopes that he could find a shred of deliverance in a dream where you were alive and smiling, even if only for that moment in his mind.

[saltpepperbeard]

Fighting the Rain ~An Everlark One-Shot~

A/N: Oh? What’s this? *Cough hacks CHOKES on cobwebs* A one-shot after almost two years of inactivity? Who knew that over-caffeinating was the true key to motivation after all this time! But hello hello everyone! So very happy to be back. I come bearing a bit of Reverent Sweetness™ as a small exercise to hop back into things! I really wish for this energy to continue, and so I’ll be attempting to push myself into getting back into the swing of things.

For the record, I completely and wholeheartedly blame Andy and Cate for such an idea. And I do believe I’ve seen another tub-related piece that was also hanging around in my mind as I thought this up. Whatever the case, thank y’all; your talks and creations fINALLY FUELED ME lmao!

But for now, enjoy some simple Everlark rubadubdub, and without further adoooooo...

Fighting the Rain

No two days are the same, and no two hunts are created equal. Some glow with warmth and yield a plentiful harvest, while others fall into a category of melancholy and disappointment. Unfortunately, as the clouds build relentlessly overheard, my efforts seem to be leaning towards the latter.

My arrows drive into a frustrating nothingness. My pray scurry as if they have an oddly heightened sense of awareness. My attitude grows all the more frustrated and downtrodden. And almost as if to directly mock me, the sky cackles and booms before releasing an onslaught of cold moisture.

Great. I’m quite a ways from home, but close enough to hopefully beat a deluge should it chose to erupt. I hate departing emptyhanded, but don’t feel keen on pushing my luck further. Not when a kindling of annoyance burns within my chest, and the clouds answer back with further rumbling.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and dart with bow in hand, the various unused arrows clinking against my backside. The rain is chilling, biting my skin and hissing against the internal fire. Water is normally apt at putting out flames, but it only serves to amplify mine. My scowl deepens as I continue on, growing damper and colder by the minute.

Aside from the fire roaring in irritation, perhaps it burns for another reason. Perhaps it presents itself now as a yearn for warmth, for the feeling only he can provide. His arms have always been there to chase away the deepest of stings, so of course I would want him like nothing else now.

My step inadvertently quickens, the mental image of his embrace fueling me. A blessing and a curse; the sky groans above and opens up to completion, sending buckets of rain upon me. My desperate speed of course, points to an even extremer drenching effect, my scowl deepening something terrible as I’m quickly soaked to the bone. But in moving faster, in practically flying across the land, the entrance to the back porch quickly appears through the falling sheets.

I waste no time in careening up the steps, practically throwing myself into the house with a hissing groan. But I’m sure such sourness will be short-lived. Such dampness will likely turn anew. Such chilling sensations will be burned off, the embodiment of the sun coming forth to bestow his touch.

Or not.

On the contrary, I’m met with emptiness. Silence. Nothing more than the shivers coursing through my form, and the soft drips of water rolling off my soaked clothes.

My scowl, though now painted with confusion, deepens all the more. Was I too presumptuous? Knowing my current luck, he’s likely elsewhere: wrapped up in the Bakery, next door with Haymitch, or deep in the throes of a painting upstairs.

I shed my father’s hunting jacket, hanging the damp leather to dry before shrugging off my equally-wet bag. My arms come to lace across my chest, crossing in both self-comfort and simmering frustration. Though, my lungs are quick to rattle with a sigh. He’s not responsible for my happiness, and I know so. And I can manage well enough alone when I need to; I’m no stranger to the empty cold.

But God, he definitely helps. He’s everything and more on a rainy, relentless day. And with every hour, with every moment spent with him, it gets harder and harder to deny the growing draw. So used to solitude and survival, and yet now do I find myself wishing for warm company more often than not. How Spring has warmed the deepest reaches of my soul.

I’m about to let my hair down and poke my head out the door to wring it out, when the day continues to prove me wrong. Or maybe, my mental call is answered by the only one who can hear it. Whatever the case, cold limbs run warm and angered heart beats ginger as his voice unexpectedly manifests.

“Katniss?”

My sigh shifts to something of tender relief, blowing out a quivering breath as I feel the instant effects.

“Down here,” I call back.

My chest seems to pound in unison with his footsteps on the stairs. He has no idea, the effect he has. It’s like the dissatisfaction towards the day’s events instantly drains, washing away like the billowing spout outside. Made even more intense, of course, by him rounding the corner.

I should be used to this. This is something of normalcy now. And yet, my breath still manages to hitch, coupled with the stutter of my heart. As usual, he beats me to talking, grinning his endearing smile as his blue eyes lay upon me.

“Hi, my love-” His voice and the expression are short-lived; he must have gotten a proper look at my state. Yes, the widening and wandering of his eyes confirm it, as does the speed in which he reaches me.

“Oh...God, you’re soaked!”

“That obvious?” I grumble through the hairs plastered to my face, though twinges of amusement exist therein.

“A bit!” he softly chuckles, reaching up to brush said strands away. An action which, is unsurprisingly topped off with a kiss, a very tender one against my glistening forehead. In missing him, in wanting the mellowness from my flower, I move for more. I chase after his lips as they depart, quickly bringing forth my own. The tender connection causes me to contently sigh, particularly when I can feel him smiling. We hold each other in the gentle lock for a few ginger beats, before he pulls free- oddly looking sheepish.

I cock a brow at him, which seems to be enough to pry an explanation.

“Didn’t know it was supposed to rain today. Really ah...puts a damper on my plans.”

I roll my eyes at what appears to be a pun, and he laughs a bit before grabbing the back of his neck. I cannot help but pry further.

“Plans?”

“Yeah...”

He puts on the shy smile which likely stole my heart all those years ago, and looks down in the direction of our feet.

“I ah...Drew you a bath. Thought you would like it after a long morning of hunting. Seems kind of counterintuitive now though.”

There it goes, the departure of every ounce of cold, of negativity. Akin to Spring melting the deepest reaches of Winter, easing the snow into the Earth and drawing forth blooms. I’m sure his thoughtfulness will never cease to soften me into awe. And, though it seemed impossible years ago, what with all the roadblocks and challenges that stood in our way, I’m sure my love will never stop heightening.

I find myself hushed into an affectionate silence, my cheeks blushing all the while. Before he can doubt the validity of his decision though, or doubt himself to any other degree, I leap back to him once more. My mouth dusts across his tender cheek first, before selfishly seeking out another caress of his lips.

“No,” I assure when we finally break, “No. That sounds nice.”

“Really? Fighting dampness with dampness?”

“Well, yeah. One is awful, cold, and from rain, and the other is inviting, warm, and from you.”

I’m surprised, though absolutely not, to see a glint flash through his shyness, his smile turning a bit more crooked to match.

“Hmm. Not yet it’s not.”

I roll my eyes and give his chest a playful shove. He of course laughs, and softly grabs my wrists, pulling me close for yet another kiss. I sigh against him, falling all the more into a state of contentment. Unsurprisingly, a trio of relatively new words present themselves on my tongue. Though, in yearning for Peeta, in having my heart beat deeper and faster for him day by day, their utterance feels more and more natural.

“I love you...” I whisper for him to capture, “Thank you.”

He grins so hard our connection breaks, and I can practically feel the heat from his blush, effectively triggering mine all the same.

“I love you too. Now go ahead- can’t have the bathwater turning into sitting rainwater.”

I let out a huff of mirth, and give one last parting kiss before taking him up on his offer. There’s a small bit of apprehension towards leaving him so soon, but I remind myself that this was his doing. The warm water will carry his essence, surely, ushering me away from all the troubles of the morning.

And so I walk up the stairs towards our bathroom, humming softly as I envision what awaits. Dampness to fight dampness indeed; I’m met with a plume of steam when I open the door. But quite quickly, it proves to be a far better option than that of outside.

Unlike the rain which chased me away, this draws me deeper into the bathroom. The steam is like a warm blanket, or a hug from Peeta, wrapping around my slightly shivering form. When I inhale deep enough, it seems like I catch notes of something floral- lavender, maybe? All the more thoughtful of him to doctor it up so.

My cheeks flush, and I quickly rid myself of my soaked garments, plopping them into a wet heap on the tile. My skin is quick to pimple from the biting air, so I’m even faster to slip into the beckoning tub.

And I cannot hush the contented moan that slips from my lips. It’s wonderful. Heated just so, smelling so sweet. My eyes roll shut with a sigh, and I poise myself to slip deeper into the watery embrace. That is, until the day continues on with its ever-changing events. That is, until a jostling of the doorknob halts my movements and breaks the relaxed trance.

Out of pure reflex, I draw my knees up towards my chest, hugging myself and hiding my body away. An action birthed from years of apprehension, and one that immediately unravels at the sight to follow.

Because it’s Peeta, of course it’s Peeta.

