#maybe with some limitations compared to the light block like maybe it's only up to a dim limit like candles

[nexus-nebulae]

what if in minecraft they did add fireflies except it's just a pretty decor block and functions similarly to the Light block

[akirathedramaqueen]

There's one piece of concept art that made me see the entire Apology Tour disaster in a different light.

So, we've been talking with @warblogs17282 about Stolitz and how their break-up ended up playing out in the 'Apology Tour' episode.

Why ended up? Well, there's a collection of concept art which, to my limited understanding of this craft, is one of the first steps in the production process of animation. This post by @birdy-babe includes a great chunk of it, shared by artists after the episodes aired (like storyboards, but much more stylised, showing how different some original ideas were). Long story short, one of the concept arts from the 'Apology Tour' episode suggests their quarrel was originally meant to be much harsher.

A short summary of the concept art to see what we are dealing with

In the background, you see a lot of apology postcards and silly cutesy stationery, suggesting Blitzø is in the middle of his Apology Tour.

The contact name isn't 'Stols' but 'Bird Dick,' implying their relationship is at an earlier stage, with less respect—at least on Blitzø's part.

There's a photo partially cut by the edge of the messages screen. From the signature gloves and boots, cowboy hat covering Blitzø's private parts, and visible nipples, it appears to be a nude image—replaced in later stages of development with stupid gay affirmation memes (as hard as it is to believe, I couldn't imagine there could be anything worse than the Striker horse gay jokes... well, it could, my dudes, it fucking COULD).

There are three messages, one of which is unsent:

"Stolas, cum awwwwwwn, u no u want it :)"—likely attached to the nude;

"Dude just talk to me"—desperation crawls in; he finally realises the shit has hit the fan;

"Im sowwy :("—an apology, but the text remains unsent, perhaps because it seems pointless, given that the 'Not Delivered' notifications and warning signs indicate Stolas has blocked his number.

Why do I find this fascinating, and why does it fill me with immense hope?

Because they still fucking care so much, and neither has completely closed the door on the other. By comparing the concept art to the final product, you can see how many intentional choices were made in dialogue, visuals, and behaviour to make it clear that these two idiots still want things to continue. Stolitz is meant to fucking live.

Now, if you want to see some comparisons—evidence, really—let's dive into each other's changes, focusing on what we can gather from the concept art.

Blitzø's side

Change 1—thank gods, no nudes. The gay memes are sillier and a bit lighter. Of course, they still showcase utter disrespect, a horrible prejudice against sexuality, and a poor understanding of how deeply Stolas was hurt, but I find them... less bad.

Change 2—no more 'Bird Dick.' Blitzø has actually come up with a real nickname for Stolas! Feelings are boring for you, huh, Blitzø? I can almost hear the song’s lines: "O-oh, hooked, addicted you might say, conflicted in a way…"

Change 3—Blitzø's attempts to apologize now show much more contemplation. Since Stolas hasn’t blocked him, Blitzø knows his words aren’t just being thrown into the void. Although the 'unsent' detail remains, it now carries real weight and impact.

All three changes are seen in these two GIFs.

He knows he did wrong. He knows he wants to salvage it. He might not yet know how to do it healthily, but he tries—he tries so fucking hard!

Look at the range of raw, cutting emotions as he speaks to Stolas and finally delivers his apology—probably the only one he genuinely meant. Well, maybe except for Verosika, a bit later.

It's not that it's hard for Blitzø to say 'sorry'—we've seen him do it a lot lately. He's actually quick to apologise and take responsibility, so Stolas's remark about him not feeling any remorse couldn’t be further from the truth. But the fact that he isn't running away this time—chasing after Stolas and trying his best to mend things—is drastically different from how he treated Verosika back then.

Stolas's side

Here’s the moment that struck me deep. It’s the only change, since the concept art shows Blitzø’s POV, but it’s such a significant one.

Do you think Stolas has moved on? Do you think he’s done with Blitzø? Not convinced, even when he’s literally singing about still wanting Blitzø?

Well, here’s your proof—he didn’t block Blitzø. They scrapped that.

More than that, the entire interaction emphasizes that Stolas isn’t pushing Blitzø away for good.

How do I know this? Stolas is very insistent on using phrases like 'for now,' 'right now,' and 'now' throughout his attempts to tell Blitzø off.

Here are some citations:

"I was hoping my lack of 'ha-ha's' in response to the photos you sent me would be an indicator I didn't want to talk right now."

"Seeing you right now is hard!"

"I'm tired of this! I'm uncomfortable with how you're speaking to me now!"

Why is this so important? Because he isn’t asking Blitzø to leave him forever. All he’s asking for is time.

Even while hurt, Stolas gives Blitzø plenty of chances to explain himself civilly. Look at the hopeful glances each time Blitzø shows any glimpse of genuineness.

Stolas fucking hopes Blitzø will take back all the cruel things said and brash actions done.

You know, Stolas... I've spent the entirety of this morning listening to love ballads, and that was...

For what?! You want me to be like, "Oh sorry, this entire time I assumed the worst because I was convinced a prince could never love someone like me and I've let my self-hatred stop me from apologising to anyone I could ever care about!"

You see the furrowed brows and the sad look? Stolas hopes for the best... but gets the worst because Blitzø isn’t there yet.

I’d even go so far as to say Stolas is acutely aware that Blitzø uses his brashness as a shield to protect himself. He literally sang about it in 'Just Look My Way.'

Unless it's me? And no matter what in this world I could give, it's not enough to get through these walls you've conjured up to live.

So, what gives?

Is this the behaviour of people who want to give up on a relationship they still clearly hold dear?

No. Even when they’re angry, aggressive, hurt, or drunk, they still seek understanding and forgiveness. They continue to listen and try.

They might lack the skills and may choose the wrong time, place, or words to express what truly matters...

One person, scared of being rejected so much that he unconsciously conveys this message by saying, "You don’t have to stay here with me," and carrying it throughout the whole conversation...

The other, coming to terms with his feelings, admits them, and his fears, a bit too late—when his romantic interest is too drunk to comprehend anything…

And in both cases—self-loathing, self-hatred, doubts, scars, trauma… and a lack of hope.

But there is hope. No, this is reassurance, my folks.

You know when it's hardest to stay in a relationship? When it’s hardest to come and say, "I am sorry," when it’s hardest to still love the person?

When you’re hurt. When they’ve hurt you.

And, despite that, you still come to them and still want to talk to them.

If this isn’t ironclad evidence that this is more than just a fling or a couple of fun sex dates, I don’t know what is.

And the 'Apology Tour' fucking proves it, rather than ruins it. It only strengthens the point. It’s easy to live in happiness, but it’s so hard to go through it while you’re in pain. When you see them doing that, you realise it means everything to them.

Stolitz is to live.

[stvrchaser]

jay kelso when his parents stop him from seeing you like kitty and red did leia 🤭

a rebel at heart

( note ) : hey! thanks for the request! i had a lot of fun writing this and i hope it lives up to your expectations. i really tried to go for that light-hearted summer romance vibe. i wanted to match the sit-com feel too. i threw in some sarcasm to make it seem genuine. enjoy!!

p.s. sorry if any of the paragraphs repeat below the cut. i’ve been having the same issue for months but nothing i do seems to fix it

( pairing ) : jay kelso x reader

( words ) : 1335

You know, logically, that ten feet is nothing compared to the three-hundred foot block you just walked in the sweltering heat. But looking down at that distance, from a slanted roof and the hard ground at your feet…

Well. That changes a few things.

Jay broke his arm over the weekend trying to do some crazy stunt off a cliff. It was supposed to be a fun date — a picnic setup by the edge, overlooking the water, and a boom box stereo blaring your favorite songs. It was supposed to be great. And it was great, until it wasn’t.

In hindsight, you really shouldn’t have taken him to that spot, but the summer heat had limited your options. Going to a park didn’t sound so appealing when the sun could bore holes into your clothes, the woods would have had mosquitoes feasting on you two within seconds, and the community pool would have been too crowded on a day like that.

So what better plan than to have that date on a quiet, secluded, cool cliff side?

So what better plan than to have that date on a quiet, secluded, cool cliff side?

You didn’t think your boyfriend, even with his flair of dramatics, would land you in the ER by the end of it. But, hey. Like he said, “At least this isn’t a date we’ll forget.”

It was memorable, that’s for sure. If only it hadn’t gotten you two banned from seeing each other for the next week. Well, that was a bit of a stretch. You believe their exact words were, “Jay, you’re not allowed to leave the house for the next week.” It wasn’t a punishment, per se. More of a “valuable life lesson,” Jackie called it. She, Micheal, and Jay looked a little horrified as she’d said it. You guessed this didn’t happen very often.

Jay was, for lack of a better term, grounded. You think it’s really just to keep him from straining his arm — or worse, breaking the other one — so you respected his parents’ wishes. Jay, you’re not allowed to leave the house for the next week. At no point did you hear that you couldn’t come over.

So, here you are, sneaking into his bedroom window. Aren’t you just the epitome of romance? It would be a whole lot more romantic if you didn’t slip off the roof and die.

“Jay,” you whisper, tapping his window. The urgency in your voice, or maybe just hearing your voice at all, forced him upright. It’s not too late but being grounded left him with nothing to do. No TV, no computer, no Nate, and no girlfriend. The horror. You guess he opted in for sleeping early. The light of his bedside table keeps the room dimly lit and you can just make out the silhouette of him. He turns in bed, surprised.

“Y/N?” You watch him kick the covers off, his arm still wrapped in a sling. He seems to have forgotten with all the excitement because he winces when he opens the window with his uninjured arm like he’d tried to use it too.

“Easy, tiger.” It strays from your long list of nicknames, but Jay doesn’t seem to mind. He’s got that grin that makes the world slow, like you’ve got all the time in the universe and you’re lucky enough to spend it with him. Granted, it’s the same look he gave you right before he jumped off that cliff and did that incredibly stupid flip, but you’re very much in love with him. That comes with a pass, doesn’t it?

You’ve barely made it halfway through the window when he pulls you in for a kiss. You can feel him smile into it.

“Your parents must hate me if they’re keeping me away from this,” you whisper, savoring the moment.

“My parents love you,” he says obliviously. He seems a little dazed, a little slow to pick up on the humor in your tone.

“Yeah, they do,” you admit. “It’s still not fair. I missed you.”

“How do you think I feel?”

“Wanna tell me about it?”

“You know I’m not too good with words.”

“Show me, then.”

He pulls you away from the window, going in for another kiss. But then he notices the way you visibly relax the further away you are from the window.

“You took me to a cliff. Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights.” He’s teasing, but there’s genuine curiosity in his voice.

“I’m scared of giving your parents a reason to hate me. We’re basically on probation, Jay.”

“See? This is why they love you. You actually care about their rules.” He plants a kiss on your cheek.

“You don’t?”

“What can I say? I’m a rebel at heart.”

You have to laugh a little. He sounds so smug, so genuinely confident in that statement. You almost don’t want to ruin it. Almost.

“You don’t think so?”

“No, you definitely have a rebellious streak. It’s just… don’t you think there are better words to describe you?”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” His tone sounds suggestive, expecting some sort of praise you refuse to give him just yet.

“Well, personally, I think ‘princess’ suits you better than ‘rebel.’”

“Princess?”

“Locked up in your tower, your knight in shining armor coming to save you… I’d say it fits.” You’re kneeling on his bed, fingers running through his hair while his hand taps an absentminded beat against your waist.

“Oh, you think you’re the knight?” he asks, challenging you. There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes, visible even in the dark.

“I’m here to save you from boredom, aren’t I?” You don’t mention that saving him from boredom conveniently satisfies your boredom too. He figures it out, anyway.

“Hm, are we sure it’s not the other way around?”

“Nope. I don’t think so.” You shake your head, face determined to keep this joke up. “But, you know, if I was wrong in assuming that you missed me, I can leave. I wouldn’t want to intrude on your alone ti—“

“No!” You start to turn around, heading for the window. His arm instinctively reaches to stop you, but not before he practically yells for you. It forces you to turn back, eyes wide, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle whatever else he was trying to say. You shush him, listening for the creak of a door or incoming footsteps.

When you’re sure nobody had heard, you throw a punch at his shoulder.

“They could have heard you!” You were half whispering and yelling, careful not to raise your voice but eager to get him to comply. It’s nothing serious. There’s more thrill to your voice than anxiousness.

“You were going to leave!”

“Buttercup, I was just messing with you.” You hold his face in your hands, squeezing his cheeks as he rolls his eyes. There’s a childishness about him, about what you two have, that heals something in you. Like a long-forgotten memory where all that’s left is the way it makes you feel. And, damn it, nobody’s ever made you feel like this.

“You’re so funny. How about we don’t do it again?” He squeezes your wrist but doesn’t try to pry you off. If anything, he seems to want to keep you right where you are.

“Whatever you say, princess.” He groans.

“Oh, no. Is that gonna stick?”

“Only if you want it to. I’m your knight, aren’t I? I think obeying royalty is in my job description.” He smiles, not entirely unhappy with the prospect of that idea.

“Well, when you put it like that…” It makes you laugh, how easily he warms to the thought.

“Like I said, you make a very convincing princess. Pretty face, pretty hair. Rapunzel’s got nothing on you.” You sit beside him, pushing tousled hair from his eyes and watching the corners of his mouth turn to a smile. He leans into your touch, broken arms and summer heat forgotten.

You take note that he doesn’t make any effort to protest after that.

[potsmart]

How To Smoke Weed Discreetly: A Simple Guide to Getting High on the Down Low

Sure, yeah, it’s legal, but the odour of cannabis can draw unwanted attention. To avoid detection by neighbours, roommates, landlords, bosses, or whoever, here are tips to conceal the smell of weed.

Classic Door Towel

To conceal your deep dankness, shove a towel into the door into the crack. Grinding, dabbing, and vaping can all be detected easier if air is flowing through the crack under the door. Block it up! Dampen the towel for extra credit and use it to block any gaps between the floor and door.

Ventilation For Victory

Hiding the odour of AAA weed requires expedited extraction of the scent from the space. One solution is to use a room with a window and place a fan blowing out said window. To enhance the effectiveness, blow your smoke through that fan and out the window. If you’re a regular wake ‘n’ baker, consider investing in an air purifier to eliminate the smell of weed smoke lingering.

Skip The Paperwork

Lighting up a joint or blunt is like sending up a smoke signal, announcing your presence to anyone within smelling distance. The papers will stay lit, constantly releasing the smell into the air. Getting the scent of stale smoke out of a room after a session can be as difficult as getting rid of an unwanted guest – it can linger for days. If you must smoke, a pipe is the better option to be a stealthy stank ninja.

One In – One Out Policy

A bowl can stay lit after a hit is finished allowing trails of smoke to spread and stink up the area. The less cannabis smoke in the air, the better, so some people cap their bowls. My buddy uses the top to a dab container to cover his bong bowls after a rip.

Another  good way to keep smells down when smoking bowls, bubblers or bongs is to only pack as much as you can smoke in one hit. This way there should be no cherry and nothing but ash left by the time you’re done inhaling. And you ventilated for the exhale right? …Right?!

Shop for a bowl or bong here.

Sploof Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself

The term “sploof” may sound whimsical, but it’s a helpful tool in reducing the odour from a smoke session. It’s a device that you blow smoke into, which filters out the unpleasant scent.

You can easily make your own sploof using a paper towel or toilet roll filled with dryer sheets. Simply secure a dryer sheet on one end with a rubber band or tape. There are also commercial products, that use activated carbon to filter second-hand smoke, like a filter purifying water. When you exhale all of your smoke through a sploof at the back of a fan and limit your smoking to one-hitters, the amount of smoke and odour in the air should be minimal. Nice.

Vapes Are Your Friend, Young Wizard

Using a vaporizer is like a cloak of invisibility when it comes to the smell of smouldering skunk. Live out your best Harry Pothead fantasies as it won’t linger or stick to your clothes like smoke. MAGIC!

After a vape session, a piece of gum or a breath mint can help cover the scent, but it’s still a good idea to towel your door and use a fan to minimize the smell of the vaporization process. Compared to smoke, the scent of vaporized cannabis or concentrates is less intense and noticeable.

As long as the visible cloud cast by your magical exhalation is not directed towards someone nearby, no one will know you’re getting high. Taking puffs when nobody is looking and hiding your vaporizer in a pocket when not in use can help keep things low-key, you sneaky weed wizard you.

Check out these vapes here:

Clean Yourself Up, You Filthy Wook

Here’s some free game, wash your hands. You know, this applies to more than just weed. Washing your hands is just a great idea. Maybe you should get up right now and wash yours real quick. Your keyboard will thank you. But, back to the point, wash your hands, brush your teeth and change your shirt. This will get rid of a lot of the lingering odour that you literally cannot smell. You have become the source of the stank now. Your dragon breath is a dead giveaway. Your fingers smell like ash and your clothes are a carrier, change it.

Now you’re ready to confidently walk out into the world, look the cute girl at the NomNomNom Poutine dead in the eye and reply, “Yes, um yes, I am high, erm, sorry, I guess I’ll just take a double cheese.”

Looking good. ;)

Oh Ya, Keep It Locked Up Tight

Get yourself a jar. If you need to learn how to store your weed best, check out our previous article, “Is My Weed Too Old: The Duration of Dankness“. You know that bag isn’t smell proof though, so stash your stash a little more discreetly and win.

By Richard “Dick” Weed, Guest Contributor, for Potsmart

[zoydraft]

KL's Peasant Cube

April 20, 2024 draft. 4 players, 5 packs of 9.

List: https://cubecobra.com/c/10oz

Another draft fired from the Toronto Cube Community Discord! This time KL was hosting, and we drafted his Peasant Cube. The defining features as he introduced it are:

Narrow powerband

Emphasis on mechanics that incentivize attacking

Availability of sideboard options

The last item in that list is especially interesting. It's something I've done a little, and am being more and more sold on. I'm not good at sideboarding, but I've never played another cube where sideboarding provides such an obvious advantage.

My default is to try for an optimal game 1 build of my deck and make pretty minimal changes between games. When you're building an engine, or just have efficient cards, it can feel like sideboard answers don't have a place. Here though, KL has succeeded in keeping the powerband really tight. The narrow power bands are a cliché, but he's actually delivered on it. One of the drafters commented that it makes the draft uninteresting. I can see that. Compared to a lot of cubes it didn't feel as much like building a specific deck (huge caveat: I think that's also a result of the 4:5:9 draft setup), but if/when I draft this cube again I'll shift my mindset: what will happen if instead of drafting a "deck" I'm drafting a pool with sideboard plans?

On Saturday I drafted a Boros deck with some light +1/+1 counters, equipment, and flicker themes.

KL was not kidding about removal being light. I took almost everything I saw and didn't end up with much. I made the four red spells work for me, but it was tough going. (I also ran Planar Disruption, which was decent, but had sided it out before my last game). I would've killed for a Banishing Light. Vampire's Vengeance was surprisingly useful.

Recruitment Officer and Bola Slinger were huge for me, with Frenzied Goblin doing some work too. Nothing I played felt like it shouldn't have been in the cube, but I did find myself craving equipment that added power and toughness cuz...

This cube might be about power and toughness. The impact of the rules text is light enough that the bodies really, really matter. The vanilla test is crucial.

With the importance of P/T in the context of scarce removal, I think combat tricks could really over perform. Looking at what's available... of course I didn't prioritize them: the rates are rough ...but they're probably more playable than I imagined.

Looking at a couple sample P1P1's, 4/4's and 5/5's look really tempting. Combat tricks don't, but maybe on the wheel.

Stray thoughts:

My favourite thing here is the use of sideboard options to enrich matches. I want my cube to have more of that, and I hope KL keeps leaning into it.

Is 540 the right size for this cube? Is 5 packs of 9 the best way to deliver the target experience with 4 players? When you only see 150 cards players don't have a ton of agency in the draft, and this is probably limiting synergy more than card selection.

Inefficient removal provides a certain texture; it works here. Scarce removal is a different texture, which I'm not sure is intended. This may have just been the 180 cards we had at the table, but at a very rough pass it looks like the ASFAN of removal might be under 1.5, which is pretty tight

Despite the removal, board stalls weren't a big problem in my games, which is great. Attacking is good! Games were brisk, and we finished the draft and round robin in like 3 hours I think, which rules.

I love that Peasant has some board wipes.

Would it be worthwhile to signal that combat tricks are viable? Feather isn't legal here, but maybe something like a Heroic theme? I'm not a fan of Heroic specifically, but something in the card pool that suggests playing tricks. Combat tricks are mentioned in the overview, but I mean signalling it through card selection, within the draft.

Incentives to attack are really fun. Cards that punish blocking are less fun. General Marhault Elsdragon was rightfully called out as a power outlier. It also provides rough play patterns: when you've got a 2/2 facing down a 4/4 trampler, the choice of taking 4 damage or losing your 2/2 and taking 6 isn't an interesting decision (but it does advance the game!)

Thank you so much to KL for hosting and providing the cube, and to everyone for the games. It also spared me from watching a brutal Leafs loss, and I ran into SF on the way home which was a really nice surprise.

[hqmillioncorn]

Lalapril 4/5: Shatter

Babycorn clinked the spoon around the empty bowl of soup. She would be lying if she said it wasn’t delicious, Tilika’s cooking always was. And as much as she enjoyed it, Babycorn also enjoyed being up and about more than staying cooped up in one place. 

Staging an escape and using some aether to travel didn’t sound too hard.

Tilika slowly rounded her way around a corner, keeping her eye out for disobedient younger cousins with a pom on her head and cornmeal for brains. 

Her slow pace was a stark contrast to the rest of her teammates all making a sprint towards the middle of the battlefield.

“Go mid! Go Mid!” A Dark Knight zipped right past her yelling as loud as he possibly could. The steps of everyone running ahead drowned out any sounds besides that.

