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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

Text

Protective Detail (5/?)

Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Warnings: language, stubborn lil cuties denying their feelings

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Okay so this has 110% become a comfort fic for me to write. But I promise if y’all can hold out for another chapter or so there is gonna be some payoff for this ridiculously slow burn. Pinky promise lmao

Chapter Index

Protective Detail Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @sillygoose6969 @mydaiilyescape @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @the-radical-venus @gemini0410 @garbinge @slutformayansmc @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes

You woke up the next morning and instantly smelled coffee. You smiled to yourself despite the soreness in your neck and sides. How he had the energy after yesterday to wake up early and get coffee ready was beyond you. You made your way to the kitchen and were pleasantly surprised to see that he wasn’t dressed up. He was still in his sweatpants and t-shirt. Your smile grew as you saw that his hair was still in a bun on top of his head.

He turned around, a small smile on his face as he handed you a mug with coffee already in it, “Let me know if I made it right.”

You chuckled to yourself as you took a small sip, smiling and nodding, “You’re a quick study, Nestor.” You hefted yourself up onto the counter, “Oh, I let Jade know last night that I wasn’t going to be in at least for today and tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

You nodded, “Yea. I could use a couple days at home.”

“You can just say you miss my car,” he smirked as he sipped on his coffee.

You rolled your eyes, “You got me. I get teary-eyed every time I think about it sitting all alone at the body shop.”

He shook his head slightly, “So, what’s the plan?”

You shrugged, “There isn’t one. Lazy day today,” you looked at him, “For both of us.”

You were camped out on the couch for most of the morning while Nestor did laundry. He turned his music on again and all you could think was that it breathed a whole new life into the house. You smiled as you played games on your phone, hearing the music get louder and softer as he went up and down the stairs to and from the basement.

“Mind if I use the coffee table to fold?” he asked, hamper perched against his hip.

“Go for it,” you pulled your legs up underneath you so that you weren’t taking up the entire couch.

He sat down next to you and started pulling out clothes one item at a time. You were trying not to stare but you were entranced by how meticulous he was with his folding. If things weren’t lined up just right, he would start over again. He’d dramatically shake out his shirts before restarting the folding process and you fought the urge to laugh.

“They make those little contraptions that make folding easier, you know,” you chuckled.

He looked at you, an unamused expression on his face, “Those wouldn’t fold them right.”

“Apparently you don’t fold them right either. You’ve redone that shirt like three times already.”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

You smiled, shaking your head as you returned your attention to your phone, “You never do.”

Nestor was almost done with his laundry. Everything was stacked in neat little piles according to the type of clothing. You tried not to let your smile grow too wide—opting to grab your controller and pull up a videogame to keep you from staring at him. He grabbed two of the piles and walked them back to his room to be put away. You kept the volume of the television off since he had yet to turn his playlist off. Most of the music was mellow and it helped give the house a calm energy which was a nice change of pace after how the previous day had gone.

Once he was done putting his things away, he took his seat back on the opposite end of the couch from you. You smiled to yourself over the fact that he wasn’t trying to stay as far away from you as possible—now he at least let you share the same piece of furniture. He watched you make your little character run around farming land for a few minutes before grabbing his laptop.

You didn’t really notice the time ticking by as the two of you stayed there like that. You could get lost in your games for hours without noticing, and whatever Nestor was working on was keeping his attention locked in. A few times you fought the urge to try and peek over to see what he was even doing, but you didn’t want to ruin the peace.

Once you felt your stomach starting to growl, you looked over at Nestor, “Can we please get pizza delivered?”

He shook his head, “Definitely not.”

“Why not?” you flopped over onto your back so you were on his end of the couch looking up at him, “If you answer the door, they wouldn’t even recognize you with your sweats and your man-bun. We would be totally safe.”

He looked down at you and closed his laptop, “My face is the same face. We’re not getting delivery.”

“But I don’t wanna cook,” you whined.

He set his computer off to the side, “I can cook.”

The statement made you pause. You had been doing all of the cooking since Nestor started staying there solely because that’s what you were used to doing. Living by yourself it was either ordering in or cooking, and delivery had been taken off the table. You hadn’t given much thought to whether or not Nestor could cook. You were more than willing to find out, though.

“You know how to cook?”

He chuckled, “I’m an adult, Y/N. Of course I know how to cook.”

“You live by yourself?” when he didn’t answer you sighed, “I only ask because I’ve found that people who live by themselves either get really good at cooking, or they completely avoid it and depend almost solely on takeout. I’m just trying to figure out which one you are.”

There were a few moments of silence before he nodded, “Yes, I live by myself.”

“In a house?” you raised your eyebrows.

He looked down at you, smiling, “Still don’t need to know that.”

You wanted to make a smartass remark but he didn’t give you the chance. He stood up off the couch and went to the kitchen. You watched from the couch for a few moments, and by the way he knowingly grabbed things out of the fridge and cabinets, you had to assume that he used the mornings when he was up before you to go through all of your cupboards. He took out a cutting board and set a pot of water to boil, and you were instantly interested to know what he was cooking.

“Can I help?” you offered as you peaked over the back of the couch.

He shook his head, “Thought you didn’t wanna cook?”

“I also don’t want you to burn my house down.”

He turned around and faced you, “You can help by staying out of my way.”

“Yes sir,” you said dramatically.

Staying out of the way didn’t mean that you weren’t going to try and lurk closer to see what he was up to. You made your way over and tried to see what he was doing from the edge of the kitchen. He waved you off a couple times, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth despite the fact that he was telling you to get the fuck out of the kitchen.

You attempted to grab yourself something to snack on while you were waiting for Nestor to finish taking over your kitchen, but he body-blocked you from getting to the cabinets. You sighed heavily, “You’re not my father, you can’t tell me that I can’t have a snack before dinner.”

“I never said that.”

“Then move.”

“No,” he smirked, “I told you to stay out of the kitchen.”

“It’s my kitchen!”

“You said this is my home for now too, so technically I think that makes this my kitchen as well.”

You opened your mouth to argue but came up with nothing. You huffed and went back to the couch. You heard him chuckling from the stove and you called over, “If I die of starvation you’ll have to explain it to my father.”

“I’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

As much as you hated to admit it, dinner was phenomenal and well worth the wait. The two of you were sat on the couch and every time you looked over you could see the smug look on Nestor’s face. Even though you hadn’t said anything, he knew that you were definitely contemplating splitting cooking duty as well as driving duty.

“Hey, Y/N?” he kept his eyes on the television.

“Yea?”

He kept his expression neutral but you could see the light in his eyes, “You’re welcome.”

You laughed and reached behind you, grabbing one of your decorative pillows and throwing it at him, “Fuck you.”

He dodged it with a laugh, “I’m not cleaning up any messes that you make.”

Once you were both done eating, you collected up your plates and brought them over to the sink. Nestor wasn’t really paying much attention until he heard you turn the sink on. He glanced over the back of the couch.

“You’re actually doing dishes?”

You laughed, “You cooked, I’ll clean.”

He nodded and you could see that there was a hint of a smile on his face as he returned his attention to the television. He was only sitting alone for a few moments though before he stood up and wound up next to you, drying the dishes as you set them in the rack.

“Seriously, I got this,” you laughed, “I usually do all of it by myself.”

“Feels weird just sitting there doing nothing while you’re cleaning,” he shrugged.

You didn’t want to argue about it, and you weren’t going to turn him away if he wanted to be a little closer, so with a small sigh you handed him a plate to dry off. The domesticity of it felt nice, but a little strange too. Part of the strangeness came from the fact that you knew you were reading way more into it than he was. You couldn’t help but to steal glances when he was reaching up to put things away.

You had no idea how long he was going to be staying with you, but you knew that you were a timer slowly counting down the minutes until you slipped up and got yourself into some kind of trouble with him.

“It’s still kinda early,” you said as you dried off your hands, “Wanna watch something?”

He raised his eyebrows slightly, clearly interested, “Like what?”

You thought about it for a moment, “You ever seen the John Wick movies?”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “No. But the fact that it’s plural makes me nervous.”

You rolled your eyes, “You got something better to do tonight besides have a movie marathon?”

You could see it in his eyes that he wanted to come up with a quick remark, but he couldn’t. You tossed the towel at him before walking off to pull up the first movie. You smiled to yourself when you heard the unmistakable sound of popcorn popping in the microwave. You left him to finish getting that ready while you disappeared into your room, reemerging with a few large bags of candy. He heard the rustling and looked at you as you walked into the kitchen, instantly shaking his head.

“Where were you stock-piling all of that?”

“If I told you, it would no longer be a secret stash, now would it?”

The two of you were about twenty minutes into the movie, each perched on your own end of the couch. You had your legs stretched out on the cushions, and Nestor had his feet propped up on the coffee table. The giant bowl of popcorn rested between the two of you, along with the candy you had brought out from your room. It was second best to being able to go to an actual movie theater.

“So you’re telling me,” Nestor looked over at your for a moment, “That I’m about to sit through three movies about a guy who goes on a killing spree because someone killed his dog?”

You chuckled, nodding, “Essentially, yea.”

“Three fuckin’ movies?” he laughed.

“Yes!” you threw a piece of popcorn at him, “Now be quiet or you’ll miss stuff.”

He smiled and settled back against the couch. He racked his brain, trying to remember the last time he got to just exist and be a regular person, and do regular things like stay in and have a movie marathon. It felt foreign and it took a little bit to get comfortable to settle into it. His eyes still darted to the windows and door, not forgetting why he was there in the first place. But even so, it was the most human he’d felt in a long time.

You woke up the next day to the sensation of your phone vibrating against your stomach. You forced your eyes open to see who was calling, hitting accept when you saw that it was your father, “Hello?” your voice was groggy.

“Ah, that’s the daughter I know—still asleep at noon.”

You chuckled as you sat somewhat upright, leaning back against the arm of the couch, “I called off today—I could sleep until four if I really wanted to. What’s up?”

“Just calling to check in. How are you? Estás segura?”

“Claro que sí. You worry too much, Papi. I’m fine.”

“And things are going alright with Nestor?” despite the fact that you had reassured that given the circumstances, you and Nestor got along just fine, he was still worried that you might actually drive the man to quit.

You looked down to the opposite end of the couch where Nestor was laying passed out still, legs entwined with yours in the center as his head leaned back, mouth open as he slept with the bowl of popcorn still resting on his stomach. You smiled to yourself, “Things are fine, I promise.”

“You would tell me if they weren’t?”

“Remember how stupid I thought this whole plan was?” you laughed quietly, “Of course I’d tell you.”

He laughed, and you could picture him sitting in his office shaking his head at you, “Alright. I’ll let you get back to your nap. Te quiero, mija. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Talk soon, te quiero,” you hung up and set the phone on the coffee table.

You shifted so that you were completely upright, but somehow your legs were still tangled up with Nestor’s. You didn’t necessarily mind—it was probably the only physical contact you were going to have with him. It was nice, and it had the added benefit of helping to keep you warm.

Your fidgeting was enough to stir Nestor. He lifted his head up slightly as he opened his eyes. You chuckled to yourself, enjoying that you got to see a side of him you had never seen before. This was a different kind of vulnerable.

He pressed his palm against his forehead, shutting his eyes tight for a moment, “Morning.”

“Afternoon,” you corrected with a laugh.

“What?”

You showed him the time on your phone, “It’s almost 12:30, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Fuck,” he ran his hands down his face.

He looked around the room and it was only then that he realized that the two of you had been, and still were, sharing the couch the way you were. He instantly shifted so that his feet were on the floor, fumbling slightly so he didn’t spill what little popcorn was left in the bowl.

“Now I know your weakness is movie marathons,” you laughed as you pulled your legs so that you were sitting cross-legged, “This is the only time I have ever woken up before you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he stood up and stretched, rolling his neck with a pained look on his face, “Fuck that hurts.”

“Want a neck rub?” you offered up with a laugh.

He shook his head, a tired smile on his face, “And give you the opportunity to snap my neck? You can’t make me watch all those movies and then try to put me in that position.”

“No faith, Nestor,” you smiled as you got up and started cleaning up the mess the two of you had created the night before.

“None at all,” with that he made his way down to his room to get a fresh set of clothes and a towel so he could shower and get ready for the day.

When he came back out to the living room, it had been restored to its former glory. You were just finishing straightening up the pillows when he walked in. You turned around to face him, your expression faltering a little when you saw that his hair was back into its two pristine braids. He still looked good, obviously, but you already missed the mess of curls.

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his sweats as he stood in the living room. It was the first time you had ever seen nerves of any kind show on his face. His brows furrowed as he tried to find the right words, “I know you said I’m not company,” he chuckled slightly, “but, um, thank you.”

You smiled, tilting your head in slight confusion, “For what? You’re the one keeping me safe, I should be thanking you.”

“I just mean, you know, thanks for treating me like a regular person. It’s been a while since I’ve had that.”

Your heart sped up a little bit, and you shook your head, “Don’t thank me, Nestor,” you laughed, “You can just say that I’m a cooler boss than Galindo. I won’t tell anyone.”

He laughed and you saw the way the tension dropped out of his shoulders. There were more words dancing on the tip of your tongue, but before you could say them, Nestor grabbed his laptop and made his way back to his room, slowly shaking his head as he went. You stood there for a moment and watched him walk away, heart still racing inside your chest.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva x you #nestor oceteva imagine #my writing #fanfiction #protective detail #multichapter #chapter 5 #drabblesmc

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wakaoujisenhime · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I really fall in love with your blog! Thank you very much for those Vorpal Swords headcanons! Can I ask headcanons about being Rakuzan manager? For example, how she cares about boys and they care about her; how Rakuzan protects her; How she supports them at games. And Akashi likes her. Good luck to your blog!

A/N: Hello there! I’m glad to know that you’re enjoying these, so I hope that this one will be to your liking as well! Also to those who don’t know what a ‘bokken’ is: it’s basically a wooden sword, Japanese swordswomen and men use for training!

Tags: Akashi x reader ✅ Rakuzan x reader ✅ SFW ✅ fluff ✅ friendship ✅

image/art source: Zerochan (art by Tousaku) [I sadly couldn't find the corresponding post where they uploaded it, since that artist seems to be inactive atm, but if you happen to stumble upon it, please make sure to tell me!]

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

so first of all how did you even become Rakuzan’s manager?

well you were actually taking care of the team BEFORE Akashi joined the club

back then you guys were a wholesome team, but the moment the redhead was pronounced captain it all went downhill...

your former teammates began dropping out with the same complaints

“He’s too strict”, “I can’t train like this anymore”, “When he’s on the court, basketball loses its fun factor!”

even if you hated to admit it...they were right

Akashi was a REALLY strict leader who always wanted his team members to give it their all

100%? Not enough, make it a 110 and then you might be chosen as a substitute

during the first half of the school year, you put up with everything he threw at you, whether it were insults or commands

at one point you weren’t even the manager anymore but became his loyal puppy that did everything he instructed you to do

the things he requested weren’t even worthy to your title...unless you like standing in front of the gym door, acting like a bodyguard at the disco

and of course, even you had your limits

after Akashi had once again decided to give you an unreasonable task, you finally snapped

“I’ve had enough! Just who do you think you are, ordering me around as if I was your subordinate!”

“Listen. You either fix that emperor like attitude of yours, or you end up losing one of Japan’s strongest team...including me.”

in your state of anger, you had shoved the clipboard you were using against his chest and had stormed off the gym

a whole week had passed and you didn’t visit the club even once, that’s how pissed off you were

one day just when you thought about filling up a club withdrawal paper, there was a letter in your locker

...

Dear (Y/N)...I know that the way I’ve been acting up until now has upset you, but the reasoning behind my behavior is a simple one. All I desire is to see whom of these ‘star players’ everybody (including you) praises, can actually live up to their title. Sadly, I’ve come to the conclusion that none of them were able to, so I’ve decided to build up a new team in which you as well are going to be needed. I sincerely hope that you are willing to help the new Rakuzan basketball club reach even greater heights than ever before. Yours faithfully, Akashi Seijuro

P.S: We need you manager.

...

the first half of the letter had made your blood boil, but the further you read the more your curiosity got peaked

but you didn’t want to give in that easily, so you decided to visit the club one day to see what Akashi’s idea of an absolute basketball team looked like

...

“So (Y/N)..what do you think?“, Akashi asked after practice had ended

you had just looked at him with one of your ‘are you kidding me?’ faces and shook your head

these boys...

a) looked like full-fledged men to you

b) could easily snap you in half if they wanted to (especially Nebuya)

and finally

c) were probably all legendary NBA players in their past life

all in all they were amazing

watching them play gave you the impression of an actual and professional basketball game...that’s just how good they were

...

two months passed and you had taken the role of the manager once again

you hated to admit it, but Akashi was once again right..this team was absolutely amazing and worthy of any title you could think of

luckily these boys turned out to be more wholesome than you had ever anticipated

knowing that all of them had their struggles and own problems to deal with, despite their flawless appearance made you realize that that they were indeed your typical high school boys and not some basketball machines

sadly they couldn’t - or better said - weren’t allowed to show any weakness during training...these were Akashi’s orders

much to your surprise, they had accepted it with much less resistance than the members before them, but you were a little anxious that they might end up quitting the team so you took it upon yourself to prevent that scenario from arriving

from that day forward you began spending more and more time with all the members (except Akashi) …

Reo:

as the vice-captain he was to ensure that everybody followed the training regimen they were given by the redhead (in case of his absence)

sadly due to his laid-back nature and feminine speech, almost no one took him seriously

that’s where you come in…

“Come on now guys! Listen to Reo or I’ll get the bokken! And if that doesn’t get you guys moving then I’m sure a short phone call with Akashi certainly will...”

the second line always worked and even managed to make Reo giggle

after that, he’d always thank you several times and while the others ran laps/were stretching the two of you would always talk about that day’s schedule

by the end of practice, Reo and you would actually go out and do some shopping while talking about different topics

and thanks to his talented eye for the beautiful, your wardrobe was full with clothes that complimented your figure just perfectly, which only boosted your ego

a certain topic you guys started talking about only recently was romance

at first you were extremely careful to not touch upon any touchy subject since there were a lot of rumors amongst your classmates, concerning Reo’s sexual orientation

but the more you got to know him, the easier it was for you to talk to him and in no time the two of you had become best friends

whenever someone either came up to you or him and wanted to just mess around, the two of you got each other’s backs at all time and would either intervene directly or call for backup (mainly Nebuya)

thanks to Reo’s ‘big sister’ personality you luckily never felt alone or at a loss, since you knew that he’d always be there for you and help you out

Kotarou:

this boy seriously makes you run for your money

he’d always arrive almost half an hour earlier than the others just cause he wants to mess around with you (he’d for example take your clipboard and make you literally chase him for it)

at first it upset you quite a bit, but as time passed you eventually got used to it and evolved your strategy

you chase him?

hell NO

you’d instead sit down on one of the benches and wait for him to bring it back to you

your strategy for that was to remain silent and show no reaction whatsoever whenever he asked if you weren’t going to chase him like the ‘good old times’

he’d then get so worried that he’s upset you that he gives up, brings you your clipboard and starts either poking your cheeks, playing with your hair or straight out embrace you

the latter always broke your façade

his warm hugs accompanied by the glistening puppy eyes and his snaggletooth always made you pity him and wonder if you’ve perhaps gone too far

the moment you’d give in, his cheerful attitude was back in an instant

and that routine became pretty much a daily ritual between the two of you

what perhaps surprised you the most was when you actually witnessed Kotarou’s other side of his bubbly personality

he was surprisingly the ‘holding a grudge’ type (especially on the court)

Rakuzan had a practice match once and when a player of the opposing team made it past the blond boy seconds later he was fuming, glaring at everyone who even looked his way and screamed more as well as louder than usual

the others around you weren’t even faced by his sudden tantrum so it was up to you to calm him down before the referee gave him a yellow card

since then his mood-swings became your responsibility

outside of the gym, you guys spent a good amount of time together

you mostly helped him out with his homework since he really wasn’t the brightest out of the bunch (and as some of you might know in Japan your grades play a major role when you’re a part of a club. Depending on your test results you might get excluded from some of the activities as far as I know) and you weren’t going to leave on any activity without this ball of sunshine

to pay you back for your help he’d go skateboarding with you on the weekend

in case you forgot or couldn’t skate he’d help you remember or teach it to you

much to your surprise, he was quite a good teacher, so it was easy for you to understand the basics and even learn some of the simplest tricks on the way

but in case you were some kind of a pro (or simply good) at it, he’d challenge you to a small contest and by the end of it the two of you would actually come up with a small choreography

Nebuya:

to be frank, he intimidated the heck out of you (at first) and he was actually the most difficult for you to approach

the main reason for your reluctance was mainly because of his appearance, but just a day after you were first introduced to him made you change your mind

on your way to school you took the train and as commonly known the trains in Japan were the majority of the time extremely filled with people and some of them just couldn’t keep their hands by themselves and just had to go ahead and start feeling people up

in that case, the victim was unfortunately you

the typical reaction of your other female classmates would’ve been to stand there and do nothing about it, but you were different

“Excuse me, but could you stop touching me?“, you asked in a loud voice making sure that at least some people witnessed what was happening

you couldn’t care less if you guys became the center of attention, all you wanted was to get this creep’s hands away from your body...and you did

what you didn’t know/notice was that Nebuya had actually seen all of it and wanted to come and help, but you were quicker

when you got out of the train he caught up to you and directly asked if you were ok

he even went ahead and bowed his head to you apologizing multiple times for not reacting quick enough

it surprised and scared you at the same time, but this was kind of a chance to finally talk to him, so you made sure to not let that opportunity slip away

and trust me when I say this, but this man turned out to be a bigger softie than you anticipated

since that day he became the person you’d call upon first in case of trouble you couldn’t solve on your own

Nebuya even volunteered to be your bodyguard, but you weren’t really a damsel in distress so you refused at first

and after many arguments, pouts and pleas you finally gave in and agreed to go to school together every day

additionally during training he’d make sure to be the first one to save you from any flying ball

much to his dismay, you managed to dodge or even to catch the majority of them which made his attempts completely futile

so in order for him to stop sulking about how he had ‘failed to show you his muscles in action’, you’d go out and help him with his workout

sometimes you’d even be his motivational right hand during his own eating contests

and when he decided to show his ‘manly’ side and either burps or lets out gas, your bokken was on him just some seconds later

Mayuzumi:

this boy seriously hated you in the beginning

in his eyes you were nothing but a loud girl who wanted some attention and tried to gain it by acting as the manager

much to his surprise you figured him out pretty quickly

you somehow knew when he became irritated on the court and immediately took action to prevent any outbursts from him or someone else

furthermore, you supported his hobby without asking questions and when he expressed the wish to go to the rooftop and read a chapter or maybe even two from his light novel, you’d just let him go

one afternoon he came to the gym to excuse himself from training and found only you and how you had fallen asleep on the referee table

his first thought was to leave before you even noticed that he’d been there, but then he saw a small notebook with the title ‘RAKUZAN BB CLUB’ so he got curious and started reading your handwritten entries about all of the members

each member had a few pages worth of information you had either gathered yourself or looked up

he found it a tad adorable that you reserved the last page for a personal comment on a player since it reminded him of how some of his authors wrote an afterword at the end of their story

as soon as he read his name though he suddenly became really reluctant to proceed

for some reason, he was afraid of what you might have written/researched about him

he started to read it anyways

“...”

“Has a low presence...well yeah I guess”

“...”

“Seems to be prouder than he lets on? W-Wha? That’s not even...true”

“...”

“Probably swears at his teammates internally...how did she know?!”

“...”

“It would make me happy if we talked more to each other, but he probably hates me... ”

Mayuzumi would’ve never told you, but that last line hurt him quite a bit

that day he decided to join practice and when you called for a timeout you’d always leave his towel and water bottle on the bench next to you and he’d normally just take it, but this time he murmured a barely audible ‘thank you’

you almost fainted then and there, but somehow managed to keep up your serious facial expression (which he very much appreciated)

the two of you would almost never go out/spend time together, but instead, you began exchanging small gestures like you buying him a new volume of his favorite author or him hiding a small ‘thank you’ note in your notebook

Akashi (finally):

since you and he know each other from way back, you didn’t have that much contact in the beginning since you wanted to take your time to get to know the new members, but Akashi’s eyes were always on you

if someone out of the other members even dared to ask him if he harbored feelings for you...then let us just pray that he doesn’t have Midorima’s scissors with him

but if one of his main players (most likely Kotarou) asked him about it, he’d just cut him off quickly and shut the conversation down

Rakuzan’s captain cares for you in his own kind of way

he’d support you from afar and make sure that no one who he doesn’t deem as worthy comes even remotely close to you

you weren’t aware, but since you had once again become the manager of the reformed Rakuzan you became quite popular

a lot of people admired you, some were even impressed or jealous and some even began having feelings for you

“I’m thinking about asking (Y/N) out...what do you think?”

as soon as Akashi heard your name in such a conversation he instantly made his move

don’t ask how he did it, but within a week you had gained the reputation of being ‘out of limits’ for everyone except for the club and your friends and just in case someone felt the need to be adventurous, there was no way they’d be let into the gym (thanks to Akashi’s orders and Nebuya’s muscular body)

the redhead had first noticed his feelings for you when you snapped at him back then

for him it was the first time someone even dared to speak up against him and even insult him

he was surprised and very annoyed at first, but as the days passed by him and his incomplete team he figured that it would be the best to start anew

so he scouted three of the uncrowned kings and a 3rd-year student who basically was a future version of Kuroko

when the stage was set all he needed was for the main star to appear, so he sent you that letter where he invited you to watch the new team

as far as the confession goes...

Akashi is a very strategic person, so he’d most likely wait for his promise to come true (the promise of Rakuzan reaching greater heights) and then confess saying something like:

“See? I’ve kept my promise...now it’s your turn.”