But the unexpected element is that he too, stands completely bare, all of him on displayed for my stunned, flustered eyes. I find his own first, and though he’s grinning, I can see that same shyness playing across his features. Much to my blushing dismay, my gaze cannot help but drift to the space I’ve become recently acquainted with. It’s still so new to the both of us that the hitch of my breath is answered by one in return. Warmth seems to travel to more than one place as I gaze at him, though my grey stare wanders to where it’s most prominent, his cheeks utterly rosy with red.

He shifts himself a bit then, looking down and snickering softly before catching my eye once more.

“Too much?”

A shiver rolls down my spine. I’m not sure what he has planned, but I have a feeling I won’t be opposed to anything he brings forth. Thus, I’m entirely earnest as I shake my head, releasing my knees fully.

“No,” I murmur, giving my lips a quick lick.

“Mind if I join you then?”

“Already seem pretty prepped to do so.”

He laughs his beautiful laugh, before blue interlocks tightly with grey. In knowing he’s silently asking for permission, a nodding gesture of my head brings him forward. I watch as he walks towards my backside, and I believe I’ve placed his intention. I slide forward a bit then, allowing him space to slip in behind me, should he choose to do so.

Sure enough, he does, momentarily sitting on the tub’s lip to unclasp his prosthetic before sliding in, the water sloshing a bit and rising from the introduction of another body. And, of course, it seemingly grows warmer, his form, his raw form, utterly reaching the depths of my being.

It’s ridiculous, considering he’s gone where no one else has, but I find myself somewhat timid. Maybe because it’s yet another new form of intimacy. I never really considered so many existing aside from the more carnal ones, but Peeta continues to surprise me. And where I find myself unsure, he also is there to softly guide me.

His warm hands gently slip to grasp my shoulders, and with a gentle tug, he ushers me to lean back against him. I don’t protest in the slightest, venturing back with his grasp and gasping ever so slightly when skin meets skin.

It’s different. Our bodies have been unified before of course, tangled and messy and desperate. But this is...different. It’s vulnerable, it’s tender, and it’s...comforting.

It’s everything. Just as he is.

My thoughts momentarily blip back to the former however, when I feel...him wedged between us. I squirm a bit, my breath hitching as more intense thoughts threaten to invade. But the more I feel, the more I lay against him, the more I realize that he’s relaxed.

And that it’s simply us. All that we are, together.

The thought settles me, and I sigh as I fully melt against him. Every bit of tension saps from my body, and my form seems to meld perfectly into his. His head comes forward to nestle against mine, and I can feel him smiling, the heat evident as he nuzzles and offers the occasional kiss.

I’m back to humming, back to closing my eyes, utterly slipping away like he intended, like I wanted. I had felt almost selfish before, wanting this so badly. But then again, it was nigh impossible not to; it does exactly the intended purpose. I’m ushered to plane where it’s just he and I, where nothing bad exists. I’m taken to a place of pure warmth, of pure love, everything else falling away.

As blissfully lost as I am, I of course have no choice but to vocalize once more.

“I love you so much...”

His turn to hum, as if he’s absorbing and ingesting such sacred words. But all the same, he presses a kiss to my cheek before returning the sentiments.

“And I love you...”

I’m prepped to simply drift away, waiting for my body to become so relaxed that I doze off against his chest. He denies me the opportunity though, but I don’t complain, his fingers coming up to nestle into my messy braid.

“May I?”

When I nod, he begins to softly unravel the intertwined strands. An easier task than usual, as the rain and running left it loose. I give my head a gentle shake when I feel it entirely unwind, fully freeing the waves of darkened ebony.

“Beautiful...” I hear him whisper, and before I have a chance to respond, before I can really even process, his fingers venture in further, sifting through swaths of black to dance atop my scalp.

Any crinkle of my nose towards his compliment instantly dies with such an action. He rubs, massages, the pads of his fingers driving me into an entirely different state of bliss. How is he able to do this? How can he affect me so? How can he drive my body and soul to places unthinkable?

I guess if anyone could be able to do it, it would definitely be Peeta. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I fall even deeper, my skin sliding against his as I descend a bit into the water. He snickers softly, but continues on with the massage. Or wash, perhaps? I think I can smell even stronger notes of flora and sweetness. Whatever the case, I can barely think, barely process, utterly mollified and melting.

So much so that I think my chin eventually brushes the water’s surface, effectively snapping me back into reality. With it, comes a hint of something else. Further selfishness? Guilt? Desire to return? Either way, my whisper breaks through the gentle steam.

“Peeta?”

“Yeah?”

“I feel like...We need to switch places. Take turns.”

His fingers momentarily halt, before he laughs and continues on.

“No. No no- this is more than enough for me. It’s perfect.”

“But-”

“Just enjoy it, love,” he murmurs, “Really. I’m just...happy to be here with you.”

So sweet, sugary sweet, sweeter than the confectionaries he specializes in. Surely something that would have earned a tense scowl years ago; now it draws forth a ghost of a smile. It makes me want to consider the journey, the steps we’ve taken to come to this very moment. But in the delightful erasure, all the pain and hurt is numbed, cast aside in the eyes of our affection.

What it fails to erase however, is my want to be stubborn, my need to please in return. Though blips of meekness still linger, shyness still evident amidst my cheeks, the former drives me and overrides. With a bit of difficulty in the porcelain space, I pivot around to face Peeta, connecting our stares with my smile running to a playful scowl.

Though there’s a slightly confused lift to his brows, he’s grinning immensely, an expression that acts as magnetism between our mouths. I kiss him for just a moment before carrying on with the intended plan. Just as he had done with me, I reach up with both hands, curling my fingers through his ashy blonde locks. I hear him shakily sigh, though the silence it what truly drives me onward; no argument is being made.

My pads nestle deep into his hair, softly rubbing and massaging like he had done for me. It’s lovely, returning the sentiments, returning the newly found intimacy. Unfortunately though, in doing so, I fail to recognize the more prominent form, the more familiar.

Perhaps it’s Peeta’s shaky hand that comes to rest at the small of my back, or the realization that such a position has put him directly at eyelevel with a more than desirable part of me- at least to him. I subsequently bite my lip, blush, and halt at the thought, slipping back to my previous perch.

Sure enough, when I pull away to get a look at his face, the flush to his cheeks and flare to his nostrils paint the correct picture.

“Too much?” I ask, parroting his opening question from earlier.

“Hmm, uh, a test of will perhaps, yes,” he replies with a shaky laugh.

It’s my turn to snicker, reaching to gently cup his face with a hand.

“Sorry. Might make this take a different turn.”

“I mean, it could, if you wanted,” Peeta murmurs, his grin turning crooked once more.

I let out a huff of mirth, softly shaking my head.

“Seems inevitable. But I dunno...I do like this.”

Peeta’s smile shifts back to a warmer tonality, pivoting his face to kiss my hand a kiss before responding.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like you said, I’m just...happy to be here with you. Always.”

His words repeated off my tongue are perhaps more loving and beneficial than the stroke of my fingers; he lights up like the sun, burning away the fog between us as his sapphire eyes sparkle.

“Always,” he reaffirms with a whisper, giving my hand another kiss before continuing, “Whatever you’d like then. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Whether I nestle up against his chest, lay back against him once again, or get ravished atop towels on the bathroom floor, the thick clouds of steam refuse to reveal. Whether they remain entirely chaste and grey, or heated and dripping, they encapsulate us, locking us away from the morning, from the bad.

Just as he does for me, and how I hopefully do in turn. 

Oh, how life is simpler, more bearable. How the negatives turn into things so much more desirable. And how humorous is it that I find myself longing to get caught out in the rain once more.

[crystalirises]

Day 3 of Funtober: In the Void of Creation

So uh... I realized that my list is not correct in regards to day... but I will not change it anymore because I understand the list.

But anyway, today’s prompt is Coding and in my list the stuff that I’m supposed to write is: Memory!Fundy ---> Coding AU.

Character: Memory!Fundy comes from this headcanon that I genuinely do not know who made it but the credit belongs to them. So essentially, I remember reading a headcanon where there are multiple ghosts within the SMP and not just Ghostbur. These ghosts are like remnants of the people the characters used to be. So Memory!Fundy is the Fundy that loved L’Manburg and his dad, the Fundy before the elections, essentially. Nobody can see him, and he can’t see the other memory ghosts, though he usually stays near the L’Manburg flag.

Setting: Takes place in Coding AU, which is just a glass room floating in an empty white void. There’s a control panel on one side of the room and it’s filled with buttons.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34203535/chapters/85292788

When he opened his eyes, the flag was gone.

He blinked, staring up into the glass ceiling that showed an empty white void.

For a moment, he thought he’d finally passed, condemned to an eternity in limbo.

Then, he saw a red light flash in the corner of his eye.

He turned his head. A panel of buttons stared back at him.

Fundy stood up, glancing at the empty glass cage he found himself in.