Tilika was glad that everyone seemed to be in their own little worlds. Even if anyone on her team should be upset she was moving at a snail’s pace compared to them she was sure a quick explanation of her situation would be enough for them to understand why.

Something along the lines of “My younger cousin woke up with a high fever this morning then the second I turned around she and most of her weapons were gone.” would probably be good enough of an explanation.

On Tilika’s next step, her foot sank into the snow. Between here and Garlemald she was getting real sick of snow real fast. The cold weather was also not going to do any favors for Babycorn’s health.

Tilika didn’t know whether she was going to kill Babycorn once she saw or hug her.

She gripped her sword and shield in her hand. It was probably pure dumb luck that Babycorn had forgotten her Paladin stone at home. But Tilika suspected there must have been more to it, from the way it was glowing and leading her out the door and all the way here.

She had heard Babycorn talk about “Frontlines” before but from what Tilika heard about it, it sounded like the absolute most miserable experience in all of Eorzea.

“Then why do you keep going back?”

“Because it's fun!!” Babycorn had said with a smile.

Tilika could only guess why Babycorn would sneak out here of all places while she was sick.

Maybe she was just running on autopilot? Who knew really?

As Tilika continued walking the exact opposite way of her team she noticed that a few members of the opposing team were getting closer. Then before she could wonder why they were heading the same way as her, Tilika noticed a bright light coming behind her.

Turning around she was met with a chunk of glowing ice staring her right in the face.

“Then there’s this one we play where we all attack a big ice!! Sometimes I lick the ice when no ones looking but you can’t tell anyone about that Tilika!”

…One of these days Tilika would really have to sit Babycorn down and explain to her what really can and can’t be eaten.

But she could deal with that tomorrow or some other day. Right now she had to focus on not getting ambushed by three other people.

“E-Excuse me?” Tilika raised her hand with her shield and tried to be as loud as she could.

To her surprise (and relief) the opposing team’s members seemed to not even notice her presence and went straight to beating the tar out of the ice behind her instead. From what Tilika had heard Babycorn explain, destroying ice was usually the objective in this game. It was only a matter of time until they turned to attack her instead. She was on a time limit.

“Excuse me?” Tilika paused in the middle of her question to block an incoming arrow with her shield. “I said-Excuse me!! Have any of you seen a little lalafell around here?”

A miqo'te member of the Immortal Flames team paused her attack on the ice mid axe swing to sheepishly point at a lalafell member of the Order of the Twin Adders. The lalafell also pointed at himself, wondering if this had anything to do with the battle high five bounty over his head.

“Oh! Oh no, no, no sorry! I’m not looking for you!”

Tilika put her sword down and gestured her hand down to the spot near her leg she knew Babycorn reached. “She’s short, just turned twenty-five again, short blond hair. Have any of you seen her around?” It was times like these Tilika considered carrying around a drawing of Babycorn and Cherrypit.

Suddenly the miqo'te spoke up, resting her ax on the ice. “Actually now that I think about it. I think I saw someone like that back in the base!”

Tilika lit up, “Really?!”

“Yeah!” she continued, “She was wearing a really long skirt and a shirt that reminded me of a famous inspector…?”

“That sounds exactly like her!” It was a good thing that Tilika had packed an extra set of warmer clothes with her that were exactly Babycorn sized.

At this point the rivaling team’s lalafell also chose to speak up. “Oh yeah! I’ve seen her around! She tried to limit break a group of us earlier! For some reason she missed all of us?” Which was strange because a dancer almost never missed.

Tilika sighed, “It’s probably because she’s horribly ill…That’s why I’m here, to pick her up before she gets any worse!” Back at the Wolves’ Den she had left behind all sorts of medicines and blankets just in case Babycorn needed them.

“Oh, man. She shouldn’t be out in this weather then.” the lalafell interjected.

“If only she knew that…”

The miqo'te picked up her axe and gestured back towards the direction she came from. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll take you back to base to check if she's there!”

“Oh! That would be wonderful! Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me yet. We might make it there but considering you’re a paladin and we’re heading straight into the base…Well…”

Tilika blinked, “Ah? What’s wrong with me being a paladin?”

Both the lalafell and miqo'te exchanged glances.  

“Just don’t be too surprised if another arrow flies into your shield!”

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

Babycorn let out a loud sneeze. Almost everyone in the Wolves’ Den stopped for a second to make sure that wasn’t actually the sound of a cannon misfiring.

Tilika took out another blanket and wrapped it around Babycorn. “See? This is what happens when you’re sick and you go out and fight in the cold.” She placed the warm beanie she knitted for Babycorn on top of her sickly head.

“I don’t get it. I should be all better by now.” Babycorn sniffled, she looked up at Tilika with the saddest looking eyes imaginable. Almost like she was asking Tilika why she was still feeling sick. Tilika figured the answer was pretty obvious.

“Sorry to say but you’re still sick because you went and overexerted yourself while being sick. The cold weather probably didn’t help either.”

“Whaaaat?” Babycorn looked shocked. “What I did always worked! Every time I was sick I jumped into a big river or lake and always felt better after! I don’t know why it didn’t work this time…”

Now it was Tilika’s turn to be shocked.

“You. Did. What?”

“You know! I j-jumped into a river! Just l-like I always did!”

Tilika didn’t even know where to begin.

Except with bundling Babycorn up and taking her home.

[yanderenightmare]

Can you write some more about nice guy jock kiri? Please and thank you. Have a good day!

yandere ! KIRISHIMA EIJIRO - RED RIOT

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, suggestive language, manipulation, coercion

THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY

He said she could pick the movie this time.

He said she could pick out any movie at all. Whatever she wanted, they were going to watch. Yet in the time she’d spent making lunch, Kirishima sprawled lazily in her bed, browsing half-mindedly, eyes sliding from viewing the screen to looking at her round grabbable ass dancing as she padded about the small kitchen, begging for him to come pinch as she put the stir-fry in bowls and walked over to plot herself down next to the muscly block of man, he’d already picked a movie, far away from something she’d choose, though when eyeing what puppy-dog look he gave her, she couldn't very well say no.

Kirishima has always been clingy. She wouldn't like to call it suffocating, or controlling, though it does border on the word. But she cannot blame him for being handsy and suggestive when they’re alone, in her apartment, in her bed. He’s always been needy, always touching her, so very big-hearted and forward, easily distracted, easily discarding of tasks in favor of doing what new activity calls for his attention, like a dog.

She was becoming quite used to his confident nature, how hap-hazardously he would go about touching her, kissing and licking at her the way he so often went about doing, so much so it was strange to think that they hadn't ever actually slept together.

They had been dating for a couple weeks, and Kirishima was clear about his intentions and aspirations and wants and needs from the start, being a very open honest person, but she couldn't help but feel as though he was pushing her, nudging her, guilt-tripping her with candid words of how horny he was because of her, how frustrated he was, how frigid, how it was effecting his schoolwork, how good a boyfriend he was for waiting, for being patient and tolerant, how she couldn't blame him for wanting something in return, even though that something was a thing she wasn't ready to give him.

It would be wrong if she said he didn't respect her wishes, because he had, albeit begrudgingly. Each time she invited him over, or... he invited himself over,  when he became rowdy, it would always take a good amount of bargaining and persuasion on her side, which was always met with even more coaxing and encouragement from him. How he would message his hand into the inside of her thigh, and she would push ever so gently to keep him at bay until he finally laid off, the mood stiff and awkward as he left her apartment to walk to his own place, alone, with a rejected boner he would have to take care of alone, then go to sleep alone, and wake up alone. He had still respected her wish in the end, or... maybe not respected, but at least accepted it.

She hadn't picked out the movie, and it being something she hadn't really invested very much thought into, she didn't try and stop him from nuzzling into her neck, kissing and sucking on the tender flesh found there. She allowed him to lift her shirt up to rub circles into her stomach with his warm roughened hand, let him grab and grope and mold her breast through the fabric of her bra, let him swing his leg over her body, to lock her position beneath him and his brawny heavy frame as he cuddled into her.

She could already feel the stiff bulge bump into her thigh, tried to forgive him for always riling himself up when he knows what her answer’s going to be, knows how she isn't ready to give him what he wants. Hearing his breathing picking up, becoming rugged and raspy, hot against her neck as he tried humping into her, having rolled and positioned and handled both their bodies so he could lie between her thighs, face mushed into the soft skin of her neck, nipping at her collarbones , spiky hair poking into the underside of her chin, hands abrasive when squeezing at the flesh of her ass and thighs, gripping them to lock around his torso, venturing to grab at her waist and breasts, becoming more and more frenzied, more and more rugged, forgetting his strength, forgetting her protests, getting more and more carried away.

She jolted once she felt his fingers hook into the band of her panties, having slipped up her skirt and spidered playfully up her thigh. She grabbed his arms loosely, small hands obviously not able to wrap around the thickness of his muscles, though applying what strength she deemed necessary to make him take her seriously, lightly digging her fingernails into his skin. “Uhm, Kiri-” She squeaked unsurely, breaching the shapeless noisy silence of heavy breathing and rugged groans and building growls that had filled the room, movie still quietly playing in the background, white noise completely ignored by the burning of her ears.

“Come on, let me feel.” He purred into her ear, giving her lobe a nibble. 

“Uhm, I don't think-” She shoved at him, balls of her feet digging into the mattress, trying to sit up.

He laid his weight down on her, immobilizing her movement, keeping her under him. “Come on...” He drawled, voice rumbling. “Please?” Mumbling into her skin, knowing how it always makes her giggle from the tickle by the light scruff on his chin, knowing it makes her sweet and pliable. “Pretty please? It’ll feel good, I promise.” 

He didn't really wait for any response, his face mushed into her neck, seeming cute as he pleaded but also acting as a great trap, his hand succeeded in pushing her panties aside, warm worn fingers, foreignly larger cuddled with the sensitivity kept there. His breath shuddered, lips spreading into a toothy grin against her neck, so wide she could feel it. 

“Aww.” He moaned. “That’s so warm and wet.” She cringed, but hadn't the time to tell him to stop, hadn't the time to decide that she valued her limits more than maintaining the good vibe, and then she hadn't the mind to really think about it at all, too preoccupied with wrapping her thoughts around the fact that Eijiro had just pushed one thick knuckled finger inside her, roughly at that, pumped it in, stuffed her with it, with an equally chaffed thumb-pad laying heavy pressure down into her little beading clit.

It would probably have felt awful, the brutish boyish clumsy inconsiderate rubbing, but having him dry-hump into her for the better half of the entire movie made for a little messy spill between her thighs, perfectly ready to make whatever rough movement he gave seem like God’s touch, enough to have her moan at once.

“Does that feel good?” He asked, cocky undertone almost completely smoked out by livid lust, his arousal so very clear in his voice as he removed his weight when feeling her body melt and comply to what his hand was giving her of bliss. His large muscly frame rising to kneel between her legs, having her thighs hiked up and spread atop of his, forehead resting against hers. She bobbed her head in a series of quick sporadic nods, teeth biting harshly into her lip as she watched with a bowed head his finger disappear in and out the vulnerable sensitivity found between her spread thighs, the smell of beer on his heavy hot breaths fan over her face before he kissed her head. “You wanna cum?” She gave a moan, indicating an unspoken yes as he rubbed his thumb over and over her tender pearl, pushing another one of his long fingers inside her, making her gasp out a moan, mewing as he curled and scissored the two digits inside her, making her inevitable unraveling arrive much quicker.

He wiped his sticky hand on his pant leg with a small smug smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, watching as her head fell back to rest against the pillow again, beginning to unbutton his jeans. 

The sound of him sliding down his zipper pulled her focus back, eyelids fluttering open just in time to watch him pull his throbbing hard erection out with a sigh. And though the red-head had gone about the reveal in an unceremonious manner, whether it was out of lack of showmanship or Kirishima deeming it unnecessary, it didn't really matter to the virgin beneath him. She took one look and she wasn’t able to look away. A surprising black bush drew her focus at first, what more the two easter-eggs that seemed to be nestling there, but not before long her eyes felt the need to follow what bulging pumping purple vein ran up the underside of the thickness, almost like a spine, or a pin that reached up to a red-blushed head, glossed like a candy-apple, with a slit running though it and a spill of pre-cum dripping down to disappear in the dark forest below.

She could swear it sized up to her whole arm’s-length.

Her eyebrows knitted as she continued eyeing the hard pole, watching it bob with strength, straining against his stomach, standing proudly on it’s own as he lifted his shirt off his arms and shoulders, throwing it to the floor, revealing what mouthwatering washboard rock-hard abs he kept beneath. 

His hand once again reached out, this time to grab her wrist, guiding her shaking hand back to his thick member, watching her hesitate to wrap her delicate little fingers around his length once he squeezed her wrist too hard in impatience, seeing her bite her lip at the feel of the almost rubbery-smooth texture of his length in her palm, warm to the touch. His larger hand wrapped around her smaller one, guiding the movement as he started pumping up and down.

He groaned, head hung and resting atop her shoulder where he knelt with her sitting form in his lap, red eyes with wide pupils locked on watching her small hand loosely holding onto him, his cock looking so unbelievably huge in her tiny grasp, like some beast, where the more he thought about it and the more he looked, it was big compared to all of her, he could only imagine what she was thinking as she eyed his length with that cute childish level of curiosity and sweet tinge of virgin anxiety. She needed to bite her lip to prevent it from trembling, wanting to squeeze her thighs shut when they too became unruly, wanting to protect what was kept between them.

It only made his cock throb even harder.

“I- fuck-” He grunted, thrusting shallowly up into her hand by angling his hips up, looking down upon her enticing pretty silken dew-kissed heat, his finger greedily reaching to touch the tender entrance only to hear her whimper out a small whine at once when his rough digits brazenly made contact. “You’re so shy, it’s adorable.” 

The loosely given hand-job felt good around his priorly ignored arousal, what with how sensitive he was, but was missing what her pussy was welcomingly dripping with. 

He lowered himself, hand grabbing his base to steady the attack, yet was declined by her placing her own hand in front of the poor unsuspecting virgin tightness. “Uhm, Kiri- I-”

He shushed at her, prying her hand easily away, replacing it with his own, rubbing those electrical patterns he did before into her pretty budding pearl. “No, no, Baby. Come on. Pretty please, it’ll feel so good, I’ll be gentle okay? It’ll be good, I promise.” He swirled his thumb over her clit, an act far from gentle, though sending those sharp involuntary spikes of pleasure into her core, giving to something pooling in her stomach, something warm and sticky and heavier than before, almost burdening with how it strained in the muscles of her thighs, making her shake beneath the man’s mere thumb. “I love you, Baby, don't you want us to take the next step?”

“Uhm...” She gasped as he abused the sensitivity under his course strength.

“Thank you, Baby.” He purred, lips carved into a smile fit for devouring, planting kisses down her face and into her neck, his cock pushing into the velvet folds.

But she backed up, balls of her feet pushing into the mattress, her palms doing the same, but Kirishima had other plans, none of them including letting her up.

“Kiri, no-” She pushed lightly at his chest then, as she’d done before, trying to soothe and smooth over the feathers she’d ruffled, trying ever so gently in those small soft caresses to apologize for having riled him up so.

But seems this time he wouldn't have that either, her hands cupped and pulled rather dismissively out of the way, dominated by his own and how he intertwined his digits, raking them in with her dainty ones, locking their hands, or rather securing hers, before pushing them flat into the sheets beside her, giving him full access to what lied beneath him without her bothersome fists getting in his way. “Come on, Babe... stop being a little tease...” Her hands slipped their confinements in his as he rather needed them to manage her body, felt that twitching itch to grab and grope and tug and pull at all her doughy flesh. She gasped as he groped a mans handful of her ass, bumping his bare cock into her, rubbing it up and over her pussy, bobbing between their stomachs.

His face was still so adamant on nibbling at the flesh of her collar, leaving what she knew to be ugly swelling purple stains that turned into those vile green and yellow marks looking like fungus blooming on her skin. “I’m sorry-” It was all too much to have his warm skin pressed against her, his naked hardness, all of him, his rough hands, his brutish needle-sharp teeth, that thing that poked at her, humped into her where he’d made a sticky wet hot mess, with her underwear put somewhere out of sight and most definitely out of reach. “I’m not ready to-” Her hands tried softly but with increasing effort at getting him off, trying to get her discomfort across to the seemingly clueless baboon who was handling her body to his own selfish ends on top of her. 

“It’s fine.” His voice was heated, soft despite trodding over her own, as he tried calming her down, again with his hands tugging at her wrists and pushing the annoying things away from him, again so he could lie himself down on top of her. “We’ll try something-” His efforts at soothing her weren’t appreciated by the girl beneath as she continued pushing, bordering on thrashing beneath the giant red-head.

“Kiri, stop. ” There was an edge to her voice this time, an edge he didn’t appreciate.

Large hand wrapped their fingers around her wrist and crushed it with a strength she couldn't hope to match, a dark chuckle following, rumbling just beside her ear alongside a small smile carving his lips at the cute pop of bones followed by her whimper. “Stop being so difficult, Babe.” He chastised, voice dismissive and completely unbothered by her spiked struggles, treating her reluctance like it was nothing but a minor inconvenience he could simply swat away like a fly. “I know you’ll like it, you just need to-”

“I don’t need to do anything!” She cried now, adorable small whines as she tried prying her hand out of his hold. “Get off me!”

“Kinda feels like you’re trying to piss me off here.” His tone darkened, and so did the look in his eyes, and though she was just short of bawling with the lump  of hopelessness and fear caught stuck in her throat, the adrenaline gave her such a rush of confidence as her leg finally managed to shuffle under his, allowing her to knee him right in that swelled thick slug he was so transfixed on appeasing.

And though she managed briefly to slip out from beneath him, it was no victory, and she felt that ounce of triumph that fluttered in her heart snuff out at the feel of his brawny taunt and rock hard arms wrap around her torso, hoisting her off the ground, only to throw her right back where she’d been laying not moments ago.

“Please, Eijirou, please, you're scaring me, stop.” She kicked now, flopping beneath him like a fish hauled up on a boat, tried prying her hands out of his grasp yet couldn't stop him from holding her down, rolling her on her stomach while he pulled off his uniform necktie, bending her arms behind her back and tightening the noose around her wrists, pulling the tail between them to secure the knot tightly, before rolling her back with her hands being crushed beneath her.

Her face reappeared tear-slicked and panicked. “There we go, all pretty and perfect for me.” He lightly tapped her face as he stuffed her mouth with the panties he fished back up from his pockets, settling between her legs again as she whined through the make-shift gag.

Rough course hand, like sandpaper, like rock, slid down between her thighs, slowly in their venture, pushing and kneading into the softness, hungry as they groped and pushed her open, wrapped her around his torso so he could slap his rock-solid cock onto her vulnerable little opening.

“Let me paint a picture for you, Babe.” He started, catching her attention. 

Her eyes so unbelievably wide as she looked up at him through the thick hazy ominous darkness of the room, a darkness that once seemed so cozy now so overwhelming, the sun having gone down, the TV turned to black, the lights left off and the only glimmer coming from the streetlights and the dim white glow of the moon shining in through her window, leaving Kirishima’s sharp teeth to hang above her and how they seemed to drip, eerie shadows cast upon his face, eyes red and hazy, drooped to slits, drunk and cocky as he continued rubbing his cockhead up through the lips of her pussy ever so causally, like she wasn’t bound and bawling beneath him. 

“So listen up and listen carefully. Can you do that, Babe?” 

She felt cold suddenly, chilled to her core by his tone, reduced to shivering beneath his confident touch, shuddering where she laid, chest pushed upward above the support her arms gave, head drawing in the dune of her pillow, thighs lifted to straddle her boyfriend’s waist, his hand keeping her there by curling his thumb into the underside of her knee. 

“The way I see it, you have two options.” He leaned in, voice sturdy but soft like a straight-jacket. “Either you be my good girl and give me what’s mine.” Tone swooping low into a growl. “Or...” 

His hands moved steadily as they began unbuttoning her shirt from the bottom up, planting a kiss on the newly exposed skin of her tummy, just short of her belly-button. The light scruff of his chin tickling the thin skin it rubbed against as he continued licking and nibbling on the flesh the more it was exposed to him. 

“You run along to your friends, tell them what a bad bad guy I am. They ask for proof, but silly little you have no proof to give.” He chuckled, warm breath breezed on the peach-fuzz of her chest as he kept sucking his marks into her, hands fingering the last of her buttons. “People love me, Buttercup, so let me ask you this...” The crimson spikes of his hair stuck into the underside of her chin as he licked up her throat, kissed her jaw and bit at her earlobe, whispering. “Who’s side you think they gonna take?” Humming as he watched another fat tear run down her cheek. “You go to the teachers, they ask for proof, something you still don’t have because there is none. And even if they did believe you... no saying they’d do anything about it. I’m destined to be a billboard hero. Do you really think they’ll throw all that away on some ditz from general studies?” Question after question, answer after answer, each one another stab and twist of the rusty blade in her hope. “Think again.” With her shirt open she witnessed him morph his hand into sharp rock, a jagged finger burrowing beneath the bridge of her bra and cutting the thick fabric loose, now fully exposed to his mouthful of teeth and slobbering tongue. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s not how the world works, Sweetheart.” 

She closed her eyes, clamped them shut, but it only helped her feel all his entitled actions even more, how he moved, rightfully, regardlessly, without regret or remorse. She swore she could feel him pulsating against her, his cock pumping against her swollen clit, where she could argue that the rip of him tearing apart her skirt was the loudest noise she’d ever heard in her life. 

“And perhaps it ends there, but I know you. You continue, trying to make anyone believe you, eventually ending up in management for crazy obsessed fanatic fangirls -of which I have many- or you give up.” His mouth enclosed her nipple, tongue swirling around the bud, fingers tweaking the other breast with boyish greediness. “Either way, you end up missing. With no friends to bother coming to find you, thinking that your delusional ass offed yourself, when in reality...” 