#knb headcanons #knb x reader #akashi x reader #rakuzan x reader #knb fluff #━𝙺𝙽𝙱 #━𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽'𝚂 𝙴𝙲𝙷𝙾

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years ago

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Survey #368

“whatever doesn’t kill you, is gonna leave a scar”

Have you ever bought a YouTuber’s merch? My favorite shirt is the Day of the Dead design by Cloak, which is Markiplier's and jacksepticeye's clothing brand. Mom's friend/former co-worker also got me a Ninja Sex Party shirt because she knew I liked them. There are SO MANY YouTubers I wanna support by buying shirts. Do you think oatmeal tastes better when made with water or milk? Milk, 110%. Have you ever left a note in a library book? No. What time of day do you prefer to wash your hair? Morning. Has anyone ever spread lies about you? Yes. Have you ever taken a photograph with a celebrity? If so, did it turn out the way you wanted, or do you wish you could retake it? No. If you could move out of your home country permanently, would you? If so, where would you go? If it didn't mean being so very far from my family, I would love to move to Canada. Is there a celebrity that everyone else seems to love, but you find totally overrated? Why is it that you don’t like them? I legit don't know who's considered currently popular, and I especially don't know who they are as people. If you could volunteer for any charity, which one would you choose? Do you think it’s more important to help humans, or are animal and environmental charities equally important? Something relating to animals, and I think they're both equally important. Do you prefer holidays where you relax, or actually do things? I like a mix. Something chill, but you still do some stuff as a family. Do you think that after we die our spirit is still alive? Yes. Has anybody ever told you that you could be a model? Someone has mistaken me for a model in a picture I once took. It was one of the most flattering things I've ever heard, haha. Do you use different kinds of moisturizer for different body parts? ie. hand lotion for your hands, face cream for your face. Or do you just use one moisturizer for all body parts? Yes. Have you ever felt like you were someone’s rebound? No. Has anybody ever broken up with you over something really pathetic? What was it? Have you ever been dumped in a disrespectful way? (eg. through text, through a friend..) I have 100% been dumped in a very cowardly and disrespectful way; after dating Jason for nearly four years and being very serious, he broke up with me very abruptly over Facebook Messenger. His reason was valid, but at the same time, he NEVER talked to me about it. Apparently my depression was dragging him down. If he'd fucking communicated it, I would have explored new treatment options so goddamn fast. But no, he decided to snap his fingers and disappear. That's exactly WHY it was so traumatic, I think: it was so unexpected and sudden. Did you have a lot of role models as a kid? Animal enthusiasts like Steve Irwin and Jeff Corwin for sure. Do you feel like anyone looks up to you? Why or why not? God no. I'm just... not someone to aspire to be like. What was the last thing you found offensive? I'm not sure. Who is the nicest person you know? My mom. Do you feel safe in your country? I feel safe in NC, rather. Like I don't expect an atom bomb or terrorist attack or something in this obscure area. In the U.S.A. itself, sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. America is definitely not loved by every other country. Do you feel safe where you live? Not in this city, no. Have you been falsely diagnosed with something by a bad doctor? Yup. Did y'all know I apparently have ADHD? I know, shocking. Have you ever had a doctor refuse to treat you? No. Name the strangest game you’ve ever played (video game or real game): The first Silent Hill, probably. It took a lot of reading to get it. Do you know anyone who has been struck by lightning before? No. Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Does Stitch count? Or a Pokemon. Do you like marshmallows? Yes. What is your favorite flavor of candy cane? I really like the Jolly Rancher candy canes, I think they are? Have you ever fostered an animal? No. Do you still take hot showers when it’s hot out? Not as hot, but not cold except on very extreme occasions. When writing $ sign, do you draw one line through the S or two? Two. What animal have you always wanted as a pet but couldn’t have? I'm thankful that my parents were pretty open-minded to what pets I really wanted, but one I was never allowed to have was a ferret because of how messy and smelly they are. List three people you’ve had crushes on: Jason, Sara, and Sebastian were probably my biggest crushes. Have you ever thrown up from cramps? No, but god have I felt close. List three people you had a hard time forgiving. Jason, Colleen, and my dad. Who is the most spiritual person you know? Probably my sister's mother-in-law. Would you ever start a vlog? God no, I'd bore people to tears. Are your dreams coming true yet? I mean, I guess in some ways with my mental health. In my deepest depression, what I have now was a dream, even though current me is very discontent with it. Most of my dreams, though? No. Do you struggle with depression? I've been diagnosed with severe depression since 7th grade. Are you haunted by your past? A few things won't leave me alone. What medical conditions do you have? Just a lot. There are even more that are up for debate. I've talked about my diagnosed conditions enough. Do you use a Magic Bullet? No. What does your apron look like? I don’t have one. What are your favorite spicy foods? Hot Cheetos, Takis, hot wings, jalapeno pizza... Man, I love spicy food. Which do you like better: being an adult or being a kid? Being a kid. Were you excited to be a teenager on your thirteenth birthday? I had very mixed feelings. Did you feel insecure in high school? Shit, I still do. Would you ever be friends with someone who was suicidal? What the FUCK is this question? No fucking shit I would be. Someone being suicidal in no way affects who they are as a person. Who was the biggest bully in high school? I don't think there really was one. What was your favorite class in high school? Art. Would you rather have a daughter or a son? If I wanted kids, a daughter. Have you ever written to an advice columnist? No. Have you ever had a doctor not believe what you told him? Maybe? I did however have an employee at the ER the first time I went try to pry out of me that my self-mutilation was for attention, and it wasn't until I insisted about a dozen times that it wasn't that he believed me. It's odd looking back that I got REALLY attached to him during that stay, knowing now that it was absolutely horrible and extremely unhelpful for him to do that. If you’re female, would you feel uncomfortable having a male gynecologist? I would absolutely refuse to have a male one. Do you like Lisa Frank? Yeah, like can you talk about aesthetic. What gives you nightmares? Boy, I wish I could tell you, given how much I have them. Were you ever hospitalized as a child? No. Did you get senior pictures taken? No. What color is your bicycle? I don’t have one. Did you ever have to take home a fake baby in health class? No, thank fuck. Would you rather wear ivory or white on your wedding day? What color will your bridesmaids wear? I'd rather wear black. I think red will be the bridesmaids' color. Would you rather have a swimming pool or trampoline? I want a swimming pool so damn badly so I could exercise my legs without worrying about sweating, and I can stop and rest whenever I want, unlike going walking or something. I don't think my knees could handle a trampoline. Do you think babies are cute? Some, sure. But a lot, not really. Do you dream about the future a lot? Yeah. Do you think about your past a lot? Way too frequently. How good are you at living in the moment? I'm trying to get better at it. Have you ever questioned God’s existence? Yeah. Vanilla frosting or chocolate? Chocolate. What’s your favorite foreign cuisine? I've actually been exploring Italian pasta lately. I'm not a big fan of foreign food that I've tried, though. Have you ever moved to another state? No. Did you do anything productive today? No. .-. Can you say the alphabet backwards? No, actually. Do you like flowers? Of course; does anyone not? Have you ever thought you were gonna die? I didn't care if I did or didn't. What kind of mood are you in today? I was honestly really depressed through most of it. Just health stuff was really getting to me. I just woke up from what was honestly like a four-hour nap and I feel all right, I guess. What are you craving right now? I REALLY want Domino's jalapeno pizza. Is there anyone you would seriously punch right now if you had the chance? No. What is worse, physical or emotional pain? Definitely emotional. Have you ever walked in on somebody doing something… questionable? When Dad still lived with us, I think he might have been watching... you know... on TV when I came into my parents' room for something. Idk for sure though. I didn't ask, and I don't want to know. If you were to make videos on YouTube, what would they be of? Oh god, idk. I don't want to make any. What I'd have most fun with would be reptile education, but I 1.) have literally one snake, 2.) am not extremely educated on a good number of them and don't want to be misleading, and 3.) I would run outta content fast. So, leave it to Snake Discovery, haha. Posting pictures of yourself in a bathing suit on the internet - ok or not? Yes, it's okay????? If you're talking about me personally though, you won't see me dead in a bathing suit picture. Do you typically laugh when somebody falls down? No, I gasp and see if they're okay. What is the most disturbing movie you’ve ever watched? Paranormal Entity. The ending is... a lot. Your opinion of Katy Perry, please? I like a couple of her songs. If you could say anything to your Mom right now… what would it be? "Thank you for absolutely everything."

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''leave a scar'' by marilyn manson

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emoboijk · 5 years ago

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jjk | stardust

we’re all made of stardust, looking to find each other again; one time for the present, two times for the past —soulmate au

12,356 words

Jeongguk doesn't really know why he's here. Well, he knows why. Taehyung's his friend after all. Jeongguk would do anything for him: walk through fire or start a fight. Unfortunately, that also means going to his parties. Not that he doesn't like parties! He just... he also likes video games and beer in his apartment and getting enough sleep for practice the next day.

God, Jeongguk likes sleeping.

Any other night Jeongguk might be three drinks in by now and chugging a fourth, but tonight he's exhausted and he wants to play Overwatch. Any other night he could push the extroverted part of himself to the surface and force himself to have a good time until he actually does. But tonight…

Even the buzz from his beer doesn't lift his spirits.

Tired of watching the stillness of his beer in its red cup, he pulls his attention back to the party. Everyone's crammed into Jimin's and Taehyung's shared apartment. There are various snack foods laid out on the coffee table and in the kitchen. Bottles of hard liquor mingle with dozens of six-packs of beer. There's trash... everywhere.

Jeongguk glances at the watch on his wrist. 12:02 AM.

His eyes do a quick scan, like always, for his friends (it makes him feel better to keep track). Jimin is plastered and fully committed to a game of drunk Jenga with a couple girls from the Poli Sci department and an equally plastered Seokjin. Hobi is teaching a girl from their dance class how to do an advanced hip hop move despite the rather slow Sam Smith song playing over the speakers. Taehyung is talking enthusiastically by the kitchen bar with Namjoon and a few guys Jeongguk doesn't know. It takes him a second to find Yoongi but he eventually spots him in a secluded corner, smirking with some girl from the Music department.

Jeongguk feels lonely. Just for a moment, leaning against the wall with his half-empty cup of beer, observing the party instead of participating in it, he feels lonely. He and the others have been close for so long, have been like brothers for so long... when he realizes that things won't always be this way and they each have their own lives to live... loneliness hits him like a gunshot.

He downs the rest of his beer in one drink, chucking the empty cup in a nearby trash can perfectly without paying attention. He waves absently to Taehyung and the others on his way out, slipping into his jacket and opening the door.

That's where he finds you, bathed in fluorescent light and clutching a bottle of red wine that has a bow wrapped around it. You look so startled to see him there, to see anyone there, that Jeongguk almost thinks you might start crying. Your face is drained of color and the bottle of wine starts to slip from your hands.

Jeongguk's eyes move quickly over you, catching sight of the falling bottle and moving on instinct. He swipes the bottle before it hits the floor, placing one hand on your shoulder to keep you steady.

"Close one," he says, handing it back to you. He doesn't realize that he's too close until you flinch at the feeling of his breath on your cheek. He pulls away too fast, his nose filling with the smell of peonies and lavender fabric softener. Desperation tugs at something in his chest and he watches you with wide eyes, like seeing the sunset for the first time.

He shakes off the feeling and steps aside, holding the door open so that you can see inside the apartment to the party. "Going in?"

You take a step back, hugging the wine even more tightly now. There's conflict in your eyes and Jeongguk takes the opportunity to give you a once over: soft floral sundress, wrinkle-free beige cardigan, soft pink headband pushing back your hair, neat ballet flats. All this and a bottle of wine that... that almost looks like a gift.

You do seem familiar. The polite neatness off your clothes, the apprehension, the hopeless deer-in-the-headlights expression. But Jeongguk finds it hard to believe he knows you from an association with... Taehyung? He just can't picture the two of you even existing in the same space, let alone partying together?

"N-No."

"Oh...kay." Jeongguk releases the door and lets it fall shut behind him. "Uh," he sidesteps you, "bye."

You watch him descend the staircase with a knot in your stomach, following only after you've given him enough time to have left the building. You sigh and hang your head as you descend.

I froze up, you think. It makes you want to cry. Your knuckles turn white gripping the bottle. You feel a panic attack in your throat, the urge to hit your head against the wall making your heart race. You're just so... frustrated with yourself. Why can't I just be normal! Why doesn't my brain work like everyone else's? Why am I so... defective? You think you'll probably end up drinking this whole bottle tonight.

And you got so dressed up, too. This is your favorite dress. On good days it makes you feel confident, like you can talk to anyone or do anything. On bad days, it makes you feel safe, just that much less anxious.

You pause once you're outside. The night air is crisp and it helps clear your head. You sigh into the empty air and let disappointment sneak into the crevices off your mind. At least I can see the stars tonight, you think, craning your neck back to count the golden specks dotted into the inky blue night sky.

You startle when your mind floats back down to earth and the present moment to find him there on the sidewalk near you. He's leaning against a street sign with his phone in his pocket, watching you.

Oh crap. I must look like a crazy person.

Jeongguk doesn't think you're crazy. In fact, you remind him of Namjoon. You have the same kind of absentmindedness. Although, admittedly, Namjoon hides his insecurities better; you're wearing yours on your sleeve.

He's also thinking that you're stunning. The dress and the cardigan and the ribbon-wrapped bottle of wine didn't match the energy upstairs, but it's perfect here. Cool evening, yellow streetlight, and a girl. It's cinematic.

Your eye contact is only broken when a car pulls up to the curb, "Jeongguk?" Someone barks from inside.

"Yeah," he says softly. He blinks, hoping the spell will be broken. But whatever kind of magic that existed before still exists when he opens his eyes. You're still watching him, frozen on the sidewalk. He climbs into the car feeling that same eerie kind of magic snaking around his heart.

That night you dream of him. The way he looked at you on the street. The dewy softness of his skin in the yellow light. The feeling between you both.

You wake up in a sweat, your body remembering something your mind can't fathom. Ghost fingers caress your skin and make your blood burn. You stumble to the kitchen for water, trying to rid your mind of his face. It's 3 AM and you lie awake trying to forget him.

It's 3 AM and Jeongguk needs to sleep. He has practice in the morning, class after that. He was going to do laundry, catch up on some homework. He was going to relax for the first time in a few days, no parties, no plans. Just himself, some video games, and some soju.

Instead, he has long since kicked off all his sheets, skin heated from thoughts of you. The image of you on the sidewalk conjures so many other pictures. But they don't feel like fantasies, they feel like memories. Images of lives forgotten. It's making his blood warm and his body overheat. He burns through his buzz and tries to think of anything else.

The next morning, when Jeongguk's alarm goes off at 7 AM, he feels dead inside but also a little high. It feels like the one time Taehyung convinced him to do ecstasy ("It's a college experience!") and his heart felt like it was going to explode. But that feeling eventually wore off. It's been hours and he feels both hungover and like he could run a marathon. It's fucking wild.

He rolls out of bed, landing on his feet with a thump. His head feels like a 20-pound weight on his neck and it hurts when he blinks. What the hell, he thinks, did someone spike my fucking drink last night?

Jeongguk meanders to his bathroom, wincing at his own reflection in the mirror. He closes his eyes and tries to inhale as much oxygen as possible. If he stays perfectly still, nothing hurts. He hears his phone ding from the other room and he knows it's Jimin complaining. With a sigh and another stabbing pain in his head, he reaches blindly for his toothbrush and toothpaste.

He spits into the sink and looks up at his reflection again. He should probably shave. He should probably shower, truth be told. But he'll work up a sweat at practice so he might as well wait till later. Besides if he even tried to do anything more complicated than get dressed his body might fall apart. He already feels like 110 degrees just standing.

He swipes his phone from the nightstand on his way back into the room.

Jimin: who the fuck talked me into this

Jimin: 8 am dance practice

Jimin: are they fucking crazy

Jeongguk chuckles.

JK: So you're pretty hungover

Jimin: shut up

Jeongguk laughs again and launches the phone toward the bed. He steps out of the shirt and boxers he wore to sleep, relief flowing through him at the cool air on his skin. Maybe I'm getting sick, he thinks.

He pulls a pair of sweats and an oversized tee from his closet, slipping into them before stuffing a pair of jeans and a second shirt into his duffle for practice. He checks there's a full stick of deodorant and the travel-sized soaps Jin got for him forever ago.

He swings the bag over his torso, pausing in front of his bedroom window. He loves the view from here. It's nothing special. His apartment is on the 10th floor, just high enough to clear most of the buildings on this side of town. He can see a mountain range in the distance and the sky. He's spent all semester trying to capture it in his art class, but none of his renderings do it justice.

Then, as he's about to turn and leave, the sun breaks over the horizon and he's struck. His whole body flushed warm and soft pink, an image fogging his mind.

A similar sunrise. A girl wrapped in a sheet wrapped in his arms. The smell of peonies and citrus. A rose gold tint on his skin.

When his mind clears, he's still standing by the window, drenched in sweat. He's breathing heavily but his headache is gone and his fever has broken.

You're already awake when your alarm goes off. You're sitting at your desk with a fan on high pointed at you. It could be 102 degrees outside for how hot you feel. You slept on and off for a few hours, but every time you drifted off your dreams…

You try to clear your head, but his face pervades your thoughts. The dreams were inconsistent and fleeting; there were different scenarios, time periods, and people. But the one constant was him. The stranger you'd met briefly last night.

You run a hand through your hair and shut off your alarm, glancing at your notifications and seeing a text.

Taehyung: you didn't come to my party!! :(

Guilt wells within you and you twist your mouth trying to think of the best response.

You: Sorry! Last minute study group!!

You flip your phone upside down then so that you don't have to look at it. You don't have class for another few hours, but you're so warm that you can't think of anything but a cold shower.

You just stand to go into the bathroom when your phone dings again. Twice in a row.

Taehyung: fiiiine next time then!

Joy: coffee before class?? around 9?

You text back quick affirmative responses and head into the shower.

Jeongguk pulls up to the apartment building in his purple, beaten up Toyota Corolla and honks his horn. It takes three full minutes for Jimin to come stumbling out. He looks almost as bad as Jeongguk this morning, sleep-deprived and hungover but with large purple hickies littered over his neck.

Jeongguk is nearly glaring at them by the time he climbs into the car.

"What?" Jimin says, stuffing his duffle bag between his legs.

"Subtle," Jeongguk grumbles, shifting gears and pulling out of the parking spot.

"Taehyung's a biter," Jimin says lightly. He reaches forward to swipe Jeongguk's phone from the dash and change the music, and Jeongguk catches sight of the Chinese character imprinted on his wrist. Friends.

Jeongguk sighs, squinting out at the road, a pang of loneliness wrinkling his brow.

You're already sitting with a cup of hot apple cider and a book when Joy walks in. She dives through the mid-morning crowd bumblingly, accidentally hitting people and stopping to apologize several times. When she finally slides into the seat opposite you, she's out of breath.

You slide the hot chocolate and ice water you'd ordered for her across the counter. She pauses, somewhat surprised at your thoughtfulness, before smiling and thanking you.

"Sure," you grin and check your phone. Thirty minutes.

"You okay?" Joy wonders, wincing when she sips her hot chocolate and it's too hot.

You shake your head and run your fingers through your hair. "I think I might be getting sick," you say, tucking your book into your bag and sipping your cider again.

"Oh no," Joy pouts, "Are you sure you wanna go to class? Cuz we can totally skip!"

You narrow your eyes at her playfully, "Why would you skip?"

She chokes on her drink slightly and sputters, "Uh, solidarity."

"Of course," you giggle.

Dance practice was...fine. But Jeongguk realizes too late that he's irritable and that dancing isn't helping. Usually dancing always helps; he has to focus so intently on his body and it's movement that everything else escapes his attention. But today he doesn't even know why he's upset so nothing helps.

But he thinks maybe it's because of soulmates. Jimin and Hobi are both in this class, both with soulmates, and they aren't even talking about them but Jeongguk feels like he would rather bang his head against the wall than be near them.

And that's frustrating because he loves them, they're two of his best friends.

He does a series of pop and lock movements that the teacher demonstrated earlier with so much aggression that it's almost like krumping. He doesn't get why he's this angry. The soulmate thing...it's never bothered him this much. He has long since accepted that it's not in the cards for him. And even at his worst moments, he feels more sad than angry…

He leaves class with a half-hearted wave to Jimin and Hoseok before disappearing into the showers. He feels so flushed it's almost like he's going to pass out so he cranks the knob to cold water and lets it run over his hair and back, sighing at the relief as his body temperature goes back to normal.

Suddenly a spasm runs through his body, electrocuting him and sending his mind spiraling. He braces himself against the wall of the shower, the water cascading down his back.

Everything is misty and foggy and the grass beneath his feet is damp and soft. There's a person a few feet ahead of him, staring at the large expanse of the forest beneath the hill. The sun breaks over the horizon and the person turns to him—

"Hey, Kook, you good?" someone says from behind him, a towel hitting him square in the back the head.

No, he thinks, definitely not good. His whole body feels weak and exasperated, his mind hazy with confusion and memories he doesn't recognize. He knows the person he just saw but he can't place it. The memory feels familiar and yet separate from him somehow. His chest tightens uncomfortably.

"Yeah, fine," he mumbles, reaching for his shampoo.

You and Joy split after your first class. She has an art seminar on the other side of campus and you're free for another few hours. You wave her off and turn in the direction of the quad; the weather is nice and you want to spread out on the grass with your assigned novel for Lit.

But somehow, you find yourself in front of the music hall. It's almost like waking up after a blackout, you have no idea how you got here. You've only ever walked by the building, it's by your favorite coffee cart and across the street from the building where you take poli sci, but you've never been inside.

And now you're standing on the sidewalk, staring up at the funky Art Deco designs of the courtyard, with an insistent need to go in. It's like there's a cord anchored in your chest gently tugging you in this direction.

Your brows are furrowed in thought when you see him. His hair is damp and his expression is serious; he's wearing a giant white t-shirt and hip-hugging jeans, and your brain immediately conjures very sexual images in your head. Dirty, dirty thoughts that make you blush and turn away from him.

Jeongguk spots you, too, and it stops him in his tracks. Your back is to him and he can't place where he's seen you before, or even conjure specifically your face in his mind, but your posture strikes him immediately as being the same as from that memory.

His heart hammers against his rib cage and he's sweating, his mouth opens as if to call out to you, but it gets stuck in his throat. What would he say?

"Hey, want to walk together?" Hobi approaches him from behind, clasping a hand around his neck and squeezing comfortingly.

"Uh, yeah," he says, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. When he looks back up you're gone.

Am I fucking hallucinating?

Hoseok is watching him with a concerned look and Jeongguk forces a smile. Best not to say anything, he thinks, it's probably just a bad day.

You're not sure why, but you're hiding. You ducked behind a tree, your heart racing. Your palms and forehead are sweaty, and you lose your breath when you realize why. The dreams.

You peek out from behind the tree to see him walking away with another guy, down toward the science library. You breathe a sigh of relief and step out. What the fuck? you think.

Jeongguk can't focus on his Weather Studies class, although that's not unusual, he spends the entire time sketching out the scene from this morning on the edge of his notebook. Taehyung yawns and leans against his shoulder heavily, peeking at the sketch and saying, "New idea for your art project?"

Jeongguk shakes his head sharply but otherwise doesn't respond. His pencil scratches on the paper rapidly, making quick decisive movements that surprise even himself. His usual approach to art is planned and a bit apprehensive, but he never dives in like this without at least thinking about where to go next.

Now, though, he just has that memory? Flashback? Whatever it is imprinted beneath his eyelids and he can't think of anything to do with it except get it onto paper.

Taehyung watches Jeongguk's profile for a moment in concern. He's acting colder than usual and he's never seen the maknae sketch with such intensity.

Taehyung straightens and tries to shrug it off. It's probably just a bad day. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his lastest messages from Jimin.

Chim: kookie was acting weird at practice

Tae: weird how???

Chim: 🤷🏼‍♀️

Chim: upset about something maybe? Idk

Taehyung glances back over at Jeongguk, a crease forming in his brow as he watches anxiously. Without looking up from his page, Jeongguk says: "Stop it, hyung."

Tae nearly jumps out of his seat, but otherwise turns away, frowning.

Jeongguk keeps sketching and he feels bad. His voice was colder than he'd intended and harsher. He knows Tae is sensitive to those kinds of mood shifts and he wants to reach over and apologize, offer to buy lunch to make up for it, but he's still irritable. He tells himself he'll make it up to him later.

"Bye," Jeongguk says at the end of class without waiting for Taehyung. The elder watches him go with a frown. He clicks to call Jimin before he's even left the classroom, sniffling.

You end up in your building for poli sci instead of the quad, sitting in the hallway outside the classroom to wait another hour and a half. You're sipping on the sugary iced coffee you bought downstairs, earbuds in, eyes closed, listening to music.

His face swims before your eyes. He's so handsome that it makes your heart physically hurt. He's smiling with his nose scrunched, leaning in so that your foreheads touch. His lips are moving but you don't know what he's saying. A warm feeling crowds your chest and heats your skin.

You blink awake to find forty-five minutes have passed. Your coffee is sitting by your side, condensation pooling on the tile. You press the back of your hand to your cheek and find that you're flushed, beads of sweat on your forehead. You feel woozy like you might pass out.

Someone says your name and you blink up at them, your mind refusing to focus. The person kneels down in front of you, "Hey, are you okay?"

You blink again, "Taehyung?" His boxy smile comes into focus and you squeeze your eyes shut hard before opening them again.

Taehyung tilts his head to the side and says, "Taking a power nap?"

"Um, I guess," you whisper, taking his hand as he helps you stand. You lean against him heavily as you start to fall forward once you're on your feet.

"Woah," he says, "Alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm...fine." You shake your head, willing the room to stop spinning and your skin to cool down. Everything begins to straighten out and you say, "Woah, that was weird." You pull away from him and fan your face with your hand.

"I didn't know you had a class in this building," you say.

"Yeah," he rolls his eyes, "there's this logic course I take instead of math." He sticks his tongue out, "Hate it. Logic is for pussies." As he runs a hand through his hair, you spot the Chinese symbol on his wrist, friendship. His soulmate mark.

You force a smile and avert your eyes, glancing over to see your classmates filing into the room. "Oh, I should go."

"Okay, feel better." Taehyung's mouth twists into another frown as he watches you disappear into the classroom. Everyone's weird today, he thinks.

Jeongguk blows off the rest of his classes to run laps. He obviously can't be trusted to be around other people. The look on Tae's face as he ran out of class haunts him; it pushes him to run harder, faster, until his lungs, legs, and heart hurt.

Nothing's helping. He's still so irritable. Like there's something beneath his skin. He skids to a stop when he feels a swell of nausea in his stomach, his skin flushing from something other than running. He stumbles and barely catches himself, sinking to his knees as a memory comes to him unbidden.