He looked down at his hands, happy to know that nothing about him had changed. He still had his uniform on, stained with blood, but it was still there. His feet stumbled towards the panel, his throat tight with worry and trepidation. After a moment, his hand was pressed against the cold stone, his fingertips shaking out of… fear? He wasn’t sure of what to do. Fundy looked over at the glass walls, trapped despite years of being condemned to invisibility. Alone despite a year of being buried underneath rubble and vines that tried to grab him each time he stepped on them.

But now… there was nothing to look at… He was truly alone.

Fundy shuddered, taking a hesitant step away from the control panel. There was nothing else in the glass room. He felt like a rat caught in a cage, his invisible captor mocking him behind a veil.

“Can anyone hear me?”

His voice was loud, clear against the silence of the void. Fundy’s ears flicked up, surprise marring his face before sadness settled. He wasn’t used to hearing his own voice, drowned out by the noise of the living. He walked around the room, banging against the glass in hopes of it cracking. He’d rather take his chances in the void than stay in that room forever. After minutes of smashing his fists against the glass, phantom blood forming on his knuckles, he finally gave up.

He stumbled back towards the panel, his back hitting its cool surface.

His claws scratched against the metal, but the paint didn’t chip away. Fundy slid down to the floor, holding his knees close to his chest. He closed his eyes, hiding his face in his hands.

He didn’t know where he was, but all he knew was that the flag was gone. He’d never gone too far from the flag, not even when… not even when his other self had burned it down. Not even when Doomsday took away the ground from beneath his feet. He never wandered from the flag.

He hoped his dad would forgive him for straying.

---

After days… hours… minutes… seconds… he couldn’t bear the silence anymore.

He’d turned his attention to the control panel, freezing for only one second before pressing down on one. At first, he thought it would do nothing. But the world shook, and the void melted away.

In this world he saw himself - another version of him - pacing within a room filled with chests. This Fundy held at least five buttons in each hand for some very odd reasonHe didn’t know what it meant, though he knew this version of himself in some way. He took in the crisp dark suit that his other self wore, reminiscent to that of Schlatt’s. It reminded him of his other self in his real world, the version that had strayed away from their father. He clicked another button.

In the second world, the void turned into a spacious and luxurious room that held a large bed at the center that was completely covered in pillows and silk blankets. Fundy had never seen a bed so heaven-like before. A pang of jealousy rose up in his chest, the itch to steal at least one pillow crossed his mind until he realized that the pile of pillows wasn’t quite as empty as he thought. He blinked as a hand jutted out from under the pile, his own face emerging from the soft avalanche. His other self looked like he’d just been buried. Fundy shook his head, pressing another button.

In the third world, he saw a calm and composed version of himself… and Eret. He moved on.

In the fourth world, his other self was dressed in wedding attire, a pastel orange suit that he was sure once looked regal… but it was now caked in mud and tears. This other version of himself held two rings in his hand, collapsed against the stairs of a wellkept cabin that was tucked in the far corner of the forest. Fundy watched expectantly, but his other self seemed frozen in time, his face slack and his eyes glazed over. He swallowed, wondering what had caused his other self such sadness. After a few seconds, his other self began to sob, holding his head in his hands before letting out a loud cry. The noise was too harsh against his ears, he moved on to the next.

The fifth world was very baffling. He saw himself standing in one corner of a room, screaming as a tall enderman hybrid caged him in. The enderman hybrid was whispering something that his ears couldn’t quite hear, but from the placating gestures, he knew that the enderman was trying to calm his other self down. He took a moment to look at the rest of the room, baffled by the strange inventions that he saw. There was a large wall of glass jutting out from the wall, displaying a variety of images. Maybe he could replicate that someday… He moved to the next.

In the sixth world… Fundy blinked, narrowing his eyes at the maid dress that his other self was proudly wearing. His other self was standing in front of a vault, a very smug grin on his face. Fundy shook his head, quickly reaching for another button. He didn’t know what that was about.

In the seventh world, he saw a familiar face. He blinked, feeling the tears collect in the bottom of his eyes at the sight of his mother, alive and clearly distraught. She was holding onto another version of himself, but his other self looked uncomfortable with the touch. His dad was standing nearby, eyes narrowed at his other self. Fundy whimpered despite knowing that the stare wasn’t meant for him. His dad was glaring at his other self like he was a stranger. Fundy took in the armor that his other version wore, the weary and nervous glare that he was throwing at Fundy’s dad and… mom. He shook his head. He couldn’t bear to see his mom any longer. He moved on.

In the eight world, he watched as he woke in a bed that looked so warm. He felt another pang in his chest. He missed his old bed, but he didn’t need to sleep anyway… From the open doorway - no door, only a curtain separating the room from the hall - his dad stepped into the room. Fundy shivered, taking in the brown trenchcoat and the muted madness in his dad’s gaze. The man moved closer to his other self, patting the top of his head. Fundy quickly pressed another button.

In the ninth world, he followed a version of himself that looked so peaceful, like he had been free from the horrors of the war. There was a small fox kit in his arms, the arctic fox hybrid nuzzling his face in his other version’s neck before letting out a yawn. The sun was setting in the distance, but his other self didn’t seem too worried, following the path that led to… Fundy’s gaze turned towards where L’Manburg once stood. There was a hole there now. For a moment, he could pretend he was back home, ready to climb back down again and go back to sleep underneath the forgotten remains of his beloved home. He shook his head. He was never going home again.

In the tenth world, his other self looked right at him—

Then the world faded to white, melting back into the same damning void that would now become his home for eternity. He shuddered, the tears in his eyes spilling out and cascading down his cheeks. The drops splattered against the buttons, but nothing changed. Nothing he could do would change where he was damned to stay. He wiped his tears on the back of his uniform’s sleeve. As he tried to sniffle his cries, he saw it. At the far side of the panel, there was a small button that matched the same color as the panel. He moved closer towards it, fingers itching to press. It wasn’t as colorful as the others. His finger hovered over it before moving down—

“Little champion?” He paused. He knew that voice.

He looked behind him, and smiled. “Dad! You came back!”

=============================================================

No. I will not give context.

[florvinhara]

felt it ripping me apart (part 1)

summary: kira deals with the aftermath of turning

warnings for heavy angst !!!

word count: 2.2k

read on ao3 or below the cut:

Kira wakes from a nebulous, pained darkness to the memory of a familiar voice- beloved, broken- calling her name. 

At first, she wonders if she’s hungover; the lights are dimmed but too bright, and she feels sick with a hollow emptiness that tangles her stomach into knots. She sits up with a groan, and scrubs at her face with her hands until flashes of recollection start to surface from the depths of her foggy mind. They are more sensation than anything else, brief impressions of moments in time. Blood. Please. Pain. I’m sorry. Cold. Stay with me.

Blood… no, she is decidedly not hungover. She had woken up before, she recalls, feeling stiff and strange all over, and upon trying to stand up had been overcome with a tidal wave of nauseated exhaustion so strong she’d had to sit hunched on the edge of the bed holding her swimming head between her knees until she’d stopped feeling like she might pass out. Her second attempt had not been much more successful, and she had resigned herself to laying back and irritably shoving at the scratchy sheets until someone came to explain why she was once again in the Agency’s medical wing.

She had remained entirely silent while Elidor gently explained what had happened, pushing aside complicated swirls of emotion and focusing only on the concrete facts, of which there were three. In order, she’s been going through them again and again, turning them over in her mind like puzzle pieces which don’t quite fit into the rest of the picture.

One- she had been mortally wounded.

Two- they’d turned her; there had been no other option to save her life. Which means that:

Three: she is not going to die. Not now, perhaps not ever.

It’s a short list, but she repeats it religiously- one, two three, one, two three- because otherwise, her mind will start wandering. The trek from these simple isolated truths to their messier implications is a short one she can’t stand to make. Will she have to leave Wayhaven? It had been in her plans, eventually, but there’s a difference between moving and having to slowly disentangle yourself entirely from human society as an unforgivable amount of time passes you by untouched.

More pressing, how will she leave this hospital room? Because beyond this controlled environment, with its drawn shades and soundproofed walls, is a noisy, chaotic world that had already at times overwhelmed her until she couldn’t breathe.

And there is one more concern; she has pointedly not allowed her train of thought to drift in that particular direction, but the seed of fearful doubt is rapidly taking root in the back of her mind anyway, snarling around her spine and curling purposefully at her throat. After all, it is one terrifying thing to love someone knowing that your lives run on different tracks, that you must fit the vast expanses of your devotion into the span of 60 or so years. To promise your eternity to another person is another animal altogether, and she cannot ask Nate to give her that- it is a gift she doesn’t deserve, and why would he want to offer it anyway? She knows how much he misses humanity, seeks out the echoes of it wherever he can- without hers, will he recognize her, or just see the chasm where that mortal part of her used to be?