Large hand curling around her neck, squeezing as he rose to look down at her, rock his hips to allow his cock more friction, sliding up and down between her thighs, bobbing against her stomach, thrumming and spilling thick whiteness, dripping and smearing onto her skin. 

“You’re right back here with me.” 

Her heart skipped, seemed to stop, everything seemed to stop. His words hung poised, forgetting how to drop, like dust settling, lingering about the air as she looked up at him, thinking he looked like the onset of hell, like a demon, his hair like horns, his eyes like hellfire, and those teeth, those sharp unforgiving teeth. 

“You see, if you don’t give, I will take.” He juggled her head with the tight grip he had on her jaw, playing with her as his other hand swept through her delicate sensitive folds, made her cringe, try and shimmy away, all to his disgusting amusement shown in the snaggletooth that hooked over his lip as he smirked a grim curled line. “And right now it looks to me like I might just have to show you just how defenseless you are to stop me.” His digits wiggled inside her, and she whined into her panties as she sucked on them, her eyes clinging to the dangerous heat simmering inside his. “Aww see? You’re already getting so wet. Your body sure knows who it belongs to, I’m sure you will too, very soon.”

[twstedtales]

𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑, 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋.

❝hold your ground; stand up for yourself with grit and grace.❞ - Unknown.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | when he heard you broke from your timid and soft-spoken self just so you could defend him.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, kalim al asim, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia × female reader.

𝐭𝐰 | none!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | of course, <3 anon chan 😘 nice to meet you and have a good day too 😆 by the way, freaking gosh, this becomes soooo long 2,241 words if you wanna know bdjejwjeeh 😭😂💦 HELP-

𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 | reposting and queued this in time for my classes because i am determined to put it in tags lfmaooo and I also added few more because I noticed some of Leona’s part was missing and typographical errors are fixed shsbjd

Riddle was always grateful that you were a lot tamer than your chaotic friends that give him constant headaches. He also appreciates your quiet and soft nature because it helps him calm down a lot during his near outbursts when he was about to behead some of his rebellious dorm mates.

So, one random day, Riddle overheard you talking to some students; he presumed they were your classmates? He trusts you a lot, and was about to leave because he didn't want to disrespect your conversation when he heard his name, including the loud series of continuous insults directed to him, repeatedly calling him a ruthless tyrant and such, that had made his elegant brows raise to his hairline. 

A lady such as yourself shouldn't be hearing such crass words from those uneducated fools. His eyes twitched in seething anger, a vein bulging in his forehead and he was about to step in to teach them a lesson they won't forget when Riddle had heard your voice snapping.

It took him by surprise when he heard your usual soft and timid tone raise an octave, your loud yells reverberated greatly across the empty halls. Riddle felt some sort of pleasant shock; he couldn't imagine you, who was usually soft-spoken, to defend him like that. Though that aside, immediate pride and affection swells inside him. 

Riddle always believes that as a gentleman, he should be the one to protect you from fools, or defend you against malicious people like that. But he supposed the position getting reversed once in a while feels...good as well. Now, if you'll excuse him, he still needs to, ah, re-educate those imbeciles, a lesson they won't ever forget.

Leona doesn't care that you're timid most of the time, in fact, it even brought a slight relief to him because firstly, he won't have you loudly reprimanding and nagging him if he doesn't attend classes like Ruggie does, disturbing his naps. And secondly, he secretly finds you a great wonder, knowing that most women in Afterglow Savana were all "warriors" and they intimidate him. 

Though for your own sake, Leona would drop casual hints about arming yourself in an argument here and there for you to catch. He favoured your soft-spoken persona, yes, but that doesn’t mean he would go around letting you be in danger just because of it.

And just when he thought that you were tamed and a well-behaved little lamb, Leona was slightly bewildered to hear your loud shouts that knocked him out of his sleep. He almost thought that you were in danger and would instantly leap in to tear off the person who dared to attack you limb by limb if not for the obvious anger lacing your voice.

Hou? Leona listens curiously in patient silence as you apparently "defend" his reputation. It would be a lie to say that he didn't care what others say about him, but at this point, he had completely given up on how others perceived him, all their opinions be damned. But he had to admit, you saying that he was more than just being an "indolent bastard" makes his heart do a quick lithe leap. Just a little bit.

However, of course, he can't let you hog in all the fun to yourself. If those fools were brave enough to lash out and dish out their problems about him to you, they must be prepared to face the consequences of his payback. Though perhaps he must thank them as well? For encouraging and pushing his timid herbivore to stand up and hold her ground to what she believes to be most important? Heh.

Azul thought that your soft and timid self is quite a refreshing sight; you're like a breath of fresh air for him. Being surrounded by the chaotic twins all the time drains his energy, no matter how efficient they seem to be for business. So, having you around calms him down, and your soft voice was like enticing him to sleep and relax.

That's why when he heard a loud scream outside of the VIP room, Azul had seriously doubted his ears, blinking his eyes in mild shock and refusing to believe that person who had just raised their voice was you. You, his precious angelfish who spoke so softly and tenderly to him all the time, just shouted? 

Azul snapped out of his trance when he had heard your voice again, this time, it was even louder, and he could clearly hear just what makes you this furious. He quietly left the sanctuary of his office just as the argument kept on getting clearer. He had heard his name, how the students called him a "scammer", "manipulator", "evil schemer", "stupid octopus" and such. 

Under normal circumstances, Azul wouldn't feel any remorse when he had tricked them into a contract for servitude as a small payment for what they boastfully spout about him. He was ready to make them pay a hundred folds...if not for you defending him wholeheartedly. You were readily refuting every falseーor were they really false?ーclaims about him; a bit more menacing, a little more proud, and very much seething in anger. 

Adoration bloomed inside him as he almost felt tears start to prickle in the corner of his eyes. He never had someone who would defend him, who would boast how "hardworking" he was, or be angry...just for him. Azul had to steel his knees from buckling over, blinking back his tears and parading his usual, haughty smile. As much as he wants to rejoice and melt for your brave words, he first needs to get you out of there. He can't have his precious angelfish deal with those pests all by yourself, no?

Kalim was understanding, empathetic enough to know not to push you beyond the limits you could give. He was content to see you interacting and hanging out with him, no matter how quiet and timid you may be! Fret not, it doesn't matter one bit if he's the only one speaking and getting the conversation going, as long as he knew you were there and listening to him, that's all that matters to him.

Though seriously speaking, does anyone even have the heart to say malicious things about this sunshine? Though let's admit it, not all people would see Kalim's open generosity in a positive light and some people would even find it rather irritating (ーlike Jamilー). So, things like "bad-mouthing" him does happen, maybe not as much in NRC but he does hear them back in Scalding Sands.

Due to his position of being the heir to a big clan, Kalim was very much exposed to the harsh criticism and perhaps hatred and envy of others, though he does his very best to ignore them, and understand where they are coming from because he knows that not all are as privileged as him. So hearing people say bad things about him in the NRC is nothing new as well. 

What was something new though...is you raising your voice that made him jump, his heart almost made a quick leap out of his throat. Especially when you declared that he was the kindest, the most understanding and the best person you ever met in your life. Kalim didn't even hear the insults because he was more focused on drilling the image of you, looking so gallant like a honourable warrior defending him. 

Before it escalates into something serious though, Kalim would jump in the conversation and sway the topic into a more light-hearted one. You would notice his smile looked a lot brighter than normal, and that his cheerfulness is so contagious that you forgot the person who badmouthed him as Kalim dragged you to somewhere he could spoil you rotten.

Vil doesn't usually mind your timid self; he finds himself surprisingly adoring it at times. Especially after those stressful and chaotic days that all he needs is to have a peaceful respite that he had found in you. Though there were times that he would...ah, help you to become more open and confident when talking to people. Unlike Leona who would just drop hints, Vil was determined to teach you how to arm yourself with words, if not magic or any other weapon. 

Hence why Vil was very much accustomed to harsh criticism and dare say, downright hate. He was an actor and a model after all. He had long prepared himself to accept those healthy criticisms, and block off all the malicious comments thrown at him. So, hearing his own schoolmates lash out their hate against him is nothing to waste his time about. After all, they weren't even brave enough to say that to his own face. 

Even so, what took him in a pleasant astonishment is when he heard your voice, loud and clear and confident, rebutting their foolish claims about him. He didn't even pay enough attention when those potatoes blatantly compared him to Neigeーwhich was, by the way, will be dealt with laterーbecause all he could hear was your voice.

Vil huffed in amusement; you had incorporated everything he had taught you today and he could say that he was pleased with your development. As much as he wanted to see how far you could go and how good it was that you were defending him, Vil cannot allow you to linger longer around those fools who don't know basic etiquette more than necessary. 

Brimming with confidence as he was, Vil swept between smoothly, the long and loose sleeves of his dorm uniform flaunting behind me like a perfect picturesque as he hide you behind his back. He looked down coldly at those potatoes, ignoring your surprise yelp. Now, Vil can't let the improper things they say pass without a proper punishment, no?

Like everyone does, Idia doesn't care if you're timid or soft spoken either. To be honest, it was even encouraged by him. He could get around everything between you two without speaking, especially since he wasn't used to being around people a lot. After all, your quiet voice when you're talking to him doesn't feel like any otherーit was more relaxing, more soothing…

That's why when he heard you shouting so loudly and angrily one day, Idia fell on his chair in shock. He was surveying the surroundings from the CCTVs around the school for possible routes he could take when he went out to buy snacks for the weekend when he caught sight of you in the hallway with some unfamiliar students. It doesn't look like a one-sided argument, but you were definitely more pissed off than the others.

The longer he listens, the more Idia wants to wither awayーfrom embarrassment, or from self-resentment or from pure adoration, he cannot pinpoint exactly what! You...you were defending him! Him! You were seethingly refuting every claim he heard directed to him. Every single negative thing they pointed out that he himself knew of all people possessed, said it was nothing but baseless untruths. 

How could you say that he was not useless when all he could do now was to watch you from afar as you fight for his reputation? How could you still believe he was not a coward after all those things that people said about him and his failures? How could you still love him after all the things you were hearing right now? 

Idia clenched his fists that his nails dug in his palms. He...wants to be like you as well. He wanted to be the man you could depend on, the one who could defend you like those in his otome games he played. If one day...if only he could build up the courage to be...anyway, for now, Idia mysteriously alerted some of the professors that someone was bullying you. He couldn't be there personally, with how he is right now, but he would make sure to protect you in the way that he himself could surely do this time...

The one who insults and badmouth The Malleus Draconia himself was probably tired of living, having a death wish or something. Almost everyone was scared of facing him, but alas, there surely exists those who are...brave enoughーor was it simply foolishness?ーto insult him in the presence of his own beloved. 

Malleus probably didn't hear your "heroic acts" personally, but due to Sebek's garrulous mouthーand he can't simply keep this a secret to his Waka-sama!ーhe was informed how you defend him in front of many people. 

He would ask every detail, how it started and how it escalated to how it ended. Sebek wouldn't leave a single detail, though he supposed he could make you a little more "gallant and chivalrous" to his Young Master because you were the first one to stand up for him, and you are his lover, not his guard!

After hearing the full details from the extremely proud Sebekーand how he had already taught the impudent students a lesson for insulting himーMalleus had found himself teleporting next to you, that made you jump because it was so sudden. And he would hug you so suddenly and wordlessly. When you ask him why, he would just reply that he feels like you had done something so incredible for him that he wants to repay and spoil you in any way you desire.

Malleus does mind the insults, but he was more focused on you and how you stand up and hold your ground despite your soft-spoken self. He wished he could've seen you break out from your shell once again, but he won't force you to it. After all, there's plenty of time to rectify that and he would wait patiently on the day you showed all your sides to him.

[keiichikuzuryuwu]

Place Your Bets

Implied (Future) Keiichi Kuzuryuu x Reader

Summary: This is a reimagining of the manga’s version of the Four of Clubs game, featuring a very stubborn, very smart mother hen Y/N instead of a gentle girl.

A/N: I have literally never seen anyone write for Kuzuryuu and that made me sad, because I love him. Also I know very little about how to actually take care of a baby so please be forgiving.

TW: Blood, leg injury, a crying baby

Walking along a deserted street, a man in a hat was making his way toward tonight’s game. Based on his body language, you would think he didn’t want to go, but in honesty, he was tentatively looking forward to it.

“Oh my god, another person!!” The voice of a woman caught his attention, pulling his gaze away from the lights in the distance. As he looked over, he took note of how clean she was, all glow and innocence compared to the world around her- a new arrival, clearly. But what truly surprised him was the fact that she was carrying a sleeping baby in her arms. It was rare to come across a child here, much less a baby. Perhaps it was her’s, which was why she hadn’t abandoned it yet, “You wouldn’t happen to be this baby’s father, would you? Or at the very least have seen anyone who could possibly be their parents?”

So it wasn’t her’s. The man wondered how long it would be until she gave up on it.

“No, sorry. I’m on my way to a game, so if you’ll excuse me,” He tipped his hat and took a step, only to feel his arm grabbed.

“Wait, what game? Should I be heading there too?”

“You… don’t know about the games? Are you new here?” He already knew the answer, but no point in signaling that to her. She may end up a Heart Specialist and get into his head, after all.

“Yes, actually! One moment, I was going to meet up with my friends, and the next, the entirety of Shibuya was powered down and empty except me and this little one here,” So she’d walked all this way from Shibuya in just a few hours? Maybe a Spades Specialist, then.

“Well then you should come with me. We need to get you registered for a game so you don’t end up a day one victim.”

“Woah, what?? Day one victim??” The color drained from her face, before she grabbed his hand and began walking, “What and where is this game? Is it Trivial Pursuit? Because I’m really good at Trivial Pursuit! Wait, but that’s a one winner game and this is looking more and more like the set up for a death game manga but in real life,” She looked back at him, “Did I get stuck in a death game manga but in real life?”

“Um…” He didn’t really know how to respond to this woman. Regaining his wits, he caught up to her brisk pace and pointed in the direction of the lights, “See those lights? That’s where the closest game is. And, yes, you unfortunately did…”

“Brilliant, let’s go,” She still held onto his hand as they walked, confusing the man. They were complete strangers and he’d just told her that she was walking towards her probable death, yet she continued to hold his hand as though they were allies.

Walking up to the glowing tunnel, the man spotted the registration phones on a table, three of them already missing. The already registered participants were scattered nearby, looking at them strangely. Did they perhaps think he, this woman, and the baby were a family? The thought almost flustered him.

“So what do I do?” The woman asked him when they got over to the table, “Just take one of these phones?”

“Yes, here,” Handing her one, he watched as she tapped to turn it on.

“I don’t like the fact that this facial recognition already had me registered with an ID number,” She scoffed, putting the phone in her skirt’s pocket before hesitating, “Wait, do I need to register this baby too? I mean, obviously I’m not gonna abandon it, but… they’re a baby, they can’t really play a game.”

“No, unfortunately they need to be registered… Here,” Picking up another phone, he held it up to the face of the babe, the ping of the completed registration sounding a moment later, “You keep hold of this one too, since you’re holding the baby.”

“Alright, sounds good to me,” Placing the other phone in her pocket, she cooed at the baby, “You better hope this isn’t Trivial Pursuit or I’m gonna have to kick your butt, baby~ That’s right, that’s right~”

“Please don’t taunt the baby like that. It’s… unnerving…” Nervously pulling on his collar, the man was surprised when she just laughed.

“Sorry, I cope with stress by joking around…” She placed a hand on the back of her neck as they walked over to the others, “The only way this baby isn’t surviving is if it’d be better to do a mercy killing. Other than that, I’m fighting tooth and nail to make sure they get through this with me.”

“You for real??” One of the men closest to them, with spiked, pitch dark hair, scoffed, “You really think you can keep a baby alive here? Put yourself first if you wanna live, lady!”

“Come on, don’t say that!” The woman snapped back, before taking a breath and calming down, “Here, how about we start over and introduce ourselves?”

“This could be a Hearts game, or the rules could state we need to kill each other,” The only other woman there, a stark, gothic contrast to the Mori girl aesthetic of the woman with the baby, stated coldly, “I’ll pass.”

“One minute until registration closes,” A calm, female voice suddenly came from all of their phones, startling the woman with the baby.

“Huh?” Taking out her phone, she looked it over, “Guess it speaks too… These are my least favorite part of this nightmare so far,” Then, she took note of the camera app, “Ooh! Hey, wanna take a selfie?”

“You want to… take a selfie with me?” The man she’d arrived with questioned her, utterly befuddled by this woman.

“Yeah, come on! This might be the last chance we ever get to take a good picture!” Moving in close, she held up the phone, making sure to get both them and the still sleeping baby in the shot, “Awesome! Thanks for indulging my possibly last request!”

“You are way too chipper, lady,” A new man spoke as he walked up. Short cropped hair with designs buzzed into it and a mean face, this man screamed gangster. In reaction, the woman held the baby tighter.

“Entry has now closed,” The phones spoke again, “There are a total of seven participants. Please proceed into the tunnel.”

“I just hope it’s not Spades… I’m not very good at physical games…” The man in the hat grumbled, causing the woman to raise an eyebrow as they walked into the tunnel. About 100 feet in, the woman suddenly stopped, “What’s the matter?”

“I hear something…” Straining her ears for a moment, she suddenly looked up at the top of the tunnel’s entrance.

“Wha?! What the hell?!” Just as the words left spiky haired man’s lips, a barrier fell from the ceiling, creating debris and, more importantly, blocking them in.

“UWAAAHHH!!!!” The baby had woken up due to the world shaking from the force of the barrier’s impact with the ground, only for the woman to pull out a pacifier from her purse and stick it in the infant’s mouth.

“Thank goodness I thought to grab that…”

“W-We’re trapped in??” Goth woman shouted, panic taking over, “But that isn’t the standard!!”

“Guess they really don’t want us to be able to choose the coward’s way out this game…” Gangster guy placed his hand on the wall.

“ARGHH!!” Everyone’s attention was directed to the man in the hat, who was sitting on the ground, blood gushing from his leg, “Some rubble… it went into my leg!!”

“On no!!” The woman with the baby was the first to react, rushing over to him, “Hold the baby, we need to wrap this up and restrict the blood flow!”

“O-Okay…!” Carefully, he took the baby, doing his best not to shake as she took an extra baby blanket out of her bag and used it to create a makeshift cotton bandage.

As she worked, their phones chimed again- “The game will now commence. Difficulty: Four of Clubs. Game: Runaway. Rule: Endure the four trials and reach the goal within the time limit. Clear condition: Reach the goal safely.”

“Trials? Goal? What’s it talking about?” The goth woman mumbled.

“It looks like these are the trials it’s referring to…” At a man in glasses words, everyone turned around and saw what he meant.

In the floor, walls, and ceiling were various doors and hatches. The first door was in a wall, marked ‘Trial One,’ with a timer stating the lock released in fifteen minutes. Next to that, several round hatches labeled ‘Trial Two’ were going to release in thirty minutes. Trial Three’s vents in the ceiling were releasing in forty five, and Four’s hatch on the floor was set to release in an hour.

Spiky haired man noticed a placard on the wall by Door One, and walked over to inspect it.

“The distance to the goal is written here… But I can’t read the most important part. Damnit…” Sure enough, where the number should be, instead was worn down metal.

Looking down at the ground somberly, Glasses stated, “A conjecture… ‘Runaway’ means to flee… Something will come out of each of these four doors after a delay. Perhaps it means we should run towards the goal while running away? If the fourth lock opens after an hour, and we were to run for that amount of time, then the distance to the goal is around ten kilometers…”

“Ten??”

“Game… start.”

At that moment, the timers started counting down, and their phones switched to an hour long timer as well.

“Ten kilometers in an hour is cutting it too close! We can’t afford to waste a second!” With that, everyone save the woman with the baby and the man in the hat started running.

“Can you stand?” The woman asked him as she took the baby back, genuinely concerned about this stranger.

“With help, I think I should be able to…”

“Hey, you lot! Care to help a lady out??”

“I make no promises that I’ll hold on to you till the end…” The gangster helped lift the man to allow the woman to continue carrying the baby safely.

“Thank you in the meantime…” The man got out through labored breaths as they walked.

Within the first five minutes, everyone reached a bus covered in graffiti, the first car they had seen since the game began. By the time the man, woman, and gangster got there, it seemed their fellow players had exhausted it.

“There’s nothing here except junk, and it’s not going no matter how hard I hit the gas!!!” Spiky hair complained as glasses looked underneath the bus.

“The belt is cut, that’s why. Looks like this isn’t meant to be our method of transportation…” Getting up, he began running, “Looks like we have to run! We lost time here, so let’s hurry!”

“Gaaah!! I’m at my limit… There’s no way I could run…” The man in the hat groaned, “Don’t worry about me anymore, you all should hurry on ahead…”

“But-!”

“It’s like he says,” Goth woman cut off the other, “The first trial is about to start… In order to survive in these Borderlands, sometimes we have to do callous things. If you don’t learn that quick, you won’t be long for this world,” With that, she began running as well.

For a moment, the man, woman, and gangster didn’t move, until the gangster helped the man over to the first step of the bus and set him down before walking away.

“You too??” The woman angrily called out after him, “You’re going to desert us??”

“I tried helping… But now, things have changed…” He picked up speed, quickly catching up to the others.

“Selfish cowards!!” She yelled, shaking her fist at them. Sighing, she turned to the man, “Guess it’s just you and me, huh?”

“Are you sure? You should go run-”

“Nuh uh. I’ve decided I’m staying here, so I’m staying here,” Scooting around him, the woman gently placed the baby into the dip of the driver’s seat before helping the man up and to a seat so he could prop up his leg, “Let’s see…”

“What are you doing?” He raised an eyebrow as he watched her go up and down the bus.