"Wooo!"

He looks over. A beautiful girl in the stands with a handmade banner. There's a name on it that is unfamiliar but that is his. Someone bumps into him and he's...playing soccer. He kicks the ball and it goes flying into the net, cheers erupt around him.

His teammates slap him on the back and the girl barrels toward him, arms looping around his neck and squeezing.

Jeongguk blinks and the memory's gone. "You," he whispers, finally placing your face. "From the party." He falls on his back on the track, staring at the sky, unable to shake your image from his mind. "Who are you?"

Days pass like this. Days of endless wandering and a heat so extreme that Jeongguk peels off layer after layer of his clothing until he's laying in bed with nothing but his boxers on. Days of memories and flashbacks so intense it's like a bad trip. Or a good trip? The memories make him feel warm and fluttery, but when they're gone he's left in a cold sweat with a feeling of longing so painful it's like being shot.

You spend the next week and a half similarly. Lounging around in just your underwear and a camisole, fanning yourself with whatever you can find. You can't sleep. Your dreams are so lifelike and you wake up drenched in sweat. And it hurts. The waking up is a nightmare because it leaves you feeling so lonely and lost. You sit up in bed and wonder why you're alone. Something is missing and you don't dare admit to yourself that it might be the person that stars in your dreams, the tall, handsome man who takes you in his arms…

Sometimes you wake up crying. Sometimes you cry as soon as you wake up. Sometimes you stare at the ceiling and wonder if morphine would even be powerful enough to dull the pain.

Jeongguk gets fed up on day nine post-party, and calls Taehyung. It's 2 AM.

"Hello?" Taehyung answers, his voice thick with sleep. Jeongguk can hear Jimin mumbling curse words in the background. "Kookie?"

"Who is she, Tae?" Jeongguk growls, surprising himself.

"What?" He says, confused.

Jeongguk scrunches his face up in frustration, trying to calm down enough to have an actual conversation with an actual person. He breathes deeply.

"There was a girl," Jeongguk says and his voice is like a string pulled taut, all tension, "She came to your party, but she didn't come inside. She was wearing a dress."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"The girl, Tae!" Jeongguk snaps, lashing out and kicking the small trash can by his desk so that it goes flying into the wall. "The beautiful girl in the sundress with the bottle of wine! She obviously knew you, but she didn't go inside. Who is she?"

On the other end of the line, Taehyung is staring at Jimin with fear in his eyes. Jimin swipes the phone from his other half and growls into the speaker, "What the hell, Jeongguk? You can't just call us in the middle of the night and demand answers to vague-ass fucking questions! You need to calm down."

Jeongguk has the urge to throw his phone against the wall. He wants to trash his apartment. He wants to go out and start a fight. "Whatever," he growls into his phone, the line going dead.

You don't leave your house for days. Three to be precise. On day four you realize you're running out of food. Two more protein bars, a handful of potato chips, a questionable apple.

You pick the protein bar and lay back down in bed. You're torn between wanting to sleep and staying awake. Exhaustion coats your skin beneath the heat, you feel it in your limbs and your eyelids. You're so tired. And you want to see him. That beautiful slim face, those bright wide eyes. You want to feel his hands against your skin and in your hair, his lips dragging across your shoulders and neck, his voice floating in the air like music.

It's like a drug. But when the high's gone, you're left with a terrible feeling. An emptiness. Loneliness. You chew slowly at your granola bar, fighting to stay awake and losing.

When you come-to, Joy is in your apartment. She has her hands wrapped around your upper arms and is shaking you awake. When you blink your eyes open she nearly collapses on the floor, "Oh, thank god."

"What is it?" You say and your voice is dry and quiet. It hurts to speak.

"I've been texting and calling," she says, watching you with a frazzled expression, "I haven't heard from you in three days!" She leans forward and cups your cheek in her hand, "Are you okay?" Her voice is gentle now.

You look over and into the mirror, surprised to find red streaks on your cheeks. From crying. You haven't really looked at yourself in three days and it's shocking how different you look. You haven't showered; your hair is dirty and piled on your head, skin oily and blotchy from crying. But it's the sadness, so plainly evident in your face, that makes the tears come again.

"I need you to take me to the doctor," you whisper.

On day thirteen since Taehyung's party, Seokjin organizes a get together with just the seven of them with the full intention of having a conversation with Jeongguk about his behavior. Something is obviously wrong and he must talk to them about it.

Jeongguk goes. Even though he doesn't want to, even though he thinks he will probably end up doing or saying something stupid. Even though his skin feels like fire and every bone is filled with lead.

He's the last to show up and he does find this suspicious but he's too tired to do anything about it. The apartment smells like kimchi and gochujang, and he can hear everyone talk quietly with each other. There's music in the background that's soft and soothing so he thinks Namjoon probably got to the speakers first.

Jeongguk slides onto the couch without greeting them. He sinks into the soft pleather and feels as if he could fall asleep then and there.

"Hey." He knows it's Namjoon without having to open his eyes. "Kookie, can we talk to you?"

Jeongguk squeezes his eyes tighter. This is just like them. To do something considerate and caring and try to talk to him about what's going on. But how can he talk to them about it if even he doesn't know?

He opens his eyes slowly and sees that all six of his hyungs have gathered around him.

"Is everything okay?" Namjoon says and when Jeongguk meets his eyes they're dark and filled with concern. It stabs at his heart.

"Yeah, you've been acting kind of weird," Hoseok adds, sitting down next to the maknae. Jeongguk frowns and tries to look away from all six of them at once. He stares at his lap.

"That phone call to Tae the other night…" Jimin whispers. He was angry that night, but now distress is laced into his words.

"Are you mad at me?" Taehyung squeaks. Jeongguk's head snaps up to look at him at that, finding him clinging to Jimin's arm and looking so upset it breaks him.

"No, no, of course not," Jeongguk gushes, shaking his head.

"Then what's wrong?"

What's wrong. What's wrong, Jeongguk? You can talk to us. What's wrong? They're all talking. Talking talking talking. All their voices jumble and hit his ears at once. And he's so hot. And tired. And woozy.

"I don't know what's wrong with me!" He screams, wrenching his hands through his hair painfully. All six of his friends watch him in shock. Most of them have never heard Jeongguk so much as raise his voice. Now his hair is plastered to his forehead, there are deep purple shadows beneath his eyes, he looks pale and sunken.

"Kookie, when was the last time you slept?" Jimin wonders softly.

Jeongguk clenches his jaw, "I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see her."

A look goes around the group before Jin finally steps forward and presses a hand to Jeongguk's forehead. "You're burning up."

Jeongguk nods, leaning into the cool temperature of Jin's palm. He speaks softly now, exhausted, "For days."

"Maybe we should take him to a hospital," Taehyung suggests quietly.

"When did this start, Kook?" Yoongi steps forward.

"Last week, after Tae's party." He pauses as Hoseok hands him a glass of water, gulping it down quickly.

"After you met that girl?" Namjoon says suddenly, his voice strung with tension, "Taehyung's friend?"

Jeongguk nods, letting Jin and Hoseok guide him to a chair at the kitchen table. Immediately, he leans against the table's surface, pressing his cheek against the cool wood and exhaling softly.

"Okay, okay," Namjoon says, flinging his hands in the air dramatically, "Wait a sec!"

"What? Namjoon—" Hoseok starts, but he's already run from the room.

Jimin sits beside their youngest member at the table, pushing the messy mop of dark hair from his forehead paternally. He presses the back of his hand to Jeongguk's skin and whispers softly, "It's going to be okay."

"Got it!" Namjoon says, losing his balance, socks sliding against the hardwood floor as he runs back into the room. He rights himself and sits on the other end of the table, opening the book he's brought with him and flipping through it.

"Okay," Namjoon scans the page, his finger flying fast down the text until he reaches a certain point, "Ha! Okay Kook, so you've been having hot flashes? A fever since that day?"

Jeongguk nods half-heartedly. The coolness of the table and the water have helped, he feels like someone drowning finally breaking through the surface. But he's still barely treading water.

"Have you been experiencing vivid, life-like dreams, daydreams, or memories?" Namjoon reads, some of the others coming to stand behind him, looks of shock on their faces as they realize what he's reading.

"Yes," Jeongguk groans, "I can't sleep."

"Do they focus on a particular event or person?"

Jeongguk sits up at that, leaning back in his chair and mustering as quizzical a glare as he can summon. "Yes, always her."

"Does your mind wander and you suddenly find yourself somewhere you've never been before but that seems familiar?"

Jeongguk thinks of the bookshop on the outskirts of town. "Yes."

"Have you found any birthmarks or tattoo-like marks on your body since the fever and the dreams started?" All six pairs of eyes watch him expectantly.

"What?" He says, "No."

Jimin's brow furrows. "But what about the heart-shaped mark on your forehead, by your hairline? That hasn't always been there has it?"

"The what?"

Jeongguk pulls out his phone faster than he thought possible, switching it to selfie mode and pulling his hair away from his face. Holy fucking shit. There's a pale pink heart peeking out from his hairline.

"It's a Late-Onset Soulmate Bond!" Namjoon exclaims, slamming his book shut to reveal the title. Modern Soulmate Science and Theory.

"What does that mean?" Taehyung wonders.

"According to my class, it's an incredibly rare type of soulmate bond. As you know, 98% of soulmate bonds occur in adolescence, with a person's individual bond type manifesting around puberty, usually represented by a mark on the body. 1.9% never manifest a soulmate bond at all. And the remaining 0.1% are assumed to have no soulmate bond, but then meet their soulmate later in life, resulting in these symptoms," Namjoon explains.

"But why are they so severe?" Yoongi says.

"Yeah, when my soulmate bond manifested I was only out of school for a day," Taehyung adds.

"Adolescent bodies and minds are more elastic and are thus more adaptable to changes. When a soulmate bond manifests, it takes less out of an adolescent body. It's also theorized that Late-Onset Soulmate Bonds are borne of past lives, and it's only when the two souls physically meet that the bond can be reawakened. Of course, this theory has been often hypothesized because of the memory-like dreams experienced by the soulmates, but research thus far has been inconclusive. At least…" Namjoon says, finally looking around to find his friends dumbfounded, "that's what my textbook says."

"So, she's my soulmate?" Jeongguk says softly. He's gone completely still.

"I think so, Kook," Hoseok beams down at him.

"I...I have a soulmate?"

The doctor is smiling at you so warmly that it's starting to give you the creeps. You can tell she's expecting you to react a certain way - cry, cheer, hug her maybe - but all you feel is shock.

"What...does this mean?"

The doctor blinks as if you'd asked her to explain the meaning of life. It takes her a moment to respond, "You find them, of course."

"How do I do that?"

"It's whoever it was when the symptoms first started." She's still looking at you like you're going to cry from happiness.

"Will the symptoms stop?"

The doctor nods. "Yes, to abate the symptoms, you have to..." her faces scrunches up, "exchange bodily fluids."

"I'm sorry, what?" you stutter, "We have to...do we have to—"

"Oh!" the doctor shakes her head, "While that would do it, a kiss will suffice."

You leave the clinic fifteen minutes later. The doctor is still watching you expectantly but you can't find it in yourself to have a big flood of emotion. You don't feel that way. You've seen soulmate matches in real life before, there's always tears and giant grins. The love becomes almost palpable.

But all you feel is apprehensive.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't spent most of middle and high school daydreaming of having a soulmate. But after it became clear that you didn't have one...it was just too painful to keep daydreaming. So you closed off that part of yourself with a heavy padlock, resigned to your fate.

You're not sure you even have the key to unlock it anymore.

You're standing on the sidewalk with your phone in your hands. Alone. Joy was running late for work and, although it took some convincing, she left.

You stare at the black screen. You know who it is; you're... soulmate. Your mind skips on the word, it feels awkward in your mouth. But it's obviously that stranger from the night of the party. You can conjure his face in your mind easily now. And if the doctor is correct, you've seen his face from dozens of different lifetimes.

Meeting him would be as simple as texting Taehyung. But there's apprehension caged in your chest like a nervous bird.

Ding!

But it looks like you won't have a choice.

Unknown Number: Hi, this is Jeongguk. I'm a friend of Taehyung's.

"Are you sure I should've texted her?" Jeongguk worries his bottom lip and stares at his phone. His hands are shaky and the smell of ramen coming from the kitchen makes his stomach growl. He turns to look wide-eyed at him, "Are you sure it's her?"

Taehyung nods, "She's the only person I know who could match the description you gave me."

When a full minute passes and the screen still holds only his message and 'delivered' Jeongguk thunks his head against the table heavily. Yoongi snorts a laugh out through his nose at this and when Jeongguk turns his head to glare at him the elder keeps his eyes on his phone. But he's still grinning.

"Kook, it's going to be fine," Jimin says, taking the bowl of noodles Jin handed him and placing it on the table by Jeongguk.

"Maybe she's just busy?" Hoseok offers, taking his own bowl.

Jeongguk hits his head softly against the table a couple of times. He sits up, pausing when he feels the telltale signs of a flashback under his skin.

A small retro apartment with linoleum floors. A kitchen with pale green cabinets. A flimsy card table and folding chairs. And you, in a ratty apron smiling at him like there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

Jeongguk shakes his head and the memory dissipates. His chest feels a little lighter, though, and his fever's gone. The memory infuses him with confidence. As awkward and weird as the next part is, it's meant to be.

When he looks up, everyone is now seated at the table and they are all staring at him. "What?"

"Well, aren't you going to see what she said?" Yoongi asks, deadpan.

Jeongguk looks down at his phone. It's lit up with a message from you.

You: The one I met at the party?

You: I guess we need to talk...

Jeongguk's not sure what he was expecting. But he wasn't sure he had ever anticipated this level of awkwardness. If he's being honest, he was hoping for one of those heartfelt soulmate matches he's witnessed from the sidelines for so long. But you're just sitting opposite from him at a coffee shop, staring at the mug of hot cocoa you'd ordered.

Your face looks so uncomfortable. So, instead, he watches your hands as they trace the funky art design on the mug, shift it back and forth. His focus catapults him into a flashback.

You're both still sitting at a table, one that's small and wooden and sturdy. The mug in your hands this time is black and glazed and he knows that he's the one who made it. You're smiling.

He's gotten so used to the flashbacks now that it doesn't take any effort for him to adjust back to the present. All he thinks about is that he wants to see you smile now, at him in the present.

His chest hurts with longing. Maybe it's worse to know he has a soulmate and not be with them. At least before his pining was arbitrary and foundationless.

"Are you okay?"

He looks up from the mug and you're staring at him openly, your eyes wide and concerned. He tilts his head, "Huh?"

"What was that?" You wonder, "You like...zoned out for a second."

"Flashback," Jeongguk frowns.

"What?"

"You don't get...flashbacks?" He stares.

You shake your head, "Dreams."

"Dreams?"

He hopes you'll elaborate, but you just stare down at the table. His heart feels heavy.

Your mind is blank. You feel so nervous and anxious that unshed tears are burning your eyes. You feel like a disappointment. You feel like you're doing this wrong, like you should be more and do better.

Your bottom lip is bruising from chewing on it nervously. You haven't even taken a drink of your hot cocoa.

It's so weird, him being here. You've seen his face over a dozen times since that first night but it's different when he's here. When he's so close that you could run your fingers through his hair or draw stars on his cheeks or run your thumb over his bottom lip.

Desire swirls in your stomach and turns to disappointment. So many things you want and feel you don't deserve. So many things you had accepted that you would never have and here they are. The possibility hurts more than the clear cut absence.

He starts to drum his fingers against the table and you let your eyes move over to them. It's his right hand, littered with tattoos. There are sets of initials on his knuckles, a heart on the back of his hand, a smiley face on one of his fingers. They're kind of quirky and you like them. You want to know what they mean.

Jeongguk's hand freezes when he sees you staring. You blush and look away. He's surprised to find that this gives him hope. You're interested. There's just something stopping you.

He can work with that.

"So," he tries again, "how do you know Taehyung?"

Jeongguk is relieved when you look up at him. It's odd to think but he really likes your face. Clear, expressive eyes and soft lips. And when you're looking at him...everything clicks. It's like finding his place in the world. Finally, obviously. It's by your side.

You narrow your eyes, "He didn't tell you?"

Jeongguk shakes his head and sips at his ice water. He holds his hands up as quotation marks and says, "It's something the two of you should talk about." He shrugs, running his fingers through his hair, "Why? Is it bad?"

You sigh and sip your cocoa to buy time. "No."

Jeongguk opens his mouth to say something, his eyes alive with the playful comment he had planned, but he's interrupted by a crash.

Directly beside you, a man drops his mug of coffee and it shatters on the ground, splashing your leg, shards of porcelain slicing your ankle.

You gasp, but your reaction is lost when you see the scene play out before you. The man who dropped the cup is wearing khakis and a button-down, but more noticeably there is a large, dark birthmark spanning his cheek, jaw, and neck. Across the room his eyes have found a woman, older than he is, dressed in a bohemian-style, with the exact same mark on her face.

Soulmates.

You'd seen this play out before and avert your eyes.

Jeongguk watches every detail. It's hard to describe, and others say that to truly understand, you have to experience it. But it's almost like the world slows down for these people, everything else fades and it's just them and the start of their new life.

When Jeongguk's eyes find you again, he's surprised to see how painful you find this. There are tears in your eyes.

"Hey, are you okay? I know that it can be—" He holds his hand out but stops himself short of touching you.

You shake your head. He's not wrong, that is part of it; these displays have always...bothered you. But it's mostly, "My leg," you wince.

Jeongguk's eyebrows rise to his hairline and he ducks over and beneath the table to inspect your leg. The whole side of your calf is soaked and the exposed skin of your ankle beneath your cuffed jeans is flushed from the hot coffee and bleeding.

"We should go," Jeongguk insists. Ignoring the display of love beside you, he shoves the stranger out of his way and helps you stand.

Jeongguk keeps an arm around your back and you just barely hear him whisper, "Lean on me."

Compelled by something beyond your control, you do.

You hobble out of the cafe and onto the sidewalk together, pausing as your adrenaline ebbs in the open space.

"Um," you fumble, trying to retrieve your phone from your purse despite being held up almost entirely by Jeongguk. It doesn't help that he smells like fabric softener and boy and it's making you lose concentration. "I just need to call a car."

"What?" Jeongguk shakes his head, "No." Using his arm at your back, he steers you down the sidewalk and away from the cafe. "My place is literally right here."

"Oh, no, I couldn't," you shake your head, but your body doesn't get the memo. One of your hands is twisted into the fabric of his cotton shirt, turning you so that you're almost hugging him as he helps you walk. Your mind won't listen to reason, you find yourself helpless in the face of your desire to stay in his arms.

"Please," he smiles warmly at you, "It's the least I can do." His nose scrunches up and his eyes crease, his front two teeth peeking out in an honest smile.

And now you know: you really are a goner.

Jeongguk lives in a cramped studio apartment. It smells like air freshener and fabric softener and...weed? Kind of. You're frozen in the doorway, leaning against his dresser to keep upright while he frantically clears the floor of his bags and schoolwork and art supplies.

The walls are covered in band posters and artwork (some of which you see is signed with a flourish of JK so you know it's his). There's a magnificent view of the mountains from out his window, mid-morning light pouring in and making the room stuffy. You let your eyes just barely skirt over his bed (which has a navy blue comforter and has been made), and move to look at this desk. There's a massive gaming computer, complete with a light-up keyboard, and different kinds of sound and editing equipment.

"Sorry," he says, grunting as he wrenches up the window, a brush of cold air coming in. "Wasn't expecting visitors." He's facing you, but his eyes are still skirting over his room.

"It's fine," you smile.

There's a long moment when Jeongguk finally looks at you, only mildly satisfied that there's nothing too embarrassing left out, and he just can't believe what he's seeing. You're his soulmate. You're in his room.

It's nighttime. You're standing in a dress that hugs your curves and hovering in the doorway. Your expression is nervous but hopeful as you step out of your heels. He's across the room, standing by the bed, his hands itching with the desire to touch you. "You sure?" he says, and his voice is soft and almost lost amongst the city sounds outside his window. You nod, stepping towards him.

Jeongguk comes back to the present, flushed and a little bit horny. Holy shit, he thinks.

"Flashback?" You wonder.

"Yeah," Jeongguk says, hiding his face in case it's too clear what he's thinking. He catches sight of your leg and jumps in the air, "Oh! Sit down!" He crosses the room and guides you to the expensive, high-backed desk chair, spinning around and darting into the bathroom.

You peek at the polaroids stuck to the edge of his computer screen. You recognize Taehyung and his soulmate Jimin, but everyone else are strangers. The one that catches your eye is of Jeongguk with six others (Jimin and Tae among them), they're standing in a line with Jeongguk in the middle holding a cake. Jeongguk looks younger, rounder cheeks and wider eyes. Scrawled beneath it is written Happy 16th, Kookie!!! -Hyungs

It makes you feel...warm and fluttery.

"Found it," Jeongguk chuckles, reappearing with the first aid kit and a towel. He kneels at your feet and the action feels familiar, like one of your dreams.

"What's it like?" You ask softly.

"Hmm?" Jeongguk says, intensely focused as he wipes the coffee from your ankle and starts disinfecting the cuts.

"The flashbacks."

"Oh," he says, pausing with a cotton swab above your skin. He shrugs and leans in closer as he starts again, "Just like memories. But I'm not expecting them," he chuckles. "Kind of like hiccups? Or sneezing?"

"Do they feel...real?"

Jeongguk leans back and watches your expression. He's surprised to find how scared you look, apprehensive. He can feel a flashback coming in his chest from this angle, but he's determined to answer.

"Kind of. It's like...watching a movie. I know that it's me, and you," he whispers, "and I empathize with them. But it doesn't feel like I'm living it." He looks away from you, the flashback he had sensed fading, and digs through the first aid kit for bandages. "It's like...the universe is giving me proof that it's meant to be. That we've done this before. That we will do it again. That this…" he pauses, wondering if he should say what he really thinks, finding that he can't say anything but the truth when he sees the vulnerability in your expression, "is a love that's meant to last lifetimes."

He pulls a bandage roll from the kit and his face scrunches up into that bunny smile from earlier, "Sorry, I know that was corny," he laughs, "also because this is all I have." He begins to wrap the gauze around your ankle, muttering that he really only has this stuff because of rolling his ankles and wrists during dance practice. But it sort of fades out as you identify the feeling that's formed in your chest...hope.

You avert your eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you and this light happy feeling crowding your chest. Your skin flushes but not in the hot flash way you've been experiencing all week, more pleasantly than that.

"Um," you stutter because you can't be alone with your thoughts anymore, "Who are all these people?" You wince at your own awkward attempt at conversation but Jeongguk laughs jovially.

He bounces up from his knees and squints at the birthday Polaroid you're motioning to. "Oh," he grins, his face doing that adorable bunny smile again, "My hyungs!" He peels the Polaroid off the edge of the monitor and hands it to you. His finger points to each person in turn as he says, "Jimin and Tae, you know them, Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, and Hobi."

Your eyes follow his finger and then move to his face. He's lit up talking about them.

Your thumb moves over the center of the photograph where young Jeongguk stands, looking almost identical as right now. Completely overjoyed.

"How did you meet?" You whisper, feeling his proximity.

Jeongguk moves to sit on the bed and shrugs, "We all lived pretty close together, in the same neighborhood. I've always gone to the same school as Jimin and Tae, they're one year ahead of me. Namjoon and Hobi were seniors when I was…" he thinks, screwing his face in concentration, "a freshman? I think." He shrugs, "I don't really remember how it began, we've been friends forever."

"Wow," you say, looking down at the photograph again.

"Yeah. Namjoon-hyung is like the smartest person I've ever met, he speaks four languages and is working on a doctorate already. And Seokjin-hyung is so funny and he's helping me learn how to cook! He's gonna open his own restaurant one day, I think. And Yoongi-hyung's a composer! He even traveled with a national quartet once, as a pianist, but says he likes hip hop and rap more so now he's a producer. Hobi-hyung is the one who started teaching me how to dance, he says I'm pretty good, but I don't know… He's the captain of our dance team and is amazing! Jimin-hyung was the student body president of our middle and high school, and one of the top-scoring students in math, and a really amazing modern dancer. He almost joined a ballet company, but he said his body probably wouldn't be able to handle it so now he just does hip hop dance with me. I think he should be a choreographer or something but he's double majoring in math? I don't get it. And Taehyung is amazing! He's a theater major and he's starred in every school play that he's auditioned for, and he's the one who convinced me to start taking art classes. But I think I like film better, I'm not really sure, I—" Jeongguk stops abruptly when he sees your face, frozen in surprise. His cheeks turn pink and he says, "Sorry."

"No," you shake your head, "don't be sorry. They're your family. It's good to be so proud of them."

"Yeah," he says, scratching the back of his neck and looking away. I can't believe I just ranted about my six hyungs to my soulmate, he thinks, what a fucking nerd! God just be cool for once Jeon, just once!

He looks back over to you when your phone dings loudly. You reach into your pocket and pull it out, Jeongguk smiling at the corgi butt design decorating the case.

"Oh," you put the phone to your ear, "Hello? Joy?"

You turn away from him and he stands up quickly, wandering away under the impression of putting up the first aid kit to give you privacy. He hears you mumbling into the speaker, catches small snippets of your conversation.

"I think it is going well, actually—""

"No! Joy! Oh my god." He peeks out to see you blushing fuschia.

You talk for another minute before he hears, "Yeah, okay, maybe in an hour? I have to change first. Yeah, yeah, what would you do without me?" You laugh and hang up, Jeongguk reappearing from the bathroom. "Sorry," you say bashfully.

Jeongguk holds up his hands, "It's fine. Everything okay?"

You nod, chuckling to yourself, "My friend put off this project to the last minute and she needs my help. I need to go."

"Okay," Jeongguk nods, trying to hide how disappointed he is. He wonders if all soulmates feel this way when their other half leaves them, even if only temporarily. "I can give you a lift. If you want."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he grins, scooping his car keys from the top of his dresser and helping you stand.

You like this car. The washed purple color, the faded black seats. It smells like the sun and a bit of cologne. There's a stuffed D.va plush hanging from his rearview mirror that makes you laugh. As soon as he slid into the driver's seat he plugged his phone into the aux cord.

The car starts and "Circles" by Post Malone starts playing through the speakers.

"Oh, I love this song," you say, humming the lyrics under your breath.