It doesn’t bear thinking about for long, the inevitable, and so she pulls her focus back to the safety of the past, the proven. She’s managed to delay whatever is going to come next so far, having asked Elidor for some time alone to rest. It had been a flimsy excuse, but he had kindly pretended to believe it and let her be, staring blankly at the wall and mentally reciting the concise points that comprised her list until sleep had claimed her.

Perhaps it had helped after all; she still feels hollowed out and numb, but the sickly dizziness is gone and the lights above her no longer leave sharp, star-like patterns in the backs of her eyes. The signs are promising enough that she decides to try standing again, shoving the blankets off and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. This time, she does manage it, though she immediately stumbles upon making contact with the ground as a strange, shaky sensation skitters up her calves, pins and needles pressing against the soles of her feet and making her wobble like a newborn foal. She grabs at the pole where an IV bag would usually be hanging for support, wincing at the bright spark of unexpected chill where her hands make contact.

Did this get shorter? she thinks distantly, and then remembers that the pole isn’t shorter, she’s just taller now, and she wonders if that means she’ll have to buy new clothes. Which is just so stupid, so ridiculously not important a detail in the grand scheme of things, the fact that her mind jumped there first makes a laugh just left of hysterical fizzle in her throat, and it is so profoundly unlike her that it makes her feel sick. She stumbles to the adjoined washroom as she feels her chest constrict painfully in feverish panic, dragging the IV pole behind her half for balance and half for comfort, and leans over the sink, gasping for breath, until her heart stops beating against her ribs like a caged animal and she can inhale without the air stabbing knife-like at her lungs.

Slowly but surely, her breathing evens out, and she glances up at her reflection in the mirror- then freezes.

The differences are slight, so much so that at first she thinks it must be a trick of the light, but the more she casts her gaze over the face reflected back at her, the more she is sure it cannot be hers. Or, more accurately, it is hers in the way that an old picture is one’s self- similar enough to recognize but changed enough to be almost another person entirely.

It looks as though she has never lived in this body, never tested its limits by climbing that one unsteady tree branch and knocking a deep, jagged scar into her forehead for her trouble. Never pierced her own ears with a needle and ice cube in a misguided attempt at rebellion. Never stayed up through the night and marked the sleepless hours by the dark circles under her eyes. She grips the sink as she searches for familiarity in the reflection before her; the porcelain crumbles like sand beneath her shaking fingers, and this too is hideously unrecognizable, the strength and the unintentional destruction it can bring, the need to exist cautiously.

The more she looks, the more untethered from herself she feels, unmade and reformed by an architect with little regard for detail, the outline and not the shape itself. And she supposes she has been, in a way- she remembers, if nothing else, the searing agony as her bones had separated and knit themselves back together. It shouldn’t be real, it shouldn’t be possible for these traces of her life, the storms she has weathered and the consequences of her recklessness, to be wiped from her body as if they had never existed. A map unmade. A history forgotten. Even the scar she’d gotten from Murphy is vanished, a feat not accomplished even by the Agency’s healing magic. And for some reason it is this, the absence of a scar she never wanted, that finally breaks her as she sinks to the floor with a dark dismay rising in her throat like bile.

---

The linoleum floor is cold against her shins, but she welcomes the bracing shock it gives her, focuses intently on the sensation of it pressing on her legs as another swell of dread threatens to drown her. Her hands find each other, twisting anxiously until she realizes she does not recognize them either; the familiar divots of old scars and callouses are gone, as are the crooked slant where she had broken her fingers. Frantically, she wrenches them apart, despising their unfamiliarity.

Enough of this, she reprimands herself sternly, one clear thought in a swirling sea-storm of panic and confusion and what-ifs. She latches onto it desperately, presses her hands, still fluttering nervously as they seek out the comfort of a repetitive motion, flat against the cold floor and thinks it over and over again- enough, enough, enough- until the word has lost its meaning and she feels somewhat calmer again.

Her mind is still spinning in anxious circles, tying itself in knots the more she thinks. There’s only one surefire solution she knows of to ease the worried maelstrom; it’s time to remove herself from the equation, consider this from a more scientific standpoint. This doesn’t have to destroy her. Or maybe it does- after all, creation is a promise of violence, in and of itself born from destruction. Cells beget new cells by ripping themselves in two; the body is constantly sloughing off parts of itself which have outlived their usefulness. And this must still be true, even though so much is different, because stasis is death to the thousands of systems constantly at work to keep someone operating. Maybe there is some comfort there, then, that even though she cannot see it, at the smallest level, the familiar processes are continuing.

She imagines she can hear them now, blood rushing from her heart to deliver oxygen to the rest of her body, cells splitting apart and bursting as they die only to be replaced instantly, even her DNA unwinding and reforming as it encodes new strands of her genetic information. How much of it changed along with her- which genes were snipped out of existence and remade in a different, ‘better’ image?

Damn. Not even two minutes later and she’s already cycled back to her horror at the transformation, visible and invisible- perhaps this won’t destroy her after all, she’ll just do it herself fixating on the sharp, shattered pieces of the dissonance between the self she recognizes and the one she sees reflected in the mirror.

A worried voice cuts through the thick miasma of dismay choking her like poison- Elidor, knocking at the door and asking if she’s alright. Is she? No, she thinks, even as she calls out, “Yeah, just a minute,” and feels so much sudden relief to hear her voice, unchanged, that she nearly blacks out. Slowly, and with much aid from the IV pole, she pulls herself to her feet and chances another glance at the mirror. Immediately, she feels an overwhelming urge to punch it, to shatter the glass until her reflection is torn apart by the spiderwebbing shards, but she shoves it down forcefully, searches for resolve in the eyes looking back at her. She finds nothing there, but knows Elidor is waiting outside and opens the door, resigned.

“I was wondering where that pole had run off to,” he says with a teasing smile that falters the moment they make eye contact. Well, that was a short-lived act. “Kira, what’s wrong?”

Nothing that can be fixed, nothing that she doesn’t just have to get over and deal with. She starts to tell him as much, but her throat is so tight that her voice grates painfully as she speaks and she gives up halfway through the sentence, ending with a dismissive wave that falls too far flat of insouciant to be convincing.

Elidor’s brow furrows in concern. “I’ll get the rest of the team, and-”

“No!” she cuts in, flinging a hand out to stop him. If there’s one thing she’s absolutely sure of, it’s that she cannot be around them right now, can’t let them see that she can’t handle this, can’t deal with their thoughts or feelings or opinions when her own are still such a confused mess. And she especially cannot see Nate, not when she knows what’s going to happen; of course, he is going to be perfectly kind, even as he tells her this can’t work, she’s too different now that she is divorced from her humanity, he had never intended for this relationship to last centuries.

His gentleness will cut deeper than the words themselves, and if she could, she would do it herself, end it for him quickly and impersonally so she can spare them both the pain. But she is too unmoored right now, too frustratingly unsure of herself, to face a reality that has fundamentally shifted. “No, please, just- can you tell them I’m not awake yet? Or- just, anything?” Some small, unchanged part of her mind rebels violently at that, hates her for the cowardice, but it is too easily drowned out by the tumult of dazed doubts and worries shadowing her to be heard.

It takes about ten minutes of pleading for Elidor to uneasily agree to give her more time; eventually, he concedes, and leaves the room with a concerned glance over his shoulder. The door closes behind him, and she lets herself sink to the ground once more, curled over like she could belatedly shield herself from the injury which necessitated all this, until she drags herself back into the bed and seeks relief in unconsciousness.

[petri808]

O5+Itafushi sick/injured/comfort for Anon 😊 totally canon divergent since we still don’t know a lot about their backgrounds and the series is still on going 🙃 Hurt/Comfort, angst w/happy ending. *Does container manga spoiler aspects if you’re not up to date on it.

It couldn’t be helped... logically, Megumi knew this, but what his brain understood didn’t mean his heart could accept. Yuuji was fated from the beginning to die and he knew— Knew that all the man wanted was to die without regret, and saving their world... well how much more honor could one achieve by fulfilling his grandfather’s dying wish? He should be happy for his friend, content in the knowledge that Yuuji gave them a chance to rebuild a better world without the fear of Ryomen Sukuna ever destroying it. Should be... but he wasn’t.

How many times had Megumi convinced himself they weren’t heroe’s, they were just sorcerers. Spiritual police in a sense, there to protect without a desire for acknowledgement. And that their deaths were both inevitable and not immune to regret. All they could do was their best not to garner too much of it and become the very curses they swore to fight. It was why most jujutsu sorcerers learned from an early age not to care about humanity, or at least lie to themselves that it was a possibility. Such bullshit, really.

So, as he stood there staring down at what remained of his best friend’s body, Megumi couldn’t help the regret bubbling up in his very soul. This was literally and figuratively his fault. Yuuji’s, or rather Sukuna’s exorcism was a combined effort in which he’d participated in. That’s not something you can simply set aside. Yes! Megumi was glad that Sukuna was gone, but so was Yuuji! He didn’t care if his friend had been born into, or chosen to, or somehow been trapped in this fate. It wasn’t fair at all. None of this was fair to any of them, just as his own birth had been an unfortunate creation for revenge.