“In order to slow the flow of blood more until we can get you help, we need to raise your leg. By doing that, the blood will- Here-” She took the baby and handed them to him again before looking around more, “The blood won’t be able to pump up there as fast, and it should give us some wiggle room.”

“You seem awfully knowledgeable about this. Are you perhaps a doctor?”

“Hah, no, I just remember a lot. Picked this up from a medical book I read when I was sixteen for fun. I’m actually a Masters student working towards simultaneous degrees in Psychology and Religion with a focus in cults,” Before the man could comment on how impressive that was, the woman sighed, “I’ve found a Japanese to English dictionary, a space heater, a set of keys that turn on this motionless bus, and a gum wrapper, but nothing to prop up your leg,” Sitting in the chair across the row from him, the woman took the baby back and gently bounced it, “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see what happens…”

“I’m sorry I’ve dragged you down with me…”

“Nonsense!” She waved her hand dismissively, “I’m not much of a runner, and I’ve got this little angel to look after. There’s no way I could run to some mysterious goal even if I wanted to. Besides…” Her eyes shifted back and forth before leaning in and dropping her voice as though they were being watched, “Something about this game is striking me as odd.”

“What do you mean?” The man leaned in as best as he could, voice dropping as well.

“Before I tell you my theory, could you explain what exactly the card level of this game means? You said you hoped this game wasn’t Spades because you weren’t good at physical games, while the woman stated we shouldn’t tell each other our names in case it was a Hearts game. That means the different suits represent different types of games, while the number represents how hard it is, right?”

“You picked that up quickly. Most people don’t realize that their first game, it generally takes someone explaining it to them their second or third game for them to get it,” Thinking for a moment, he nodded, “Very well, since we’re going to be here for at least an hour, I’ll tell you. Yes, the number on the card connotes how hard the game will be, with Ace being the easiest, while King is the hardest. As for the suits- Spades represent physical games, lots of moving around and exertion. Diamond games are intelligence and wit based games, and are the least physically demanding. If you were to find a game of Trivial Pursuit here, it would fall into that suit.”

“I see,” She sounded enraptured.

“Hearts,” He paused, considering his words, “They’re psychological games…  They mess with your mind and your morals, and are widely regarded as the most brutal of the four suits. If possible, you do not want to join a Hearts game.”

“And Clubs?”

“Clubs games like this one refer to team battles and a mix of the other’s elements. It’s an unofficial rule that there is always a total win scenario, that it’s possible for all participants to make it out alive.”

“Then that puts us at an advantage!” She nodded decisively, “If Clubs are a team battle, then by sticking together, we have a better chance at survival!”

“But we’re just sitting in a bus?”

“Look mister, I’m trying to remain positive here, so if you could work with me a little?”

“Alright, alright,” The man put his hands up, chuckling. From the sound of it, it was an unfamiliar noise to come from his mouth, “We’re at an advantage because we stuck together while the others are only thinking of themselves.”

“That’s the spirit!” She held out her hand for a fist bump, which the man would have returned, had it not been for the bus suddenly lurching forward, “The hell??”

“UWAAHHH!!!” The motion woke up the baby again, but neither the man or the woman had time to calm them down again, as water was quickly rising around their enclosure and leaking in through some gaps in the windows.

“Oh no, you take Yuuji, I’ll stop the water!” Handing the baby to the man, the woman began to shed layers of clothes, using her jacket, cardigan, tights to plug the gaps. In the end, she was left in just a camisole and her torn up skirt, having even used parts of that to slow the water, “There, that should keep us relatively dry as long as the water goes down soon.”

“You called the child ‘Yuuji,’” The man commented, a bit surprised.

“Huh? I did, didn’t I?” Laughing sheepishly, the woman sat back down, “Don’t know why, they’re not my kid. I don’t even know if they’re male or female.”

“Well, I suppose they do look like a Yuuji,” He looked down at where he was bouncing the slightly calmer baby on his shoulder, “Can I ask why you chose to take this baby with you? You even grabbed their diaper bag.”

“Guess I felt bad about them being abandoned by their parents,” She shrugged, “Something just told me I needed to hold onto them and protect them; which makes no sense, given that it’s not like I grew up with great parental role models.”

“Maybe you just possess a natural maternal instinct, bad parents or not.”

“Who knows? Maybe you’re right.”

For several minutes, neither of them said anything as the man calmed down the baby, lulling them back to sleep.

“It seems as though the water is going down,” The man finally commented, the woman looking out the window to see that they were no longer surrounded.

“Yeah, but now it seems like the temperature is dropping fast!” The woman was right, the air was indeed getting colder, “I’ll go turn on that space heater before Yuuji wakes up again!”

“Sounds good to me.”

With the space heater on, the bus quickly warmed back up, keeping the baby asleep in the man’s arms.

“This cold must be the… how much time has passed?” Looking at her phone’s timer, the woman's brow furrowed, “Forty five minutes?? When the heck did the first trial happen??”

“We must have missed it somehow while we were talking.”

“Weird. Maybe it just passed right by us,” The woman didn’t let it bother her too much, just grateful to have not had to deal with it. Silence passed for a few more minutes as the woman held the baby, before she spoke again, “Okay, something’s been on my mind for the last half an hour, and I gotta know before we die… You were totally faking your personality when we got here, right?”

“H-Huh??” The man’s eyes widened, and he could feel his pulse quicken.

“Acting timid and stuff. Fake, right?”

“I… I…” Sighing, he looked her in the eyes, “How’d you know?”

“I sorta guessed around the time you told me about the suits. Your speech pattern started getting more eloquent, your sentences became longer, and you didn’t bat an eye at the fact that I’m working towards two Masters degrees at the same time. That last thing doesn’t really have to do with the timid thing, but it did tell me that you’re smarter than you seemed. That accident with your leg was very real, something you didn’t account for that truly did leave you near helpless; but before that, it was all strategy so we’d underestimate you in case this turned out to be a single winner game.”

“That’s… phenomenally impressive,” He stared at her in awe, “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Because I’ve been having fun talking with you and didn’t want to make it awkward,” Laughing, she shrugged, “But my natural curiosity got the better of me. I want to die with as few regrets as possible, and I’d regret not getting to see your actual personality,” Tears welled up in her eyes, and she kissed the top of the baby’s head, “I hope however this ends is clean and painless. I doubt it would happen, but if my family were to ever find my body, I wouldn’t want their last image of me to be tainted by something like decapitation, y’know?”

“Yes, I… I understand,” Moving closer, the man took the woman’s hand and squeezed it gently, “I promise you, if we survive this, I’ll do whatever I can to help you survive long enough to reunite with your family.”

“Aww, thanks,” She smiled sadly at him, “That means a lot. You’re a really nice guy, even if you are a crafty strategist.”

“I-”

KABOOM!!!!

An explosion violently shook the bus, causing the baby to once again wake up and cry.

“Quickly, on the ground!” The man pulled the woman and baby into his arms and got on the ground, shielding them with his body as the bus continued to shake. It seemed to go on forever, the shaking, as the bus grew warmer and warmer, far warmer than the heat the space heater would have been able to produce. But, finally, the shaking did stop, and the world became quiet outside of the baby’s cries, “Are you two alright?”

“Y-Yeah, I think so,” After she was helped up by the man, the woman grabbed the baby’s pacifier and returned it to their mouth, “That was the fourth trial, right?”

“I believe so,” He nodded, looking out the window, “All I can see are scorch marks, so I can’t tell, though.”

A little fanfare like tune emitting from their phones answered them, however.

“Game clear. Congratulations! To the survivors of the game, we will now supply you with a Visa.”

“G-Game clear?” The woman’s eyes widened in surprise, “You mean… we won? But that would mean…” Handing the baby to the man, she threw open the door to the bus and hopped out, running around the bus, almost immediately spotting the confirmation she sought, “The goal… It was the bus…”

“It was the bus??” The man limped out of the bus, handing the woman the baby due to feeling shaky as he saw what she’d found, “The graffiti… G-O-A-L… Dear lord…”

“Your injury saved us,” Tears flowed down the woman’s cheeks as she suddenly hugged the man, laughing almost manically, “It saved us! I don’t normally believe in luck, but tonight I think I’ll make an exception!”

“I can’t believe it, though! You were right!” The man laughed as well, “We stuck together as a team instead of only thinking of ourselves, and we survived!”

“Wait- oh no!” Pulling away, the woman frowned, “Those poor people that ran on ahead!! They… If the trials didn’t kill them, then… what did?”

“Anyone who breaks a rule like leaving an arena before the game is over or doesn’t achieve game clear… They’re struck down by a laser from the sky…” His words cause the woman to gasp, a hand covering her mouth, “I hope for their sake, their deaths were as clean and painless as the one you had wished for…”

Taking his hand, she squeezed it gently, “I’ll carry their memories with me, and push forward. As ill as they treated us, I can only hope that wherever they are, they find peace.”

“You’re an incredibly kind woman, Miss…?”

“Oh wow, we never did introduce ourselves, huh? If we’re gonna be sticking together, we should probably at least know the other’s name,” Wiping away her tears, she laughed, “My name is Y/N L/N, Y/A years old, Masters student, and guardian of this little angel until further notice. It’s nice to meet you, Mister…?”

“Kuzuryuu. Keiichi Kuzuryuu, 37 years old, attorney at law, and Diamond Specialist here in the Borderlands. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss L/N.”

“Please, we just nearly died together! You can call me Y/N. Mind if I call you Kuzu?” She looked at him so hopefully that he couldn’t find it in himself to refuse her.

“Alright, you may call me ‘Kuzu’… Y/N.”

“Excellent! Now let’s get out of this place! I’m tired and we need to get you off that leg.”

“I believe I saw a furniture store near here that we could use as shelter before finding something better tomorrow,” He offered as she helped him limp out of the tunnel, the barrier to the outside having been blown off in the explosion.

“Perfect, let’s go there. There’s some supplies to take care of Yuuji in this diaper bag I grabbed, but we’ll need to find some more tomorrow as well.”

“Sounds good to me.”

An hour later, as Y/N and Yuuji slept soundly in one of the spacious beds on display in the furniture store, Kuzuryuu stood outside and pulled out a walkie talkie.

“HQ, please respond. This is Four of Club’s observer, Kuzuryuu,” Taking off his hat, he pushed back his hair and slipped on his glasses, “Surviving players- two of six. Dispatch the cleanup squad to deal with the disposal of tools and materials.”

“Copy that, sir. Anything else?”

“Yes… Tell the others I won’t be back for a while,” He looked back through the doors to where Y/N and Yuuji slept, a small smile on his lips, “I have a player I’d like to place my bets on.”

Y/N L/N

Clubs Specialist

End of Day One of Sojourn

[heliads]

Time Can Heal (But This Won’t) Chapter Three: Bloodstains

You’ve been a lone demigoddess, daughter of Hecate, ever since your home of Hellas sank beneath the waves centuries ago. You loved the Darkling until he crossed you and you fled the Little Palace. Now you’re disguised as a mere cartographer. Can you face him again, knowing what he’s done?

previous / series masterlist / next

There was no way around it, no way to avoid it. Like it or not, you would be returning to the only place you’ve ever truly called home since you left behind the sinking shores of Hellas, past a people who would never rise again. You had seen Os Alta built, walked the newly constructed halls of the Grand and Little Palaces with the Darkling before you knew enough to run from him. This is where you’ll be going- not to a new future, but a chance to drown in all the memories you’ve tried so hard to forget.

However, you’ll have to survive the journey to Os Alta first. You’re not here as an esteemed guest or prisoner, you’re here as a double, a lure. Someone who can be killed so that Alina Starkov walks out alive. You know this as well as your ice-eyed Darkling who rides next to you, who thinks nothing of you but that you share a name with a woman he thought he could manipulate. That is all.

So you force your gaze away from the Darkling and back towards your hands, which grip the reins of your offered steed. You mentally catalogue the scant few weapons you had on you before you were dragged along after Alina- two knives, a medium length dagger, and the small pistol all First Army soldiers were forced to have on them. You’ve never particularly cared for guns, though- they’re dirty, loud things, nothing compared to the damage you could wreak with a syllable from your tongue. Then again, if it came down to it, you’d rather have a pistol in your palm then risk using your magic in front of the Darkling. In the end, you’re here to stay hidden, not reveal yourself in the most dramatic way possible.

That being said, you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. You’ve learned long ago to listen to the voices that whisper past your ear, speaking of dangers lurking in the woods and ill-intentioned beings who wait for women who walk alone. Some are remnants of past protection spells, and others are shades from the Underworld who’d managed to conjure up some corporeal strength and warn you of an attack. You are the last living Hellenid to walk the earth, and so they feel duty-bound to protect you. Through you, your people live on, and so even the dead watch your back.

So when the voices come, you listen. Your eyes flicker shut for just a second as you listen, past the thump of your heart and the pattern of horse hooves on the dusty ground. The carriage rolls noisily some distance in front of you, and then you hear it stop. Around the bend, you hear the disgruntled mutterings of the guards even though they’re too far for a human ear to pick up. A tree has fallen down, blocking the path. You know it’s a trap even before the shots ring out.

You hear the choked screams of men falling with arrows through their throats and eyes and begin to panic. They’ve come for Alina Starkov, the Sun Summoner who could damn the Fjerdans to a lifetime under Ravka’s watchful eye. They’ve come to kill her. You sense the Darkling rearing his horse beside you, and his stallion picks up into a canter. You don’t have to say a word, just listen to his commands to his men. There are more men attempting to circle behind you and pick you off, you can distract them and the remaining attackers trying to get into the carriage.

A Heartrender turns to you, gesturing for his fellow Grisha to follow you. “Come, Alina! We have to get you to safety!” This command is far too loud for any self-respecting Second Army soldier to ever utter, but to the Fjerdans, it is nothing out of the ordinary. Ravka already swears by its legions of witches, why shouldn’t the ice-haired drüskelle believe themselves above the pathetically obvious Grisha? They follow you without a second thought.

You wait a minute, listening to the sound of boots crashing through the forest floor after you, then jump down from your horse in one swift motion. Your knives appear in your hands and you sprint towards your attackers, knocking them down again and again. You slam the hilt of one knife into a Fjerdan’s nose, and you can hear the bone shatter as if it was your own. Light flashes off of the Grisha steel blades as you slash and stab, drawing blood without taking a break. 

A small part of your mind gleefully notices the way the Fjerdans are running towards you now, drawn towards the sunlight reflected by your knives. They think you the Sun Summoner now, all because of metal polished to a shine. And why shouldn’t they? You have enough power to tear this continent in half, to let the sun pierce the planet’s very core. Why shouldn’t you be feared? Why shouldn’t you be the Sun Summoner yourself?

The man in front of you cries out, and you come back to your senses. Your eyes follow your knife, twisting in his windpipe, and you withdraw it hastily. You wipe the scarlet blood on the grass before turning to fight another Fjerdan attacker, but none come forward. You realize that they’re all dead, either by your hand or by the Heartrenders. Although, you notice with a sickening twist, most are killed by you. You’re supposed to be a shy First Army soldier, and you’re not exactly playing your part quite right.

Across a clearing, you see the Darkling helping Alina to her feet. She looks stunned, most likely due to the body of a Fjerdan lying at her toes. It’s been sliced perfectly in half- so he’s used the Cut. No wonder she looks as if the world has just been exposed for being woven from nightmares. She glances over at you and blanches even further. Shame twists in your gut as you realize your hands are covered in blood, none of it yours. You were borne of a race of warriors, fighting has been in your history for as long as Hellas has stood. To Alina Starkov, however, this is a massacre like she’s never seen before. You carefully sheath your knives again once you’re sure there’s no blood left on them.

You stare at the bodies, forcing your eyes to remember every last detail. May your gods or their Saints watch over them, wherever they may go. You don’t have enough coins to place under their tongues as per the Hellan tradition, although even if you did you couldn’t risk drawing the Darkling’s attention with such a specific ritual. Instead, you burn their faces into your mind. Memories and legacies were how your people retained their power, and being forgotten was a large part of how they crumbled away. At last you can remember these men.

A voice sounds from in front of you, and you look up hastily. “Do not pity them. They attacked the Sun Summoner, your friend.” The Darkling stands before you, something strange in his eyes. You’ve seen this look before, a few centuries ago. You had been careful to hide the true extent of your magic from him, perhaps knowing even then that he would want nothing more from you then the power you could give him.

In that long ago instant, you had let go, allowing your spells to run wild as stallions through the air. You were attacked, yes, but you had used it as an excuse for true bloodshed. It had been so long since you had truly tested your limits, always making sure to hide what you truly were, even from the other Grisha. You wanted to see what you could do, just this once. Even then, you were just scratching the surface, but the wash of inky emerald over the scene threatened to drown out the world. Bodies dropped, trees were stripped of bark, entire buildings crumbled despite the strongest of foundations. 

The few other Grisha present looked at you with true horror, but not the Darkling. No, he looked at you as he does now, with a sort of hunger that could consume entire countries and never be filled. He saw no girl or lover, he saw a weapon. He saw you standing before him, pulling a blade from your chest and offering him the hilt. He’d take it, not caring (or even relishing) your blood still dripping from the blade. The things he could do with you were unimaginable even in your worst nightmares, and it would never be enough. The worst part is that you thought you might go along with it, that you’d be willing to watch the end of the world with him.

This is how the Darkling looks at you now, a weapon ready for the taking. You remember hastily that he’s likely expecting something of you, so you duck your chin and do your best to summon up the modesty expected by the likes of Y/N Stassov, mapmaker and nothing more. “It’s just, well, a lot of death.” The Darkling inclines his head. “Maybe. Where did you learn to fight like that?” You don’t like this line of questioning, where it could lead. “The First Army. Sir.”

The Darkling’s lips quirk at the last minute honorific. “I’ve seen no First Army mapmaker who could take out a dozen Fjerdans with a pair of knives. Maybe I should send some of my soldiers to learn from your generals.” You panic, sure he’s testing you, then realize that he’s joking. Ridiculous. You force a smile. “I think they’re probably fine with their heartrending and all that.” The two of you have begun walking back to the horses now. The Darkling mounts his steed, then looks back at you. “Maybe so.” When he takes off, you’re not sure which scares you most- him figuring out who you are, or the idea that he would not look for you at all.

The Darkling calls for the party to take a respite that night, waiting until the moon shines low in the sky for everyone to tie up their horses and rest in a long-abandoned barn. Alina runs over to you as soon as she gets off of her mount, flinging her arms around you in gratitude. You can tell from the hammering of her heart whenever she looks at the Darkling that she hasn’t forgotten his use of the Cut, and probably won’t for a while.

“Saints, Y/N, I’m so glad you’re here. I couldn’t do this alone.” You can sense the eyes of the Darkling and the other Grisha on your back, and you know what’s expected of you. To them, you are no more than an otkazat’sya mapmaker, someone utterly unworthy of their Sun Summoner’s company. They’ll leave you to make your way back to Kribirsk when Alina is safe at the Little Palace, and they no doubt expect you to make her path easier.

So, you smile, smoothing back an errant piece of her hair into place. “That’s a lie, and we both know that. If you can punch an irritating officer or survive the Fold, you can ride a horse to Os Alta. Promise.” Alina rolls her eyes. “It’s not like that.” You raise an eyebrow. “It totally is. Believe me. Now come on, chasing after you all day is exhausting. I intend to go to sleep right now.” Alina grins. “That sounds good to me.”

Despite your weary eyes, you can’t seem to fall asleep at all. Alina sleeps next to you, the few Grisha lookouts stand unmoving at their posts. Eventually, you get sick of tossing and turning and staring up through the rotting beams through the barn roof. You stand, making your way quietly out of the barn. If the sentries see you, they do not stop you. Evidently, they trust you enough to let you walk around, or they view you as useless enough to not stop you from trying to run. Either works for you.

You don’t go far, just outside of the doors lying at odd angles on their hinges. You take a seat on a rusting metal bench, leaning back against the faded paint of the barn walls. You stare up at the sky, eyes tracing the constellations. Somewhere up in the night, there were once heroes and monsters, prideful queens and stubborn kings whose stories were famous enough to warrant them a place amongst the stars. You’ve been looking for them for a while, though, and know that the skies are empty of all souls who were once cast up there. It’s just another reminder that you are well and truly alone. The last remainder of a long dead culture.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” You startle, turning to see the Darkling walking out of the barn beside you. You manage to cover up your surprise with an apology. “Sorry, I didn’t think I’d woken anybody.” The Darkling shrugs. “You didn’t. I was already awake.” This feels somewhat surreal- here you sit, a false face and a fake history as a farmer turned soldier. Here stands the Darkling, looking just the same as always. It makes no sense, though- why would he keep seeking you out? Why would the general of the Second Army keep looking for an otkazat’sya soldier? He must know you, somehow. There’s no other explanation for it.

The Darkling clears his throat. “Thank you for speaking to Alina. I appreciate your words.” You dismiss the gratitude with a lift of your shoulder. “She’s my friend. I couldn’t exactly make her feel worse, could I?” The Darkling turns to look at you now, familiar quartz eyes seeming to tear you in two. “You could. You could have refused to play along with the role of double, you could have refused to fight by her side, you could have done your best to turn her away from us. You did none of that.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I could have resisted a team of the most skilled Grisha in all of Ravka? I intend to keep my life.” Something almost like a smile appears on the Darkling’s lips. You’ve seen this look before, in sunset afternoons and deepest nights. It’s so familiar that it seems to cut at you like a knife. You almost want to call out to him now- know me, please. Remember me. If you look close enough, you will see the woman you pretended to love. We could pretend again, if we wanted to.

You silent the murmurings, and he speaks again. “All the same, it was appreciated.” You turn back towards the sky, partly to take in the sight of the night sky again and partially to hide the smile giddily appearing on your own face. How is that after all this time, all these hurts, he still has this effect on you? “Well, I want her to have some good memories after this. I’ll be shipped back to Kribirsk, I don’t really want to leave on bad terms.”