Jeongguk looks at you like there's nothing else he will ever need. He realizes this is a bit extreme, but it feels accurate. "Me too," he grins, his nose scrunching up in a smile.

It takes you three days to text Jeongguk. Three days to decide that you want to and summon the courage. You feel nauseous when you send the text and unsure. And it takes nearly ten minutes of constant encouragement from Joy for you to hit send.

It takes three days for Jeongguk to get a text from you and it nearly drives his hyungs crazy. He jumps around their apartments muttering, "She said she would text me. She said that right?" His eyes dart frantically to whoever's in the room, "Right?"

"That's what you said," Yoongi responds lamely.

"So I shouldn't text her? I shouldn't? Like that would be a bad idea?"

Jimin laughs loudly and Taehyung chuckles under his breath. Seokjin steps forward and squeezes his shoulder, "Do not. Do not text her."

When his phone buzzes and he sees it's a message from you he nearly starts breakdancing in the middle of the room. Instead, he starts jumping up and down frantically, looking more like a bunny now than he ever has before.

"And?" Namjoon wonders, "What did she say?"

Jeongguk glances down, beaming, "Hi."

His hyungs roll their eyes.

You: Hi

You: Sorry I know it's been a few days…

Jeongguk can't stop himself from replying. He doesn't care about remaining aloof or mysterious. All he knows is that he's been dying to talk to you and now that he has the chance he won't let anything stop him.

JK: No it's fine! No worries!

JK: How are you?

You: good...busy

JK: oh yeah me too

Jimin snorts, reading over his shoulder, "As if you haven't been staring at your phone for three days waiting for her to text you."

"That counts as busy!" Jeongguk pouts, eyes straying back to his screen when he sees the text bubble floating beneath his last message. He hears Jimin say something else but he tunes it out.

You: I was thinking we could hang out again?

You: If you have time

You: If you're too busy, just forget I said anything

JK: YES

JK: Was that too eager?

JK: I don't care, let's hang out

You giggle down at your phone, warmth spreading to your cheeks and crowding your rib cage. Joy peeks over your shoulder curiously, "So who is this guy anyway? I was surprised when you said you had a date." She squints down at your screen, shoving you playfully, "And you like him!"

Your blush turns crimson and you can't force yourself to meet her eyes. She wraps her hands around your arm and shakes you vigorously, "I want all of the information right now!!!" She pauses, a thought occurring to her, and stops shaking you, "But...does he have a soulmate?"

You can tell she's afraid to ask the question. You've known Joy for almost five years now, and she's known about your lack of a soulmate bond for almost the entire time. She knows how uncomfortable it makes you and how depressed you get about it sometimes. She doesn't really want to ask because she doesn't want to ruin whatever happiness you've found. But it does need to be asked.

"That's the thing," you chew on your bottom lip. You're hyperaware that you've never said it aloud before but that you are about to now. "I'm his soulmate."

"Dinner, dinner, dinner," Jeongguk chants, standing in front of his closet with a serious expression. Behind him, Jimin is on his bed reading a magazine and Taehyung is spinning around in the computer chair. "Dinner," he says again, squinting.

"Just wear that yellow button-up and jeans," Jimin says absently.

"Yellow?" Jeongguk crinkles his nose in distaste. He only owns that shirt because Seokjin-hyung bought it for him. The rest of his closet is a spectrum of black and white. In fact, the only colorful items he owns are gifts from others.

"Don't get too goth on her just yet," Jimin chuckles.

Jeongguk pulls the shirt out with a sigh, holding it up to himself in the mirror and twisting his mouth in confusion. He hangs it on his closet door, turning back to his closet with the same frustrated expression.

"It's so weird," Taehyung says.

"What do you mean?" Jeongguk's eyes grow wide with concern.

"Just that...well for Jimin and I, after our soulmate bond manifested and we connected that was kind of...it, y'know? We didn't have to, like, do this whole courting thing." He shrugs.

"Yeah," Jeongguk sighs, "It's hard because I can see our whole history together and it's us but not us? I don't know how to explain it."

It's a nice night, a soft breeze and a clear sky. You have your arms wrapped around yourself as you wait in front of the restaurant, and your heart nearly stops when you see him. He looks like a god. He looks so good. Tight jeans and a perfect muted yellow shirt. His hair looks soft and smooth and it falls into his eyes. And he's smiling, his nose scrunches up happily. He's only walking at first but he starts jogging when he sees you.

When he stops in front of you, you know you should say something but can't find the words. There's a feeling in your chest. Disbelief. That he's here, that this perfect person is in your life, is forever intertwined with yours. You have the urge to run your fingers through his hair and you have a distinct feeling that it's something you've done before.

Instead, you let out a shaky breath and avert your gaze.

"I've never tried this restaurant," he says, tilting his head back to read the sign.

You're too aware of how close he is. Of how good he smells. Of the heat coming off his skin. You want to wrap your arms around him and hold him close to you, bury your face in his chest.

"I really like it," you say, turning away from him because you're afraid of what you might do otherwise.

The restaurant is small because you hate large restaurants that cram people inside. There's soft classical music playing from speakers and warm lighting. But what you like most is the metal archway over the entrance that has pure white jasmine strung through it. You walk through and instantly feel at ease from the smell.

"Oh, hello miss," the greeter says from behind your podium, recognizing you instantly.

You blush and smile at her, a bit embarrassed that he now knows how frequently you come here.

The hostess glances behind you and you see her eyes sparkle at the sight of him. You wonder if that's what you look like when you see him too. When she looks back at you she gives you a conspiratorial thumbs up, whispers, "You didn't tell me your soulmate was so hot!"

Your flush goes darker. Soulmate. She said it so casually. But you suppose it's true. He's your...soulmate. The word feels right.

"Table for two?" She smiles, "I think I have your favorite one open."

"Yes, thank you."

Jeongguk focuses back on you and grins cheekily, "How often do you come here?"

You avoid his eyes, "Couple times a week. I like to...study here."

You sit at a table on the open patio. String lights curl around the wooden awning and the metal fence. Tall potted plants are perched in the open spaces. On the table is a flickering yellow candle and a lavender bouquet.

The hostess gives you both menus before taking your drink orders. You ignore the menu, while Jeongguk opens his and starts perusing.

He's so focused that you let yourself watch him. He's so beautiful; dewy, glowing skin, plush, pink lips, wide, brown eyes. It all feels so familiar. Dinner in soft lighting, sitting across from each other.

Your cheeks heat up thinking about it.

Jeongguk is surprised that, despite how nervous he feels, the night is going so well. You both order wine and pasta and just...talk. There's a familiarity that pervades through the night that he keeps from thinking about; if he thinks about it he knows he'll just freak himself out. He tries to keep his hands busy to stop himself from reaching over and intertwining your fingers with his.

"I like your tattoos," you say softly. Your plates have been cleared and Jeongguk seriously considers ordering a second serving of dessert to prolong the date.

Jeongguk raises his eyebrows and looks down at this hand. He often forgets they're there. "Oh," he says, flexing his hand, "Thanks."

"What do they mean?" you cock your head to the side.

"Oh, the initials are for my hyungs," he blushes, "And the rest just...seemed like a good idea." He runs his hand through his hair nervously.

You grin and boldly reach across the table, your fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling the appendage closer to the light. Your fingers trace softly over the inked pieces of his skin. You giggle at the smiley face on his finger, trace the heart on the back of his hand, tap each of the initials on his knuckles.

Jeongguk sucks in a breath as your fingers move up his forearm. You spend a long time on the flower decorating his arm, until Jeongguk finally says, "It's my, um, birth flower."

"Tiger flower," you whisper.

"Uh," he watches you with wide, doe eyes that reflect the flickering candle, "Yeah."

You meet his eyes, realizing suddenly how intimate this has become and pull back. Jeongguk coughs loudly, awkwardly, afraid he's having a heart attack from how fast his heart is beating.

"Is, uh, is yours on your forehead?"

"What?" you ask, wide-eyed.

Jeongguk sits up straighter and pulls his mop of dark hair from his face. There's a heart, just a shade or two pinker than his natural skin tone, peeking out from his hairline. A soulmate mark.

"I...don't know." You do the same as him, revealing your forehead and hairline.

Jeongguk's face transforms into a smile, his eyes light up happily. He presses two fingers to a spot just beneath your hairline, "Right. There," he says softly. He looks down at the table, his cheeks turning pink, "Meant to be," he whispers.

You let your hair fall back over your face, blushing.

The date goes well. The next three dates go well. A month passes and Jeongguk sees your progress. It's slow. You keep your distance. The fevers, dreams, flashbacks...they all continue. Subdued but still there.

You feel guilty. You know the solution. You're not sure if Jeongguk does, but either way, you're glad he hasn't forced you into anything physical. It's such a major shift in your worldview...you have a soulmate. You still have to remind yourself when you wake up in the morning.

"I'm not alone." You whisper it to your empty room. Your fingers find their way to your forehead to touch the heart that's now printed there. You stalk JK's social media and text constantly.

But every time you're with him (which is...as often as possible), something stops you. Fear, probably. You're afraid of making it real, of cementing everything.

Jeongguk's happy. Frustrated but happy. He can tell you're afraid, he senses your hesitation. He's glad, too, that things are moving slowly because he doesn't know what he's doing. He was popular in grade school, but soulmate bonds manifest during puberty. Once someone gets their soulmate mark...they pretty much refuse to make out with anyone else. He has little experience, but he doesn't care with you.

Anytime he's within six feet of you, his fingers start to twitch and his heartbeat quickens and he just...he just wants to wrap his arms around you and squeeze, he wants to kiss every inch of your skin, run his hands through your hair.

So he's frustrated. Because of the lack of physical intimacy, yes, but also because he doesn't know what you're afraid of. Or how to help.

And the flashbacks aren't helping. They feel like taunts. Like someone showing him something that could be his if only he'd do the right thing, say the right thing. It's infuriating.

"I think you should talk to her about it," Namjoon says flatly when he broaches the subject with his hyungs.

"Yeah, Kookie," Hobi says, looking up from the game of cards he and Yoongi are playing, "Can't resolve anything if you won't talk about it first."

Jeongguk huffs and throws himself against the couch, whiny.

It takes a week for him to build up the courage to bring it up. Date night.

You made sure to pick a movie for tonight that you'd seen before. You had made the preemptive decision to hold his hand. You did feel...slightly stupid for having to make a preemptive plan for something as innocent as hand-holding. But you figured that was the only way you were going to get yourself to do it.

So you waited until after dinner, halfway through the movie, the sun has set. You're sitting a few inches from him on the couch in the low lit room. You make a bit of a show of yawning and lean over.

His shoulders are broad and round and comfortable. Your cheek rests easily against him and you find a sense of security wrapping around you like a blanket from the proximity.

His hand is resting, palm up, on his thigh and you tentatively link your fingers through his.

You love his hands. Long fingers, soft palms, dark tattoos. It's warm and comforting, and they fit together perfectly.

Jeongguk doesn't need to bring it up, he realizes. This is progress. You're both trying. He squeezes your hand, leans his cheek against the top of your head. You fall asleep on his shoulder.

But it's getting worse. The dreams are so intense you can barely sleep. You keep waking up every few hours, remind yourself that he's real, talking yourself out of the anxiety. And his flashbacks are intense. Debilitating. He had one during dance practice and it ended up with him on the floor. The fevers are so intense sometimes that neither of you can move.

"Shit," he whispers one day, walking with your hands through the door of his apartment. You look over and find that he's drenched with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead. He pales and his knees go weak.

"Woah, oh my god," you gasp, trying to hold onto him enough to ease him to the ground. "You're burning up," you whisper, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead.

Jeongguk shakes his head almost, "S'fine."

His eyes blink rapidly and refuse to focus, "Are you having a flashback?"

He shakes his head and you can tell he's trying to stay present but he's struggling. His skin is so hot and he's sweating so much...you think he might pass out.

You screw your face up. You know what you have to do.

You take his chin between your fingers and lift it up, leaning in and pausing, whispering sincerely, "I'm so sorry I put this off for so long." You close the distance between you both, your lips brushing softly, tentatively against his at first.

Jeongguk eyes open wide, his mind suddenly reeling back into the present. Your lips are pliant against his and he finds himself responding without thinking. He surges upward, his tongue slipping between your lips and into your mouth. His hand threads into your hair and presses your head closer.

Your hands grip tightly at his shoulders, your mouth opening in a gasp as he's suddenly so responsive. You feel his fever break beneath you, your lips moving of their own accord.

And then suddenly, it hits you. All your lifetimes. Every memory, every moment. And it's all...Jeongguk. You understand now, what he meant about the flashbacks, about how they're you but not you.

You pull away, resting your forehead against his. You're both breathing heavily, grinning like fools. You close your eyes and just smile, "I remember everything," you whisper.

"Me too," he whispers, and he peppers kisses across your nose and cheeks, "It's been so long. So many lifetimes." He pulls your hair away from your face and presses his lips softly to the heart-shaped mark on your forehead.

"I can't believe we found each other," you whisper, wrapping your arms around his back and pulling him into your chest, "Again."

"Always," he says, curling into your embrace so that his face hides in the dip of your neck, "Always. We'll always find each other."

"Always," you affirm. You kiss the mark on his forehead and say it again, "Always."

author’s note—i really really really love this; i'm so proud of it omg

m.list :: wips :: ao3

#bts #bangtanbuds #bts x reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jk #jk x reader #fluff #soulmate au

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jigokusaito · 4 years ago

Text

きさらぎ駅

KISARAGI STATION

One of my favorite stories on the net, the story of Kisaragi Station is a chilling tale from 2chan of things that shouldn’t be. Now, I’m just copying and pasting this one from here, as the story itself is pretty straightforward. That being said, let’s begin:

Hasumi It might just be my imagination, but do you mind if I talk about something?

2chan Sure, go ahead. What happened?

Hasumi I just got on the train, but something’s off.

2chan Okay.

Hasumi It’s the train I always take to and from work, but it hasn’t stopped at any stations for about 20 minutes now. It always stops every five minutes, or at most every seven or eight, but it hasn’t stopped at all. There are currently five other people on board, but they’re all asleep.

2chan You haven’t gotten off the train yet, have you? You didn’t get on the express by mistake?

Hasumi Yeah, like you said, it’s possible I got on the wrong train. I’ll wait it out just a little longer. If anything else weird happens, I’ll come back again.

2chan First of all, why don’t you go to the front carriage and see the conductor? If he had an epileptic fit or something that would be terrible. Go and check on him!

Hasumi It still doesn’t look like we’re going to stop anywhere, so I’ll go and have a look.

The blinds or something are covering the window, so I can’t see the driver. I’m on a private railway in Shizuoka Prefecture.

2chan Did you knock on the window?

Hasumi I did, but there was no answer.

2chan Can you see outside? Can you see the names of passing stations or anything?

Hasumi After leaving the tunnel the train has started to slow down a little. We don’t usually pass through a tunnel though. It’s the train from Shin-Hamamatsu Station.

It looks like we’re about to stop.

2chan You’re not gonna get off, are you?

Hasumi We’re stopped at Kisaragi Station, but I wonder if I should get off? I’ve never seen or heard of this station before.

2chan You should get off.

No, you should stay on until the last stop.

I mean, the train should’ve started moving again by now, shouldn’t it?

Hasumi, what time did you get on the train?

Hasumi I got off. The station is empty. I got on the train around 11.40 pm, I think.

2chan I did a search for Kisaragi Station, but nothing came up… And hang on, your train’s been running for an hour now? Alright, I’m off to take a bath.

I looked for Kisaragi Station as well, but there’s nothing here.

Hasumi I think I should go back. I’ve been looking for a timetable but I can’t find anything. The train is still stopped so I wonder if it would be safer to just get back on? Well, while I was writing that I already got back on board.

2chan Are there any buildings nearby that look like they might have people? It’s cold out there, so be careful.

Hasumi I’m gonna leave the station and see if I can find a taxi. Thanks.

2chan That’s a good idea. Be careful.

I’m doubtful that you’ll easily be able to find a taxi at an empty station after the last trains have already run.

And it looks like Hasumi’s become a resident of the 2D world.

Hasumi There’s nothing here, let alone a taxi. What should I do?

2chan Go see the station attendant or a nearby police box!

Shouldn’t you call 110 for now?

Why don’t you call the taxi company?

All you can do at this point is go to the nearest convenience store.

If there’s a public phone nearby, you should look up the number of the taxi company and give them a call.

Hasumi I call my parents to come and pick me up but they don’t know where Kisaragi Station is. They said they’d look it up on the map and then come to get me, but I’m kinda scared.

2chan What happened to the others on the train? Were you the only one who got off?

Hasumi, I also tried to find Kisaragi Station on the internet, but there’s nothing here. You said you were near the Shin-Hamamatsu area, right? I’ll see if I can find anything on Yahoo.

Hasumi I went to look for a public phone but there aren’t any. The other passengers didn’t get off, so I’m alone right now. The station name is most definitely Kisaragi Station.

2chan There’s a chance you’ll find a public phone off the station grounds.

Why don’t you try leaving the station?

I just did a bit of investigating right now, and the kanji for ‘oni’ (demon) can also be read as ‘kisaragi,’ right…?

So you mean ‘Demon Station’…? That’s terrifying.

Are you a video game nerd? When I googled it, I found a video game.

Write down the previous and next stations from Kisaragi Station. Don’t say there’s nothing written there.

Hasumi What game are you talking about? There are no previous or next stations written here.

2chan Try walking back home along the tracks.

If you start running now, you can probably catch up with the train!

It’s a station, so there has to be people living around there.

Hasumi Yeah, that’s right. I was panicking, so I didn’t even notice. I’ll follow the tracks back and wait for my parents to call. I tried looking before in the Town Information part of I Mode in my phone, but it came up with some kind of error. I just wanna go home.

2chan Whether it’s a joke or not, I’m gonna work towards solving this seriously.

Hasumi There really is nothing around here. All I can see are grasslands and mountains. But if I follow the railway tracks, I think I can get home, so I’ll do my best. Thank you. You might think it’s all just one big joke, but can I come back if I run into any other problems?

2chan Of course. At any rate, take care.

Of course. Just be careful your phone doesn’t die. It’s your lifeline right now.

Don’t start walking in the wrong direction. And be careful inside the tunnel.

Can a phone even get reception in an area with nothing around? I think it would be better if you don’t move from the station…

All alone at an unmanned station on a cold night. The lights will probably turn off soon and it’ll be dark.

The railway tracks are an even darker trap. There’s a tunnel after that too, right?

And yet, it would probably be safer to spend the night at the station…

This is terribly risky.

Hasumi My father called. He had a lot of questions, but in the end we have no idea where I am, so he told me to call 110. I don’t really want to, but I’m going to give the police a call and see if they can help me…

2chan I think it would be easier for you to move around once it gets brighter…

Could you really wait there all alone at night? In some strange, unfamiliar place…

Could you pass through the tunnel all alone at night? On some strange, unfamiliar railway track…

So could you keep walking through some unfamiliar street at night in the cold?

Hasumi I tried explaining my situation the best I could to the police, but they thought it was a joke and got angry at me. I was so scared that I ended up apologising to them…

2chan Why did you apologise? You should call it a night. Go wait at the station for the first train.

What’s it like around the station? Is there anything there?

Hasumi I can hear what sounds like the beating of drums coming from far away, mixed with the sound of a ringing bell. Honestly, I don’t know what I should do anymore.

2chan Hasumi, you need to get back to the station. It’s best to return to where you were in the first place when you get lost.

It’s about to start…

Drums and bells…?

It’s probably just a festival.

Hasumi You might think I’m lying, but I’m so scared, I can’t look back. I wanna go back to the station, but I can’t turn back.

2chan Run. Whatever you do, don’t look back.

You can’t look back at the station! You’ll be taken away. Just run towards the tunnel, right now! It should be closer than you think.

Hasumi Someone just yelled out from behind me. “Hey, you can’t walk along the railway track, it’s dangerous!” I thought it might be the station attendant, so I turned around, and about 10 metres away there was the old guy with one leg standing there. Then he disappeared. I’m so scared, I can’t move.

2chan I said don’t look back. Just run.

Calm down and listen to what I have to say. Try going towards the sound of the drums. There should be people there.

Just where are you trying to send Hasumi?

That’s not it at all, Hasumi is about to be taken away. That’s why I’m saying, if she can, she should go back.

How come you could you tell it was an old guy with just one leg?

…because it’s an old guy with just one leg?

It’s probably some guy that was hit by a train and lost his leg and then died.

Hasumi I can’t walk anymore, but I also can’t run. The sound of the drums is getting closer.

2chan Just wait for morning. Once it gets brighter, it won’t be so scary.

You should have gotten back on the train.

Hasumi I’m still alive. I fell over and I’m bleeding, but I’m still holding onto the heel I broke. I don’t want to die yet.

2chan Well, it’s not like things were going to get better if you stayed in the one spot, anyway.

I think you’ll be fine if you can get through the tunnel, anyhow. When you pass through, let us know and get some help.

Hasumi I called home. My dad said he’d call the police for me, but the sound is getting closer and closer.

2chan Well, let’s just pray that sound isn’t the sound of an approaching train. Having said that, it’s probably too late for that now.

Hasumi I did my best and I’m somehow in front of the tunnel now. The name says Isanuki. The sound is getting closer, so I’m gonna gather up all my courage and try to get through. I’ll post again once I get through safely.

2chan Good luck.

This is the end. The train and the station are gone. You can’t go back. There’s no-one to follow. The sound you hear is a phantom of your own past. Run towards the tunnel. If you stop, you’ll just be stuck between worlds.

Hasumi I’ve exited the tunnel. Someone’s standing just ahead of me. Looks like doing what you guys suggested was the right answer. Thank you. I’m probably gonna be mistaken for a monster, my face is a mess of tears.

2chan Hasumi, wait! Don’t move!

Stop! It’s dangerous!

Who would be standing there at such a time? It’s too suspicious…

Hasumi Sorry for making you all worry. The person was very kind and said they would take me to the closest station. Apparently there’s a business hotel or something there. Everyone, thank you so much.

2chan Hasumi. There’s something I want to ask you, so please answer. Where are you? Can you ask that kind person the place name?

Are they really kind? They could be scarier than what’s going on here, you know.

Yeah, maybe. Anywhere, where the hell are you?!

That person is dangerous!! Why is someone on the railway tracks at this time of night? They must have run into you while disposing of a dead body or something! Run!!

Hasumi I asked where we are, but he just said ‘Hina.’ There’s no way that could be true though.

2chan Hasumi, get out of the car!

I’m sorry, Kasumi. Where is Hina?

What a strange story. So at this particular time some suspicious old guy just happened to be there to pick up a girl walking along the railway tracks…? What was he doing?

Hasumi We’ve started getting closer to the mountains now. I don’t think there’s anywhere for the car to stop, and he’s stopped talking to me entirely.

2chan There’s no reason for even a strange old dude to be up at this time.

Maybe he’s not talking to you anymore because you’re always on your phone?

Hasumi, you’re in danger. Did you tell your parents to come and get you from the tunnel?

Hasumi. Call 110. This might be the last time you ever write anything.

Hasumi My battery’s about to die. Things are looking strange, so I’m gonna try to run the first chance I get. He’s been muttering about something I can’t understand for a while now. Just so I’m ready when needs be, I’m going to make this my last post for now.

※ After this post, Hasumi was never heard from again.

And that wraps it up! As I mentioned before, this one is one of my absolute favorite stories from around the net, but maybe that’s because I’m a sucker for the whole “other world” sort of thing. Personally, I’d love to take a trip there myself and see some things that shouldn’t be. What do you think happened to Hasumi? As always, remember to stay safe and stay true to your beliefs.

#kisaragi station #urban legends #folder

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humanityinahandbag · 5 years ago

Note

How about prompt 110, “You don’t even know me.” It could be from the early days of Gosalyn's adoption?

Gosalyn finds it hard to like much about life.

And then she ends up with a superhero for a pen pal.

This got a little out of control! 11k words later, and it’s finished. I tried my hand at the new Darkwing Duck, so it was definitely unfamiliar territory, but I’m glad I tried it out. Totally a great writing exercise. But definitely not something I was prepared for at all.

And for other people, send me more prompts! I’m ready!

When Gosalyn turned three years old, she decided that her favorite color was going to be green.

It was such a revolutionary discovery that she felt it necessary to announce. She stood in front of the door when her father came home from work, planting her hands on her hips. “My favorite color’s green!”

Her father moved past her, touching her head in greeting.

“Dad!” She chased after him. He’d moved into the kitchen and was rifling through the fridge. There were some clinks and clatters. When he reappeared from behind the door, the light of the fridge casting shadows across his face, she tried again. “Green,” she said. “It’s my favorite color!”

“Okay,” he said. He closed the door and used the edge of his shirt to help twist off the bottle top.

“My room is pink,” she said, pointing towards the stairs. “I want it green .”

Actually, lots of what she owned was pink. Her large closet was all pink dresses. Her carpet was pink. There were dolls on the shelf (pink), and fancy glass ornaments she wasn’t allowed to touch (pink), and a little chandelier hanging from the ceiling (more pink). When she’d been old enough to pick a favorite color (three years old and finally given a color chart at preschool) she’d decided it was green, and her large room felt like it belonged to someone else.

Everything Pink was someone else’s.

Her father closed the fridge door - “Then paint it green” -and brushed past again, stalking through the house and up the creaky stairs, out of sight.

Later, she’d try to tell her mother, too. “Greens my favorite color,” she said from the table.

Her mother pushed over a platter of sweet potatoes. Her bracelets shone gold in the evening burn outside. “Alright, honey,” said her mother, pointing to her plate. “Eat your dinner.”

They’d lived in a large house in a large neighborhood. There weren’t many kids, and a lot of her time was spent on her own.

Which was fine.

Besides, she’d had her grandfather.

He came over every other Saturday and took her out. Museums, ice cream stores, movies, they’d done all they could together. And the world outside her (pink) room had expanded into one of beauty and wonder and likes and dislikes.

She learned that she liked mint chip ice cream.

She hated sour cream, but loved regular cream.

Baseball was the best, and hockey was the worst.

She’d spent hours with her grandfather looking at dinosaur bones in the Museum of Natural History, towing him through to see space exhibits and science experiments.

He knew what she liked, and she was grateful for it.

“I like green,” said Gosalyn while she ate mint chip on a cone.