“Fuck!” Megumi gritted out a barely audible utterance as his nails dug into the clenched fists at his sides, and tears trickled down his face. This wasn’t fair at all!

He shouldn’t even be there. If Gojou sensei knew he’d snuck into the morgue he’d be in trouble. But he didn’t care! They didn’t even let him say goodbye to his friend before carting him off to Dr. Shoko. It was for his own good— pfft, fucking uncaring bastards! Yuuji was the first real person he’d ever connected with who gave him back a sense of the humanity he’d lost along the way. The man made him feel, and now. “Fuck...” Megumi knew he was screwed. His heart had crossed the line. Images of a smiling Yuuji play like a movie behind his closed eyes, bringing a pained smile curling on Megumi’s lips. He’d avoided admitting it to himself, but it was true. He’d fallen for Yuuji Itadori.

It had been an unspoken promise Megumi made to Yuuji, one he’d made deep within his heart the moment it had chosen to cross the line. He’d find a way to sever Sukuna from Yuuji and save his love from the ultimate sacrifice. This promise had never been proclaimed from his own lips, but there was no running from the covenant he’d created in his soul. As Sukuna once explained, certain pacts in their works simply could not be broken.

His knees weakened, crumpling Megumi to the floor in a position of summary execution. All of the emotional walls he’d learned to control, gave way in a flood, sending shadowed curse energy to blanket the room. He didn’t even try to stem the flow of power surging out from his pain. It was entirely selfish to lash out with his regret and anger, but Megumi couldn’t stop... didn’t want to let go. “It’s not fair!” He raged into the still darkness. “I should have saved you! If I was stronger, I could have saved you! But I’m too weak... even now, I can’t...” he hung his head head and closed his eyes, “I can’t even let you die properly because you deserve to live Yuuji...” Because I still need you... Damn the consequences, he’ll take whatever comes his way! “Yuuji!!!”

.....Megumi wasn’t exactly sure what happened, how he ended up passed out on his side, or even how long he was laying there. But something gentle brushed against his face, sweeping his hair aside, and caressing it to stir him awake. His body was groggy from the power drain, eyes barely able to focus in the amber emergency lighting. Whatever it was said nothing, just continued soothing him and coaxing with light prodding to wake up. It felt so nice... Wait! Fuck! Was he caught?! Was it Gojou, Dr. Shoko, someone else?!

His eyes flash open wide as he scrambled to sit up, ready to explain himself, but— “Sukuna?!” Megumi screamed in shock.

“What?!” The naked man stumbled back, looking around in a panic. “Where?! He’s supposed to be dead!”

Megumi adjusted his eyes better, because the form in front of him looked like Yuuji, but with all of the same markings as Sukuna, including the second set of open eyes. Although the voice was different... not exactly Yuuji’s, not Sukuna’s, maybe a mix of both. “Who are you?” He asked, noting that the curse energy flowing from this thing was akin to Sukuna in power and this could be a trick from the God of Curses. Is this what his regret had wrought?!

“It’s me,” the figure stepped forward in confusion, a hand over his chest. “Yuuji. Megumi how could you not know it’s me?”

“Because you look like and feel like Sukuna.”

Yuuji looked down at his body and could see the markings too. But that’s when he also noticed something else in the room. His dead body lying on the operating table. His eyes widen as they whip back to Megumi. “Am I?!” His shaky voice cracked.

It was becoming clear. Megumi nodded. “My regret brought you back as a...”

“Curse...” Yuuji breathed out. He was stunned, and yet somehow not surprised. “Wow... but I don’t look like a normal curse.” He could think and feel, “I’m like Mt. Fuji head?”

“I don’t understand it either. I’m so sorry Yuuji— I just couldn’t let you go.” The tears formed again in Megumi’s eyes. “I’d sworn to myself I’d save you, but I failed miserably and for that... n-now you’re a curse.”

“I should be mad at you.” Yuuji knelt down in front of his friend, smiling. “But I’m not. I know all too well how hard it is to let go of people we care about.”

Megumi shook his head. “You don’t understand. I’m being selfish and that’s wrong! I just... I-I just... I love you too much to let you go.”

“You... love me? Like a friend, friend love or...”

Megumi turned away and if it wasn’t so dark his blushing cheeks would be glaringly obvious. “No, the other kind.”

“Brotherly love?”

For a second there, Megumi had to question his own sanity again for failing in love with an idiot. He ran his hand down his face in a huff. “The I wanna kiss you kind! I know you said you like women with big butts and all, but yeah,” he mumbled, “that’s how I feel about you idiot.” His face was truly on fire by this point, only made more difficult by the fact the man he loved was hanging out for all to see.

“Oh!” Yuuji chuckled and sandwiched Megumi’s face between the palms of his hands. “I’m just messing with you. I knew that for a while now.”

“Wait how?!” But dang if seeing Yuuji’s smile again didn’t just melt him. “I kept it hidden.”

“You did, but Sukuna sensed it in you when your domains overlapped, and he showed me.”

Yuuji leaned forward and brought their lips together in an awkward kiss. It was brief, but for Megumi, it solidified how he felt. That yes, he really did love this man and finally! He got to kiss him!

“There was a time I thought Sukuna had a crush on you actually,” Yuuji chuckled. “But then of course, it turned out he just wanted to use you.”

“So... you’re okay with me liking you?” As he spoke, Megumi pulled his coat off and handed it to Yuuji to cover up.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Yuuji smiled and put on the coat. “But what do we do now? Technically I’m not alive, I’m a walking, talking curse.”

“Fuck,” Megumi sighed, his shoulders slumping, “I didn’t exactly think this through, just lost control.”

Yuuji placed a hand on his shoulder, “hey, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Megumi couldn’t hold back any longer. He pulled Yuuji into a tight bear hug as renewed tears pooled in his eyes. “I don’t care what you are, I’m just happy to have you back.”

Yuuji returned the hug. “Me too.”

Suddenly, clapping echoed through the darkened room seconds before the light switch was flipped on, causing Megumi to flinch. Shit! They were caught so quickly!

“I had a feeling this would happen.”

It was Gojou’s voice. Aww crap!

Megumi moved Yuuji and placed himself between the two men. “Leave him alone!”

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty little head Megumi Chan, I’m not gonna exorcise him. I followed you here, so if I’d wanted to stop you, I would have done so sooner.”

“You’re messing with me.” Megumi narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “It’s our job to dispatch curses. Why would you make an exception.”

“Yes, under the old ways, but as you know, those ways were destroyed by us. As long as a curse is not a problem, I don’t care if they exist.” Gojou cocked his head in an evil grin. “Yuuji is now for you, as what Rika is for Okkotsu. I didn’t exorcise Rika, did I?”

“No...”

“Exactly!” He clapped his hands together. “Having powerful special grades on our side is a benefit in my eyes,” Gojou moved his mask to reveal his own, “and these eyes know everything,” he winks before affixing the mask. “Besides, who am I to get in the way of love,” he shrugged.

Megumi rolled his eyes at that last jab, but Yuuji let out a sigh of relief. “Gojou sensei, do you know why I’m like this?” He motioned to his body. “Shouldn’t I be more like Rika? But I can think for myself and talk, and I feel... well, normal.”

“That’s a good question!” Gojou cackled and pointed at Yuuji. “I have no idea!”

“Ugh!” Megumi slaps his forehead. This man never changed.

“But,” Gojou grew serious in an instant, “I can guess there are three factors involved.” He held up one finger, “Number one! You, Yuuji are no ordinary human but created by a curse at birth.” Raising a second finger, “Number two! You and Sukuna were bonded at the instance of death, so you’ve fused with him.” Adding a third finger, “and lastly, number three! When one special grade sorcerer curses another former special grade sorcerer, that amount of curse energy wasn’t going to create a lower lever spirit. So, voila! You were made Yuuji!”

“But is it like I still have control of Sukuna or something?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. Do you still sense him?”

Yuuji paused in thought before shaking his head no.

“It’s likely Sukuna’s soul was fully exorcised, and since Megumi was only thinking of you, it was only you that was brought back. This is just the form your cursed energy has taken. We’ll need to test what powers you’ve retained, but from what I’m sensing, they are on par with Sukuna’s residual energy.”

It’s Megumi who speaks up next. “So, is Yuuji allowed back at school?”

“I’ll allow it, provided your classmates don’t mind. Remember, while you can see him, he’s no longer alive, so normal humans won’t see him anymore. He is just a cursed spirit.”

Megumi and Yuuji looked at each other, then back to their teacher with Yuuji taking hold of Megumi’s hand. “I think they’d get mad if we didn’t return,” Yuuji smiled.

Gojou tipped two fingers as he turned to leave, “then I shall see you in class tomorrow. Try to keep the noise down in your room.” He teased with a cackle.