The Darkling remains silent for so long that you’re worried you’ve said something wrong, opened up too much. A simple mapmaker would never confide in a centuries-old Shadow Summoner, he must suspect something. Surely, hopefully, he does. But instead, he turns to you, a softness present in his eyes that wasn’t there before. It rounds the edges of his quartz gaze, making it easier to fall hard and fast. “You aren’t going to leave for Kribirsk. You’re staying in Os Alta.”

You stare at him, night sky forgotten. “What? But I’m no Sun Summoner.” The Darkling laughs quietly in the night. “No, but few of us are. I have a personal guard, the oprichniki. I would like you to begin training with them once we arrive.” The sentence is phrased so casually that it almost floats by you completely undetected. The monumental weight of the words, however, is enough to shake you whole. The oprichniki are not Grisha, so you would fit in, but they are the Darkling’s special guards. Only the toughest and bravest of fighters are selected, certainly not a mapmaker who’s best skill is pretending to be a Sun Summoner.

You tell him as much, so stunned by this that you forget to hold your tongue. When you remember who you are and who you’re doing your best to pretend you’re not, you wish you had remained silent. For some reason, however, the Darkling doesn’t seem taken aback by this momentary lapse. Instead, it just makes his lips twitch even more. He is most certainly hiding a smile. “I saw you fight, Miss Stassov. If you can do that without any of our training at all, I’d say you’re a good candidate.”

You lean back against the barn wall. “Oprichnik. Me.” You whistle quietly, letting the sound echo in the night air like the call of a dove. The Darkling inclines his head. “You are free to turn the offer down at any point-” his smile grows at your raised eyebrow- “Although it is not an offer I take lightly. You have potential. Besides, keeping you in Os Alta will be a support for Miss Starkov.”

You furrow your brow. “I thought you would want to separate her from her old life, not keep having ties to it.” It’s what the Darkling would do when you knew him. He would have cut out another mapmaker without a second thought. The Darkling considers this. “Perhaps. But if she feels too alone, she may draw in on herself and feel unwilling to use her power at all. You have your merits, Miss Stassov. Perhaps more than you see yourself.”

You barely hear him when he goes back inside the barn. He has always had this ability to disguise his footsteps, letting the shadows cloak him in sound as well as in sight. For once, it doesn’t trouble you. Instead, you’re troubled by the future ahead of you. If you were an oprichnik, a guard loyal only to him, there would be even more chance of the Darkling finding out that you were Hecari, the woman he’d loved and who had run from him, feigning death rather than stay by his side and fear his knife.

Being near him, though, it makes you think back to every moment you’d shared. Could it be possible that you had misheard? Would the man you know, the man drenched by moonlight who makes offers of joining the ranks of the oprichniki to mapmakers he’s barely met, truly want you dead? The answer is yes, you know that. But your heart whispers differently, telling you that you could be wrong on this. You’ve always trusted your whispers, the ghosts of the past. The only problem is that these aren’t Hellenid spirits now, they’re your own. Longings for what might have been, what you left behind. 

In the end, you retreat back inside the barn. When you sleep, you dream of a quartz-eyed boy, dark-haired and smiling before he thought to use you.

series tag list: fave @underc0vercryptid​, @hotleaf-juice​, @aleksanderwh0r3​, @kaqua​, @nemesis729​, @imma-too-many-fandoms​

[the-sympathetic-villain]

The Chance Meeting of the Black Cat Cafe

AO3

Prompt: Everyone is born with a limited number of words. Because of this, people thing more before they speak. In some cultures, it's even considered the god(s) choice on who gets how many. Those with the fewest words are pitied but accepted nonetheless.

Prompt by anonymous on Tumblr.

Author's note: This prompt has been sitting in my inbox for a shameful amount of time, but I had to figure out some baseline for this. Giving the characters the ability to use sign language or the ability to write seemed too easy. So I had to figure out a way around that <3

Word Count: 5866

Pairing: Analogical

Warnings: Flirting/Romantic contact, Prejudice, Very, very light hurt/comfort

---

    Black coffee.

    Two sugars.

    Splash of cream.

    That's the way Logan's coffee had always been served to him. As long as he could remember, he spent his morning getting ready for work, drove to his favorite coffee shop and went about his day. He'd been doing this for years. This was how his life had always been.

    Until today.

    Logan stood outside his favorite coffee shop dumbfounded by the ‘Closed' sign blocking the way to his daily routine. A small note was tacked to the sign explaining that a family emergency that had forced Anna, the shop owner, to close on this very particular day, but still the small sign stalled his brain.

    This was fine.

    Emergencies happen. The most important factor of the situation is that the owner was taking care of her family. His need to stay on his routine was of minimal importance compared to the safety and well being of the kind barista who'd been serving him his coffee for years.

    Logan knew this was true. He shouldn’t still be staring blankly at the dark building, but he couldn’t seem to drag his feet away. The thought was irrational and he knew there were several solutions existed for this very simple problem he was facing. He forced himself to take a long breath, considering his options.

    He could simply continue onto work without his coffee, but the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. Dealing with his coworkers without caffeine as a buffer sounded less than ideal. Logan let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he turned towards his car.

   Of course, the logical course of action was to simply go to a different coffee shop. It would be well worth the mediocre coffee and pitiful stares of the new shop's patrons if he didn't have to go without his daily dose of dark roasted stimulant.

    Logan chewed on his lip as he slipped his key into the ignition of his car. He knew the dread building in his chest was an overreaction, but he couldn’t seem to trick his brain into releasing the anxiety constricting his throat. He'd spent years, slowly optimizing his daily routine to avoid the stares full of pity that he often received while out in public. Too often, well-meaning people would notice the lack of black designs on his body and their looks would immediately turned to pity. The very thought of the way people looked at him when they realized he had no words made his stomach twist.

    Most people were gifted with at least a few decades worth of words, more if they were careful about how they used them. Everyday, he was surrounded by dozens of people whose arms and legs were covered in black designs, indicating the words they had left in there life. Some were more faded than others, especially among the older generation, but few people were like him. His arms were bare when he was born and one would assume he would have gotten accustomed to the way people without words were treated, but it never seemed to get easier.

    He turned the key, humming as the engine suddenly jumped to life. Slowly, he let out a sigh as he backed out of the parking lot and turned back onto the busy streets. The sounds of traffic and instrumental music on the radio soon lulled him into an uneasy resignation as he scanned the road for the next indication of an establishment selling the much needed warmth and comfort of caffeine he was craving today. Logan had barely gone two blocks when a purple neon sign caught his eye.

    Black Cat Coffee.

    The branding left a lot to be desired.  The faded logo was nearly unreadable under the purple glow of the neon circled around the cartoon-ish black cat logo. The design was garish and had too much of a Halloween vibe for Logan’s usual taste. Not to mention, something about the cat's eyes unsettled him as it seemed to smile directly at him. He wouldn’t even have considered it any other day, but he was already behind schedule, and the shop appeared to be nearly empty even as the morning traffic bustled past. Logan sighed,  relenting to his need for caffeine as he pulled into the narrow parking lot and stepped out of his car.

    He looked up as he stepped out, taking in the aged building as he made his way to the door. The bright purple paint on the building had faded with time, leaving behind a deep, muted purple that only seemed to retreat from the dark, green trim framing the building. He swallowed, nervous as darkened the doorstep of the strange establishment.

    Logan pushed open the heavy door, almost jumping at the sound of the bell that announced his arrival. He quickly slipped through the entrance but his unease only seemed to increase as the sounds of the traffic we dulled by the thick walls. His skin prickled with discomfort as he stepped forward into the empty shop.

    He hadn't thought to check for an open sign. After all, he'd hardly have assumed that a coffee shop would be closed on a Monday morning during prime business hours, and yet it appeared he was alone in the dim space. The natural light from the windows was muted by the large pine trees outside and the amber light cast down by the industrial style light barely seemed sufficient to light the room.

    Logan had barely stepped up to the counter when a figure suddenly rose up from behind the register. He bowed his head quickly, ashamed by how much he'd jumped when the man stood up, marker in his mouth as he stared at Logan.

    The man blinked, still staring at him as he pulled the marker out of his mouth with a knowing smirk. The man's long hair was pulled back into bun on the top of his head and he was wearing a dark colored hoodie with purple patches on the elbows. His smile twitched as he chewed on the piercing on his lips and Logan got the feeling that the man had enjoyed spooking him. The man chuckled at his disgruntled expression, pointing up at the faded menu board above him before slipping the marker behind his ear as he waited for Logan’s response.

    Logan bit his lip as he raised his wrist into the air to showcase the purple band around his wrist. He paused, expecting the man’s expression to change as he realized that Logan wasn’t able to speak. This wasn't a new experience and he'd seen all the reactions before. Sadness, pity, and even disgust at how young he was to have lost his privilege to speak, but nothing could have prepared him for the casual shrug the man gave in response.

    He couldn’t help but stare, dumbfounded by the lack of a reaction as the man turned to the espresso machine. His mind became a blur as he listened to the hissing of the machine, still shell-shocked by the man's nonchalance.

    After a moment, the man seemed to catch him staring and he smirked as Logan started. He flushed, suddenly embarrassed by his distinct inability to function like a normal human being and follow basic social norms like not staring at the attractive barista who seemed to be taking pleasure in his incompetence. Taking a step back, Logan bowed his head as he tried to hide the red burn in his cheeks. He started to turn to find a table to wait, but the man almost jumped over the counter at him trying to get his attention.

    Logan looked up as the man’s smirk softened as he leaned back holding up his hands in a gentle apology. He smiled, waving Logan back over as he turned to finish with his process. Logan stared for a moment before reluctantly returning to the bar. He watched the barista work and a moment later, the man slid the purple to go cup across the counter to Logan.

    Black coffee.

    Two sugars.

    Splash of cream.

    Whatever the man had handed him was most certainly not that, but Logan had to admit this drink was much tastier than what he'd grown accustomed to drinking. He'd been to dozens of shops and always been served the same drink. His lack of words had always meant he couldn’t order and that had left him at the mercy of the standard drink every shop had agreed to serve people like him.

    Logan stared down at the cup, almost shell-shocked by the unexpected flavor. He didn’t even known coffee could taste this good. The flavor didn’t have even a hint of bitterness and the steamed milk was light and fluffy with a sweet caramel finish. The sweet drink was absolutely divine.

    “Pretty decent, huh?”

    Logan had just started taking another sip when the man's words startled him. He choked, nearly dropping his delicious drink in the process and his eyes turned up to the stranger's knowing grin as the man leaned forward on the bar. He hesitated a moment too long, shocked by the man’s casual use of his words, only to realize a moment too late that he was expecting an answer. Slowly, Logan nodded and he smiled as the man perked up.

    “Name's Virgil and, um, I'm not busy at the moment.” The stranger leaned on the bar, glancing around the room with a raised eyebrow. “Do you think maybe you'd like to stay a bit?”

    Logan hesitated, looking at the door. He knew he was already going to be late for work, but he couldn't help but be intrigued by the handsome man who seemed willing to throw away precious words on a complete stranger. His silence hung over them, even more deafening than usual as he pondered the stranger’s invitation. That was, until a soft fur brushed Logan’s hand and he startled once more, looking to see a purring mass of dark fur staring up at him with glittering amber eyes.

    “That's Azazel.” The barista drawled lazily as Logan turned back to his smile. “I'd lie and say you were special, but the truth is she’s kind of a slut for anyone who's willing to pet her.”

    Logan snorted, slightly embarrassed as he glanced nervously at the soft expression on the man's face and extended his hand out to the cat. The black mass lifted up to reveal her slender black legs as they stretched as she arched her back before pushing her head into Logan’s hand. He chuckled as she purred and allowed Logan to scratch under her chin, leaning her head in for more.

    “Are you sure you can’t stay?”

    Logan bit his lip as he turned his gaze back up to Virgil. He shook his head. He wanted nothing more than to stay with the stranger who had spared more words on him in this short conversation than he'd been given in weeks, but he couldn’t afford to abandon his job. He liked the job had now. It was comfortable and gave him more freedom than most places would, given his social status. Not to mention, the placement process for employment for those without words was an experience he wasn't eager to repeat. Reluctantly, he shook his head at the stranger, feeling the disappointment weigh heavy on his chest as he stepped back to leave.

    “Now, just hold on,” Virgil raised a hand to stop him. Logan turned back, surprised to see the barista swinging around the counter. “This isn't a one time offer.”

    Logan paused, shocked as the man reached out to take his hand. He stared in bewilderment as the man flipped his wrist over and rolled up his sleeve. Virgil pulled the marker from behind this ear and popped off its cap. Logan's mouth dropped open as Virgil took the black marker and started to write on his forearm.

   “You know where that is?”

    Canterbury Park.

    Logan blinked as he looked down to read the words scribbled on his forearm. From what he remembered, the park was close to here and not far from his own house actually. He looked at his wrist, still mystified by the ink now decorating his skin for a moment longer before nodding up at Virgil.

    “Good,” The man whispered with a smirk. “If you’re interested, meet me there tonight around 9pm.”

    Logan nodded, still holding his arm and looking shell-shocked as he turned to go.

    “Oh, and you best keep that hidden.” Virgil smirked, gently pulling at the piercing in his ear as Logan turned his head over his shoulder. “I don’t do parties. That invite's just for you.”

    Logan felt heat rise in his cheek as he nodded and the stranger flashed him a coy smile. He quickly pulled his sleeve down and shuffled back out of the door, jumping again at the sound of the bell as he ducked out of the shop.

    Logan was shaking as he dropped into the seat of his car. He quickly set his coffee into the cup holder immediately to avoid spilling the precious liquid as his hands started to shake. His hands found their way up to rest firmly on the steering wheel as he tried to steady his breathing. His eyes lifted up to the shop windows if disbelief as he tried to process what had just happened. Needless to say, this was not how he’d anticipated his morning going.

---

    Logan's focus was all but non-existent for the rest of his day. He was fortunate enough that his reputation of reliability kept him out of trouble with his boss. In fact, she’d barely even looked up as he walked in the door nearly twenty minutes late. It perturbing how dreadfully normal the day was as it passed. It was entirely as though the encounter with the stranger was nothing more than a dream. He may not even have believed it happened, if it weren't for the black ink still scribbled on his arm.

    Logan set the coffee on his desk and began to pull his pencils out of his bag. His drafting board was laid out in front of him. The numbers stared back at him in the only language that had ever come naturally to him.

     He tried to set to work on his current drafting project. He'd been assigned to design a new public art house on the south side of town. It was a project he’d been lucky enough to land when so many people like him were simply placed into manual labor or food service. Not that he would ever belittle the importance and necessity of such jobs, but the opportunity to pursue creative work drove him to push the boundaries of what people like him should be encouraged to do. In a world of silence, this was his voice and he was ready to shout from the mountaintops.

    Usually.

    Yet somehow, today he seemed utterly speechless. He could barely put his pencil to the board without shaking. Every time he moved, his sleeve pulled up to reveal the black ink on his skin, and each time, the sight sent his thoughts spiraling towards the mysterious barista's offer. His coworkers moved around him, buzzing and humming as they worked productively, making him grow increasingly desperate to manage even to draw a straight line as his day dragged on.

    I shouldn’t go.

    He knew he shouldn’t even consider the man’s proposal. Meeting a strange man in the park alone at night was dangerous to say the least. His condition made him particularly vulnerable, and he knew it. If something happened, Logan couldn’t even call for help. It was the reason why he had always been exceedingly cautious in his previous ventures, so he couldn’t understand why he was even entertaining the idea now.

    Logan sucked in a breath, slowly releasing the breath as he pressed his hand to his sleeve, thinking about the dark scribble underneath. He knew the answer was obvious. Writing on his arm was an intimate gesture. In a world where the spoken word was rare, the written word was nearly non-existent. A thousand spoken words would not fade the black designs on one's arms as with the same potency as a single written sentence. Even among those with the most words to spare, few of them chose to give their words the world through writing. To give even two written words to a stranger was an incredible gesture of generosity and trust and not one he should throw away lightly.

    Oh, fuck. I'm actually going go.

    Logan swallowed, leaning back in his chair as he dropped his pencil on his desk. He gave up on trying to focus. With a sigh, he rested his head in his hands on his desk. He just needed to get through the day without the curiosity killing him. Whatever happened that night, he would simply take his chances on the meeting being worth the misery.

---

    The chill of the night crept up Logan’s neck as he turned into the dark park. He'd opted for a more casual outfit than this morning than he'd been wearing this morning.  The choice had taken him longer than he would like to admit, but he'd settled on a pair of straight, black jeans, his canvas side bag and a blue sweatshirt he'd gotten a few years ago as a gift from a friend. The blue garment had always been a bit of a comfort item for him, even as the years started to wear it thin. He'd loved it and had managed to keep it in perfect shape, and though he’d admit in this particular moment he was craving something a little less threadbare, it still brought him a sense of ease he waited.

    “You made it.”

    Logan jumped at the sound of the  man's voice, immediately feeling silly that he hadn't anticipated the man's appearance behind him. He smiled shyly, taking in the man’s appearance as he turned around. The man’s dark hair was covered by a slouch beanie and he wore a heavy leather jacket that was lined with a dark black fleece underneath. A plain back tee showed through the half-zipped jacket and the skinny jeans he wore seemed to be his signature shade of purple. Logan chewed his lip as the man stepped up to him, playing with the silver cuff on top of his right ear. Logan flashed a shy smile, shifting his feet as he tried to avoid staring.

    “You can relax, dude. I promise I don’t bite.” Virgil dropped his hand from his hear, flashing a coy smile at Logan. “I mean, not unless you ask nicely.”

     Heat rushed to Logan cheeks as he ducked his head to his chest as the man smirked at him.

    Nope, this is too much.

    He tried to turn away, only to be stopped as  Virgil’s gentle grip caught his arm.

    “Hey, wait. I'm sorry.” Virgil came up beside him, softening his grip on Logan’s wrist. “I'll cool it with the jokes, I swear—um, I didn’t actually catch your name."

    Logan nodded, staring at the genuine concern in the man's eyes as he stopped him. He relaxed a bit, allowing Virgil to guide him back as he reached for his wallet. After some digging, he pulled out an old ID card, faded from years of use, and handed to Virgil.

    “Logan King.” Virgil smiled, flashing a look up and down him as he handed back the plastic card. “That’s a killer last name, dude.”

    Logan tensed slightly at the verbiage, forcing a smile as he shoved his hands in his pocket. Still despite his attempt to conceal his discomfort,  the man somehow managed to pick up on the slight shift in his demeanor. His eyes immediately became apologetic as he held up his hands in gentle reassurance.

    “Listen, I'm not a serial killer or whatever you’re worried about,” Virgil smiled, almost appearing nervous as he watched Logan's head turn back to him. “I’m nervous too. That’s all. I haven’t been on a first date in a long time.”

    Logan blinked in shock, staring at the man with apparent confusion in his eyes. He was quiet as the man’s eyes suddenly filled with distress.

    “Oh, god—” Virgil stammered, suddenly fidgeting under Logan’s stare for a change. “—Please tell me you knew what this was. If that’s not what you came here for, I can walk you home. I didn't mean to—”

    Logan chuckled as he held up his hands to brush off the stranger’s worries.  The man stilled as he watched Logan’s movements. He seemed to understand that Logan was not uncomfortable with the thought, but the stranger was clearly still unsettled by Logan's surprise. Logan's shyness abated slightly and he stepped forward, taking the man’s hand in his own.

    Virgil looked down as Logan’s hand as their fingers intertwined together. His tension started to melt away as he tipped his head up to the gentle look in Logan’s eyes.

  “You’re sure this is what you want?”

   Logan raised an eyebrow, teasing as he pointedly looked down at the man's hand curled in his own before turning playful eyes back up to Virgil.

    “Alright, smart-ass.” The man laughed as he turned to pull Logan along the path. “I needed to check in with you. Consent’s important and all that.”

    Logan’s lips curled into a small smile as he nodded in appreciation of the gesture.

    “Alright, then.” Virgil whispered,  squeezing Logan’s hand as he started to pull him down the path. “Let’s go.”

     His posture softened as they ventured deeper into the park. Virgil’s grip was gentle as he led him up the slight incline through the trees. Logan looked up as they hurried along their way and he could see the stars were starting to shine through the darkening sky when he noticed the trees suddenly started to thin out in front of them. Logan swallowed feeling nervous as Virgil pulled him up next to him, but his mouth immediately fell open as he looked out at the sight before him.

    They stood at the side of a sheer drop that overlooked the shimmering lights of thee city. The light below had started to glimmer as the valley's inhabitants turned on their lights on and the sun above had dropped below the horizon, illuminating the sky in the most vibrant colors Logan has ever seen.  Wispy purple and blue clouds shown brightly against the amber halo of the sun.

   “Looks like we’ve got a good one tonight.”

   Logan adjusted his glasses taking in the sight as Virgil walked him over to the bench at the edge of the small cliffside. Virgil let him sit and stare for a moment before Logan managed to pull his attention away from the jaw-dropping sight in front of him and look over to the kind man’s crooked grin. He blushed, looking away as he coyly tried to hide his embarrassment.

    “So, I take it you’ve never been up here before?”

    Shaking his head, Logan leaned back into the bench and lifted his head to the man sitting across from him. He furrowed his brow, tapping his own bare wrist with a questioning glance at Virgil’s sleeves.

    “You don’t have to worry. I have plenty of words to spare.” Virgil smiled at the concern in Logan’s eyes. “Honestly, I don’t think I have a limit, and even if I did, I don’t really talk to that many people to begin with.”

    Logan blinked, glancing curiously down at the man’s covered arms. Virgil continued to stare at his troubled expression until Logan let out a sigh, raising his eyebrow as he reached a hand out to Virgil’s wrist with a question in his eyes.

   “You want to see my markings on the first date?” Virgil smirked, cocking his head as Logan flushed. “That’s scandalous, Logan. What would people say?”