“Green is a fantastic color, Gosalyn,” her grandfather praised.

She’d beamed.

When he’d dropped her off that night, she leaned into a hug. “You know me,” she told him.

He’d looked down at her. “Of course I do.”

“No,” she said. “ You know me.”

Her father was at the door then, a bottle in his hand, gesturing her through with dark eyes. When she’d run up to him, his dark eyes turned on her.

The world went Pink, but she stood against it. “I like dinosaurs,” she declared, little fists at her sides.

“Inside,” growled her father.

So she went.

When Gosalyn turns four, she finds out that she likes more things;

She likes tapioca pudding.

She likes hot dogs and hamburgers and cake.

She likes soccer.

Hockey is okay, now.

She likes new colors; orange and red and yellow.

She likes sneakers and pigtails and winter and summer.

She tells her grandfather when they meet, every other Saturday. He listens and nods and indulges. He tells her what he likes (chocolate, painting, watches ) and she agrees with half of them.

“Mom,” she says later on that year, just weeks before her seventh birthday. “Can we go to a baseball game for a party?”

Her mother pulled her (pink) sheets up to her chin. “Honey, you know I already booked the dance studio for your birthday.”

“But I don’t like dancing. I like baseball.”

Her mother sighed. “Gosalyn. We can’t change things. If you wanted to change parties, you could have told me earlier.”

Gosalyn sat up fast, and her covers (pink) fell down to her waist. “But I did tell you. Last month, remember? Do you remember, mom?”

“Gosalyn. It’s bedtime.”

“But I told you,” she said again. She curled her fists at her sides. Her chest was too tight, and her mind buzzed with an awful pink. Like her room. Like it wasn’t hers. “I told you! I did !”

“Gosaly,” said her mother, pushing out the word like it wasn’t her name.

Like it was Pink.

Gosalyn watched her mother leave, turning out the light.

Gosalyn turned five in a dance studio. Her mother took pictures and laughed and spoke to parents and didn’t notice when Gosalyn had hidden beneath a table and kicked the wall until her toes hurt.

When they’re driving home, she’d sat in the back silently while her mother talked to a friend from the little bluetooth in her ear.

It’s only when they’re pulling into the driveway does Gosalyn speak.

“It’s like you don’t even know me.”

Her mother looks in the rearview mirror. “What, Gosalyn?”

Gosalyn pushed open the door and ran into the house.

Drake Mallard knew exactly what he liked.

He was on the cusp of turning thirty eight, and he’d spent his entire life modeling himself after the one thing he liked more than anything else.

Drake Mallard liked Darkwing Duck.

Loved Darkwing Duck.

Breathed and exuded and carried Darkwing Duck.

Everything he’d done was modeled after one, perfect, wonderful phrase that had shaped most of his life.

WWDW

What Would Darkwing Do

The thing was, Drake Mallard was useless . Drake Mallard was a nobody from the middle of the country who wore pink shirts and baseball hats. Drake Mallard was almost forty years old, and only had a few lousy acting gigs to show for it.

Drake Mallard was a nobody.

And then, Drake Mallard was Darkwing Duck .

He signed posters.

Took pictures with fans.

Did everything Darkwing would do.

There’s an empty feeling inside him that he mentally pokes at. It’s settled between his ribs, wrapping little vines through his veins. It’s been there for some time.

He doesn’t worry too much about it.

When the job happens, it would fill itself up.

And so he accepted the job offer and treated himself to a night in. He watched reboots of his old hero on the screen of a laptop and ate pizza straight from the box. His hero, Darkwing Duck, soared across the screen, taking out evildoers, saving the city, crying out absolutely novel worthy punchlines.

He’d done it alone, too. Returning to an empty lair to revel in his good deeds and days won.

There was no reason Drake Mallard should need any more than that, either.

When Gosalyn is five and a half, Darkwing Duck got a reboot, and she’s gone for good.

He’s better than anything she’s liked before.

Ice cream.

Dinosaurs.

Maybe even the color green (which is big for her).

She and her grandfather collect everything they can on him.

Newspapers and posters and action figures, and she keeps everything in a box under her bed.

“He’s the best,” she tells her grandfather, showing him her collection. He was the only one allowed to see it. “And one day, I’m gonna meet him!”

“I believe it,” he told her, nodding seriously.

She turned on him, fisting his jacket between small hands. They were on the back porch of her parents large home. It wasn’t a Saturday. Her mother had left for a retreat somewhere far away and her father hadn’t shown up after work, and so they’d done what they’d always done.

“Gosalyn,” her mother said over the phone, calling their house from the car. “Listen. I won’t be back until tomorrow and your father…” she paused, and Gosalyn heard her breathe out quick. “I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”

She fiddled with the telephone wire, sliding down to the floor and kicking off her (pink) shoes. “Okay…”

Her mother continued, barely phased by the weight on her daughter’s voice. “But listen. I figured everything out, alright? I pulled some strings-”

It was a laughable phrase. Her mother did more than pull some strings .

She pulled many strings.

Every string.

Gosalyn’s whole life was amounting to pulled strings, and she was suffocating in knots.

But finding out her grandfather would be coming over was a welcome surprise, and when he’d shown up at the door, she knew that at least one good thing would come out of unraveling the strings the world had set before her.

And so they’d sat on the back porch and discussed superheroes while Gosalyn somersaulted and dirtied her pink dress and couldn’t have cared less what her mother or father said about it.

Things were good when her grandfather came over.

There weren’t any strings when he was there.

“Bravo!” he shouted, clapping when she’d landed an exceptionally good (and muddy) little flip. “Darkwing Duck couldn’t have done better!”

If there were strings, they only held things together.

The miracle happens when Gosalyn turned six, and her grandfathers company, Waddlemeyer Technologies, managed to book a celebrity endorsement and host.

Gosalyn nearly lost her mind when she found out who it would be.

“DARKWING DUCK?”

“Yes!” Her grandfather laughed, lifting her off the ground. She had her arms wrapped tight around his neck. “I don’t know how the lawyers got in contact with him. But they did, and here we are-”

“And I get to meet him!?”

“You get to meet him!”

She shrieked and hollered and did three miserable flips in the backyard until her mother stomped out and told her not to dirty her dress. She ran back, barely looking at her mother -who barely looked back- and hung off her grandfather like a lifeline.

Like all the pulled strings had collected on him.

“Do I get to talk to him?”

“You might.”

“I’ll get to tell him what I like!” She bounced up and down. “I like so many things ! Do you think he’ll listen? Do you think he likes things, too?”

He finally managed to sit her down long enough to let her know that she’d get to at least see the caped crusader. And if she got a chance to talk to him, he’d do everything he could to make it happen. She swung her feet and squealed. And when that got too hard, she jumped up, yelled “ be right back! ” and ran up the stairs, returning with her Darkwing Box. Everything was spread out onto the back porch, carefully and with some reverence.

He helped her, sorting through the mish mosh of her hero.

“I’ll bring this with me,” she breathed. “Maybe he can sign it all!”

“Pick one thing, alright?”

She didn’t hear him. Or maybe she did and didn’t care. “I have so much to tell him!” Her hands trembled, and she sat on them. “I’ll tell him about ice cream. But only the mint chip kinds.”

“Obviously.”

“And dinosaurs .”

“He’ll love that.”

“And baseball and hockey and soccer- do you think he likes sports?”

“I think he loves them.” Her grandfather looked through the box, rifling through more of the toys and cutouts, picking out a few and smoothing them on the porch

She stood by, still so tiny in stature, straightening the wrinkles from her (pink) shirt. Her fingers twisted and twined, and her eyes ( green ) watched her grandfather carefully. “Hey, grandpa?”

He hummed, looking away and back towards her.

She swallowed. “If I told him what I liked, do you think he’d remember?”

He smiled, putting the papers back down. “I’m sure he would. And then: “Why don’t you write a list?”

She writes one that night.

In green ink.

To Darkwing Duck,

My name is Gosalyn Mallard, and these are the things that I like.

The color green.

Soccer.

Dinosaurs.

Anything green.

And sometimes orange.

But not pink. At all.

I want you to have this list so that you can know me, because one day I’m going to be a hero, and heroes should know each other. My grandfather knows me, and he’s really nice. But I want someone else to know me, too, because that would be cool. Do you like anything? You can tell me! Even if it’s secret, you can tell me, because I’m great at keeping secrets, and there’s no one I would tell them to.

Except maybe my grandpa.

But he’s really good at keeping secrets, too.

Love,

Gosalyn.

Drake Mallard hadn’t even wanted to do the stupid job for Waddlemeyer Technologies. But his agent had assured him that the paycheck that would come from it would pad his savings for a rainy day, so he’d said yes.

“But only for a few minutes,” he said. “I took this job so I could play a hero! Not sell some guys random electronics.”

“It’s Waddlemeyer Technologies . He’s one of the biggest tech moguls we’ve got in the city. And besides,” said his agent. “The producer for the studio works alongside him.”

“Mr. McDuck?”

“Waddlemeyer built a lot of the security systems around the man’s house.” His agent shrugged, handing him all the details in an envelope. “Apparently it’s one of the best security systems out there, and he wants to thank the man by sending you out there.”

Drake looked down at the envelope. “This wasn’t what I signed up for,” he said again. “I did this job so I could inspire kids . Maybe help a few out. Deal with Lady Danger! Maybe bump into the unexpected!””

“Yeah, well, welcome to Shobiz.” He snagged the costumes hat from where it lay on the trailers couch, handing it to Drake. He saluted with his coffee and walked to the door “This is the most dangerous thing you’ll do here. I’d stop expecting it to be, if I were you. Nothing here’s unexpected.”

And so he goes, doing his best to not expect anything. Sitting alone, waiting for someone to prep the green room, he holds onto his hat between fidgeting fingers.

He’d been expecting more from this whole thing. Expected him to at least change a few lives the same way Jim Starling had changed his.

“No expectations,” he reminded himself, sitting back in the wheely chair they’d given him, kicking the floor, rolling back a few inches. “ No expectations .”

The vague, empty feeling inside him returns twofold, and he rubs at his chest right over its place.

He’d gotten into this alone. He’d surge forward alone. He’d survive alone.

He’d inspire alone.

Someone knocked on the door and let him know the green room was ready for him. He donned his hat and thanked them before striding out towards his Expectation-Less Destiny.

And that was exactly what he’d meet.

(Destiny, as it would turn out, had bright red hair)

(He wouldn’t expect that, either)

She meets Darkwing Duck.

The first time Gosalyn meets Darkwing Duck, it’s more of an accident that she meets him. Or maybe just good timing.

Her grandfather had told her that day that she may not have been able to meet the hero at all, but that he was happy to deliver the letter to him. He’d brought her along so she could at least watch the hero praise Waddlemeyer Technologies for their breakthroughs in crime prevention.

That hadn’t been enough.

It had only taken her a single “I’m gonna go find a bathroom,” for her to be cast away on her own.

She found him coming out of a conference room. His back was to her, and he was fiddling with his mask, his hat tucked under her arm.

When she’d shouted his name -” Darkwing! ” he’d nearly jumped to the ceiling, scrambling to put his mask back onto his face. “Oh gosh! Oh my gosh, it’s you!”

He turned, his hands clutching the shirt over his heart. “Jeez, kid, give a warning why don’t you?”

She was too caught up to recognize the blunt words, the snipped tone, the wary stare. Gosalyn jumped up and around, note tight between her hands. “I love superheroes,” she squealed. “I- I have everything of yours! In a box! Under my bed!”

That at least got him snapped out of his reluctance, and he preened, head high. “Well isn’t that nice. You bring anything to sign?”

She stopped jumping. “No. I didn’t think I’d be meeting you.”

“Ah. A stowaway on a mission, then.”

She didn’ t know what it meant, but it sounded fun, so she nodded. And then, remembering at the last moment, “but I brought you this!” Extending her trembling hands, she offered up the little scrap of paper and green ink.

“You know I have an address for fan mail, right kid?”

“It’s not fan mail, doofus. It’s a list!”

“… a list?”

“Of the things I like! So you can know me!” She struck a pose. “I’m gonna be a hero like you one day. I want to see if we like the same stuff!”

He didn’t look as much like his pictures up close. He was softer. A little rounder. His eyes were tired, and he didn’t smile much. His hands twitched every so often in little, nervous movements.

Moving closer, she caught the smell of peppermint shampoo.

His voice drew her back, the hero unfolding the bit of paper and squinting at the blockish lettering. “You just wanted me to have a list of things you liked?”

“Mmmhm. So I can see what we both like.” She nodded. “No one really knows what I like. So I thought I’d tell you. You know. Like… like mint chocolate chip ice cream. That’s my favorite.”

She’d only known him for a few minutes, but the smile that hesitatingly bloomed was the first real one she’d seen. “Yeah. That’s my favorite too.”

“It is!” “That or coffee.”

Gosalyn stuck out her tongue. “Not coffee.”

“My favorite, my choice, kid.”

“That’s gross.”

Darkwing snorted before looking up and down the hallway. There wasn’t anyone there except for the little girl, who looked about ready to burst. He sighed, gestured toward her. “Come on. I have to go to the green room before the conference. I’m not sure where you’re supposed to be, but we can call security there. And-” he waved her note, “you can tell me more. I’m sure there’s stuff you didn’t write down. Maybe we have more in common.”

She stuffed her fists against her mouth to hold in the shriek, scampered forward, grabbed his hand (much to his shock, if his face said anything), and pulled him along.

Gosalyn liked many things.

And Darkwing listened to them all.

She wasn’t sure why he listened. And from the way he kept shaking his head, like he was waking up from dream after dream, he wasn’t much sure, either.

But he listened.

She talked about soccer. About green. About pink dresses, giving hers a terrible little pull. She talked about hockey and dinosaurs and sports and science.

She showed him a few of her best superhero kicks and punches, and nearly broke a lamp, but he caught it in time. Which was way cool.

At some point, she stopped to take a breath, considering him quietly for a moment. “Does anyone know what you like?”

He stuttered. Stumbled. Said something about how heroes couldn’t have friends so no one was there to listen to things he liked. “I don’t like many interesting things. It’s all boring outside of the suit.”

“Oh,” she’d said, racking her brain for six year old things her teacher had taught her. The first grade classroom was a very good place for this sort of thing. Gosalyn was never good at the friend thing. She beat everyone at everything, and her whole class was jealous.

Still, her teacher had told her once that the best way to make friends was with open arms. And not with a fist, her teacher had shrilly exclaimed, pointing to the boy who’d dared her to punch her. Which she had.

It wasn’t her fault he couldn’t take what he gave.

Gosalyn shook her head, looking at the superhero in front of her, standing by the lamp she’d nearly broken. “Even if you’re boring,” she said, “would you tell me?”

He stumbled again.

But in the end, he did.

It turned out, there were plenty of things he liked.

“Western movies,” he told her. “And knitting.”

“You knit ?”

“I’m a great knitter.” He wiggled his fingers. “Ask anyone. I can knit a sweater and stop a villain at the same time!”

“That’s stupid.” Her face contracted. “You said we should get dangerous , but that’s not dangerous! It’s dumb !”

“No. It’s practical , little miss.” He sniffed. “Your parents should teach you about knitting. Or manners. Or both .”

Gosalyn shrugged. “They don’t really like many things.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” He stood, stretching, His back popped and his shoulders cracked. He gave each one a quick roll. “I mean… they like you! So that’s at least one thing, right?”

“I… don’t know.”

She didn’t notice him moving until he was kneeling beside the chair.

Peppermint swam around her, and beneath that she could smell toothpaste and coffee and ash. There were wrinkles around his eyes and at the sides of his bill that crinkled when she made him smile.

“Oh come on. They’re your parents .”

She wanted to lean forward and press her face into his shoulder.

Instead, she sat on her hands and shook her head. “I don’t think they like me much.”

The same wrinkles deepened at that -his face an absolute stew of origami concern- and he opened his mouth to protest when her grandfather opened the door.

“Gosalyn!” He was pink in the face, which was never good. Her grandfather rarely got angry with her, no matter how many soccer balls she kicked or how much mud she splattered. Still, she’d wandered away, and her own face flushed when guilt settled itself behind her ribs. “You can’t just wander off- I am so sorry , sir.”

Darkwing waved him off. “It’s alright. We were just talking.”

“Yeah,” she parrotted. “We were talking!”

Her grandfather breathed in deep. Let it out slow. “He’s got work to do. Say goodbye.” To Darkwing, he grimaced. “Thank you again. I’m sorry if she was bothering you-”

“What, her? No! We had a good time. She kept me company.”

“Yeah!” crowed Gosalyn, confidence renewed. “See! We had a great time!”

Darkwing snorted. “She’s sure got a lot of spirit. I’m sure she’ll be the next big hero in this town.” He winked down at Gosalyn. “I’ll check your list again. Maybe we’ve got more stuff in common.” The letter went into his pocket, and he stepped forward to shake her grandfather’s hand. “If I need to deliver anything to her,” he told her grandfather, “I’ll send it your way.“

He watches them leave, waving to them as they go.

Drake Mallard -Darkwing Duck- hadn’t noticed when the tendrils around his ribs slowly back away.

But he noticed when, just a few minutes later, they slithered back into place.

He rubbed at his chest again, getting up when the manager came to get him, leading him towards the stage, trying to push away the feeling he’d yet to name.

WWDD he thinks to himself, as he’s pushed out. What Would Darkwing Do

Gosalyn couldn’t hear her grandfathers chiding as he dragged her out of the greenroom past the final words that spun round and round and round.

I’ll send it through you …

“Did you hear?” she said, interrupting her grandfathers lecture about lying and bothering superheroes. “Darkwing Duck is going to send me letters! Me !”

“He’s a busy man, Gosalyn.” Her grandfather sounded tired and worn as he walked them both through the lobby of his industries building, waving to a security guard and a secretary, flashing his badge. “I don’t know if he’ll be able to-”

“He said he would,” he protested, swinging off his arm. “So he’s going to! And you’ll give me whatever he sends me, right?”

“Gosalyn…” He squeezed her hand. “You know he’s just an actor-”

“ Right ?”

Her grandfather looked like he wanted to say something.

One look at her eyes stopped him. Instead, he squared his jaw and nodded. “Right,” he said.

And that was all.

And then, suddenly, it wasn’t. Because two weeks later, on the second saturday of the month, her grandfather is at their door with something in his hand. “You’ll never guess what showed up on my desk,” he said, sounded like he truly couldn’t believe it himself.

She didn’t remember to say hello as she snatched the letter and ran up to her room.

Dear Gosalyn,

Thank you for your letter.

We have a lot in common as it turns out!

I also like mint chip ice cream. And dinosaurs.

I don’t know a lot about sports. Sorry.

My favorite foods are waffles and hot dogs. I hate pancakes.

Is this enough for your list?

DWD

P.S. You’re absolutely right. Heroes should know one another, and I’m sure you’re going to be one.

Darkwing Duck hadn’t known what to do when he’d met Gosalyn Waddlemeyer.

Her grandfather had reached out through his lawyers to see if he’d be willing to endorse new security systems. There’d been a nice cash sum attached, and there wasn’t a recently unemployed actor who’d be stupid enough to say no to a savings cushion.

And that’s when he’d met Gosalyn.

She’d been made of fire, popping out the top of her head in the form of obnoxiously red hair.

She’d worn bright pink, but resented everything about it.

She’d called knitting stupid, and nearly broke a lamp.

And then she’d given him a letter.

The first one he’d sent out as an in-character joke. People sent fan mail. He was willing to oblige.

And then they’d kept coming. And he’d kept sending.

What do you like , she’d asked. And for the first time in a very long time, he wasn’t sure how to answer. It had been a long time since anyone asked that. He wasn’t even really sure what he liked outside of acting and his Darkwing Duck collectables.

Drake Mallard, he reminded himself, was a nobody.

Drake Mallard was a person who collected stuff to hang on a wall.

Drake Mallard didn’t have many friends, drank too much coffee, liked playing mini golf, and snored too loudly when he slept.

Behind a mask, he was better.

And yet, behind paper, without a mask? Drake Mallard could at least shine through a little. Enough to be recognizable again.

So he’d thought.

And he’d written.

And he’d kept writing.

Gosalyn’s next letter ended up being a little more thorough than the first. She filled it with costume ideas and superhero phrases. She told him all about how hockey had been terrible at first, but was getting better.

She told him about pink.

My parents aren’t very good listeners, she said. I don’t think they know me. My room is pink and my clothes are pink. Sometimes I don’t see my dad for a long time. My mom is home more, but I never see her either. I don’t know what they like.

She stared at that long enough for her heart to begin aching pink. Then she shook her head, and instead delved into a long list about what her grandfather liked.

At least she knew that.

She wasn’t sure how her grandfather managed to get that letter along to him. He said that his lawyers knew the studios lawyers, and they’d managed to work it out from there.

“I hope you said lots of nice things,” he said, on their next Saturday together.

She nodded. “I told her all about you,” she promised. “About your favorite ice cream and books.”

“Good. I’d hate to live in a world where Darkwing Duck didn’t know my favorite ice cream color.”

Some part of her thought he might have been joking, but she didn’t have time to explain that it was a very serious thing. If superheroes didn’t know what you liked, then how could they save you.

Her grandfather becomes a messenger of sorts, and every other Saturday is met with a reply.

Gosalyn,

Pink is a great color! My favorite shirt is pink. I wear it all the time when I don’t wear my superhero outfit.

Give pink a chance, that’s all I’m saying.

Darkwing Duck,

Pink is bad. Pink isn’t mine. Everything I own is pink.

Have you treid wearing green? It’s much better.

Gosalyn

Gosalyn,

I still think you should give pink more of a chance. But until then, I’m happy to inform that I’ve gone out and bought a green jacket to go over my pink shirt.

You’re right.

Green is great.

Darkwing Duck

“Who are you writing,” her mother asked her one Sunday afternoon, putting down the phone and leaning over the kitchen table.

“Darkwing Duck.”

Her mother looked at the page. Scanned it.

“Hm,” said her mother. “You know he’s just an actor.”

“No. He’s real ,” she said. “He fights crime.”

“Hm,” her mother said again. “You spelled tried wrong.”

The letters piled up in the box beneath her bed. She always used green ink. He used purple or black or blue. She showed them to her grandfather, who read them all with careful eyes.

“Why did you write this one?” He held up a letter she’d written two weeks before.

Darkwing Duck,

My dad is never home, and my mom isn’t either. I’m going to try and use the house for practice! I’ll get super dangerous!

What kicks do you like best. I’ll do those.

Gosalyn

She read it again and shrugged. “Because I want to be a hero.”

“But why did you write this ?” He pointed to the first line, jabbing his finger against the page.

She did a little kick, landing awkwardly on her foot with a vicious cry of, “ Let’s get dangerous! ”

“Gosalyn? Why did you-”

“Because it’s true,” she called over her shoulder before trying another kick. “And a hero is always honest.”

She didn’t see her grandfather snap a picture with his phone.

Drake Mallard always been happy to answer fan mail as Darkwing Duck before. He felt more comfortable behind the character. Confident. Himself. But this had been different. The lists of likes had turned into a child’s life being torn and twisted, and he’d clung to the letters, not sure what to do beyond replying.

He’d wanted to be a hero. Wanted to inspire children on lunchboxes and posters.

And then he’d met Gosalyn.

Gosalyn, who hated pink, loved ice hockey, and could say the entire alphabet backwards three times fast.

Gosalyn, who felt alone.

Suddenly, faced with the embers of a child mid-extinguish, he wasn’t sure how to be a hero anymore.

Writing back seemed like the only thing he could do.

And whenever he did pen a new letter, sitting down at a desk, responding to questions about little, dumb things like favorite dinosaurs or ice creams, he forgets about the cold spots settled in his chest.

Suddenly, Darkwing Duck wasn’t quite as much there as he was before.

He tried to write that down in a letter to her. Tried his best to stay in character, where he was most comfortable. Hiding behind a hat and a mask and a cape and a character he’d auditioned for and gotten the part.

Gosalyn, he wrote.

My favorite things are crime fighting and wearing a cape .

He looked down at that for a while. Darkwing Duck like Danger! And fighting! And backflips!

Drake Mallard? He liked mint chip and t-rexes.

He erased the page and started again.

Gosalyn,

I love dinosaurs and mint chip ice cream with extra whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles and, sometimes, sour gummy worms (my favorite candy).

I also love mini-golf. It’s just about the only sport I can play.

Darkwing Duck

The next time her mother and father were out, there was a new woman knocking on the front door.

“Hello there. You’re Gosalyn, right?” She wore a nice suit, and her hair was dark and curled, and tied up tight. “Your grandfather sent me over. Are your parents home?”

“No.” She glared. “You know my grandfather?”

The woman took a pad of paper out of her pocket and wrote something down. Then she smiled at Gosalyn again. She had a nice smile.

Then again, if Darkwing Duck taught her anything, most villains did.

“I do! He’s been talking to me for a few weeks. We’re good friends. He said I should come talk to you.”

She leaned on the door, closing it just enough so that the woman couldn’t fit through if she’d wanted to. “My parents aren’t home,” she said again. “I’m not supposed to let you in.”

“That’s right. I won’t come in unless there’s an adult.” She smiled again. “I’ll come back later. With your grandfather. Does that sound alright?”

Gosalyn nodded, then closed the door.

The lock clicked into place.

Darkwing Duck,

There was a lady at our house asking questions. My parents weren’t home, so I didn’t let her in.

I think she was a reporter.

How do you talk to the press? You’re so good at it!

Gosalyn.

Gosalyn,

Lots of practice.

I used to be an actor, so I always had to pretend to talk to someone.

What sort of questions did she ask?

Darkwing Duck

Darkwing Duck,

She asked me why I was home alone.

She asked me about my dad.

And my mom.

She asked me if I was safe.

I told her they weren’t home so she couldn’t come in, but then she went around the house and looked in the recycling. She says she’s going to come back later, but I told her to scram, because I’m not supposed to talk to weird strangers. It was scary.

What do you do when things are scary? I bet you do everything on your own. You’re good at that. You said you didn’t need anyone.

If I’m going to be a hero like you, I need to do things alone.

I don’t need anyone, either.

Gosalyn

“Drake, come on. We’ve got filming to do.”

His agent was a taller man. Broad shoulders and slicked hair, he loomed over Drake in his little trailer. Drake sat at the fold out table, scribbling back to the latest of Gosalyn’s letters.