Megumi flushed red. “He’s so irritating.”

“Yeah, but you gotta admit Gojou sensei’s one of the cool ones.”

“Yeah,” Megumi sighed, but smiled. “Guess we should head back to school too.”

Yuuji squeezed his new boyfriend’s hand and nodded. “I can’t wait to see everyone’s faces when I walk in!”

“Just, no practical jokes like phasing through walls to scare them. We don’t need someone actually trying to exorcise you.”

“Oh, right! I’ll behave.” Without warning, Yuuji then swept Megumi into a bridal carry. “Let’s test my powers! I bet I’m faster than Gojou sensei now!”

“Wait! What are you doing?!”

Yuuji grinned down at Megumi with ruby red eyes glowing. “Trust me.” Cause I’ll kill anyone who dares to hurt you now...

[theyscreamjade]

Okay so we all know how hella awesome it is to get representation in the media, right? Princess Tiana, Storm in X-Men, and even Orange Blossom in Strawberry Shortcake (before she was whitewashed 🗿). So, stay with me now!

Pro-hero y/n (who’s a bit obscured since she’s not a top ranking hero) is on patrol with her pro-hero boyfriend and suddenly you hear an excited squeal. You look and see a happy little black girl wearing your merch or holding a doll of you, just booking it to you. Y/N , who is a professional, squeals just as happily and welcomes the little queen in her arms. She’s just gushing about how much she looks up to you and Miruko, how you made her believe in herself as a brown girl when the world is against you, and just hearing your hero name makes her ecstatic. Y/N is on the brink of tears. She’s more than happy to give the Angel an autograph and the world. I think Hawks, Bakugo, Aizawa, and Kirishima would be perfect for reacting to something so cute 😭💖💖💖

Dreamers ✨

Alright! This goes out to my melanin queens! I hope you love it!

————————————————————————————————————————

* Keigo’s a SIMP WHEN I TELL YOU.

* He loves his Melanin queens!

* He loves all, he sees no color. I don’t care what anyone says.

* He knows you’re not necessarily a big-time hero as of yet, or not as popular as others.

* To him, you’re fantastic. You give it your all when you go out there and risk your life. Those villains never stood a chance.

* Unlike him and others though, you never seemed to receive the recognition. When you’re in a world where the first thing black men or women are known for in the media is either a gangbanger or slut. All the above as well, it’s offensive to know this is how people think of you.

* It’s honestly heartbreaking to see the shocked looks on people’s faces when you save them because they’d never EXPECT a BLACK girl to save them no less.

* It was after your patrol and like always, Keigo, Miruko and you always went to the nearby diner. Since it was 24 hours, it was a treat to just sit back and eat.

* It was 8 am after you all pulled a near triple shift when you finally sat down.

* You took notice of a family in front of you but you were so exhausted, you couldn’t focus. After a good cup of coffee and a nice meal. Your body was energized enough to get you back home with Keigo.

* While you three argued about who’d pay...a small hand touched your shoulder. When you turned your head, it was like a magnet. Her adorable dark skin was gorgeous while a nice moist Afro bounced with her small movements.

* “I-I’m a big fan! M-may I have an autograph?” She asked before holding out her notebook. It was your notebook because you recognized your catchphrase in the corner.

* You couldn’t help but smile and gave her exactly what she wanted as a conversation ensued with you two. While Keigo couldn’t help but smile at the small convo between you two.

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

* With you still being a pro hero and a mother at the same time? It’s honestly amazing how you do it.

* While Eri loves the ground you walk out with all her heart and you save the day as many and much as you do.

* You just sometimes wish you never were stared at so much when you’re with Shouta or Eri. Sometimes it made you extremely uncomfortable because they were either judging or gossiping about what information they claimed to know.

* You may not patrol because of your nighttime care with Eri, you do your patrols in the afternoons as a side hustle because by the time you were done, you’d just walk to Eri’s school and you two would go home.

* As always, you did. You stood by the closed gates of the playground waiting on the white-haired Angel as her footsteps sounded like two. “See! I told you I knew her!” Eri said, holding a little girl’s arm. Your mouth dropped a bit when it was a little black girl.

* The moment she saw you, her eyes grew wide as she screamed. After screaming, she climbed over the fence and proclaimed her love for you. Her feet tapped side to side as she talked about knowing your every mission, how your power moves are the greatest, how she wants to be exactly like you.

* You had to blink away your tears at how adorable she was while her two puffballs bounced with her excitement, making your normal day... an extraordinary one.

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

* Your adorable simping shark here loves you with every piece inside him.

* You don’t understand how much he loves you, he loves every single detail of you and that’s a fact.

* Kirishima doesn’t care what others think about you because in his eyes. You’re the greatest creation on this huge earth.

* It’s hard being a new face in a new country, in a new city with new people.

* The world just not that open with other races because of what’s portrayed on tv which honestly makes you a bit ticked to see a black girl always known for being broke, single, and alone.

* You were sweet as pie and kind as a kitten, but you could kick ass and obliterate anyone in your path. You weren’t crazy strong but you had your ways.

* You were honestly excited to see your merchandise in stores, though you have never seen any around town or with kids.

* It all changed during your date with Kirishima, his arm was wrapped around your shoulder while you two made your way towards his car. You and his bellies were full from the extravagant restaurant food.

* You were about to open your door when you heard a soft gasp and scream. “MOMMY! MOMMY! LOOK!” She screamed as her small finger pointed at you. Her shoes clicked as she ran to you and bowed before instructing herself. “You’re H/N! The greatest hero in the world!” She announced, squeezing the doll that was in her hand.

* “I want to be just like you when I grow up and kick villain's butts!” She added as a smile engulfed your face. Hearing her dreams ringing in your ear made you feel like the strongest woman in the world. Who would’ve known you’d inspire a girl just like you for such greatness one day?

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

* Let me tell you something. Bakugo will not tolerate you talking bad about yourself.

* Try that shit you want to and you’re in trouble.

* You’re a great hero to him, you earned his respect and love. That’s hard as hell to just try to receive honey.

* You’re extremely powerful and honestly deserve more recognition than you get.

* You were popular during the school festival but guessing it was just a little scratch over the surface.

* Many were worried about dealing with an angry black woman or how your face always looked mean and angry all the time when it’s just naturally like that. Everyone has a resting bitch face.

* It didn’t surprise you when you were receiving merch or anything either. One thing that did, was when you were on patrol with Bakugo. You heard a soft grunt.

* A little girl stood at the tv screens mesmerized by you kicking but as she tried her best to copy your moves. She did your swift kick and told the imaginary villain to disappear and never come back.

* You couldn’t help but giggle at her. It was cute. You soon began to continue your patrol until a pair of arms wrapped around your thigh.

* “Y-You’re! You’re H/N! I love you! You’re the greatest her ever. You’re the grandest hero in the world! I remember when you going by that slug monster and you smashed him that he turned into sticky goop!” She started as she began to remind you of your wins.

* It was honestly cute to see her excitement for you.

* “I want to be a hero just like you! You don’t care what others think and even if we’re black, we’re going to be the best heroes ever!”

* You broke down, hearing her heartfelt speech that you start crying because of how she sees the world with you. After signing whatever she wanted, she soon began her walk home. Before turning a corner, she began to run as the simple image..of her with a cape and her hero’s costume flashed into your head as the feeling of seeing her again but next time. As a hero.

[katyatalks]

Mob Psycho 100 Interview Translation - Character Designer Kameda Yoshimichi - Otome Visual 2017

Summary-style translation for Character Designer Yoshimichi Kameda’s 4 page interview from Otome Visual 2017, regarding elements in the creation of Mob Psycho 100 such as: what inspired this cover art, the influence of fan art in the anime’s creation, Tsubomi’s design, the process behind the package art for the DVDs, and more. Includes some genga. Under read more;

[TN: The reason why I elected to summarise this interview rather than do a full write up is because a lot of the information given gets covered in December 2016′s Animestyle010, in “The Making of Mob Psycho 100.” I typed that one out in full over on twitter but that’s a long interview, and I don’t have the time or energy to reformat it for Tumblr, but if you’re interested in a very in-depth look into how Mob Psycho 100′s anime came to be I’d really recommend checking it out. Direct quotes are given in “” here. Enjoy!]

---

*~The genga illustration for Otome Visual’s cover~*

“With the recent popularity that Skating Anime has had, what’s this - a Shouwa idol collab?! It’s all in the little details in their clothing - their wrinkled shirts, white trousers, black belts - both around their waists and arms.”

*~Kameda’s comments~*

“Can you heaaaar me!! I am currently speaking directly into your braaaain!!! What I’m grateful for with this commission is I was able to design the cover in any way I’d like!! A cover is a reflection of current times, so, of course, I went for ice skating! You wouldn’t be able to find this kind of amazing content in any time period other than now! That’s what I first thought! Like, Mob Psycho 100!! If there’s not a certain Mob Psycho 100-ness present in the art then what’d be the point, so, the characters are being very serious but they’re also pretty laughable. I tried to create a piece of art from which you could hear their voices!!! What’s with it being Shouwa-esque?? Being lame is incredibly cool!!! Huh? Does that describe Mob Psycho 100?? Can’t answer that if you ask!!!! Please feel the amazing Paradise Ginga x Mob Psycho 100-ness here!!!!!!”