   His face reddening, Logan pulled his hand back as he nodded an apology. He’d started to lean back when he felt Virgil touch his arm.

    “Hey, I’m just kidding.” Virgil slowly released eased away from Logan’s arm as he cautiously turned back to Virgil. He held a wrist out to Logan with a gentle smile, inviting him to satisfy his curiosity. “Seriously, I wrote on your arm within minutes of meeting you. You deserve a peek.”

     Logan was hesitant, staring at the man cautiously as he attempted to gauge his genuineness. When the man continued to smile at him, his curiosity started to take over and he found the will to lean forward. His eyes flitted carefully to the man’s arm as it curled around his shoulder in a smooth, though not subtle, movement. Logan smirked before relaxing into the bench behind him and turning his eyes down to Virgil’s wrist.  The man’s skin was soft as Logan held his hand, gently pushing the sleeve of his jacket up so he could see the man’s forearm.

    The sight of Virgil’s arm sent a jolt of adrenaline through his body and he automatically leaned forward in disbelief. He ran his thumb along the intricate design almost expecting it to disappear before his eyes. Unlike the black and grey designs he’d seen before, Virgil’s arms were full of intricate designs in all colors of the rainbow. Each line was clean and bright as one would expect of a newborn. The patterns swirled across his wrists in repeating lines and curves that formed such intricate patterns that Logan almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His mind went blank as he stared down at the beautiful patterns, running his fingers along the colors until a realization suddenly swept through his mind.

    Logan turned to dig through his bag for a few moments before pulling out a small novel and pointing to the author’s name as he held the book out to the man in front of him.

    Virgil Dark.

    Virgil chuckled as he took the book from Logan with a knowing smile. “Oh, great. You’re a fan, huh?”

    Logan flushed, suddenly shy as he suddenly made sense of the strange man’s identity. Virgil Dark, one of the few active authors in the world. His novels were a dark, genre of fiction, and like all authors, his novels were published and printed all over the world. His stories were coveted all over the world, though his own fame was clouded by certain shroud of mystery.

    In a world where words are such a rare and coveted commodity, it was common for authors to tour with their books. The sacrifice of words to be printed for the masses turned them into celebrities, and most authors were all to glad to eat up the attention, but Virgil Dark had always been an enigma to the world.

     Despite being one of the world’s most prolific creators, the author had never held a single viewing. He'd never even be seen as far as Logan knew. His stories just appeared on the shelves of bookstores one day, only to be gone the next as the masses greedily consumed his thrilling novels. Yet here he was, smirking at Logan as the gears turned slowly in his head.

    “They say it’s rude to stare.” Virgil prompted, chuckling as he flipped open Logan’s copy of his book. Logan’s heart dropped slightly as the man’s expression shifted. Bright colors followed the lines of text as Logan watched Virgil scan the text he highlighted. “Man, you really got into this one. Is it your favorite?”

     An embarrassed smile spread across Logan’s face as Virgil turned up to him. He nodded slowly as Virgil’s hand brushed his shoulder.

    “What’s your favorite part?”

    Logan bit his lip as Virgil handed the novel back to him. Pausing for a moment, Logan scrunched his face in thought before flipping through the pages. Virgil waited patiently as Logan dug through the pages, flipping back and forth through the pages until he found the right section. As soon as he settled on a section, pointing it out to Virgil as he handed the book back to him.

    “Oh,” Virgil breathed, slowly scanning the section that Logan had presented to him. Logan’s skin prickled nervously as Virgil grew quiet, flipping through his own writing. His voice softened as he turned up to Logan. “This was one of my favorite sections to write. There’s not much exciting happening. It’s just a moment of humanity between in the midst of the storm. I, um—I guess I didn’t realize there were people who enjoyed these bits. I mostly wrote them for myself.”

    Logan blinked at the sudden wave of emotions in Virgil’s eyes as he handed the book back to him.

    “People are always clamoring for more action, but really what’s the point if you don't give a shit about the characters.” Virgil smiled as he dipped his gaze to the ground. “I always felt like I was just throwing those sections in for myself, so I’m glad to know there are people out there who resonated with them.”

    A soft smile spread across Logan's face as he turned his head down to flip through the pages of the novel, humming to himself as Virgil stared at him.

    “Do you read a lot, Logan?”

   Logan let out a sigh and his smile faded slightly as he nodded down at the book. His gaze turned to the ground and he leaned his elbows down to his knees, flipping absently through the pages.

    “Whoa,” Virgil leaned forward as Logan's expression shifted. “What’s that look for?”

    Continuing to stare down at his book, Logan stared at the pages full of words with a forlorn look in his eyes.

    “Come on,” Virgil pushed gently. He reached out to Logan's forearm, frowning as Logan winced at the contact. Slowly, he backed his arm away, watching the emotions flash across Logan’s face. “You can be honest with me.”

    Logan snorted with contempt as he set the book to the side. He stared at the ground blankly as the man watched him carefully from his periphery. A moment passed before he turned back to Virgil. He stared up at the dark circles under the man's eyes reached forward, holding his bare wrists next Virgil’s colorful forearm.

    Virgil stared at down at Logan’s wrist, glancing up at him as he took in the questioning look in Logan's eyes. He smiled softly as he curled his hand to take Logan’s arm. Slowly, his gaze dropped to Logan’s arm as he ran his thumb along his forearm. “I'm not so shallow that I'd judge someone based on how many words they have, Logan.

    Staring at the man in front of him, dread dropped like a stone in Logan’s stomach as he attempted to pull his arm back, surprised as Virgil caught his wrist.

    “I’m serious when I say this is the most interesting conversation I've had in months.”

    Logan’s lip twitched with doubt as he looked away.

     “I'm serious, Logan. I—” Virgil leaned closer as his hand closed around Logan’s, hesitating briefly. “Shit, dude. You’re freezing.”

    Logan shrugged, not particularly  concerned until Virgil pulled his hand back. The man started to unzip his leather jacket and Logan’s eye went wide as he tried to wave away Virgil’s attempt to hand him his leather jacket.

    “Just take it, dude.��� Virgil smiled encouragingly. “I'll keep the lining. The fleece is plenty warm for me, and the leather will at least keep the wind off your arms.”

    The leather jacket was placed in his hand as Logan gave up his resistance. He nodded, reluctantly slipping the leather over his shoulders as Virgil’s fingers dropped to the zipper and he closed Logan into the jacket with a smirk.

    Virgil’s hands hesitated at Logan’s collar and he sucked on his lip as he looked up and down at him. “Leather's a good look on you.  You could actually be a proper punk if you felt so inclined.”

   Logan glanced down at his chest, unsure of how to process the compliment as Virgil smiled at him.

    “Seriously though, you’re the most interesting person I've met in years.” Virgil raised a hand to Logan’s cheek. “You may not have words, but you have a language all your own.”

    Virgil raised his hand, guiding Logan’s eyes up to him. “Your eyes light up when you’re excited and I get to see the most endearing smile every time I so much as brush your hand.”

    Logan blushed as Virgil dropped his hands to his lap. The man's voice dropped as he whispered to Logan with sincerity.

    “You have a language, Logan.” Virgil as he wrapped an arm around Logan’s shoulder. “I'm sorry no one seems to have bothered to learn it, but I want to. If you’ll allow me, of course.”

    Virgil’s hand curled into Logan’s as the man's forehead leaned down to his own. Logan nodded stiffly as a lump rose in his throat, emotions filling his chest as he turned his head into Virgil’s shoulders as he stared up to the stars in the man’s eyes.

    The deep blue sky wrapped around them as Logan relaxed. He smiled shyly as he lifted a hand to point at Virgil’s lips before bringing his finger back to his own.

    “If you’re asking if you can kiss me, the answer is yes,” Virgil laughed, allowing Logan to lean closer. He paused, glancing at Logan with a cautious smile. “but if anything I do makes you uncomfortable, let me know. Push me away, squeeze my hand, whatever you need to do to get my attention. Okay?”

   Logan nodded, hand still intertwined with Virgil’s as he leaned into Virgil’s lips. The man's breath was warm as he leaned into Virgil’s chest, curling a hand around the back of his neck. Logan’s body felt lighter as Virgil’s arm curled around his shoulder and they leaned into each other under the light of the stars.

   When Logan finally pulled back, he turned up to see the soft look in Virgil’s eyes. He felt a warmth spread across his as he blushed, glancing down at the sleeves of the man's leather jacket around his wrists.

   “I think I could get used to seeing you like this, Logan.” Virgil whispered, smiling at the blush on his cheeks as he sat up. He chewed his lip as he stared down at Logan's eyes as they glittered in the moonlight. “I know it's starting to get late, and I can walk you home if you like, but do you think maybe you’d like to do this again sometime?”

    Logan lifted his head and raised a hand to Virgil’s cheek, pausing for a moment as he stared into the eyes of the mysterious man who fate had set into his path. Virgil’s eyes stared down at him, and he didn't see something broken. For the first time, someone looked at him with curiosity and wonder and suddenly he didn't feel the limits of his voice. Logan smiled as his body relaxed and he leaned in to kiss Virgil.

    “I'll take that as a yes.” Virgil whispered, chuckling as he leaned into Logan's kiss.

---

General Taglist:

@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Perfect birthday plans

Prompt used- Stroking others arms soothingly | fluff | All of Draco's birthdays plans gets fucked up |

" but I am sure, please check again " Draco frustratingly said to the girl behind the counter

" sir, I've already checked thrice and I am sure there's no reservations under the name for Draco malfoy. I'm sorry sir " the girl gave him a sympathetic smile

" Draco it's fine, we'll go some place else " Harry clutched Draco's hand besides him

" no Harry it's not fine-"

" it is, we're sorry for the inconvenience. Have a lovely day " Harry gave the girl a charming smile and dragged Draco out with him.

" I swear I made the reservations " Draco threw his hands his hands in the air in annoyance

" I believe you babe, we'll find some place else " Harry gave him a smile as they walked back to the car.

" but this was the perfect place Harry, I'd been planning this for months and now it's woosh, just not there " Draco sighed as he opened the door for Harry, then walked off to his driver's seat.

" it doesn't matter Draco-"

" it does to me Harry " Draco mumbled as he turned on the car and stayed there in silence for a moment.

" you know, we'll do the next thing on my list" Draco's voice rose in little excitement. Harry gave him a contented smile and they soon drove off.

But as it turned out Draco forgot the tickets to the concert and it was all booked out.

One thing after another, most of his bigger plans failed and he was only met with disappointment until they finally decided to just retrieve back to their place and have a fine ordered dinner with some champagne and call it a night.

But for obvious reasons Draco was bummed out. It was Harry's 21st birthday and he had been planning for this for months, dinner at a nice restaurant, go to a concert, go to a late night beach walk, maybe go do swimming but one thing after another, everything had collapsed onto the ground, for one he never got the reservation at the restaurant, he forgot tickets at home and it was all sold out and they couldn't possibly go now, for it was too late, the beach was all closed down for cleaning so they couldn't even apparate inside. It was a terrible night and Draco felt helpless. Worse than helpless if so. At least the cake would still be something fine.

But it wasn't his lucky day, his cake somehow had even delivered upside down and by his mistake he hadn't even checked before and now the bakery won't take it back and above everything else,the entire block was out of lights because of some technical issues.

" this day couldn't had been more worse " Draco huffed as he threw himself onto the couch and balled into it in disappointed.

" hey " Harry consoled as he came by and sat next to him and snuggled him from behind " it doesn't matter-"

" Harry it might not matter to you but I spent so much time planning all of this, making sure everything was perfect. I even checked 3 times with the restaurant for the reservation yet somehow they didn't had a recollection and I was too fucking stupid- shit- I could've apparated back for ticket. Ugh " draco groaned, curling up more just inside him.

Harry huffed before he got up and sat down on the ground to face Draco.

" get up " harry ordered as he looked at the miserable self of Draco. Confused, Draco refused but harry dragged him up.

" we've still got 2 hours before my birthday ends and I'm sure we can make something out of it Because it surely means too much to you that you're beating yourself up for it, now think of resources at the best for you and just do something, and I'll act surprised okay ?" Harry raised his eyebrows, making sure it was okay.

Draco bit his lip thinking before he stepped away and nodded.

" okay just, go inside the bathroom for a while. And meet me at the roof in 15 minutes alright. And no peaking " Draco ordered. Chuckling Harry kissed Draco's cheeks and walked inside the bathroom and locking himself inside.

Exactly 15 minutes later Harry walked out of the bathroom to find the apartment empty. He searched for Draco to make sure he wasn't ruining his surprise and once he was sure, he carefully made his steps to the roof.

Harry reached the roof door and almost entered when he decided to make sure if Draco was done " should I come in ?"

" just-a- minute " Draco sounded out of breath. Harry heard a clap before Draco opened the door with the most charming he had ever pulled and offered Harry to take his hand. Surprised Harry took his hands and walked into the roof.

" obviously I couldn't do much with the lights all out and well- sometimes these muggle laptops can be of actual use. Also I made sure there was no insect's inside the green house so we won't need repellents " Draco explained As he walked Harry into the small date he had set up in top of their apartments in the greenhouse. With limited resources draco could only set dinner over the ground with a bunch of candle lights lingering in the air and lion king movie paused over the laptop. He had managed to get to lay a few blankets over the ground as well as have a few to cover themselves with.

" this- wow " Harry stuttered amazed at how good everything actually looked

" it's not much. It's nothing compared to whatever I had planned but this is the best I could-"

" Draco " Harry grabbed Draco's arms and forced him to look at harry " the fancy restaurant or the concert or a good beach night, all these materialistic things doesn't matter to me. Yes they would've been nice but this- this is nothing compared to what we could've done. It doesn't matter how I spend my birthday Draco, it's who I spend it with. I don't want some fancy or a extravagant things to be happy on my birthday, I'm happy with you waking up next to me on my birthday, hell everyday. I don't need all these things, it's only you who matters to me, I just need you to acknowledge the days that's all. I've never been huge fans of extravaganza, it's people who matter and as long as I have you, I'm sure all my birthdays will be great " Harry told him as a stroked his arms gently..

" you get me? I love this. This is better than anything else you had planned. And to be frank those huge restaurant serves like a spoon of food for such huge amount Money, I'd much rather have this perfect pizza and champagne. I love you Draco and i love absolutely everything that you do for me. You trying is enough for me and I hope you understand that too, okay " Harry cupped his face giving him an understanding smile. Draco looked at harry for a moment before he nodded. Harry smiled before he placed a chaste kiss over Draco's lips , intertwining their hands and walking them into the greenhouse.

When they spent the entire night over the rooftop, watching movie, drinking, eating and eventually having the best sex, they realised that it was the most perfect night they could've asked for. Draco definitely didn't need to make reservations for Harry or buy him expensive gifts, he just needed Harry to know that he'd go over and beyond for him and that's what made it all perfect. The perfect combination of things is not materialism, it's people. Besides there Can be no perfection without flaw, so someday you just have to fuck it up or let it fuck up to realise there's beauty in flaws.

" of course Harry's the flaw and I'm the beauty " Draco chuckled as the told their friend's the story. Harry sat on his laps rolled his eyes, slapping him over the chest playfully.

" I'm the beauty, he's the flaw " Harry rolled his eyes again

" could you guys be anymore cheesy ?" Pansy rolled her eyes at the cringe worth couple.

Harry pouted before he said " no " and then he deliberately sloppily kissed Draco for a good measure.

And pansy groaned, but she of course knew, love like this doesn't happen twice and she was happy for them.

Requests open

Day 24- concealment charms | Day 26- after all this time, always the same

[mybg3notebook]

Gale Summarised Analysis

Disclaimer Game Version: All these analyses were written up to the game version v4.1.104.3536 (Early access). As long as new content is added, and as long as I have free time for that, I will try to keep updating this information. Written in May 2021.

The majority of sources used for this article are in the game itself (this includes my Gale-solo playthroughs as well as a combination of the videos by munmomuu and selphie1999), and the few dev’s notes provided by pjenn. Gale as origin is not taken into account since it’s not finished and has little to none Gale-related content. There will be little datamining content as well since pjenn said the game contained almost no gale-related notes (only in the Weave and in the Revelation scene).

Additional disclaimers about meta-knowledge and interpretations in (post)

The number between brackets [] represents the topic-block related to (this post), which gathers as much evidence as I could get.

We can infer about Gale by analysing what he approves and disapproves of. Sometimes, we can even lightly infer some information from his neutral reactions, but let’s be honest: this way of analysing a char is pretty poor since it leaves everything to speculation. Neutral reactions can only be analysed, in very rare instances, by contrasting the same situation in other contexts, and seeing what other options Gale approves or disapproves of. With these considerations in mind, we can proceed to describe this character.

Disclaimer: this is a meta with my personal interpretation of the character, sticking as much as possible to the facts and leaving little to “desires” or “projections” of what I want him to be. If I do so, I will state it explicitly in the text for the sake of analysis honesty. I want to be clear about what is canon (facts shown in bg3 EA), from what’s personal interpretation with little proof.

Understanding Gale (integrated text)

We are none of us monsters. We are merely hatcheries for monstrous things. So we fight them

---Gale 

Collecting most of the information provided in-game, we know he has a cat, a Library, and writes poetry sometimes. One of the first things that Gale will reveal is that he is a private person. He easily and clearly sets boundaries from the first moment, showing Tav where they stand. The second aspect he makes us aware of is his pragmatic thinking and his preference for diplomatic approaches. A third aspect that stands out on its own: he is a very verbose person, maybe as a result of his academia background in combination with his poetry hobby. He also has a bad posture when talking, but I’m not sure if this is intentional or a bug.

We can assure that Gale certainly is a man of the city [13], and may have a decent social status. It's impossible to say for sure if it's noble or rich or both, or it is just a natural consequence of being a wizard scholar: he is frustrated by the harshness of the camping life, he misses the civilisation of the city which offers well cooked meals, soft beds, and scented baths. Not by chance he is the only companion in the group who would approve of giving Oskar 200 gold to fight “the discomforts of the road” [13]. However, he adapts. Despite the lack of luxuries, he managed to survive in the wilderness.

Gale and his link with magic is unquestionable. Magic is life for Gale, metaphorically and literally speaking since it's magic what allows him to stay alive despite the "orb" in his chest. If we talk about Magic, we have to talk about Mystra and the Weave. The Weave is not only the embodiment of Mystra, it's an extension of Mystra herself. It extends across many planes of existence and is in almost all parts of Faerûn. By dragging power from it, Magic can be performed. 

Mystra, for lore reasons and conjectures that I will discuss in the post "Mystra and her Chosen ones", turned teenager/young adult Gale into one of her Chosen, making their relationship more intimate and granting Gale a deeper access to the Weave. This put Gale into the category of an archwizard. It's clear that Gale was and still is a devotee of Mystra, which could give us a hint of his alignment since she is a neutral good goddess and she expects for her Chosen to align around it.

Gale likes confidence, in others and in himself. He is confident in his looks (he has described himself as a “handsome devil” and answered during the romance/Revelation scene that he knew he was beautiful under the light as well as Tav). But beyond these two lines, qualifying him as a narcissist seems extreme. He is surely very confident about his knowledge, and we see he is not just mere words: his Mind Flayer knowledge is at the the same level of what githyankis know. If we compare how Astarion/Tav struggled with the book of Thay, and then we see how Gale manages it (sadly the scene is not complete yet in EA, and there is almost no datamining info of Gale), we can conclude once more that his knowledge and power of the mind are real (he is, so far, the main companion who allows us to explore the lore of the game in a deeper way during his conversations). We also know it's a bit more complicated to intrude into his mind using the tadpole because he has knowledge and mental tools to protect himself (check the post about the Tadpole inside Gale). He is certainly a very verbose and confident scholar, who knows his limits, and in occasions he seems to dabble into an ego-teasing play as an attempt of levity, displaying his “insufferable side”, as he has described himself (his self-awareness of these traits is remarkable, and it is the reason why I avoid qualifying him as arrogant. Arrogant chars are hardly self-aware of their own bad manners or insufferable traits). But we can see it's usually done as a joke or, with an evil Tav, as an aggressive reaction. For a deep analysis of this aspect, check the post about "Gale Hypotheses- Part 2", section: "Narcissism". 

Based on his approvals and disapprovals, we can see that Gale has a strong preference in avoiding fights, violence, and bloodshed [1]. He will always prefer diplomatic and persuasive approaches [2]. Reasoning is his best weapon, but if the individual we are dealing with can hardly be persuaded, he would approve of a deception or an intimidation as long blood is not spilt. Here is where we see his pragmatism in action, all the time. His primary goal at every moment is to avoid bloodshed. His philosophy could be summed up in the line “the means [as long as they don’t kill gratuitously] hardly matter if the end is worthy”. And for Gale, nothing is more worthy than life [3]. This doesn't cover only the life of innocents he cares about, it includes the life of the most dubious characters as well, such as Rugan or Crusher. Gratuitous death is meaningless for him. During the scene of Nettie we can have a glimpse of his philosophy towards life: he viscerally hates treating life as if it were nothing: 

Gale: How dare she snuff out life with as much thought as snuffing out a bloody candle? […] It's not right to feel the cold breath of death in your neck, then move on as if it was nothing but a soothing breeze. One respects life by fighting for it, and one respects death by fearing it.

Gale: One should never be afraid to live life to the fullest.

Probably the limited amount of life he has due to the "orb" increased his sense of respect for life and its celebration. I personally understand Gale as a character who embodies the perspectives of a seriously ill person, knowing that their life may be short, but they will try to make the best out of it. 

He doesn't only respect life per se, he also cares about its dignity. This can be seen in his explicit rejection to undead existences such as Connor (he explains that it would be merciful to put an end to his undead nightmare), or in his disapprovals of humiliation and torture [9]

 We could suspect that this emphasis in protecting any life comes from the fact that only people who are alive can (sometimes) be forgiven or/and change. This is not explicit, but since he is a character who talks about being better and wiser than his previous self, about acknowledging mistakes, about forgiveness, this interpretation seems reasonable. 