“Just a minute-”

“The director won’t wait a minute. And you know how stingy McDuck is about his filming time. Any extra and it’ll be on you.”

Drake looked at his reply. It was pithy. Barely what it needed to be. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to something like what she’d sent.

He turned toward his agent. “There’s this little girl who’s been sending mail. She sent me… well- just listen .” He read it out loud, emphasizing the alone and don’t need anyone . When he was done, he looked up at his agent.

“How would you respond to that?”

His agent shook his head. “It’s fanmail. Have one of the studio interns write back.”

“No. This is different. I know this girl. I remember her- she asked me…” he gave it a shake. “How would Darkwing reach out. What would Darkwing do if he thought someone he knew was in trouble.”

“It’s fanmail. Send her a signed picture. Come on.”

Drake gave the letter one last look before donning the rest of his costume and following the man out.

I don’t need anyone, either , she’d said.

“Drake!” His agent again, motioning. “You coming? Or are we charging you for time wasted.”

Without much else to do, he followed.

Gosalyn turns six years old, and begins to learn that she likes many more things.

But she also learns there are things she doesn’t like.

She didn’t like it when her father began coming home earlier and earlier.

She didn’t like the clinking sound in the fridge.

She didn’t like his shouting.

She didn’t like her large house.

She didn’t like it when her mother vanished.

She didn’t like the color pink.

Especially when her father had come home from work to see her writing a letter. He grabbed her arm, hard. “Who’ve you been writing!”

She pulled on her arm. “Darkwing Duck.”

“ Who .”

Let me go -”

“Who’ve you been writing,” he growled again, squeezing her arm harder. His eyes flashed, staring down at the page. “If you’ve been telling that woman anything-”

“I told you!”

“Your grandfather,” his voice dropped low. “He’s been telling that woman things. Now they’re asking me questions. If you’re in on it, too-”

His next tug seared, burned. With a shout, she sprang, and her foot cracked against his knee. He fell, and his hand released just enough for her to wiggle free and run through the kitchen, up the stairs.

When she looked at her arm, the yellow downy feathers had been crumpled and were beginning to fall away from his hand. The skin beneath had turned pink.

That was the year where she began liking less and less.

Her entire world was turning Pink…

(dresses)

(rooms)

(bruises)

…and she let’s it push her out.

Darkwing Duck,

You said to get dangerous.

I don’t want to get dangerous.

I want

She didn’t finish that letter.

She sent it anyway.

That was the year that Darkwing Duck moved off the screen and into reality. And Gosalyn couldn’t have been happier.

It was a blip through all the pink when the news had blared on from her father’s office, and she stood by with her back pressed to the wall, listening while the reporters shouted back and forth about criminals being apprehended by what they thought might have been Darkwing Duck.

“It’s amazing,” one of the reporters said. “Matt, you have to see this. Three crime bosses, dumped on the police steps. He left a note. Signed it Darkwing Duck and everything.”

“And this is of course two weeks after the studio filming Darkwing Duck collapsed and both actors seemingly vanished,” another reporter chimed in. “Bodies were never found, but we did speak to a small child from the McDuck family who said-”

The TV changed channels and clicked off.

Darkwing Duck,

I knew you were a real hero!

I told everyone, but they didn’t believe me!

And if you want, you can come get me! I can be your sidekick, if you want! We can do everything together. And I can show you everything that I like, and you can show me everything that you like.

Does that sound good?

I’d be a great sidekick! The best sidekick. And I could live in your secret lair and everything.

I know you said that heroes worked alone and whatever, but maybe we could do things together!

That sounds good, right?

Gosalyn

She’d give that note to her grandfather and tell him all about it.

Her grandfather was looking worn. He was less fun to be with when he came over, too. He asked questions upon questions, writing down answers. Everything she sent was captured in a picture first, even though she said he couldn’t show anyone else, because they were secret.

“These are important,” he explained. And then, after a moment, “Gosalyn… things might start to change a lot around here.”

“I know!” She did a little kick (she was getting better at those) and punched the air twice. “Darkwing’s gonna come soon. I’m gonna be his sidekick!” She turned around and did another punch. “You can come too!”

“Thank you, honey, but I mean…” he struggled for words, searching through the air. “People might come by and ask questions again.”

“About what?”

“About your mom and dad.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s their job.”

“Can I tell them about Darkwing, too?” She grinned, punching some more in front of her, drawing her fists back. “I want to tell them all about being a hero! That’s better. My mom and dad are boring.”

“Okay. But… Gosalyn. You need to tell them. I’m buying a house now a few cities away. And after you tell them, we’ll go there.”

“What?” She punched forward again. “But I don’t want to go. Darkwing can’t find me if I go.”

He sat down next to her, and when she tried to punch again, he caught her fist. “You have to tell them the truth, okay? You can’t tell them about being a sidekick. You have to tell them about your mom and dad.”

“But this is the truth! I have to stay! So Darkwing can find me !”

Her grandfather swallowed and shook his head.

Her mind began to swim pink.

“He was an actor, Gosalyn. That was his job. I don’t know who’s playing superhero right now-”

“It’s Darkwing .”

“I know. Gosalyn, I know . But I need to worry about you right now, not him. And when people come by, you need to tell them-”

“I’ll tell them about Darkwing,” she pulled back. “I want to talk about things I like !”

“I know-”

“No one asks me about what I like!” Everything was pink. The world was swimming pink.

Nothing was hers.

“I don’t want to tell them about them! I don’t want to leave! Darkwing needs to find me!” Angry tears sprung into her eyes, and she stomped her feet on the deck. “He’s going to!”

“Gosalyn…” He rubbed his face. “Just… tell them what you can. Alright?”

“I will,” she snapped. “I’ll tell them everything.”

He stopped asking after that.

He took the letter with him when her mom got home and her grandfather could leave again. Her mother glared his way, but he didn’t say anything. He just waved to Gosalyn, pocketed the letter, and got into his car.

“Stupid,” her mother spat, grabbing Gosalyn’s hand and dragging her into the house. “ Meddling . Trying to see things that aren’t-” She let go of Gosalyn’s hand and stomped around the house, wiping down nonexistent dust off everything, muttering about people who shouldn’t stick their noses in other people’s businesses.

An hour later, overcome by her apparent anger over snooping people, she grabbed her keys and left.

Gosalyn stood in the living room and watched the sun go down and the rest of the house turn dark.

Darkwing Duck,

I think I am very alone.

Gosalyn

Darkwing’s lair was little more than the back rooms at an abandoned factory. He’d told Launchpad that they could have just used his house, but the driver had insisted that they’d need a secret, even if it was temporary.

“We’ll find something better, DW,” Launchpad promised. “But if you’re going to do this superhero thing for real, then we need somewhere to meet where no one will suspect! What’ll happen if some neighbor sees Darkwing with the keys to your apartment?”

It was a good point. He couldn’t just stroll in, and too many trips through the balcony might look suspicious.

So he agreed, and they found the little space to call their own, and for the first few weeks everything was fine.

Until he found the letters again.

He’d kept them all in a manilla envelope, and when the studio kicked him off, everything he’d owned had been thrown away. Collecting it all had been a chore, and Launchpad had been kind enough to give a hand.

Thankfully, he’d been a small enough actor before his break that no one knew much about who he was, and so he’d walked off the movie lot with armfulls of things and not much of a hassle beyond that.

And he’d found her letters again.

There wasn’t any way of responding to them. Not anymore. He flipped through them, remembering the face of the sender.

Bright red hair and yellow, downy feathers. Too small, but looming. She’d throttled life around her with such force, knocking down lamps and listing everything she’d ever liked.

He flipped around the letters, watching the chronology turn her into something even smaller than what she’d already been.

His ribs ached and his lungs squeezed.

“Darkwing?” Launchpad was back, another armfull of posters from his trailer clutched to his chest. “You good, DW?”

“What? Oh. Oh, yeah.” He put the letters down. “Let me help you with that. You know - I got this poster when I was ten years old. Starling even signed it! See?”

And the letters are forgotten for a time.

But not really.

Darkwing Duck,

I talked to more people at the house.

They are scary.

Gosalyn

Darkwing Duck,

You haven’t written me back.

Gosalyn

Darkwing Duck,

I’m not sure what to write if you don’t write me back.

Gosalyn

Darkwing Duck,

I don’t want to be a hero anymore.

Heroes write people back.

Gosalyn

Darkwing Duck,

I’m sorry I said that.

You’re still a hero. I watched you on TV last night when the reporters were talking about that crime you solved. It was great. I saw you have your own sidekick now. That’s good.

Heroes shouldn’t be alone.

Gosalyn

When the Saturday of her grandfather arrived again, he didn’t have a note.

“He stopped sending them,” he told her. “I’m sorry, Gosalyn. I checked, but-”

Gosalyn locked herself in her room and wouldn’t talk to any of the people who her grandfather had let into the house. She could hear them looking around, talking quietly, taking notes. Heard them drive away.

When it got later, she fished the box out from under her bed. She took out letters, one at a time, and lay them on the floor. They watched her, all purple ink and careful penmanship.

“I’m alone,” she told them, like they’d know what to do. “I’m alone .”

Darkwing had always prided himself on being alone.

She didn’t know if she could do the same.

I want … she’d written, and she squeezed her eyes shut tight, trying to claw the answer out to the surface.

I want.

I want .

I want …

(family)

(love)

(home)

… nothing.

Gosalyn picked up each little note and put them back into the box. She slid it beneath the bed again.

Drake Mallard, now Darkwing, wasn’t sure what to do.

Which royally sucked, because asking WWDD at that moment was not helping. And if he was going to be Darkwing Duck, it sort of felt apt to at least have an idea.

He was Darkwing Duck now. Darkwing Duck, who was strong and willfull and didn’t need anything! Who always got back up. Who was important, and good, and important.

Who was absolutely lost when it came to the issues of one small girl.

He told Launchpad about it, sharing coffee on the roof after they’d taken down a small drug ring that had begun to operate on the west side.

“So…” he said, “I wanted your opinion on something.”

Launchpad drained the rest of his coffee and reached for the box of donuts he’d put next to his knee. “Sure, buddy! Anything!”

“There’s… this girl.”

Launchpad’s eyebrows rose. “Gotta tell you. I’m not the best at that sort of thing.”

“ No , not like… she’s a little girl. A kid. Seven years old. A fan.”

“Ah.”

“I met her when she was younger. Her grandfather owned this company when he was alive, and I did a job there, and she ran into me. Totally a fan of the show. I was happy to talk to her. But then she gave me this letter, and I wrote back and…” he shrugged. “We wrote for a whole year.”

“That’s good. Right?”

“It was. But then- the letters got… bad.” He stared at his feet. “Custody issues. Bad home. The girl was reaching out, and I didn’t know what to do about it. I still don’t know what to do about it. And now that my place at the studio is gone, I don’t get them anymore. I don’t even know if she’s still sending them.”

“Hmm…” Launchpad popped the rest of his donut into his mouth. “So what’s the question.”

Drake looked off over the city. The light pollution from below clung to the buildings and burned away at glass and metal. “I don’t know.” He flicked a pebble off into towards the street below. “Darkwing would have known what to do here. He’d probably have a twelve step plan in place. Something to do with getting the people who’d hurt her. Finding evidence. Solving a crime.” He punched the air. “You know. Something like that.”

His friend nodded. “Well, it sounds to me like you’re worried.”

“I mean- I am .”

“So why don’t you go see her!”

“What?” He blinked, shaking his head. “I can’t just swing down and see- I don’t even know where she lives!”

“No. But you know where her grandfather works, right?”

Drake blinked again. He grinned, and reached for a donut. “Launchpad,” he said. “You’re a genius.”

Mr. Waddlemeyer wasn’t sure what to think when, upon locking up his lab for the night, he was met with Darkwing Duck standing in the empty hallway just outside.

Mr. Waddlemeyer blinked. “Um,” he said.

Darkwing Duck rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey,” he said with a little wave. “So… I think I’ve been talking to your granddaughter for a year .”

“Um…”

He smiled again, awkward and unsure, rocking on his heels. “And anyway, I’ve been sort of worried about her. And my sidekick -nice guy, super cool- said I should talk to you about it, since you’d probably know her better than I did. Or. Definitely know her better. But…” he laughed nervously. “You know.”

Mr. Waddlemeyer stared at the superhero for another moment.

He definitely wasn’t what the man expected.

Waddlemeyer had been watching the news on and off. He’d sort of thought the hero who was dumping villains on the steps of every precinct in town would have been a little more like the old TV show he’d grown up with.

Self assured.

Big headed.

Showy and bursting with bravado.

This Darkwing is… not.

He’s a little more jittery. A little more rattled.

The Darkwing he remembered from Television had also, if memory served, never spent time with children long enough to seek out their relatives and ask about them.

“You’re worried about my granddaughter?”

Darkwing nodded.

“Why?”

The hero looked a little lost for words. “Because… I want to be someone kids look up to?”

“You broke into a lab to ask my about my granddaughter. This isn’t about looking up .”

Darkwing swallowed. His fingers tangled in his cape. “I guess,” he said finally, “it’s because she sounded like she needed someone. Sort of. And she wanted someone to be a hero. And…” his feet shuffled. In the dark of the hallway, he was swallowed by shadows. “I want to make sure she’s alright.”

Waddlemeyer watched him another moment. And then he turned and unlocked the door to the lab.

“I’ll brew some tea,” he said.

Darkwing hesitated a moment before following him through.

The hero and the scientist talked through the night and early into the morning about the girl.

About how she was lonely.

About how she was afraid.

About how that little fire her grandfather so loved (but no one else could stand) was beginning to fizzle out.

About how she was turning off and away.

“Her mother, my daughter,” Waddlemeyer tells him over a cup of chamomile, “never wanted to be a mother.”

“Oh.”

“But she became one. And Gosalyn sort of fell into things.”

Darkwing curled his hands around the mug. “Her letters got sadder,” he said. “I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“That’s for me to figure out. And I am,” the older man said. “I’m figuring it out.”

“How?”

“Social services.” He sat back, shoulders slumping. “I began calling years ago, when she was two or three, but we didn’t have much then. Actually, most of what I got was after you showed up again on the screen.”

Darkwing, who’d been taking a sip of his tea, nearly choked. “ Me ?”

“Mmm. I don’t know what it is about you. But as soon as she saw you…” he snapped his fingers, “she lit up. And when you wrote her back? Things got easier once she began looking up to someone. She grew away from her parents. Her parents grew larger. Social services began to pay attention. And thus, the dominos fell.” He sighed, blowing steam across the mug and onto his hands. “Now it’s only a matter of time.”

“And you’ll take custody.”

“I love her. She’s a good kid. Spirited, and a little explosive. But she’s good. And,” he added after another sigh, “there’s no one else.”

His face was long, and worn, and tired, but it brightened up enough for him to say, “just a few more weeks. They said by her eighth birthday. That’s around the corner. They’ll lose custody, and I take her.”

Staring down at his mug, Darkwing nodded. He put it down and slid his hat off his head. “I couldn’t get any letters to her anymore,” he said.

“I know.”

“Did she keep sending them?”

Her grandfather put his own mug down. He stood up and rounded the chairs towards his desk, rifling through drawers. “I wasn’t sure what to do with these, actually,” he said. “The woman from child services already has pictures, but she let me keep the originals. They got… helpless.” He grimaced, staring down at a few.

From behind fingers, Drake could read some of the words:

Alone

Help

Pink

Waddlemeyer handed them across towards him. “Take them. I don’t want them. I’ve read them enough times. Sad things.”

He took them carefully. “Thank you.”

With a hum, Waddlemeyer sat back down. “If you want to respond, just leave them with me. On my desk, or something. You can obviously get it. When they hand over custody, we’ll be moving out. Fresh start and all that. Might be the last time you hear from her.”

Behind a purple vest, Darkwing’s ribs squeezed. He nodded anyway, looking down at the familiar green writing.

A year.

He’d been talking to this child for a year .

Felt he knew her. What she liked. Who she was. What she needed.

And she’d be gone.

Safe , his mind reminded him. She’ll be safe .

“Darkwing?” He looked up from the notes towards Waddlemeyer, who was watching him carefully. “You were an actor, weren’t you?”

“I… was.” His shoulders tensed. “No one really knows my name, so-”

Waddlemeyer snorted. “I barely remember your name. Don’t worry about secrets. They’re safe with me. But… going from an actor? To this? I know you said you wanted to be a hero but…”

“I know.” He tried to laugh, but it came out weak. “I guess it was just- it came easily.”

“Easier than being an actor?”

“Somehow, yeah. It just… came easily. Darkwing would have done something like this,” he tells the man. “I mean, I’ve modeled my whole life after the guy! Darkwing would know what to do.”

“What would Darkwing do?”

“Probably keep writing,” he said, honestly. “Maybe after things clear over I can actually write her again, somehow. Let her know that Darkwing is still on her side. Watching and helping her. Keeping all his citizens safe.”

“Ah.” The older man nodded. “So Darkwing did the safe thing, then? Very easy to do behind a mask.”

Darkwing wasn’t sure how to answer that. So he let it fall into silence.

They finished their tea, and Darkwing left out a back window.

He sat on the roof of the building for a time and watched the sun come up, feathering over the deep sky, and coaxing it away with fire.

“Safe,” he reminded himself. “You’ve got nothing to do with this. She’ll be safe. That’s all you need.”

On patrol two weeks later, Darkwing would be the first to see the morning newspaper thrown out of the truck.

Waddlemeyer’s heart attack was front page news.

It had only taken a few minutes for Gosalyn’s life to be thrown up and out. When her mother had answered the phone late Friday night and said one word before staying quiet, listening.

Her face had gone pale.

There was a jingling of keys and her mothers quick feet. Gosalyn had been off in the living room when she’d hurried past, and she’d followed. She’d never seen her mother convey more than distaste.

To see this -fear- scared her.

“I have to go.” Her mother unlocked the car, opening the front door. That was all she said. “I have to go.” And then; “Hospital.”

“ What ? Why!”

But that was all her mother would say, running out the front door, closing it behind her.

Gosalyn had thrown it open, hearing it slam as she flew down the steps. She hadn’t put shoes on over her soft, gosling feet, and she felt the concrete tear and pinch. Running outside as her mother pulled the car out of the driveway. “Mom-” she called after, panting, running fast as she could in her pink dress down their too-big lawn. “ Why !”

She wouldn’t get an answer.

Not until her mother came home and sat her in the kitchen and told her.

“I’m sorry,” said her mother. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t cry.

But Gosalyn did. Retreating into her room, she screamed and howled and stormed and whirled and raged and snapped and broke .

There was Pink all around her, and for once it didn’t just push away.

It swallowed.

It drowned.

Pink was in her hands. Pink was thrown across the room. There was the sound of shattering as she grabbed whatever she could find and hurled it towards the pink walls and the pink ceiling and the pink carpet.

She listened to everything break around her, and that only made her throw things harder when it wouldn’t drown out the awful heat - tumbling, collapsing, fracturing - behind her eyes.

Alone.

He’d left her alone .

They’d all left her alone .

How the box ended up in her hands, she wasn’t sure. But there was paper everywhere. Purple ink. Green, unsent ink. Forgotten ink.

She grabbed it by the handful, fisting each letter.

It took so little effort to tear everything in half. And then tear it again.

She kept ripping. Kept mangling. And only stopped after-

(gosalyn)

(darkwing)

(alone, alone, alone)

-the pink carpet was scattered with shredded paper.

And then she sat.

And she breathed.

Staring at the mess around her. Broken glass. Punctures in the wall. Ruined paint.

Tears collected and burned behind her eyes as she slipped down to the Pink carpet, feeling bits of glass and plaster pricking her fingers. From downstairs, there wasn’t a sound. Her mother had left again.

She ran her hand along the torn bits of paper.

And the fire that had so quickly burned her bright simmered away, and Gosalyn was left in little more than ash.

The last letter she’ll write will be for herself.

She knows he won’t respond. But she doesn’t care. He hadn’t responded for some time, anyway.

Her pen stilled on the page. It trembled and shivered. Her letters were wobbly and odd. The paper was crumpled and the pen barely had any ink in it, so she’d had to switch out her green pen for a pink one. Darkwing Duck,

My name is Gosalyn.

And I don’t like anything.

The next day social services would be at the door.

Gosalyn would go without a word.

Darkwing Duck heard about everything from the newspapers, and he’d shown them all to Launchpad, waving them around his sidekicks face. “Did you see this ? Foster care! She wasn’t supposed to go to foster care !”

“That’s usually what happens, DW.” He shook his head, looking upset. That was the great thing about Launchpad. When he looked upset, he meant it, and it did at least a little something to quell Drake’s anger.

But not much.

He searched through the paper for more clues, but came up dry until he’d reached the obituaries section. Waddlemeyer had died a few days before, but his name still popped up under their events.

“The funeral…” he looked up at Launchpad. “What do you think the chances are she’ll be there?”

“Look, DW… I know you’re upset. But she’ll get through it. And you didn’t really know her.”

“But I do know her,” Darkwing said. “I know her enough! And she might need- she said she needed heroes, right? That’s what she said she wanted-”

“Maybe we should focus on some other stuff now, like-”

“Do you think she’ll be there?”

Launchpad fiddled with the buttons on his jacket. Nodded.

Darkwing goes to the funeral because it’s what Darkwing Duck would do.

He would stay just far away enough to keep himself distant, but close enough to seem heroic. He was a man of the people, but a loner at heart. He appeared to let people know he was there.

He did things by himself.

So that’s what Darkwing does.

The second time Gosalyn and Darkwing meet, it’s after her grandfather’s funeral.

It’s not a long meeting. It’s not a good meeting, either.

He’d taken the shortcut to St. Edelberts Cathedral, hopping from building to building, sliding down fire escapes, landing square in the alley besides the church.

She came out on her own before anyone else had left. The door opened, and he could hear the organ playing from behind her before it closed again, and she was covered in silence.

She looked small. Too small sitting on the marble steps.

There’s no paper or ink between them. Just space and air. He emerged from the shadows of the alleyway, and she looked up and… there they were. The both of them. And so when she stares at him like he doesn’t exist, like he might just evaporate into a purple smudge when she blinks, he’s not sure how to handle it.

“I’m so sorry.” He tries his best. It’s all he can do. Stepping forward through the space.

She’s on her feet fast as she could be, tripping over the one behind her.

“… Darkwing?”

He tried for a smile. It fell flat. “Hi… hello.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to say…” he fumbled, hands turning to fists where they still sat in his pockets. “I wanted to say I was sorry. And… if there was anything I could do-”

She shook her head. “I’m going away, soon.”

“I know.”

“My grandpa died.”

“… I know.”

She swallowed hard, looking away for just long enough that the light from the church caught the sheen of her eyes. “You never wrote me back…” There’s a vicious betrayal behind her voice. “I wanted to be your sidekick. I told you that… that there were bad things, but you never came.” She looked back at him again. “You were supposed to be a hero.”

His lungs twinged. Something in his chest snapped. “I couldn’t do anything.”

“ Why ?”

“Because that’s not what heroes do. We really don’t have much control over social services, kid. That stuff- it’s all up to normal people. The government. Not people in capes.”

“Then what do they do?”

“They… I don’t know. Stop bad guys. Keep people safe. Watch out for crime. Stuff like that.”

The hurt around her thick. “But I needed you.”

“Your grandfather… he did everything.”

Her pigtails slapped the side of her head when she shook her head. “But now he’s not here. And I’m going somewhere else, far away.” She sniffled. “I don’t want to go far away. I wanted to be here. I wanted to be a hero .”

He moved closer, hands finally falling from inside his pockets to move forward, outstretched. “You can be!”

She shook her head again. “I don’t want to be, anymore.”

His hands fell.

She backed away, up another step. “You stop bad guys, and you fight crime. But… but you can’t even write a letter. You can’t even stop bad things from happening.”

“Gosalyn, I’m sorry .”

“You’re just a stupid guy.” She wiped at her eyes quickly before anything could fall. “A stupid, dumb guy, wearing a stupid, dumb costume who wants to be alone . Well- well being alone sucks .” Her voice was rising, fists tightening. “And if that’s what being a hero is, then you can keep it.”

“Gosalyn, please . If I could-”

“Go away.” Her sleeve was up again, wiping her eyes. “Go away .”

She went back into the church.

He stood there for a while, listening to the faint hum of the service from inside.

The empty feeling settled in deep.

For once, Darkwing Duck was the one who felt like an absolute nothing.

Launchpad is a fountain of soft wisdom.

It only takes a few days to extend a hand towards his friend, who throws himself into work tirelessly to push away some sort of hidden hurt.

“DW?”

Darkwing, perched on the top of a fire escape, grunts.

“DW, not to complain… I mean- I love doing this crime fighting bit with you. But do you think, maybe, we can talk about the funk you’re in.”

“It’s not a funk .” Drake took out a pocket tracker he’d been using lately, turning dials to pick up on what the warnings police had been broadcasting all night. Something about a car theft from the upper east side. He could handle that, easy.

“No. I’m sure it’s not but… you know…” he shrugged. “Ever since you went to see the girl-”

“That’s over,” Drake said. “She didn’t want to see me.”

“Yeah, well, she’s a kid . Kids say that stuff. Trust me! I work with a few!”

Drake was quiet a moment, looking over the city. “I barely knew her,” he said, finally. “So it doesn’t matter. She’s in good hands. The city’ll take care of her.”

“She could be in better hands.”

Drake looked down at Launchpad, who was leaning on a railing, picking at the rust casually. “I told you what she said.” The words still stung when he thought back to them. “She doesn’t want a hero. I didn’t write her back.”

“You couldn’t have.”

“Yeah, well…” He scrubbed his face. “What use is Darkwing Duck if he can’t help one lousy kid.”

Again, Launchpad went silent. And he stayed that way for a while. The two of them watched the lights flicker and pulse around them. Across town, a siren roared to life. Cats mewled in the alleyways. Everything smelled a little like after-rain and plaster.

“You know…” Launchpad sat back from the railing, brushing dust off his hands, “not to push you or anything, but maybe Darkwing Duck can’t do anything. Still doesn’t mean that Drake Mallard can’t, either.” He reached out and took the police scanner from Darkwing’s hands, pressing a few buttons. It burst to life. “Come on. Robbery on 32nd. You wanna hit it?”

Drake Mallard nodded and followed after him.