---

Kameda describes how he wasn’t sure how best to adapt the manga into an anime format at first, since from the art he was shown he immediately knew it to be very unique - the idea of using Flash to animate the show was raised but quickly shot down

Originally, upon being asked about the show, he based his thoughts on what a web image search for Mob Psycho 100 gave him rather than having the actual manga in hand. “For the most part, the results that came back would be fanart (laughs). It’s a bit strange -  at that time, it was difficult to find art uploaded from the manga. If you could find anything, it’d just be art from the covers. So for the most part, an image search of Mob Psycho 100 would just bring you back fanart. A lot of that fanart would be… a shounen in a cool pose wearing a school uniform with smooth bobbed hair & sharp cat-like eyes, sort of like Hiei’s eyes (from Yu Yu Hakusho). Very different from the manga’s art. But when I looked at that art, I thought; this could work. Fanart is, fundamentally, ‘fans drawing what they like’, so I thought, ‘the anime having this kind of art would make the fans happy.’ Well, it didn’t work out that way, obviously. I was told the anime’s art should resemble that of the manga. (Laughs)”

He hadn’t read the manga so all he had for reference was art from volume 1 and the fanart he found online. “But I like things like spirits and urban legends, so seeing Dimple - a floating supernatural fiery ball - and being told the manga touches on the occult caused my interest to soar.”

Says that Teru is the easiest character for him to draw. “He’s overflowing with confidence, so it’s easy to put him into some cool poses. Mob and Ritsu in comparison, not so much. [...] With Reigen, he has a lot of poses that are like, he’s trying to look good. He takes a solid stance. I suppose Spirits & Such has such a shady air to it, and you have to hide that somehow, right? So, Reigen injects confidence into how he presents himself. A model-like stance.”

“The anime is faithful to the manga… ah, actually, Tsubomi-chan was changed with a ‘let’s make her more like a heroine’ conversation. So, I did so, but reading recent events in the manga I can’t picture her in her anime form (laughs). The manga’s Tsubomi isn’t much like a heroine, so I’ve found myself wondering, if we animate up until this part… just how will we approach it? The anime’s Tsubomi is so bright and sparkly, so she wouldn’t have snot hanging from her nose (vol.13 of manga), would she…? (Laughs). Perhaps we went a little too far with making her a heroine. Maybe, if we do season 2, we’ll turn her back into a normal girl (laughs). Well, Tachikawa-san is clever; I think he’ll find a way to make do with her current design.”

---

Picture text: "This is Mezato's first appearance, so I decided to make her cute!! Thank you in advance!!"

Picture text: "That girl was telling me such a stupid story this morning... aidzuchi* isn't easy, you know... I'll just ignore her tomorrow..." [* sounds made to indicate that you're listening to someone speak]

---

Asked about his favourite characters; “I love Mezato Ichi from the Newspaper Club. When I drew her in her character sheet in that pose where she’s holding her camera, I came to see her as being quite cute. So now I focus on her a lot; in fact, when I draw genga I sneakily choose the cuts that have her in them (laughs).”

“I also love Mob. Reigen stands out the most so your eyes naturally jump to him, but I love the balance that Mob has. His heads tall ratio... or rather, his face, and the way his body is proportioned? It makes him lovely. Ritsu is around the same height as Mob, but, how can I put this - the cuteness that Mob has, is lacking in Ritsu… due to the latter being quite standoffish, I suppose (laughs).”

Ritsu’s hair changing through the first season is discussed, and how it is purposefully shortened during the latter half. “I paid attention to making sure his hair was long especially while he was being possessed by Dimple. So it’d resemble thorns.”

“I feel Teru-kun is the most ‘yang’ of all the characters. The rest are more ‘yin’ in nature. Because of this, it’s easy to play around with his expressions - he’s fun to draw. Speaking in terms of Dragonball, he’s kind of like Mob Psycho 100’s Vegeta (laughs).”

“In episode 9, Dimple possesses one of Claw’s security guards, right? I don’t really understand why that security guard is so popular.” Q: What do you mean? “Because he’s just some middle-aged dude (laughs). He doesn’t even appear for long…”

After discussing the huge amount of SG!Dimple commissions received: “Unlike SG!Dimple, I don’t really get asked to draw Shou-kun. With this commission I thought to myself, I /have/ to include him here, and so I added him in. The initial brief excluded him.”

Asked about moments that stuck with him; “When Teru chokes Mob in episode 5. [...] Mob’s pained expression as he’s being choked is good, but Teru-kun’s face shows us… envy, jealousy, distress, anxiety.”

“Also, the ‘super real Reigen’ sequence from episode 12. The tension between Reigen and Sakurai is funny, but the art itself has had me laughing since production. It’s funny no matter how many times I look at it!”

Kameda’s idea to have the characters make number shapes for the volume art came from him watching ‘Tonneruzu no Minasan no Okage deshita’, specifically the ‘Mojimoji-kun’ segment of the show (where they try to make numbers from their bodies)

Volume 6’s cover art was first planned to have a whole ensemble of characters, but Kameda changed his mind on this - “if we do a second season, we can leave that for volume 12 (laughs).”

Volume 4's cover was originally planned to feature only Onigawara and Gouda, but Kameda found himself wanting to include the rest of the body improvement club

Regarding the pose we see on vol 6’s package art, “My original thoughts for that cover were to have Reigen and Mob in a ‘hell wheel’ pose, like, Mob pulling Reigen’s legs and arms… but that wouldn’t be very fitting for the final volume.”

His message to the readers; “Thank you for your support! With sales, the ‘this is popular!’ message gets conveyed, and the more support you give us, then there’s no doubt we’ll be able to produce season 2 and season 3!! Season 2 relies on your support. It’s in your hands - thank you!!”

---

Crossposted on twitter here.

[bridgyrose]

Salem's vessel au. Does Salem ever convince Ruby to commit her first crime?

Ruby sighed as she walked through the weapons shop, looking at parts to start upgrading her weapon. It had only been a week since classes had started and right now, she was excited for a little time away from her team. 

Salem’s voice ran through Ruby’s mind, keeping calm. “You know they dont accept you.”

“Of course they do. They’re my teammates. My friends. Sure, we have a lot of… disagreements, but we’re working on it.” 

“But tell me, why would they want to listen to someone who’s two years their junior? Dont you think its a bit… humiliating for them?”

Ruby stopped for a moment as she listened to Salem’s words. “I’m not sure I understand.” 

“Think about it: you’re two years younger than most anybody in this academy. Why should they listen to someone like you? Someone who lacks the experience that they do?”

“They’re giving me a chance. That’s all that matters.” 

“That Schnee girl seems to be trying to get you kicked out.”

“Weiss is starting to accept that I’m the team leader.” Ruby sighed and started looking through a few scopes, trying to find one that would work for her sniper scythe. “I know the disagreements we have are… frequent, but that doesnt mean she’s trying to get me kicked out of the academy.” 

“Is that why she intentionally gave you the wrong notes to study from?” Salem smirked a bit inside of Ruby’s head. “Or how about the time she tried to get Ozpin to reconsider you being the leader. This has been a long week of her trying to make you fail, to take your dream away from you.”

“So what, you just want me to pick up a life of crime because no one’s going to give me a chance?” Ruby rolled her eyes. “I’m not someone who’s going to hate others just because a couple people are rude. For a supposedly all powerful witch-” Ruby’s body seized up, cutting off the words she was trying to say. 

Salem took over Ruby’s body in a flash of red. “Mind your tongue, girl. I’ve been alive for longer than this go-around of humanity. I’ve seen kingdoms rise and fall, I’ve lived through your history’s greatest events. Do not mistake what I’m saying as a claim that you should only hurt those that disagree with you. All I’m merely saying is pay attention to what those around you do. See how they perceive you. Like those goons over to the side.” 

Two men came into Ruby’s vision as Salem faced them. The men smirked at the younger girl, looking her over. Ruby suddenly felt disgusted by what she saw. 

Salem went back to browsing for Ruby, pretending to be her. “You need to become more aware of your surroundings. The more you see, the easier it is for you to tell the intent of those around you. Those men clearly like what they see about you. You’re young, you look naive, and chances are, they’re going to wait until you’re alone. However, we have the opportunity to change that.” 

“I… dont understand.”

Salem pulled Ruby’s scythe off her back, smirking a bit. “We’re going to give them a reason to leave you alone.” 

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

Ruby groaned as she cleaned blood off the blade of her scythe. “When you said you wanted to give them a reason, I didnt think you meant this.” 