These concepts of kindness and compassion combined with “the mistakes of the youth” are repetitive in his interactions and approvals [5,12]. Of course, they echo in his soul since they are reflections and desires of his own experience. This pattern covers forgiving children in particular [5], and disapproving hard judgements [16], especially on matters whose story is not fully understood by Tav. This means he doesn't like quick judgements when he doesn't know the whole story first. This scenario can be easily seen during Karlach's quest, he reserves his judgment until knowing Karlach's side: There are always two sides to each story.

Gale: I have to say I don't know if agreeing to this hunt was such a wise idea. Who's to say who's the real villain in this tale of devils and masquerades? [...]When we track Karlach down, let's chat before we chop.

Similar concept appears during his Revelation scene, when he encourages and keeps asking Tav to listen to him first before judging. This is also the reason why in his Loss scene he would disapprove if Tav quickly assumes that his loss of Mystra was due to arrogance. Tav judged him without knowing the whole story. However, once Tav knows the whole story, Gale will accept any judgement from them without approval penalties during the Revelation scene.

He approves all actions that imply helping others in hard times and disapproves of them if they were done out of greed [4]. He is an animal lover [6,7]. Being kind to animals and treating them good will increase his approval, while animal cruelty will earn his disapproval. Same goes for humanoids: any display of gratuitous violence that could have been prevented with a trick or a diplomatic approach, any humiliation forced upon others, any torture or situation of slavery, is disapproved [8, 9, 11]. 

In particular, Gale seems to advocate the philosophy of “give others their own medicine”[18] or in other words: poetic justice. We can see this during the Myconid colony; he approves of helping the Myconid to avenge the young killed by the Duergar, adding the comment: “Wicked killers deserve wicked ends”. He is implying to give them a similar, wicked medicine to the Duergars. Another less deadly situation of this kind is shown during the foot situation with Crusher: Gale is the one suggesting “pungent poetic justice” and telling Tav that they should force Crusher to kiss their feet. 

The most iconic scene, however, is during Nettie's, if Tav lies during her interrogation. As a hot-headed reaction, Gale states that he would have poisoned Nettie if this situation would have happened to him. Although, after calming down, he approves of and confirms Tav's actions [if Tav managed to persuade Nettie to give them the antidote]

Gale: A taste of her own medicine is what she deserves! […] But you handled it, and you handled it well. 

 In this scene we also see a pattern: Gale is shown as a fallible human; his most visceral reaction during the first moment is anger and indignation, giving us a hint that he is not so rational when it comes to emotional states. An extremely obvious, human concept. 

The scene of Nettie trying to kill a potential menace (the victim of a MF) reverberated in his consciousness, projecting immediately a fact in his mind: if he ever dares to reveal his "orb" problem, and anyone knows what a danger he represents—no matter how stable it looks—people will want to remove the menace by killing him. 

This is the reason behind his words “It's just that, had it been me... had it been...” Gale knows that this simplistic and common thinking in removing what's dangerous would end up turning into a more destructive tragedy in his case than in any infected victim of the tadpoles. So this combination makes us see, for the first time, an emotional Gale. After some seconds, he cools down and returns to his more rational, diplomatic, and moderate self. What we can read here is that Gale would be very prone to rush decisions or to make mistakes under emotional circumstances. We will learn later that the other mistake he made under emotional stress ended up with the "orb" stuck in his chest. A third mistake was done during the party, once more under the emotional stress of a potential abandonment by Tav due to the true nature of the orb. 

Everything related to the “orb”—which is his most traumatic experience—naturally makes him more emotional and prone to mistakes. To see how truly traumatic the "orb" is in his life we can notice the following patterns during the meeting scene: he speaks about the tadpole in a relaxed, rational way, despite the traumatising experience. He first asks for an archwizard instead of for a cleric, because his priority is the orb. Gale's main fear is not the tadpole, but the orb. If we remember his words after the consumption of the artefacts, we realise he lives in a permanent state of anxiety and raw fear, and probably pain too, given his facial gesticulation when anything interacts with the "orb" (whether artefacts or Tav's hand). His banter with Shadowheart reinforces the concept that he always has a knot in the stomach. When he accepts the deal with Raphael, it seems to be related to the orb, not to the tadpole. The effect of the "orb" has ceased, but the tadpole is still in Gale's head since we still need to roll against a high DC and not only against a 1DC during this scene, so we can assume he still has the tadpole despite Raphael's deal. See the post about "The Tadpole" in Gale for more details.

Gale is a character that represents human experiences deeply related to growing up: mistakes done in the past, and the acceptance of not being forgiven despite the desire of wanting to. This can be easily seen during the conversation of the second tadpole dream, where Gale's mood is foul and we learn that his deepest desire is for Mystra to forgive him, but he also knows it's impossible for that to happen. He detects the lie in this dream because he has accepted that Mystra will never forgive him. Gale is the story of mistakes done during youth with grave consequences, of acknowledging them and trying to make them right, of surviving those mistakes, and depending on the interpretation, he is also the story of an ill dying man, with a gentle vision and deep care for life. 

The great majority of his approvals are based on actions that show kindness and compassion, both reiterative concepts that are so important in his character that they come from his lips when we see the goblin party: 

Gale: The shadow within is spreading like poison, corrupting kindness and compassion. [Only after a tough DC of 15]

In combination with: Gale: I don't know myself anymore. All this... It's not who I am. Around you, I'm not who I want to be. I should leave. 

These lines show how, in a sudden change to an evil path, Gale would start doubting his own morality, explaining that the cause of it is the "orb" itself, corrupting the most core aspects of his personality. This corruption may or may not be lore-related. It's not completely clear what Gale's "orb" truly is. For more details, check the post of the "Orb".

 His constant critical thinking comes from his advocacy to non-conventionality [15]: a true scholar will always explore all the options and hypotheses before reaching a conclusion. Therefore, Gale would approve of any non-conventional way to fix a problem [15] as long as it doesn't potentially cause harm or bloodshed [1,2,3,8,9]. Due to his own background, Gale will always advise to be very careful of the consequences of one’s actions. This can be easily seen when, after encountering the caged goblin Sazza, Gale would advocate to explore the possibility of reaching Gut Priestess to cure the tadpole. However, when Tav helps Sazza to escape, Gale will comment briefly against this action.

Gale: I know I said it's not inconceivable a goblin priestess could help us. And yet... was it really wise to set another goblin free so she can arrange introductions? […] consider the consequences. What if she leads her entire tribe to the grove? Tav: I don't care, I owe this grove no allegiance. Gale: No allegiance, no. Though we don't need to sign its death warrant

Once more we see that Gale is up to using any (unharming) means to get a goal, but not at any cost. He has a clear line he doesn't like to cross: life [3]. Avoiding putting other people's lives in danger is very important for him. We see this concept over and over in most scenes.

He doesn't likerushed decisions, and in that same train of thoughts, he will disapprove any use of unknown magic or tricks when nobody in the group can truly understand how they work [17], for example the tadpoles or Raphael's deal (he is against accepting it quickly, but he will approve of having a more cautious attitude and carefully thinking about it). 

Since the moment we meet him, we can infer he is obsessed with the artefacts. It's obviously understandable: he doesn't want to die, but also, he doesn't want to kill all those that will be caught in the eruption of the orb. For this reason he will insist on the loot in the Temple Ruins despite knowing that grave robbery is not correct. 

Gale: Bad form, isn't it? Grave robbing? […] Let's have a look at the loot. It isn't for your pockets only. 

He keeps pondering life over death: although he respects the dead, he will always value more the living creatures in the present. This is also what pushes Gale to suggest Tav to open Rugan's chest. Stealing from the evil Zhentarins is not something that will weigh on his consciousness too much. Besides, he knows it belongs to a wizard: meaning that the chance for it to contain a powerful artefact is really high. Similar suggestions will be said about the Idol of Silvanus, but talking with him in the camp will show us that he won't approve of taking it, only as a last resort. He keeps pondering the living over a sacred piece of stone, since he knows the druids won't take the stealing very peacefully. Once more we see Gale's respect and care for life, trying to minimise damage as much as the circumstances allow him.

Gale is also a survivalist. He doesn't want to die, he loves celebrating life in its more mundane and small details. He is an emotional character for a wizard, a bit strange since they are usually portrayed as more rational and cold, losing their lives among dusty books. However, Gale has shown in many scenes that he prefers to survive without killing, but if he has to, he will do it, dealing with the weight of it in his consciousness because killing unprovoked affects him (scene in the camp after killing the druids, or the goblin party scene). 

His moral in preventing gratuitous death sometimes will conflict with his own survival, especially if he is by an evil Tav's side. He couldn't accept bloodshed when other peaceful options were available and possible to reach. This is clearly shown during the goblin party, where Gale's consciousness suffers and feels the corruption of the "orb" killing the kindness and the compassion inside him. He accepts that wanting to live is a powerful drive, but he doesn't support this massacre, questioning if all that blood was necessary. A Tav killing the tieflings seems to lose the possibility of pursuing Gale romantically, at least in EA so far. For Gale, survival is important, but the means to do it (when they can cause death) matter too. Life is worth preserving.

 The usual archetype of survivalist tends to be an individualist one who would survive at any cost without remorse because that's the “law of the jungle”, the strongest must survive. However, Gale seems to embody a different concept of survivalist that it's hard to put in words: a sort of communal survivalist, trying to survive in coexistence with his community: he wants his survival to imprint the least harm possible (even though sometimes it would not be possible), trying to help those around him as long as his condition allows it; for example, despite wanting Gut's potential cure for the tadpole, he would disagree in helping Sazza escape because she will lead the goblins to the Grove, no matter the fact that doing this will grant them their introduction to the priestess. 

His list of approval shows that his sense of survival is always pondered with the consequences that it can cause on others (check the post with the "Extensive list of Gale's approvals"). The whole concept of the "orb" has this motivation as well: he wants to live and survive, but he also can't give up because his body would kill many, so he needs to do as much as his moral allows him to keep it in check. If he cannot do it any longer, he promises to minimise the disaster as much as possible by erupting in the deep Underdark or in a desolated corner of Faerûn (and considering his ridiculous list of approvals and disapprovals, we know he is honest in not wanting to kill gratuitously). Gale acknowledges his own mistakes, trying—to the best of his ability—to deal with them without catching others in them. Although all his speeches keep emphasising that he is a mere human, and plans may fail. 

At some point, if he wants to survive “not at any cost”, he will be forced to ask Tav for help during the scene of the stew (available only for medium approval or higher). As a gesture of honesty, Gale will set a boundary before making this request, acknowledging its unfairness but giving Tav the decision to proceed or not. He is not denying to explain the details later, but at the moment he can't speak the “why” of his condition no matter how curious Tav is. Tav will decide whether they can keep their curiosity on the matter. 

We will understand later that this impediment comes as a precaution as well as consequence of his personal trauma with Mystra and the "orb" (See post about "Gale: Manipulation, Lies, and Trust"). So, he is very clear about setting the conditions in which this conversation will happen from the beginning. The easiest way for Gale to avoid this whole situation would have been by simply lying, but he opted for an honest approach with clear out-loud reservations, knowing he was asking for more trust than he was allowed to, but the intention behind is more than important. There is a clear, huge contextual detail that we can't miss: this scene doesn't happen because of Gale's whims, he is forced to ask for help since his condition “is not a patient one” and will endanger everyone if not kept at bay. 

This detail where Gale explicitly asks for an exchange of trust is not present if Gale's approval is neutral or lower. In this case, Gale would not care about giving a context to his strange request: he doesn't trust Tav and he doesn't expect to be trusted either, he only wants the artefacts to keep his condition in check for his sake and the sake of others. We can understand this change of attitude depending on the approval as he doesn't want to give any extra explanation to someone he is not interested in building a relationship with. For more details, check the post about "Gale: Manipulation, Lies, and Trust".

I personally support the idea that nobody in canon Faerûn is free of racial prejudices since Forgotten Realms lore has been created based strongly on fantasy racism. I've read that WotC wants to move forward and improve this aspect in 5e, but so far what they allowed Larian to do with the Tieflings in BG3 seems to show the contrary. So, since apparently we are going to face fantasy racism anyways, I will try to analyse racial prejudices from all chars. When it comes to Gale, it's a bit far-stretched to point out unjustified racial biases. He has a vague comment about Rashemi that some people may consider a faerunian saying. Personally, I think that line is a bias forced into him to have a particular dynamic with Minsc (the Rashemi “silly” companion -we all can see where Larian seems to go with this). Gale clearly sees tieflings, gnomes, and even goblins as people, and has a cautious attitude towards some githyanki (at least that's what we can infer with Lae'zel when we find her in the cage), but given the githyanki lore it's pretty reasonable to see them as dangerous creature that could kill people on the spot. So far, he seems to have no racial preference either [10]. 

As it was said before, he prefers to avoid killing people, but that doesn't mean he won't do it if his life depends on it. He will prefer persuasive and defusing approaches, but if he needs to kill to defend innocents or his own life, he won't hesitate. So therefore, stories about characters making mistakes or having violent excess in an effort to protect themselves or what they hold dear will be understood by him but hardly approved [19]. He tends more to approve a call out of that excess than approving an excuse for it.

Gale has deep abandonment issues that can be easily seen when he defends Astarion from being handed over to Gandrel. We need to put this in context before going on: for Gale, Astarion represents a danger as a vampire who attacked one of them during their sleep. By the display of meta-knowledge, we know with certainty that their approvals and disapprovals are mostly opposite: What one approves, the other will disapprove and vice versa. Getting rid of Astarion should be something that Gale would approve, however, he doesn't. If we explore his comments we will realise that what Gale disapproves from this situation is Tav's abandonment. After Mystra's abandonment, he knows very well that “Loyalty is such a very rare commodity”, and the few situations in EA in which Tav can display abandonment, resound strongly in Gale. 

Gale is a scholar with a strong balanced rational side. But unlike the trope, he also embraces an emotional side that, so far the info we received in EA, it's the side that makes him prone to mistakes. 

As an amateur poet, Gale loves words. We can obviously notice this in his verbose attitude, but also in the way he carefully uses words. One of his characteristic words is “spectacle”. He has also shown a reiterative—although not always—uneasy use of the word “fun”. Using “fun” as a way to describe the night spent with Gale gives him a slight uneasiness. “That’s a word for it.” He disapproves of using the word “Fun” after the Mayrina/Connor situation, in which scene Gale alludes that “your new company may be a proof of how depraved and twisted you are to see that tragedy as “fun”. Personally I think this is a direct allusion to Astarion, who considers Mayrina's situation as “entertainment”, in the same way he considered as “fun” the show of Arabella's death (two of several instances where he used that word). Gale also doesn’t use the word sex during EA, instead he uses romantic ones such as love-making, intimacy, art of the night/body. In the most technical case: coitus (used only when he is talking about “goblinoid intimacy” in the expression “post-coital snack”). These details are showing not only his poet/romantic side, but also his interpretation of sex from his perspective: sex can only be possible through a connection. We know he doesn’t engage in casual sex with Lae’zel if he is not romanced, and his romance can only potentially start if Tav shares that deep connection with him through the Weave. 

Another detail related to words is that Gale has always used an infection/disease-related vocabulary to explain the “orb” stuck in his chest: infested, taint, shadow spreading 

[…] I failed to control [this chaotic magic]. Instead it infested me. […] This Netherese taint... this orb, for lack of a better word [..] […] the shadow within is spreading like poison, corrupting kindness and compassion. [...]

Gale apparently has a particular way to sense magic. I have no way to check this in-game, but it seems very strange how he immediately identifies magical artifacts without casting Detect Magic. There are some extra scenes as well where he says to taste or smell the magic in some objects. Even his encounter with Shadowheart, besides being considered a flirt, could be also interpreted as him detecting the magic that we saw later in her hand or maybe the dark magic that blocks her memories, since Gale pointed out about a curtain covering her soul: “if the eyes are the mirror to the soul, yours have dark curtains across the mirror” (a very ominous flirting if it’s only a flirt)

This makes me suspect that, if the "orb" is not giving him this skill, it may be a consequence of having been Chosen of Mystra (for more details read the post about "Mystra and her Chosen ones"). If this is the case, he may have hindered remains of theirs powers when it comes to detect magic at will.

Gale has a perception of magic with all the senses: he sniffs and tastes magic. During the mirror scene you have an option related to [Arcana] tag where he “Sniff the mirror, trying to understand the nature of its magic”. A wizard Tav will just “Inspect the mirror”. He also said that he could “taste” the magic in the necromancy book and in the runes of teleportation. 

What we know of his family is little: when he was a kid there was a housekeeper in his life (mentioned only once during the scene of the harpies) and his mother that seemed to have personally raised and cared for him (mentioned twice: in the ruin temple scene, and in his banter with Wyll) 

Tav: Why care about decorum in a long-abandoned tomb? Gale: Because my mother raised a gentleman. Then again, to be alive is to be curious. 

Wyll: Between the orb and the bug you've got more than your fair share of unwelcome passengers. Gale: What can I say. Mother always taught me to be a gracious host.

This post was written in May 2021. → For more Gale: Analysis Series Index

[thatshiscigar]

Now We’re Even

JJ Maybank x Reader

Requested by @maybebanks : Can you do one where y/n spends the night at John B’s and she wakes up on top of him, jj is also there but he slept on the couch. JJ has a crush on y/n but doesn’t want to admit it so he sleeps with a bunch of tourons. One of the tourons is rude to y/n that morning and JJ defends her. Later Y/n asks why JJ sleeps w so many girls and they get into an agrumeny and he asks why she sleeps with John b . She didn’t have sex with him just woke up lying on top of him.

Warnings: mention of vomit, swearing, mention of underaged drinking

Word Count: 2.3k

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“Alright big boy, lets get you ready for bed,” you said as you flung open the door to the Chateau, John B hanging off your body. The poor boy could barely stand, let alone get himself ready for bed, so you decided to do it for him. You and John B have been friends since the fifth grade, and he trusted you with everything he had, and it’s not like you hadn’t taken care of him before when he’s blown past his limit. When you saw him doubled over by a log, vomiting up his stomach, you took the liberty of cutting his night short.

You plopped John B down on the toilet seat lid, emitting a groan from him. He passed his stage of giddy, happy drunk, and was now in the everything in the world is dark and horrible and my head feels like it’s about to explode stage, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he vomited again. You picked up the trash can off the floor and put it in his lap, just in case. He rested his chin on the rim, the weight on his head being lifted off his neck. You grabbed his toothbrush, ran water over it, squeezed some toothpaste on it, and ran water over it again.

“Open,” you commanded as you bent down to his level. John B complied, allowing you to brush his teeth. He closed his eyes, the light in the bathroom getting to be too much for his state.

“Yo! Y/N?” JJ arrived home from the party, his voice booming through the house, which made John B groan through the toothpaste foaming in his mouth.

“In here,” you said, your voice much softer than JJ’s. But it wasn’t soft enough, as John B slapped your upper arm, groaning again. You heard JJ’s boots against the wood floor, making their way to the bathroom.

“Now why does he get special treatment,” JJ whined as he took in the scene in front of him. He leaned up against the door frame, relieving his legs of his weight.

“Hmm, because he’s better looking than you,” you joked, causing a chuckle to come from both boys.

“Whatever, I’ll see y’all in the morning.” JJ yawned, his arms stretching over his head. You heard him flop onto the pullout, and his snores came soon after.

“Spit,” you instructed once you were done brushing John B’s teeth. He did, and you filled up a dixie cup for him to rinse his mouth out with. Once he was done, you picked the trash can from his lap and placed it back on the floor.

“Alright, c’mon bubba,” you soothed. John B slowly stood up, his legs almost immediately giving out on him. Your grip on his waist tightened, as did his on your shoulders. You guys slowly made your way to his room, careful not to wake the sleeping boy on the pullout. Once you made it to John B’s room, he practically flung himself out of your grasp and onto his bed. You closed his door after him, applying opposing pressure in order to ensure it wouldn’t make any noise. John B was having no trouble snuggling into bed, his eyes already closed, his breathing even. You smiled a little bit at your handy work.

“Alright, good night, bub,” you whispered as your headed for the door.

“Nooo,” you heard from the lump of blankets and pillows.

“Stay,” John B pouted as he made grabby hands towards you. You raised your brows in question before ultimately deciding to hop into bed next to him.

“Good night, Y/N,” John B whispered, cuddling into your side.

“Whatever. Get some sleep,” you said, slightly annoyed with his drunken antics. John B was out like a light once he really got settled in. The alcohol in his body was winding down to nothing, and he just wanted the night to end. You finally found your peace when you heard John B’s light snores, lulling you to sleep for the night.

-

“Hey! Wake up! We’re meeting Pope and Kie at The Wreck!” JJ trumpeted through the shack, and when he didn’t get the usual early morning grunt or groan in response, he became nervous.

“Y/N? John B?” he tried one more time. He went to check the spare room, where he thought he would find you, and when he didn’t, he practically busted the door down to John B’s room.

“JJ, what the hell?” you questioned as you woke, John B waking beside you, groaning at the bothersome wakeup call.

JJ was frozen in the doorframe, his eyes and mouth wide open at the sight. He didn’t want to process the scene in front of him, but he knew what he saw. He saw you, a pretty girl, in John B’s bed, which could only mean one thing.

“Um,” he stammered, trying to get his brain the formulate his longer-than-gone thoughts.

“Breakfast at The Wreck, get ready.” He hastily turned on his heel and slammed the door shut, leaving you and John B confused at your friend’s abnormal behavior. JJ stormed out of the house and made his way to the hammock.