When the suns just coming up the ridge, the lair in sight, Launchpad grabs his shoulder and squeezes it. “You know,” he said. “I keep thinking about Darkwing Duck. The original one. Jim Starling one.”

“Yeah?”

“He was alone a lot. That was his thing, you know?”

Drake did know. His entire life was modeled after the guy. Down to everything he did, said, believed. “That’s who he was. The lone ranger type, you know?”

“Yeah. Well. I was thinking. There were a few episodes where Darkwing got home, and looked sad. Because he didn’t have anyone. And I always sort of thought that was alright, because that’s who he was.” Launchpad gave his shoulder another rough squeeze. “Just saying. There might be more to life than that. You know?”

Drake Mallard loves Darkwing Duck.

It’s what he knows. It’s what he’s comfortable with.

(It’s what he hides behind)

Darkwing Duck would know exactly what to do here. Darkwing Duck was tough. Resilient. Firm. Always got back up. He’d probably write the kid back and tell her that.

“Get back up,” he’d say. “You’re strong. You can do things alone. Get back up.”

He stood in the empty lair.

What about Drake Mallard, a well-stomped-away voice squeaks into existence. What can he do?

Gosalyn wasn’t sure what to think when they told her she was being transferred into a new home.

“He’s never been in the system before,” the woman, Patty, told her as they drove down the lazy roads of a cookie-cutter street. “Actually, he’s sort of new to everything. New house. New job. He seems nice-”

“So did everyone else,” Gosalyn mumbled.

House after house had politely requested she be taken away when they realized she liked to practice backflips in her room and in the backyard. After she’d broken one too many lamps. After she refused to talk about what she liked and didn’t like, and spent hours locked away.

Patty looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Give them a chance,” she said. “You don’t know what they’re like unless you give them a chance.”

They pulled into a driveway of a little white house.

The man sitting on the steps was wearing a pink shirt. He waved when Patty walked over the lawn, fingers tugging nervously on his buttons. Gosalyn stood back.

Patty turned around. “Gosalyn, stop being difficult. Come on. Come say hello!”

Gosalyn ground her teeth and stomped up to him. She glared, arching her back to look at him. “Your shirt’s pink,” she said, voice low and rough. “I hate pink.”

Patty’s face turned a nice shade of pink at that moment, and she looked about ready to yell something down to the little girl about being polite and kind and this is why people keep sending in complaints and can’t you just please try to be nice for once!

She didn’t get a chance when the man by her began to laugh.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know. You like green, right?”

Gosalyn stared at him.

Then he reached into his pocket.

Gosalyn blinked.

Stopped.

Breathed.

“Sorry it took me this long to respond,” he said, holding out the letters. “Drake Mallard had to take off the mask, first.”

Patty doesn’t know what to say when the little girl falls against the Man in the Pink Shirt.

He’s not Darkwing Duck. He tells her that.

His name is Drake Mallard. A former actor and a current superhero.

He wasn’t much of anything special behind the mask, though.

“You don’t know me very well,” he admitted, looking just as nervous as she did. “You know Darkwing. And I’m not really him. I’m someone else.”

“Oh.”

“But I really did want to help you,” he added. “And I really am done with being alone. So I thought, maybe, we could try the whole family thing out together?”

“Oh,” she says again. Her bag is in her new room and they’re sitting on the floor of the living room, facing one another, a box of pizza between them. She looked down at her hands. “Well,” she said. “If I gave you a list of things I liked, maybe you could tell me what you liked. Maybe we’d have stuff in common.”

Drake Mallard laughed. “I think that’s a great idea.”

Gosalyn Mallard turned eight years old and decided that her favorite color was definitely green.

Her favorite dinosaur was the stegosaurus.

Her favorite sport was probably hockey.

Her favorite shirt was the jersey stuffed in the back of her drawers that she saved for special occasions.

And her favorite person was surprisingly not Darkwing Duck.

But the man behind the mask (who loved some of the same things, except for knitting and sewing and baking) definitely was.

He made great cookies.

He knew how to tuck her in.

They painted her room green.

Somehow, he knew just the right way to hug.

It was also the year she decided that things were worth liking again.

Drake Mallard was almost 40, came from nowhere, and wasn’t much of anything special.

But apparently, a year later, after Gosalyn (officially his, last name and all) handed him a list of THINGS I LIKE that had his name right at the top, he figured that being Drake Mallard may not have been the worst.

Drake Mallard has friends. Drake Mallard has a new house, with a nice kitchen, and a good place to knit.

Drake Mallard has a daughter, who breaks a few lamps, and never cleans her room, and winds her arms around him before she goes to bed, mumbling little embarrassed I love you’s into his pink shirt.

“Love you too, slugger,” he always says, sending her up.

Darkwing Duck never had that.

Taking off the mask and balancing the time between gets easier.

Apparently, asking what Drake Mallard would do had benefits. Because Drake Mallard knew how to read bedtime stories, and Drake Mallard knew how to foster kids, and Drake Mallard knew how to patch up scrapes, and make a pie, and host eight year old birthday parties.

Drake Mallard definitely knew how to sign adoption papers, and then realize, moments later he had.

Drake Mallard could realize he was in too deep and had absolutely fallen head over heels for a little girl.

Darkwing Duck couldn’t have done all that.

They begin finding that they like life a whole lot more when they’re a family, exploring the world together. They don’t know each other as well as they could. Not yet. But they have time.

And so they crumple up all their old letters and lists of ice cream and colors and dinosaurs and slowly-

(ever so slowly)

-start again.

#darkwing duck #2019 darkwing duck #fanfiction #prompts #magic-and-moonlit-wings

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au-tumn-al · 5 years ago

Text

So after 110 hours, I finally beat Persona 5 Royal. Before going into complete FFVII mode, I wanna lay out all my thoughts.

Blah, blah, blah, spoilers for everything under the cut.

To start off, I loved Royal. The gameplay was so much fun and it felt like such a natural evolution from vanilla P5. Probably my favorite change was what wad done with Baton Pass. Trying to pass to your entire party was very fun and very satisfying, especially if Joker got the ×4 or even ×3 and got to abuse a possibly charged Hassou Tobi lategame. It was pretty broken, but I don't mind things being broken once you go to the effort of figuring things out. Speaking of broken things—

Showtime attacks are super cool. I didn't know what to think of them at first because of how stupidly strong they are, but after I got to some harder boss fights where doing about 1k damage per attack would only get rid of about a small fraction of the shadow's health, I wasn't complaining.

(Also, I never actually got to see Joker and Violet's showtime. Oops.)

The fact that the damage scaled like that was really good, especially once you get into the third semester where party members have severe and colossal damage moves and even healer Morgana can do 150 damage per basic attack without buffs on an enemy without debuffs. The enemies' damage output remained kind of sad though, but uh....you can't win 'em all ;;

To finish showtime talk, Joker and Crow's showtime was heccin' great. I never skipped it. It was Batman in my animu JRPG so it was 10/10. It also did way more damage than most of my party members' showtime attacks so ey. It finished off that Yoshitsune request boss too with around 2.4k damage so I'm obligated to like it. On that note, how is showtime damage calculated? Do certain showtimes do more damage, or does it just depend on the offensive stats of the party members using it?

Technical damage was beefed up too, and I probably should have tried to take advantage of it more than I did but I never figured out how to make technical damage reliably knock an enemy down. I know that there was a way to do it but I never figured it out. Yes, yes, I know it was because I skipped tutorials but everything else was so busted, I never felt the need to go back and read said tutorials. I did read that book about technical damage though in-game, but it just added more technical combinations.

Onto other changes though, it could have been because I was playing on hard, but status ailments became about 10 times more useful. ...Actually, no, it was definitely because I was playing on hard, but even so, I felt like more bosses were weak to them when compared to P5. They went back to being mostly immune to them, especially in the new semester, but during and before October or so, status ailments became invaluable. It could have been because I sucked that much, but my party members, and even sometimes Joker, would get left with double or even single digit HP by near everything, even if I debuffed and buffed. Queen got regulated to a forget bot, but man it carried me through some boss fights. ... i.e., Kaneshiro's fight. Well, that and Mona's confuse.

I liked the Will Seeds too. They were a fun way to kind of change up the palaces and for me to hunt down. Even though yeah, they are pretty broken (especially with the accessory you get from the 2nd palace being able to get rid of elemental weaknesses for whoever has it equipped, not to mention the ability to give charge or concentrate to another party member), I still can't say I used them over my SP adhesives most of the time. I used the one that got rid of elemental weaknesses on Crow, but that was just because I could only use him and Joker at the time and did not want enemies to get another move on him to get another chance to hit either of them.

The changes to Mementos were amazing. Like the rest of them, they were pretty busted, but still. Amazing. I feel like I'm in the minority with this, but I didn't mind Mementos. In fact, I kind of liked going through the grind of going through it. Although...tbf, I kind of liked Tartarus too. Its 264 floors were a bit much, but I liked being able to turn off my brain, put on a podcast or YouTube video in the background for me to listen to then go through Tartarus in one or two in-game nights.

Back to Mementos, collecting stamps and flowers for Jose was fun, and being able to change the cognition for Mementos was busted. Since you can get EXP from auto-killing, you get over-leveled very fast. It doesn't help that you have to backtrack floors for stamps since they randomly generate, so you get even more money, experience, and items. On the bright side though, no, I didn't need to wander around singing "I've Been Working on the Railroad" with Mona and Skull for an hour and a half trying to find the materials for the Eternal Lockpick (which was renamed in Royal to Permapick ... I guess???)

Because of the changes you can make to boost item, money, and EXP gains, Mementos became the prime grinding area. Even more than the card shuffle thing in P3. Since you got so much EXP from ramming shadows even without leveling up EXP gain. I put all my stamps into getting more items and money until I couldn't anymore and I had near max every single crafting item, and never had to worry about the cost of anything ever. Combined with the money gains from killing shadows, you can also pick up sellable treasure from the item cubes in Mementos and it can end up selling for well over a million yen. So getting to max didn't even require Joker abusing the confuse status ailment or abusing the shadows with "You can do better than that."

I didn't mind the Mementos music, even when I was playing the game without something else playing for me to listen to, but now that Mementos does have new music, yeah, I realize now how much better it is. I wouldn't listen to it alone like I would Rivers in the Desert or anything, but it was a nice change. I listened to one of the songs before the game had its western release and didn't like it all that much, but actually playing the game while hearing it made me actually like it.

I got to level 99 though before the game was over. It made it so Joker and Crow were able to tag-team the Reaper then kill it in 3 turns. I had thought that trophy would have been a lot harder to get lol. It was pretty weird seeing the Reaper in such clear lighting though due to the new Mementos area though, I have to say.

Onto the bosses though...

I loved the changes to the bosses (except the 5th one but that's just because I hate everything about the 5th palace, even if Royal did make it about a million times more bearable).

Kameshida having cognitive Shiho and Mishima as helpers for the boss fight was such a good change, and made him about that much more hateable.

Madarame's boss fight in vanilla P5 was the hardest boss in the game for me, even on normal mode, but it was made so much easier in P5R. Madarame didn't bring back his painting form, but instead brought back elemental versions of himself specifically so the player can abuse Baton Pass. Baton Pass combos are extremely satisfying to pull off, so I enjoyed it immensely. Honestly, having that as the second boss in the game was so much of a better decision than what was in P5. That, or I'm still salty about all the deaths I had from fighting him the first time.

Kaneshiro was definitely harder, and I was a little stuck when he called his cronies out to guard him. Mona and Queen using confuse and forget while Skull and Joker attacked Kaneshiro made it a lot more bearable though. I also kept using spotlights on Joker so the enemies would attack him. He had Shiki Ouji equipped and they only ever did physical moves when my status effects missed, so I was never at risk for losing the fight. ... And then of course Skull and Queen finished it off with a showtime attack after Mona got yeeted.

Sphinx mom was a lot easier. I didn't know that the right dialogue choices made it so Oracle would guard you until someone told me, so I was sitting there surprised at how much easier it was lol. I did get stuck at the end though because it didn't look like I was damaging it. I thought Oracle needed to bring back the crossbow so I just kept buffing and healing. It took about 10 minutes for me to get bored and start attacking it again and it turned out I could attack it, but it was just that sphinx mom's HP wasn't visually moving before eventually going down. Joker still used Shiki Ouji which had learned an immunity to wind so. Easy victory (ignoring the part where I'm a dumbass).

I switched to easy mode for Okumura. I just did not care at all. I hate his palace, I hate the music, and the enemies could range from being easier to kill than the enemies in the first palace to being a pain in the ass, so I wanted to have it be over. If I didn't have an unreasonable hatred for the 5th palace though, I probably would have liked the change. It was challenging without being complete BS, at least much more challenging than how it was originally in P5. Having the enemies run off though did get pretty annoying when I was trying to beat it legit but I was just so done at that point, it was more on me than the game lol.

Part of the reason why I was so eager to get through Okumura's palace though was to get to Sae's palace. Because I love Sae's palace, and just in general, the entire month of November. It has amazing story bits, still the height of P5's story if you ask me, a great palace, and Whims of Fate is one of my favorite tracks from P5's OST. Sae's boss was even changed to when she spins the wheel, whatever element it goes to, she uses that element and her resistances would change. I loved that, and it was extremely fun to take what you more or less should have learned about enemies' attacks and their correlating weaknesses and use them for a boss fight. So much better than the original where you don't need strategy at all other than "hit her hard lol."

Shido's boss fight was changed to be super climactic. They made it easier for the sake of Joker being able to confront the dude that got him a criminal record and directly ruining his life, and I can't complain. It felt amazing to 1v1 him. The game fixed the possibility of being screwed by it by having him attack in a certain order like the twins do in their special fight, so that was nice at least.

Yaldabaoth's boss fight was the same. Still easy enough, as long as you're careful. Or...not careful but extremely lucky. I wasn't able to finish it off while it was charging up its almighty attack, but my entire party ended up dodging it so it didn't even matter lmao. Now that I think about it, it very easily could have been because of that one Will Seed accessory that makes you dodge attacks but... I don't care. I was still super lucky I didn't get wiped and be forced to start the fight over starting from the Holy Grail.

The new boss... Uhm... It was taking way too long so I ended up cheesing it with Haru's third persona's new move that basically makes you invincible for a turn halfway through the fight. ^^; Noir was a Vault Guardian bot, Queen just healed and took advantage of one of the tentscles' nuclear weaknesses to Baton Pass to Crow when she could, and then Joker and Crow did all the work. Crow's third tier persona's almighty move kicked ass and you know what else kicked ass? Hassou Tobi abuse. The other 2 phases weren't even really fights, so at least that kept it from dragging too much, despite all the phases it had.

When Joker and the boss had that punch-out fight though, I lost my shit. I was laughing so hard I started to cry and my back was hurting. I don't even remember why I thought it was so funny, but I was laughing my ass off. I couldn't even press X to get Joker to punch because I was laughing so hard. Right before it happened, I joked to my sister that a tutorial would pop up and suddenly the gameplay will have the controls from that P4 fighting game and you have to learn that in order to have one last showdown. And then I got the prompt to punch. Then Joker punched. And I started laughing.

11/10 would punch Adam Kadmon man again

On the topic of the new stuff though...

Kasumi/Sumire/Violet was pretty fun to use but badly, badly overshadowed by both Joker and Crow, at least during boss fights. She offered to join the party before Shido's palace and she really should have joined then. Maybe she would just be absent for the Mementos dungeon & Yaldabaoth/Holy Grail boss fights, but she should have been there for Shido's palace. I liked her wanted gimmick of being the crit'er, but when you get her, Mona's third tier persona learns an AOE Lucky Punch, Joker already has high crit, and I would always baton pass to Crow because of his severe almighty AOE ×3. Plus, the way I built my Joker with practically exclusively two personas, Yoshitsune and Kuguya Picaro, he was already the phys and light attacker except with the addition of being able to have an auto-concentrate at the start of every fight (I have no idea why—it's something with Yoshitsune but idk what it is), the charge skill, Yoshitsune's nature of tripling the effect of charge, and the additional electric damage. She should have been a party member before the new semester. Obviously this isn't the case for everyone, but for me personally, I didn't often find use for her, especially since she can't do colossal or even severe magic damage. She is a very good physical party member, but again, Joker already covers that better than any other party member can, including Skull.

Crow was a great party member though. I used him in every request and boss fight after I got him. I was a little salty he couldn't switch back and forth from Loki and Robin Hood but I suppose if he did, he'd make Violet even more obsolete lol. I liked Loki while playing P3, so I'm glad I was able to use that persona again. He had Debilitate which was amazing. Queen learns Checkmate when getting to the third tier persona, which is an AOE version of it, but honestly, whenever I was fighting a boss that I thought needed it at that point in the game, I didn't need it to be multi-hitting. Plus, it costed about 90 SP and no way I was using that over her healing, defense buffs, and nuclear damage.

But anyway, back to Crow, I loved using him. He basically turned into my almighty damage dealer, even with his somewhat weaker magic, at least compared to his strength stat, but considering the final boss fight, it was extremely helpful. It did take up a lot of SP, but I had 5 Somas, a ton of SP restoratives, and had basically asked Kawakami to make me either curry or coffee every single night I was able to, so I pretty much had an infinite supply of it.

It helped that P5R made Akechi a much more likable character too. I liked him all right in P5, but didn't find him all that sympathetic, and thought that the characters treating him so sympathetically was extremely jarring considering all the horrible shit he did (which includes making orphans of both Haru and Futaba). That still kind of holds true, but since you can actually build a social link with him outside of the story, you can see more of his character and it improved him in leaps and bounds. Not to mention that his 8th confidant rank was....something else ^^; having a section of the new story too with just Joker and Akechi, (and kind of Sumire too, but mostly just those two) was awesome. I loved seeing them team up to punch Adam Kadmon man in the face. Plus, having more time with him in the Phantom Thieves without pretense had him going "I am surrounded by idiots" basically the whole time he was there. Like—I even felt disappointed that Akechi was actually dead and he didn't survive. That's a huge improvement over from me wishing one of the dialogue options was "fuck you lmao" during his death scene at the end of Shido's palace when he asked the Phantom Thieves to promise him to change Shido's heart.

For Sumire though, she had a good character arc. Like her gameplay though, she was badly overshadowed by both Akechi and Maruki. Even still, I liked her character arc and everything, and her social link. Even if I ended up liking Kasumi more in the end anyway rip

That's kind of all I have to say about her, oof. She was good, but other elements took attention away from her pretty badly.

Maruki though... Maruki was amazing. He was a fantastic antagonist because I got to punch him in the face, his palace was amazing, I loved the music, the different sections were cool, and I even liked the color maze bridge puzzle thing. I definitely wouldn't like it so much if I ever replayed it, especially if I try to get that final Will Seed, which wasn't hard, but did take kind of a while, but I don't think I will be so it's not a problem.

He had such good motivations, and the fact that he didn't ever actually hurt anyone other than when he punched Joker in the face made him really sympathetic and redeemable to me. At the end of the day, all he actually wanted to do was make people happy and not have to suffer, and was willing to destroy himself in order to achieve it. But just like with every belief, it went too far and he took away people's free will and ability to pick for themselves. The kind of moral question about the entire thing was very interesting, and I kind of wish it was more further addressed. There should have been Sojiro or some other character that was perfectly happy in Maruki's alternate reality so they could challenge the Phantom Thieves in a way Maruki wasn't able to. Still, what was done was really good and I liked it a lot.

...

Even all that said, I have no idea why the hell Joker could not use Satanael. There was such a perfect opportunity to use it once Maruki evolved his persona to Adam Kadmon, a giant persona. Hell, it was still small when compared to Satanael. It's after beating Yaldabaoth so Joker should have access to it. It would have been epic to be able to use a giant Satanael in a normal-ish boss fight. I'm sure there are some explanations as to why, but the game never mentions it or even acknowledges Satanael so it doesn't count and I'm still bitter. The writers forgot that Joker has a persona literally as big as a cognitive god and that kind of broke some immersion for me. Immersion completely went out the window once Joker and Maruki started punching each other but STILL. Satanael's not that great a persona, but having it show up in the story again would have been so awesome to use a persona about as big as Shibuya more than once.

Hardly comparable to my beef about Satanael, but I wish that while the party members were acting as Phantom Thieves, or at least while they're in the metaverse, the names on their text boxes would change to their Phantom Thief names. There's no reason why they didn't, especially since the characters exclusively use their Phantom Thief names to call each other anyway. It's not a huge deal or anything, but I would have liked it.

I loved Royal, and totally think it's better than P5 vanilla. Its new semester kind of takes away from the superb ending of the vanilla game, but the new stuff still makes up for it. Don't get me wrong, you can still get the original ending from the vanilla game in Royal, at least I'm pretty sure you can, but it involves you missing out on all the new content, including Violet as a party member and getting Crow back, plus Joker's showtimes so it's not worth it imo

I wasn't actually looking forward to the game when it was announced, or even planning on getting it, but I had the Phantom Thieves' edition pre-ordered for me as a Christmas present so I wasn't going to...not play it lol. I'm extremely glad I got it though, even if I otherwise wouldn't have, and now that I have finished it, I'm very happy with the game. The gameplay's improved by leaps and bounds, and the new content was all amazing.

... And I got to punch Maruki in the face.

I did end up getting the platinum trophy for Royal too, so despite the Phantom Thieves den thing, I don't see myself going back to it, at least any time soon. It was an amazing experience, but I can set my sights back to FFVII now lol.

...Although, I did hear you can fight the twins and Lavenza so uhhh maybe i won't be shelfing it so soon—

#persona 5 royal #persona #p5r spoilers #personal #long post

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tksfandomhellhole · 5 years ago

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totally didn't just give up on the tumblr app and boot up my laptop just to post this

Fandom: Apex Legends (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Mirage | Elliott Witt Summary:

Mirage is his own biggest fan, because he knows no one else will be.

Mostly an introspective/character piece I did a few weeks back for Mirage and lowkey a plea for buff (which is finally happening!!) Caustic is technically there as well.

Mirage would be elated if you told him that you'd find his picture if you looked up "Self-absorbed" in the dictionary. The idea of negative press doesn't exist to him.

Or at least that's what he tries to make it seem like.

So it would come as a surprise to most that perhaps the most egotistical and self-absorbed of the Legends does not check the ratings or read the comments on any forums about the games.

In fact, aside from hanging fanart on the walls, he keeps any fan letters in a box under his bed only for days where he's at his worst.

(He tends to have a lot of those)

Because the reality is, Mirage is his own biggest fan.

If he wasn't, who else would be? He's certain it's no one.

Growing up the youngest of four boys, it was easy for Elliott to internalize a lot of things that his brothers didn't really mean.

One of those things was that being the youngest made him the weakest.

When his brothers went off to fight in the Frontier War they told him he had the very important job of staying here and watching over their mom. He knew it was just a way to make him feel better about not being able to fight the good fight. That once again he was being excluded because he was the youngest.

It didn't really make him feel that much better when the war was still going on and he was sitting at home feeling useless.

And it definitely didn't make him feel any better when they were reported MIA once the war ended. That now he'd never get the chance to prove himself. That he had stayed at home, useless, while his brothers had fought and lost their lives.

Elliott hates being useless.

Unfortunate that his curse of uselessness seems to have followed him into the games, the one place where he thought he could finally prove himself.

Most of his teammates wouldn't guess it, but Mirage actually brings his 110% to every game.

Problem is, his 110% is not even 70% of some of his more skilled teammates.

And when everyone besides you brings something valuable to the table, you have to hide your inadequacies behind self-deprecation and humor.

Today he's the jump master and the pressure to not make a shit landing might already be getting to him a little. "Just a thought, we could land here." He throws out, trying to gauge his teammates' reactions to the spot. Annnnd dead silence. Great. He takes their silence as confirmation and launches anyways.

"Follow the leader! Or don't- do whatever, as long as we win."

Of course, suddenly his teammates find some other spot far more interesting than the one he pinged, and take that as invitation to silently break off.

He lands on his own and loots as quickly as possible. By some stroke of luck, it's not an active spot, and he gets the drop on an enemy Lifeline.

"Nobody had your back, huh? Hate when that happens." He tells her, irony not lost on him.

He loots her stuff as quickly as possible and drops out, hoping to avoid any smoke from her teammates.

"I'm down!" He hears Wraith say over the comm lines. He takes a look at his map and finds she's none too close to him.

But what is Mirage, if not at least a good teammate, even at the cost of biting off way more than he can chew?

"Uhhh, okay, don't panic, I'm coming to save you." he says with what feels like is becoming his trademark uncertainty.

He makes it all of thirty yards before the squad from earlier runs up on him, and two of them against two of him doesn't work out in his favor. "Bad news, I'm down!" He says over the comm line, using the few extra seconds his knockdown cloak buys him to inch his way into a corner out of sight. Another squad joins the fray, and the first squad ignores him in favor of not dying. He watches the firefight go down suddenly regretting his choice of words earlier. He'd much rather his team all be in one place right now.

To his relief, he can see on the map that Caustic seems to have made his way towards Wraith's now banner and recovers it.

He's not too optimistic about his own outlook though. Caustic is not the fastest legend and there's still a sizeable distance between them.

There's also the fact that Caustic has no real reason to come recover him anyways.

Mirage isn't the worst shooter in the game, but he's no Bangalore. And he's no Pathfinder, no Crypto, no Gibraltar- hell even Revenant at least deploys a death totem that he doesn't care who uses.

No he doesn't do any of the things that everyone else does. He's just another- or well several- pretty faces for people to shoot at.

And he tries, he really does. He keeps an eye on everyone's shields and weapons, keeps an eye out for useful equipment, revives and respawns teammates as soon as possible, but deep down he knows it isn't good enough. There's no advantage to teaming with him. And if there's no advantage, it means anyone stuck with him is at a disadvantage.

When he first joined the Apex Games, the last thing he was worried about was the other people. He was used to looking out for himself- he had already learned the hard way that he was the only person who'd care about what happened to him outside of his mother. So he outfitted himself with his holo-tech and did his best to make a name for himself in the games. He didn't realize at the time how integral teamwork would become, and how lacking that in turn made him.

No matter which way you flip it, all he is good for is eating bullets.

He wants to improve his holograms in some way, but he's no Wattson, and he didn't inherit any of his mother's genius. So instead he tinkers with an old holo-suit every weekend trying to figure out a way to make the modifications he wants a reality. Instead he jokes about how bad he is at this while putting in extra hours at the range whenever possible. Instead he enters combat with the confidence of a seasoned pro and none of the skill to back it up.