“If it wasnt you, it was going to be someone else. You’re my vessel and I’m going to protect you.”

“And murder is out of the question. I’m trying to be a huntress and killing isnt how you solve problems.” 

“Then maybe you dont really know why Ozma set up these academies to start with.”

Ruby sighed and put her scythe down, most of the blood cleaned off. “You keep saying not to trust him, but you still havent told me why. We’re alone in the dorm now, can you please tell me what’s going on?” 

“Since it’s a bit relevant to whats going on now, I’ll tell you.”

Ruby smiled a bit. “Finally.” 

Salem slowly started to take control of Ruby’s body, leaving Ruby’s mind to wander her memories. Memories of a time where the gods walked among the land with humanity. “There once was a time where the gods lived on Remnant with their creations.”

Ruby went silent as she watched the memories run through her own mind, only seeing what Salem allowed her to see. The way the gods tormented Salem by bringing back Ozma and killing him in front of her. The way they punished her for only wanting the love of her life back. Humanity being destroyed and coming back, only for Ozma to betray Salem, killing their daughters in the process. 

Salem let her mind shut close, pulling her mind away from Ruby’s to let everything sink in. “Do you understand now? The gods, Ozma, all they wish to do is cause harm for anyone who lives on this world. But I have a different plan. I want to bring a new order into this world. One that will allow you to have your mother again, the one that Ozma sent away only for her to never return.”

Ruby got up and went to lay down in her bed to try to process everything that she saw. “And all of this… really happened?” 

“Every last image you saw.”

Ruby nodded slowly, taking a few deep breaths. “I… I think I just need to be alone for a bit. I need time to take all of this in.” 

Salem started to drift away from Ruby’s mind, giving her peace and quiet to think. 

[curechocolattymilk]

So what's your modlist now post-clean up? Asking because I found some really nice mods from your posts about the game and I'm curious what you found now!

Hoo boy its a lot so read more

Main/Tei-specific modlist below (THIS IS A SSE MOD LIST)

Note: I removed the Alik'r desert mod, it was mainly just a non-vanilla spot for me to test out some new mods n avoid the forced story progress. Also mods marked with a colored text will have NSFW images (namely nudity) uploaded by the author on their pages, fair warning for that! But also let me know if I missed color-coding a mod!

Stuff for the general fixes/improvements/main requirements for most of these mods

Address Library for SKSE Plugins

Bodyslide & Outfit Studio (Required for Rugged Preset)

CBBE + Rugged Preset

Cutting Room Floor

D13 Faster Get Up

Dragon Stalking Fix

ELFX (Main file, main fixes, & True Storms + Alt. Start patch)

Engine Fixes

Face Discoloration Fix

Fuz Ro D'oh

Jaxonz MCM Kicker

NetScriptFramework

PapyrusUtil SE

SKSE

SKYUI + Flashing Savegame fix

SMIM

USSEP

also Wyre Bash+SSEEdit! (Not exactly mods, but good programs to keep you from fucking over your mods/skyrim game)

Mods I'm using for now (A-Z, will note if they are replacement mods)

A Matter of Time

Adamant - A Perk Overhaul (Ordinator replacement, lightweight. Not as intensive/dnd focused as the former, but it's not all that bad!)

Adoptable Argonian Hatching Chases-Starlight

Aetherius - A Race Overhaul (Gets rid of racial powers & you'll need SPID, which i need to get later, to have it apply to NPCs as well)

Alternate Conversation Camera

Alternate Start

Arena - An Encounter Zone Overhaul + Harder Easy Spawns file

Argonian Improvements Horns SSE

Around the Fire

Aurbic Alduin

Authentic Eyes

BAT - Bigger Argonian Tails

Beast Race Bodypaints

BeastHHBB (NPC replacer version) + Interesting Beasts & Beards to Find Them (Uses BeastHHBB on the beast race NPCs from 3DNPCs)

Better Claws & Gauntlets SSE

Better Immersive College of Winterhold

Better Jumping SE

Bigger Tails for Werewolves

Blade and Blunt - A Combat Overhaul (Replacement for Wildcat if I remember correctly! Again, very lightweight/works more on improving vanilla than changing it extremely)

Campfire + Unofficial SSE Update file

Character Creation Overhaul - Races - Birthsigns - Classes - Skills - Specializations - Attributes

Civil War Aftermath SE

Convenient Horses

Civil War Neutrality SSE

Dawnguard Music Overhaul (All modules)

Deadly Dragons SE

Death is Highly Overrated 2021 parts 1 & 2

Digitigrade Beast Races for Skyrim SE

Disease - Sanies Lupinus (Adds the lycanthrope disease that was cut from the game, good for if your PC is a werebeast b4 the main quest starts & also what I use since my werewolf overhaul replacement doesn't have an early lycan option! Doesn't break the companions quest in any way from my experience)

Diverse Skyrim SSE

Diverse Werewolves Collection + Player werewolf replacer

Dominions More Argonians

Draw - A Dueling Mod

Enigma Series -AIO- + Compatibility patch for Talkative Dragons

FAR - Forgotten Argonian Roots

Forgotten Magic Redone (Apocalypse replace # 1 - adds in some more spells)

Guard Dialogue Overhaul SE

Hardcore Saving Overhaul (removes a lot of saving options & only gives you limited ones [i.e. save via rest, drinking a specific potion, or save & exiting via a coin] - just added this one to bump up the difficulty for myself)

Hearthfire Multiple Adoptions and Custom Home Support SE

Honed Metal SSE Updated + Revoiced

Horns Are Forever SE

Hun Lovaas - Replacer Version

Hunterborn

Hypertrichosis -Extra Gore Edition-

Immersive Armors

Immersive Citizens

Immersive College of Winterhold SE

Immersive Good Boy

Immersive Movement

Immersive Patrols SE

Immersive Weapons

Immersive World Encounters SE

iNeed - Food Water and Sleep - Continued

Inigo + Marriage Commentary Patch for Kaidan 2

Interesting NPCS + Patches (CRF for me)+ Cyb's 3DNPC replacer (Note, if you want to use the BHHBB replacer for this mod as well, you have to let it overwrite 2 specific files [0000294C2.nif & 000294c2.dds], I haven't tested if it will mess w/ the non beast race NPCs just yet buut I doubt it will)

Kaidan 2 + Pandorable's Kaidan SE (Soon to be 3 if my assumptions for this November is correct)

Khash the Argonian + Patches

Leviathan Animations (Sprint - 2H High Stance - 2H Normal + Power Attacks - Female Idle walk & run - Male Idle Walk & run)

Lucien - Immersive Fully Voiced Male Follower

Manbeast - A Werewolf Overhaul (Growl replacement, another lightweight mod but very solid)

Mannequin Stay Put

Melodies of Civilization 1.01 + Replacer

Miraak - Dragonborn Follower SE + Dialogue Plus (Probably gonna drop this mod come the S:EC release, I just use it as a way to not become Mora's champion)

Monster race crash fix (for Playable Dragons)

More Tavern Idles compatibility version

My Little Hatchling - Ram-Ku

Mysticism - A Magic Overhaul (Apocalypse replacer #2 - lightweight)

Nether's Follower Framework

PC head Tracking and Voice Type SE (Using PC Head Tracking Voice Pack - BeastFolk [Male Argonian specifically] for the BYO/Custom since it adds more lines for beast folk.)

Play as a Dragon SE - Experimental Version

Practical Female Armors SE

Pride of Valhalla CBBE

Pronouns + They/Them patcher

RaceMenu

Racial Body Morphs SE

Real Bosses + Heavy file (bcus I love pain apparently)

Redguard Noble Armor SSE

Redguard Children Skintone Fix

Run For Your Lives

Sarcastic Player Dialogue SE

Serana Dialogue Edit - SSE

Shout - A Complete Immersive and Dynamic Overhaul of all Shouts

Shut Up Night Mother

Signature Equipment

Simple Forsworn - SE Port

Simple Werewolf Favourite Howls Menu

Simply No Fast Travel

Skald's Mail - A Courier Alternative

SkyHUD

SkyTEST + SkyTEST - Bellyaches HD collection SE + SkyTEST - Better sheep SE + SkyTEST - Mihail's chick replacer and better idle sound SE + SkyTEST - Mihail's gray farm goose SE

Smart No More Stupid Dog Comments

Song of the Green (Auri Follower)

Still - Skyrim Inspired Music -Replacer Version

Tail Armors - BAT compatibility version

Talkative Dragons

The Library of Paarthurnax

The Paarthurnax Dilemma

TK Dodge SE

TK Hitstop SE

Touring Carriages + Immersive Citizens Patch

True Storms + Wet & Cold patch

Ultimate Combat SE

Vampiric Serana

Wearable Lanters + MCM Fix

Werewolf Feral Beast Run + Faster Werewolves file

Werewolf Loot and Activate

Wet and Cold SE

& THERE'S THE WHOLE LIST WHEW