He expected this day come, the day the girl he loved would chose his best friend over him, but he never expected it would hurt this much. He’d always been used to John B getting almost everything compared to JJ. John B got the good rep, the loving father, and now, the girl, while JJ got shit handed to him. He was sick of it all, but there wasn’t much he could really do about it, except block it all out with drugs, alcohol, and sex. They numbed his feelings, and it was easier to feel nothing than to feel everything, at least according to JJ’s book. He knew what he was doing wasn’t healthy, but honestly, he didn’t give a shit. And now that he had for sure lost you, he saw no point in stopping.

“Hey,” you yelled as you walked out the door. Your voice pulled JJ out of his head.

“Let’s go.” He got up from the hammock and followed you and John B to the van, the slight of you two together again hurting him more.

JJ was sat quietly in the back, while you and John B shared glances, silently asking each other what was up with your usually talkative friend. You figured it was the usual stuff, one of his many odd jobs had skimped out on a paycheck, or he had run out of weed, so you decided not to press. He’ll get over it soon, you thought. Nothing to worry about.

-

“Hey guys!” Kie welcomed from the table you guys had claimed as yours. Pope was with her, sitting by her side. You sat down next to her, John B across from you and JJ next to him.

After many friendly banters and enough food eaten to keep your bellies full for a lifetime, JJ’s face was still long. You thought good friends and good food would lift JJ’s spirits, but he still felt down. You weren’t the only one to notice though, as Pope reached around Kie to lightly flick your arm, and nodded his head in JJ’s direction. You shrugged your shoulders, telling him that you didn’t know what was up with the out-of-sorts boy.

“So, JJ,” Pope started.

“I saw you talking to that touron last night. That go anywhere?” JJ chuckled at his question, the drunken memories coming back to him. The girl threw her drink in his face and stormed off when he said something raunchy.

“Uh, yeah actually,” he said with a smirk.

“Took me back to her condo, heated toilet seats and all.” Your friends groaned at the added detail, throwing their napkins at him. You on the other hand, were twiddling your thumbs in your lap, your chest heavy with heartache. JJ looked to you to see if his plan had worked, and he saw the results he was hoping for, but he wasn’t satisfied with himself. His stomach dropped when he realized he’d hurt you, but he decided to brush it off. You’d just hurt him earlier this morning, so now you were even.

You shouldn’t have been this hurt by JJ’s words. You knew he hooked up with girls all the time, and each time he brought it up it delivered a little pang to your heart. It hurt knowing that JJ chose every other girl on the island over you, so you decided to shelter your feelings from him. You decided you were never going to tell JJ about how you felt, because it was obvious he didn’t feel the same way, because if he did, he wouldn’t be wasting his time with tourists he’ll never see again.

JJ’s attention was diverted from you to the group of tourons that walked through the door. He recognized them, they were at the party last night. He remembered you talking to one of them last night. From what he could tell, you were getting pretty comfortable. He could see them looking at you, talking and laughing to themselves. JJ’s fuse was already pretty short on the day-to-day, and when he was in a bad mood, it was practically non-existent. Everyone’s eyes followed JJ as he shot up from the table and stomped up to the group of boys.

“Hey man,” one of the boys said nervously, judging JJ by his demeanor.

“What’s so funny,” JJ spat out. They didn’t respond.

“Huh!” He yelled, aching for an explanation. His fists were hard by his sides.

“Maybe you should teach your little girl how to handle her liquor, big guy,” one of them stepped forward, inviting JJ’s anger.

“Unless you want her going home with one of us. She was pretty close to it last night.” JJ lunged forward, not wanting to hear another word from his bitch mouth. He shoved the tourist to the ground, getting ready to beat the shit out of him in the middle of the restaurant. The altercation didn’t last very long, as John B and Pope pulled JJ off and the other tourists pulled off their friend. The tourists hurried out of the restaurant.

“What the hell was that!” You yelled, your previous feelings of remorse being overpowered by anger and concern. JJ looked to the rest of the group, deciding he didn’t want to do this in front of the rest of them. He grabbed your arm and lead you outside. It was still early in the morning, so nobody was around.

“I’m not your fucking responsibility, Y/N, so why do you even care!?” JJ yelled, matching your tone. You stayed silent for a moment, all your emotions catching up to you at once. Anger, hurt, frustration, longing, love, all of it taking over.

“Why do you sleep with them?” You asked, your voice subdued, afraid that if you talked any louder that your voice would crack and reveal all that you felt.

“What?” He snapped, still resentful. You looked up at him, letting him see the tears pricking at your eyes. You weren’t afraid to show him anymore.

“Why do you waste your time on stuck up little tourists, when I’m right here! When I love you!” You were taken aback by your own words, and so was JJ.

“No you don’t,” he said, letting out a small angry laugh. He looked down and wiped his eyes. There was no going back now.

“What are you talking about? Yes I do, JJ.” You reached up to put your hand on his shoulder, but he moved away from you. He looked back up to you, tears moving steady down his face, with no signs of stopping.

“Then why did you sleep with him, huh? My best friend, Y/N!” He was back to yelling. Anger seemed to be the only way he knew how to feel in emotional situations. He was pacing now.

JJ’s words confused you. You didn’t sleep with his best friend, you didn’t sleep with anyone.

“What are you talking about?” Your voice was much softer than his.

“Oh don’t play fucking stupid, Y/N! You were in his bed this morning,” he pointed his finger at you, and you had to fight everything in your head telling you to smack it away.

It finally clicked, your eyes widening at the realization.

“JJ,” you said as softly as you could, trying to calm him down.

“No,” he cut you off.

“Don’t try to apologize, Y/N. I know what I saw.” His voice was quieter now, his body tired of the fighting.

“I didn’t sleep with him, JJ,” you said sharply. He looked at you quizzically. You softened when you took in his tender expression.

“He was drunk, and you know how he gets when he’s drunk. He gets all dependent and needy. I was just taking care of him.” You reached out for his hands, and he didn’t move away from you this time. He couldn’t meet your gaze.

“Promise?” He whispered.

“Yes, JJ, I promise. Nothing else happened.”

“No,” he looked up to you, his face wet with tears.

“Promise that you love me?” His eyes were pleading, begging that what you said was true.

“Yes,” you nodded frantically.

“I love you, JJ.”

Everything he had ever hopped for was now his, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He took your face in his hands, wiping away your tears, before he smashed his lips onto yours. The kiss was full of everything you and JJ had been missing out on. Passion, excitement, love. You didn’t want to let go.

“I love you, too” JJ whispered as he broke away for air, a smile spreading across his face. You rested your foreheads together, holding each other close.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I was being a dick,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” you gave him a small smile before pressing your lips together again.

You made a promise to JJ. You promised to love him and care for him, and he did you. You both had been yearning for each other for so long, and now you finally had each other, fears, doubts, and everything else stopping you out of the way.

Taglist: @supremestarkey @lovelymaybankk @blueeyedbesson @whormotional @classywaves @sexytholland @danaerekat @em753 @babyhoneystvles @angelic-boca @milked-down-coffee @dolanfivsosxox @sunwardsss @leekah

[wesimpforxiao]

Inception: Chapter 4

"Tch!"  Your forearm blocked a particularly heavy strike from Childe.  It was sure to be bruised tomorrow, but the pain was so freeing. ��Maybe you should be attacking the Fatui more often if fighting made you feel THIS good.

"Don't tell me you're tired already," Childe smirked.  "I haven't even gotten to see you use your vision yet!"

The lanterns lighting the city below vaguely illuminated the mountainside in which the two of you were fighting.  It was the perfect view of both city and sea.  Childe was interested in seeing the fantastic firework show, but the way things were going right now, he was more interested in testing your limits.

"Enough about that already," you growled and thrust your elbow into his side.  The small 'oomph' that he exhaled made you a little too happy.  He's wanted a fight with you ever since he came back that day, and even more so since you reunited.  Who were you to refuse him now?  Sure, you've refused in the past, but the anger and bitterness that came flooding back while you were at the festival needed  relief.  Ajax needed to know how much he hurt you all those years ago, whether you directly told him or not.  

Childe, oblivious to the reason behind your sudden willingness to fight, was more than delighted to fight you.  You must've been pretty desperate to change the subject of your phobia if you chose fighting as the alternative!  That didn't stop him from feeling a little bad for pushing the subject, but the thrill of battle soon overcame the guilt and a new fascination overwhelmed his senses.

He was right.  You are like him, even if it's just when you're angry.  He can hone that: train you into becoming a warrior to be reckoned with.  Childe held no intentions to convince you to join the Fatui, but instead prevent your potential from being wasted.  He'd give you the opportunity to grow from amateur to expert.  If you managed to surprise him in this moment, only archons would know exactly what he thought of you.

The harbinger steadied himself and threw his forearm out in time to block your swing, then countered with one of his own to your gut.  It wasn't often that he trained in hand-to-hand combat, but that didn't make him any less deadly.  He had to pull his punches to prevent from hurting you--though if we're being honest, he completely forgot to do that after the first couple minutes.  It's not like you minded anyway. Childe was also slightly impressed at your strength; your looks were definitely deceiving and it worked to your advantage.  He had underestimated you.

No wonder his men were complaining about the vigilante so much.

He caught your roundhouse kick aimed for his head and threw you off balance.  The grass didn't soften your landing.  The sole of his boot sat square in the middle of your chest as he towered over you.  "Not bad," he praised with a raising of his lips.  "I can see why you chose antagonizing the Fatui as a hobby."  Something flashed in your eyes, but Childe wasn't sure what it was.

Your fist slammed into the side of his knee, knocking him off of you.  As he fell you grabbed his arm so he'd land on his back.  You were the one on top of him now with your knees pinning his shoulders into the grass.  "Do you even remember?"  

Childe blinked, and the bloodlust and thrill that was in his eyes was gone.  Remember?  What are--  You were struggling with something dark; your hands pulled the grass out from besides his head, eyes wavering with the slightest bit of hope swirling in the depths of pain.  Seeing your expression, Childe parted his lips to speak.  "Reed--?"

"Heh, forget it," you sniffed, swiping the bottom of your nose with your thumb and sitting up straighter as you vacantly analyzed the blood that now painted your finger.

BOOM! C-r-a-c-k-l-e....!

The Mingxiao lantern exploded somewhere behind you.  The lights from the explosives cast a prolonged glow that illuminated Childe beneath you, but you were still staring at your hand.  It was hard not to think about that night with your father.  What could you have done to change the outcome?  What could have helped you reach Ajax when he returned a different child?  Based on your fight just now, he's never stopped looking for something to take his anger out on; a cruel contrast to the friendly toy seller demeanor.  Meanwhile, Childe: What would've happened if you had fallen into the Abyss with him?  

The lights were beautiful from Childe's point of view, but not for the common reason; they were blocked out save for the ones peeking out from behind your shoulders and head.  You were backlit with bright colors--reds, blues, greens, yellows and oranges.  Each cast a soft glow to your silhouette.  The thoughtful look on your face while you refused to look his way was enticing, what with the sweat that slowly rolled down your temple and the forming bruises splattering across your arms.  And the bloody nose he gave you--the blood that slowly trickled its way down to your upper lip--sent a pleasurable chill down his spine.  You were a breathtaking mess of art.

He briefly wondered if you thought the same of him, but you never glanced down even after the lights of the lantern had faded.

...................

A few miles westward, at the base of Mount Tianheng. Ten minutes before the release of the Mingxiao lantern.

"Alright boys," a dark figure emerged from the shadows of the mountain and scanned the crowd of twenty-plus men all dressed in black robes.  The gruff voice that erupted from the man was enough to silence the hushed whispers between comrades in arms.  "Our scouts confirm the whereabouts of the target in the Northland Bank.  Security is minimal as expected.  Our primary objective is to retrieve those documents.  Understood?"

Silent nods all around.  Not one uttered a word, their obedience absolute.  This was the man that compensated them fairly compared to Her Majesty the Tsaritsa.  Injustices laid out against them by their superiors in the Liyue division of the Fatui will be paid in due time. Now that there were enough committed to the cause, the master's plan will be put into action.

"The Fatui will fall," he bellowed.

"The Fatui will fall! The Fatui will fall! The Fatui will fall!"  The servicemen dispersed as quickly as they heeded his words, shouts of determination fading into murmurs then silence.

"Charlie," the leader gestured towards his right-hand man.  "A word."

"Yes, sir?"  The brunette's wolf-like ears perked up at the voice of his master.  It wasn't unusual that he was given a separate mission during times like this, so he prepared himself with a jaw clenched in anticipation.

"Though I doubt any of them would be caught in this operation by either party, I am not risking you for...obvious reasons.  I have a separate matter to discuss with you."  Eyes like a snake's watched Charlie with both thoughtfulness and pride.  Charlie was by far the most trustworthy, being one of the few recruits that were in this group the longest.  He's succeeded all expectations, to say the least.  "You've mentioned before about a rogue citizen attacking the Liyue Fatui?"

"Yes, sir."

"Any new information on them?"

"Well," Charlie shifted his weight to his other foot and pulled at the collar of his jacket.  "According to one of the agents, it's a she.  The lack of evidence she leaves during expeditions indicate she's had some time to plot her attacks and escape routes...she's more of a threat to them than those who are joining our ranks--at least on the agent-level.  Master Childe seems rather unconcerned with her."

"I see.  Well, if you're up for a greater challenge, find her.  And when you do, recruit her.  With her skillset, the destruction of the Liyue Division will happen a lot faster."

"Yes, sir."  This challenge wouldn't be easy.  It was unusual for there to be someone like him in the ranks of the Fatui, but perhaps this could be an advantage for finding this vigilante that's been the talk of the Fatui for so long.

....................

Childe had parted ways with you a few minutes ago and decided to check in with the bank before bed.  The city streets were still bustling with partiers and night owls, so he took the shortcut through neighboring alleyways to avoid the foot traffic.  

He still couldn't figure out why you went quiet after sparring.  Wasn't sure if he missed something--a cue, a word, a phrase...what was it?  And why was it bugging him so much?  His chest was tight and palms sweaty, his heart was even racing a bit.  It was unusual for him to be so on-edge.  His worries were rudely interrupted when he reached the stairs that led up to the bank.  

Millelith.

"Why aren't you helping us?! We told you everything we know! We need those documents back!"  Nadia was practically screaming at one of the authorities.  "I told you, those documents are im--" Spotting Childe, she let out a sigh of relief.  "Oh thank Her Majesty--We've been robbed, Master Childe."

"Robbed?"

"Mm, yes.  The safe was broken into, but not a single mora was taken.  The reception desk is in disarray, as is Andrei's office...papers are strewn about this way and that, and the documents Andrei was holding for you are missing."

"...I see."

"And these...these imbeciles aren't helping!  They're saying there's nothing to do but make a report!"

"I understand the situation.  I'll be taking it from here.  Please return to your post, Nadia."

She turned on her heel.  "Yes sir!"

Childe faced the Millelith again now that it was just him and them remaining.  "Any leads?"

"N-No, sir." The taller one, who was seemingly the one in charge of the investigation, held a stern expression as he stared eye-to-eye with the harbinger.  "No witnesses.  Whoever pulled this off did so with help.  The theory is at least five people were involved."

"Five?"  Childe couldn't help but scoff at such a ridiculous idea.  "And there were no witnesses at all? That's not possible."

"Sir--"

"No! You don't understand.  That's impossible.  Our security is too tight for even one person to slip through.  There had to be someone.  Are you sure you crosschecked those who are on duty?"

The guard just shrugged.  He wasn't even interested in hearing what Childe had to say!  Even the other guards that were accompanying him appeared bored and even annoyed that they had to deal with the Fatui.

Seeing this, the harbinger pulled at his hair.  Steady now, he reminded himself, Don't lose your temper here.  "If I may, I'd like to speak with your leading supervisor."

"You're lookin' at him," the lead guard answered with an arrogant smirk that pissed Childe off even more.

"Tch--Whoever's in charge of you."

"Sorry, but he's off-duty at the moment.  You can speak with him at the civil affairs tomorrow evening."

"Right."  Childe grit his teeth and took an extra deep breath to calm himself.  Of course, it didn't work.  Damn them!  If I could have it my way, they'd be lying in a pool of their own blood right here and now for their audacity to ignore a crime against us--We fund them, for crying out loud! Perhaps I should send for the Tsaritsa's wisdom-- If it weren't for Lady Signora keeping him in the dark in regards to Morax's gnosis, he wouldn't feel like a dog on a tight leash right now.  The great weapon of war forced to heel for the sake of the cryo archon's image.  Childe made his way for Andrei's office with clenched fists.

Sure enough, it was trashed.  Every document, every book, every folder lay strewn about or trampled on.  Nadia and another agent were busy sorting through and placing each in their respective places; Andrei was out near the docks so it would be awhile before anyone managed to get ahold of him...

Childe knelt at the safe under the desk that sat before the set of double-paned windows.  It was empty.  Every single letter from the Tsaritsa was inside; each detailing next and future steps for the Fatui and Northland Bank; classified documents that updated him of the politics occurring in the Motherland; evidence of...certain matters that would no doubt give the Qixing enough power to ban the presence of Fatui in Liyue.  All of it was gone.

Who'd go to such sophisticated lengths to get their hands on these?  The Qixing abide by the law, so they wouldn't do something so unorthodox.  The Millelith were definitely biased and held grudges against him, so they're not entirely ruled out...What was the suspects' goal?  A smear campaign?  If it is, they got it.  

If he hadn't been away from the office, surely they wouldn't have been so bold as to pull off a bank heist.  But one good thing came out of this:  You definitely weren't involved since you were with him.  Wait...whoever did this must've been watching him.  You could be involved if you had help, but you've never mentioned anyone helping you.  So you and this situation were completely unrelated.  That had to be the case.

Regardless, his every move is being watched.  The only question that remains is, by who?

[neverfailtolive]

Rant (Part 1): Small Science

okay so let's start with the very basics: the Grisha. although the concept of Grishas is nothing new, as the idea of people controlling elements has been seen before, there is certainly something fascinating about them. Afterall, they are an elite section of the army with incredible powers, that dresses differently and sophisticatedly and is trained from a young age in a place called the Little Palace. That's really cool! Who would not want to be part of that! One of the things that Bardugo introduces in an attempt to distinguish the Grisha from other magic world systems is the idea of Small Science. Small science basically explains that what the Grisha do is not magic, but manipulation of matter in its most basic form. It's not any different than what a chemical reaction does or what happens inside stars or our bodies: matter is manipulated. There are multiple attempts by the author to push the science narrative. An example is the mirror gloves that Alina has to wear to better redirect her light rays by using reflective surfaces. Another attempt is in R&R when she tried to turn a boot invisible by reflecting light away from the boot surface As the act of seeing is nothing more than light rays bouncing from an object inside our eyes, if light never bounces in the first place on the object, it is as if it becomes invisible. This is, of course, all very cool and it fits with the science narrative, however, it is much more common throughout the books that the Grisha powers seem more like magic than anything else. Of course, there is nothing wrong with that, who doesn't love magic, but then don't try to spin it off as science. For example, what differentiates a Heartrender, a Healer, and a Tailor? Talking about small science they all work on cells, heartrenders harm cells while healers cure cells and up to here everything makes sense. But the actual processes through which they heal and harm are never explained. Is it a matter of energy taken away or inserted? Does one block the processes necessary to the life of a cell or is it something else? Do healers incapacitate bacteria to prevent infections or do they just recreate cells or what? Do they simply mend ruptures between cells (wounds) or more? and tailors, can they only work on the skin and surface-level cells? could they possibly cure skin cancer as it is also surface leveo? Also, talking about cells, is it the same for animals and plants or are these powers limited to human cells? If these things had been explained, talking about small science would have made more sense.

I know that probably Leigh Bardugo did not want to ruin the fantasy feel to it, as there was a risk of the story becoming too much like science fiction, but still, throughout the trilogy it has been many times pointed out that the grisha are not witches, so this kind of details should have been explored more.

Then let's talk about the Summoners. While Inferni fit in the idea of manipulating matter (they work with inflammable gasses and still need a spark to manipulate fire), tide makers and squallers basically deal with energy and energy is not a particle (sure you can think of energy = mass and matter has mass so maybe somewhere there is a connection but honestly I don't think Leigh Bardugho really delved in E = mc^2) For example, squallers work with air pressure to manipulate the weather. Pressure can be changed by either adding or removing molecules or also increasing or lowing temperature. If it's by manipulating molecules their powers do fit with the idea of small science, however one has to wonder what kind of molecules they can exactly manipulate as the atmosphere is composed of many elements (among which water vapor, so can they also manipulate water?) Tidemakers on the other hand manipulate temperatures so to obtain ice or liquid water from the atmosphere, but that has nothing to do with matter manipulation and more with energy.

Now as you can see I could rant about this for a while, as a science geek all these details fascinate me, but the overall point is that some parts of small science clearly don't make sense or are just not explained in a way that truly fits with the idea of science, where everything can usually be categorized in terms of processes.

Let's talk about the Darkling. As a shadow summoner, he summons shadows (pretty neat huh), however shadow molecules aren't really a thing. As others have said before, a shadow is the absence of light. As a sun summoner, Alina controlled photons (or so I suppose as they are the particles that compose light waves), so that makes sense, but summoning shadows does not. One thing that could have been cool is to have made the Darkling a type of sun summoner, who rather than using light as a primary weapon, preferred to use light to indirectly control shadows. That would have also rendered all the moments in which he compared himself to Alina much more powerful and would have explored the possibility that the Darkling sort of decided to be a villain ("make me a villain") because he thought it was the way to go to save ravka, not only because his shadow powers immediately make one think of evil.

Overall, although it may seem the opposite, I do quite like the system and the idea of small science, however, I do not think it was well executed, or at least not as well as it could have been. If Bardugo had just called it magic then there would have been nothing wrong with it, but calling it small science honestly did not add anything as this notion and its implications weren't even fully explored. A book that I think does a better job at comparing science and magic is The Worldwalker Trilogy by Josephine Angelini, which I definitely recommend.

This is just the first of many rants regarding the S&B trilogy, so be ready for more!