Self-absorbed, self-serving, and insufficient. Well aren't I just the greatest person to have on the team? Mirage thinks loathingly.

Maybe it's more fitting if he dies here alone, nothing but fakes to back him- the biggest fake of them all- up. Maybe he was wrong to think he could really be a Legend, much less a champion.

As his eyes begin to cloud over, he's ready for death's cold embrace yet again.

Instead, someone's shoes are in front of him now, and a muffled sigh of discontent is heard as a hand on his shoulder pushes him backwards gently and he's suddenly jabbed.

He really doesn't know when Caustic got here, but he expresses his thanks as Caustic pulls him to his feet.

"Your gratitude is acknowledged, let us move now before the ring comes in." The remnants of the earlier fight are still here in the form of half looted deathboxes, and he has to scour through some of those for some heals and ammo before they move on.

It's looking like the respawn beacon they were heading for won't be in the next ring, unfortunately for Wraith, so they cut their losses and head to the center.

They encounter another two or three squads, and one rambunctious Octane along the way, Mirage continuously finding himself downed in increasingly ludicrous ways.

"I've been observing... I hate to be the first person to break it to you, but I dont think you were really made for these kinds of games, Witt." Caustic confesses, while reviving Mirage for the 4th time.

He just sighs. "Yeah... yea, I know."

"So then why do you do it? Why the masochistic endeavor of placing yourself in an environment where you are the weakest link?"

"Wow, ok, little harsh there." He says, pride hurting more than the injection site of the syringe. "I just... want someone to remember me. And I guess I thought, 'What better way to be remembered than dying in the most glorious bloodsport of our generation?"

"A foolish sentiment. Life is insignificant; why not accept your fate?"

"Listen, I don't have to explain myself to you." Mirage says, a little defensive, and more than a little annoyed.

"Have it your way. Your incredible knack for narrowly defying death has provided me an insurmountable amount of data. So much to notate..."

"Glad to be of service." Mirage mutters bitterly.

Mirage does feel a little stupid when he compares his reasoning to other people's. It's not noble or some part of a larger plan. He isn't searching for answers. He isn't doing it because he has to. He isn't even being straight about it and just acting out of boredom like Octane or Revenant.

He's just worried that once everyone has forgotten him it'll be like he never existed at all.

His mom has already started forgetting... who will be left when she's gone?

It's the one thing that truly terrifies him.

So he keeps going on, even though he's the weakest link.

He keeps going on even if he's the biggest joke amongst the legends.

He keeps going on, even if everyone else is laughing at him and not with him.

Because as long as they're laughing he knows they see him.

Really, he's more concerned about what's gonna happen once they stop finding him funny.

No respawn beacon will ever be able to save him then.

---

They don't win the game.

He wakes up alone in the med ward, common procedure for the squads upon elimination from the game.

He heads back to his room, not bothering to check the results, congratulate the champions, or talk to any of the other legends.

No one stops him.

He sits on the floor next to his bed and pulls out the box from underneath, taking out a letter at random.

The words start to blur about a paragraph in, and he puts it back once he realizes his tears are just drenching it entirely at this point.

He's ready to go home.

But there's nothing left for him to go back too.

#apex legends #apex legends fanfic #mirage #fanfic #im incapable of creating content that doesnt have angst you have been warned

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ourladyofomega · 4 years ago

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Close to the end of the year, and also when the semester ended, I looked forward in selling my books after finals so that I would get money back. I’d get a friend together to take me to Tower Records in Huntington. In a matter of one hour, that money would be gone. Right now I’d be very excited about what I would find in those bins. But due to the pandemic it hasn’t been the case and the euphoria of being in a store, any store at midnight, has been absent. During the mid-00′s, Tower Records went under and currently co-opting the former Huntington location is a third-rate clothing store.

One day as I was driving to work, people stood on the sidewalks of Route 110 holding picket signs like it was the end of the world. First advertised on those signs were 10%-30% percent off all merchandise at Tower. When passers-by and sidewalk shoppers took a closer look, they ended up in shock as they realized that it was an end of an era of some sort. A few days later, the stakes went up. 40%-60% discounts finally garnered Tower’s final audience and rush of shoppers. The final swan song came when all merchandise was down to a whopping 70%-90% percent off. That was when they had their biggest ever turnout because no one wanted to pay full price for music. (Not then when downloading broke, and still not now.) Music collectors and fans were reluctant to buy any new release or any title that was full price. Now they all jumped at the opportunity to clean out Tower’s shelves with a steal. Buyers hovered and tracked entire sections looking for that one shining crown jewel that made their lifetime.

As a music fan for years, I couldn’t begin to tell you how much Tower shaped my taste in music and style. Unlike FYE and Sam Goody, Tower was the one commercial music chain that had a lot of artists and titles that no other commercial store had. Think of what was the Port Jefferson Music Den (closed in 2002) where they were the one underground record store that had everything other stores didn’t even come close to carry. I remember summertimes visiting the Massapequa location picking up rare CD singles and imports as well as other rare hard-to-find and ahead-of-release-date CD’s and artists I picked up such as Autechre’s LP5 (1999) and EC8OR’s World Beaters (1998).

And being a fan of print media and graphic design, I also bought stacks of magazines every week. The magazine selection in Huntington was unrivaled, measuring at least several rows of 60-70 feet of anything and everything you could think of: Industrial Nation, Punk Planet, The Wire, Disruptiv, Mass Appeal, Mean, Vice, YRB, and art design magazines like LoDown, as well as hardcore zines Short Fast Loud!, Maximum Rock And Roll, Under The Volcano and other cult magazines I happened to be lucky to pick up (Lisa Carver’s Rollerderby, anyone?). Every month went at least $60.00-$70.00 total on magazines alone.

Yet towards the end of Tower’s presence I didn’t pick up on music as much because just like other buyers, I had to stand back at the higher-than-usual prices for releases. Compared to discount chains like Best Buy and other record stores, it wasn’t unusual to find a new release with no-frills to be priced at $19.99 or even $21.99. DVDs I noticed were priced at times to be five dollars higher than their competitors. Maybe some shoppers felt the same sentiment as I did.

Not only that, the forces of internet piracy and MP3 downloading of recent years proved to be too dominant and powerful to be stopped, and is currently but begrudgingly co-existing with other existing record stores this day and age. Consumers then re-routed the system right to their own bedrooms with no price to pay for their music. These factors, plus incurring debt that led the chain to bankruptcy proved to be too much for them.

Without Tower Records, it was less convenient for me to pick up whatever artist or movie title I wanted right away right after work. When Tower closed down it took a bite out of some of the physical record collecting I had. Yet, only they could have given me these experiences: no more magazines letting me know what the latest art direction was or who was in the spotlight. No more frantically walking around with a huge stack of everything and more in my hands still looking for one more CD. No more back room full of posters, sheet music, jazz, classical, hip-hop, techno, and soul. No more silly Hollywood memorabilia and comic-book fantasy merchandise. No more video games, no more characters hanging out in the store wearing goth, back-pack indie, or hardcore.

No more attitudes from the employees who treated customers like nothing because they felt like it. That was really the only problem I had with Tower Records, mostly in Huntington. The cashiers pointed people out with a huff and puff because they were given more than enough change or money, or how they rang up a transaction without even making an emotion or saying a word. Some stuck female cashiers had that flat out know-it-all act for no apparent reason. Sometimes I even renounced the shop because of its sometimes poor service, but that was not the case in the end as the attitude did improve, thank you.

And no more of where I had my first date with my Peruvian then-girlfriend. I would never forget wandering in that Huntington store looking for the next purchase when she walked in, greeting each other with open arms. We left when a thunderstorm knocked the power out but we returned after dinner and had a fun time, the first of many for months to come. This was also where I met a pretty pale Irish ginger who I later met again into at community college the following year.

What is now left of the record store scene on Long Island? A few of them which existed when Tower crumbled are still around (Cheapo’s, Looney Tunes, Infinity Records) and even new ones popped up (High Fidelity and Record Reserve to naming two). Some opened and either re-located (Record Stop) or said good-bye by the time you read this (Permanent Records and Vinyl Paradise). The majority of shops in total are still around because internet opinion made their case about the lack of quality, esthetics, art, and ritual of having the physical thing that you don’t get from digital or streaming; and the classic ritual and synesthesia of experiencing a record store and handling the format makes the case of cherishing these shops. On the online circuit, some titles are now being released in very limited quantity, mainly in the low thousands or even in the mere hundreds. It’s a huge drop-off from what the millions in print runs used to be. Naming your own price for digital downloads, streaming, or even buying from the label or artist directly is the way to go nowadays.

With my radio show, Omega WUSB, I do most of my music testing at home. My habits have been ruined by MP3s and streams as acquiring music is of very low cost and extremely ubiquitous. After all that, it hasn’t stopped me from going to record stores or celebrating Record Store Day to find breaks, samples, or dollar music to win it all. Yes, I still very much prefer to go out of town to buy music with my money which I support the artists and shops I like. Even to this day, I’ll be very happy spending $200.00-$250.00 on music just to have the artwork, colors, lyrics, pictures, ink, liner notes, credits, barcodes, and the entire release itself, because later on I will turn a profit in style points as time goes by, just like when people are hoarding and sharing their vinyl and cassette collections now.

That November was my last visit to Tower Records ever, a few months after getting a substantial check from a near-fatal car accident. Acquired would be some titles that made my pre-Omega shows and would be part of some personal seasonal mixtapes. Prices were 40% off on music and that was when I decided to go and treat myself. There comes a time when you just can’t wait and risk a good sale on music before they’re gone forever. The total spent on my last ever visit there was $200.00 on music and the Andy Warhol book at $75.00, originally $125.00 (have you ever carried a book so massive and so heavy?) I took my bags worth of music and magazines with me to the trunk of my car, never to return to the Tower Records experience again.

On another note, I’m still friends with M-Ro to this day, a former manager there. He moved on to become a lead of Hicksville’s Utopia further west before becoming a ticket broker at an independent movie house. He once had a show on WUSB and was a major figurehead and darling of the Long Island punk scene. You might also know his brother J-Ro, a master archivist who still has his own show with us and is known as a major record collector by practically everyone on the island.

#omega #Tower Records #our lady omega #personal #Long Island #friends #music

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retphienix · 4 years ago

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Credits are rolling as I type because I saw fit to forego capturing since I didn’t REALLY do a live playthrough on the blog and instead just showed off moments here and there.

Just wanted to say, that was damned good.

It gave off such a dnd vibe to me and since I’ve yet to indulge in that truly it was a nice romp.

But seriously, what an awesome game with even more potential if more were to come in the series. Phenomenal writing and a very simple but ingenious gimmick of making magic simple but full of potential since it interacts with the elements and environment. A+ stuff there.

Did get a chuckle out of the ending slides surrounding a CaC gaining divinity basically just sliding the camera onto the same image 6 times where it clearly would be different slides if you used a default character lol.

What to dwell on...

Combat in the game was phenomenal! But it’s funny to me how it ended up in MY party.

Since I made the grave mistake of letting all the companions maintain their default classes I ended up with a rather eclectic combo and my OWN stubborness lead to me sticking to that for the most part.

Beardy as a full on warrior in the vein of my old WoW character. He ended up being a friggin’ godsend to the team since I ended up going more physical damage than magic (but still a 2/2 split team count wise TECHNICALLY).

Going heavy in 2h weapons and stength just resulted in him tearing everyone apart at a moments notice all while having his hand on that idol of resurrection so I could literally never be too risky with him. (A touch of a difficulty equalizer in some cases and complete nullification in other instances sadly)

Beast ended up molded to straight hydro for heals all while wielding the biggest shield I could manage at any moment and stacking con/int. He was bulky, sure, but didn’t really abuse that much and instead spent every battle freezing everyone with freezing blast and rain, or saying screw it and using blood rain with his torturer perk so everyone bled while he spammed heals. It was effective but mostly just CC.

Fane was the second MVP if not total MVP? Beardy really did the most all said, but Fane? A Necessity At All Times.

He was holding the second idol, though rarely needed it (neither did Beardy to be honest, but still).

Fane went all in on summoning, and aero as his secondary for when he ran out of spells etc.

His incarnate was insane through this run, I love how summoning can honestly give you either a huge physical damage output buff or any element you please. His summoning is why my 2/2 split party ended up leaning heavy on physical, because it made more sense to abuse a physical incarnate’s output than to constantly grab a water one (for restoration magic and water damage) or fire or whatever else.

Having powerful shock spells was nice too. But mostly he summoned and then buffed his summons. I INTENDED to stack some poison related spells on someone for healing him, but Fane ended up going the entire game after act 1 without healing outside of bottles and he did just fine. God that sleeping bag or what have you is op for out of combat and who needs healing in combat when you have an insta-rez on death and tons of damage going out.

Oh and by the end I decided to spend like 144k on a ring with 1/3rd the magic defense on it because he permanently poisoned him. So that was nice.

Sibelle did fuck all the whole time.

Which is rude to say, sure, and you’d be right to say that. I ended up enjoying Sib’s character and she did put out some nice burst damage in physical form at the start of most fights.

But I never gave her a chance and it shows. (in terms of build).

She joined as a worthless rogue with no invis or survivability and dual wield burst being her only tool, and instead of fixing that with some invis or survivability, I said “Sure, Sib. You’re a lethal assassin. Tell me how that works out.” and she proceeded to spend like 60-70% of the fights in the game face down in the pavement because after her initial burst of damage she’d die and I couldn’t be arsed to care.

She lived the final fight just fine though, go figure. She didn’t go down once and actually pulled her weight for more than just the first round. How novel a concept, Sib. Maybe next time grab some other talents outside of just scoundrel and dual wield.

What a self burn where I say I stubbornly made a bad character and it’s their fault. lol

Speaking of those idols real quick, it cracks me up how the one fight I completely botched was saved by them. When I ran into the paladin leader in the basement I decided to take him out since I heard he was with the black ring prior. I killed HIM just fine, but the rest of them were 2-3 levels above me and were rough as all hell.

Eventually it was Beardy, alone, in a corner, surrounded, and after like an hour of combat he finally fell. Everyone de-aggro’d. He rezzed with the idol. And I calming rezzed my team and walked out having killed the only person I needed to (and a couple extra). That was an amusing moment.

I love how the game would occasionally, with a straight face, do the most fantasy trope things possible and it felt FRESH since no one would dare do them today.

Things like trolls guarding bridges and a lot more I’m blanking on because of the credits rolling. I just appreciated that and found it really fun.

Credits just finished so I was reminded of the gift bags and what a damned shame!

When I first read up on them it was through a video showcasing how they can break the game etc A vid I’m sure someone would be aware of it they were aware of the subject matter.

Apparently at one point you could use them whenever to change and add features and still get credit for achievements/trophies etc. But that changed at some point so all these interesting gameplay tweaks are just sullied by you not getting credit for stuff.

Sure, that’s dumb of me to imply, but you know I’m right. No matter how much we fight the implication that trophies matter they still do to some degree. I, for one, like scrolling through them as a sort of list of past exploits, I even get some nice memories from doing just that, but activate a bag and you don’t get to write down that achievement.

Meaningless, sure, but enough of a dissuasion to prevent me doing it :/ For now at least. They really are a list of fun features to toggle! But why I harp on it is that some seem like 100% quality of life and nothing else and you still can’t use them without it disabling trophies :/ Things like “Sprint” for moving about the world faster, lord.

Achievements are such a stain on gaming, I swear. For a hundred reasons, and for making some like myself in this instance AVOID fun because we don’t “get credit” oh fuck off trophy. If you didn’t exist I’d have had more fun, hence why going back to play older titles that don’t have them is such a pure joy.

Bleh. I play into it AND hate it.

Anyways.

What’s there to say. Divinity 2 was a blast, I do wish for a more refined one later on but this was such a unique experience none the less.

Roughly 110 hours of gameplay (minus AFK time I do in damn near every game so I’ll say it was like 100 hours) and I’m left too speechless to say half the things that came to mind while playing. Darn it.

A+ stuff. I’m honestly still impressed that such a content loaded single player experience is ACTUALLY all that and able to do 4 player coop.

Sure it’s technically understandable, but in terms of what games, you know, generally do? That’s unthinkable to me. That’s the kind of thing that’s reserved for tabletop, hence my early mention of dnd. You don’t usually see a story driven things like this being coop on console- and if you do it’s lightly handled in a way where the coop player doesn’t matter. Like Fable 2 henchmen, or Fable 3 where the coop player might as well not exist and just shows up to do fights and follow the main player.

That’s the term.

Most coop rpgs have the MAIN player and then coop buds assuming they implement coop.

This game is more of a 4 MAIN players all at once situation and I’m entirely unfamiliar with that in gaming other than tabletop.

OBVIOUSLY this wasn’t too much of a big deal for my single player playthrough, but other than that it was almost always on my mind and lead to me starting 2 other runs with friends :) (that both pretty much died out because they both struggle to find time to play games as is so sitting down and coordinating 3 people for 2 separate coop runs of a 100 hour game wasn’t really happening- now I understand dnd groups pain lol)

Enough rambling when I admit I have lost all my talking points. Good game.

#divinity: original sin 2 #RetPlays

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rohobi · 7 years ago

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Pulse 04 | (m)

Wordcount: 9k; I got ahead of myself editing. Shout out to my eternal love @blushoseoks for being my beta and biggest supporter. I’ll do shout outs every chapter from now on :) LISTEN ▶

CHAPTER SUMMARY: ❝ Save me, I need your love before I fall. Love at first emergency trauma.❞

↳ INDEX → CHAPTER 5

↣ Hour 1-2 | Post-Explosion

“This is your Emergency Department speaking. There has been a mass casualty event with a total number of expected casualties exceeding current support levels. We are requesting urgent assistance from the following departments: neurosurgery, thoracics, burns and plastics, renal and urology, paediatrics, vascular and orthopaedics, to accommodate the demand for critical care. The first 48 hours are critical, please present to ED immediately and assist, thank you.”

“Taehyung, we need to go!” Yoongi shouts, pulling Taehyung by the lapel of his coat and pushing him through the stairwell doors like a doll. “Get off your fucking phone!”

“They’re saying it’s a terrorist attack?” Taehyung stammers, letting Yoongi pull him into the stairwell. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

His voice echoes off the walls, as Yoongi shouts. “Shut the fuck up Taehyung, we don’t have time for this. Put your phone away and get your fucking stupid fucking head in the game.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Now’s not the time to think about anything else but our hospital, okay?”

“Fine.”

Taehyung takes a deep breath. Yoongi was right. It wasn’t the time to talk about this, they needed to move. He shoves his phone back into his pocket but the pictures of fire and smoke tattoo themselves on the back of his eyelids, regardless. And, he moves just that little bit quicker knowing that you might be downstairs right now.

“Have you had something to eat?” Yoongi asks, pulling him down the stairs. “You’re going to need your energy.”

He shakes his head. “I have thankfully, you?”

Yoongi hums his response as he rushes down the stairs. “I’m fine for now, I don’t think we’ll get much time to replenish ourselves so make sure you’re okay and look after yourself. I suspect patients are beginning to roll in downstairs.”

Taehyung nods, following behind Yoongi. “Let’s go.”

They both rush without speaking to each other. Which was easier for Yoongi, his mind was in a dizzying state of panic, he could barely think straight. He was worried for you, knowing how heroic you try to be sometimes. He was worried for the patients, the ones you’ll no doubt be flooding his department and he was worried the most for Jimin, who had called him briefly in the back of an ambulance.

His phone had cut off mid sentence.

Yoongi’s heart had dropped and he was left screaming into the phone for a response and Sana, Taehyung’s Emergency Nurse nearby, had heard the broken sounds he made while she had packed her dressing table with bandages and saline. It was a moment of weakness for Yoongi, one he wasn't prepared to show anybody.

One that Sana had a front row seat in.

Everybody loses someone and something during these types of ordeals but you’re all in this together, no one will be left alone.

Taehyung begins to run, faster than he’s ever run before. He pants wildly next to Yoongi as they fly down staircases together, pushing through the ground floor white stairwell doors. It’s a sinking feeling of panic and responsibility, one that feels like tar at the bottom of his stomach.

Yoongi shoves his ID against the wall, they wait until the light turns green before barging through the staff only doors and down the glass walled corridor towards the Emergency Room.

They don’t speak.

They don’t even look at each other.

The pair run again panic running through their blood as it intoxicates and fuels their wildest imaginations. Scenarios flash through his mind, all full of death. He sees it, no matter how hard he tries not to, beneath the starlight, your body charred from fire, broken on impact-

-he clenches his eyes closed tightly, not wanting to think of it, not believing that could ever be the case. It was impossible, things like that don’t happen in real life.

Not to him.

There were so many things he hadn’t said.

So many things he wanted to explain.

But the unmistakable sound of an explosion tears through the night sky, and his blood runs cold sparked by the realisation that he might not get the opportunity to tell you them because things that shouldn’t happen in Seoul, are happening.

And fuck, was that a big explosion.

They come to a halt outside the windows as the unmistakable orange light in the distance boils up from the forest.

Another loud sound of the blast follows.

A shiver runs down Taehyung's body.

They stop where they are to look at each other. Eyes full of terror, unspoken panic and worry, both unsure of what to do next. Yoongi is trembling as he looks down at his phone, was Jimin safe? Please be safe.

“Yoongi?” Taehyung says watching his bottom lip quiver as Yoongi looks up at him, sad eyes glistening underneath the bright light. Have they both just lost someone they loved? because at this point in time as the city is pulled apart by fire and smoke, anything was possible.

“Are you okay Yoongi?”

“I’m fine. We’ll be fine. It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay,” Yoongi gulps, trying to convince himself, more-or-less him. Taehyung watches him take off his thin black tie before dumping it into his coat pocket. “I don’t ...I can’t talk about whatever the hell is going on right now. Let’s just follow protocol and try to survive the next 24 hours without hurting someone or worse, ourselves.”

Taehyung says nothing in return. Somehow he’s not so convinced that this will roll over smoothly and resolve within 24 hours, let alone the next 2 hours when patients start crashing into ED.

And he was right.

Everything had happened far too quickly for any ritualized plan to accommodate when the first wave of casualties poured into the emergency department lobby. Oxygen dependent patients were transported first, sent straight to the high dependency unit, rushed down hallways and straight into the General Med ward.

Intubated patients with severe wounds compatible with life were thrown straight into ICU. Orthopaedic patients with broken hips were sent straight up to Taehyung’s ward. It was an organised mess, an artform in itself until the very second it wasn’t.

Because the second wave came in with wounds related to the explosion.

And everything turned to shit.

All they had to go by now as the ER flooded with injured people, were coloured ribbons triaging people on who were likely to live the most from the injuries they sustained and who clearly, would not.

Across the hall, a nurse screams desperately out for help. “Dr. Taehyung, we need you over here. Vitals are crashing, we need orders!”

And so, he begins to run.

Taehyung has worked long enough in this industry to realise that life is a series of choices. Left or right? Up or down? Should you do this or should you do that? Should I give up happiness for the health of another? Should I stay or should I go?

Life is a series of choices strung together or pulled apart by either good or bad intentions, but for a doctor it’s much more abstruse. Their lives are about making the choices that affect the life and death of others. And, no matter how hard he tries to be omniscient and resilient in emergencies like this, he is still human. And no amount of normalizing the trauma he’s looking at right now, will ever make it not traumatic.

Because for the first time in a long time, Kim Taehyung is so fucking scared and nervous that he doesn’t know what to do.

“Dr. Taehyung!”

“H-he’s unresponsive,” he wipes the beads of sweat dripping down his forehead with the back of his hand. “What's his BP?” he exhales, watching Mena connect another bag of fluids to the patient.

The nurses rush around him.

“BPs 90/50. Heart rates 110, resps are 26,” she says, pointing down the patient’s body, “Chest has abnormal movement, he looks like a thoracic case.”

Taehyung can’t think straight for multiple reasons but he perseveres, even when he hears the scream from the same nurse earlier rattling his brain. “Dr. Taehyung we need you over here! Please! For God sake, we need your help!”

“Shit,” He nods at her, biting his bottom lip before letting it go. “Grab Dr. Han, he’s the doctor in your team right? because this is definitely a thoracic case and I need to attend to that orthopaedic emergency. Monitor him every 5 minutes, oxygen, pain relief and antibiotics please.”

Mena nods, running over to the nearest thoracic surgeon, Dr. Han. They both rush back over, Dr. Han pats Taehyung’s back. “Where's your team?” he asks and Taehyung shakes his head.

“Sana is suturing. Em’s in redzone. The others are with a hip fracture.”

Dr. Han smirks, “Well, stick to your team Taehyung. I can’t have you in my space all the damn time, I already get too much of it at Mina’s.”

“Convince her to divorce me then. And, I would stick to my own team, if you even tried to stick to yours,” There's a bitter taste swelling in his mouth as he looks at the surgeon in front of him. He was such a fucking jerk. “Look after your team so I don’t have to.”

Rolling his eyes, Taehyung walks away and down the hallway towards the red zone, where he should’ve been earlier and where he’s being called to now.

“Over here Tae!”

“I’m coming!” he shouts back, now running towards the agressively loud cardiac monitors as they alert to deterioration in status. “What's the issue-

“He’s arresting!” Nurse Em shouts, immediately jumping on his bed and initiating chest compressions. “Starting CPR.”

Rolling up his sleeves, Taehyung kicks the CPR break at the bottom of the bed, pulling the bed out from the wall while delegating advanced cardiac support roles to each member of staff. “Adrenaline, 10 ml IV go. I’ll intubate, defib now please!”

Taehyung runs to the head of the bed, looking at the empty basket hanging off the wall by the oxygen as everyone rushes around him.

“Fuck,” he shouts, prompting the interest of one of his students, who had been following him. “Younggi, I need an endotracheal tube and a laryngoscope.”

She nods, running as fast as she can to the storage room. Arriving less than a minute later with the intubation equipment box. He smiles at her, as she puts the box on the bedside dresser. “Watch closely because you’ll be doing this for the next one, I am tilting the head back to extend the atlanto-occipital joint. This will align the axes of the mouth, pharynx and trachea.”

The bed dips as a nurse continues chest compressions.

“Alright,” She passes laryngoscope to his gloved hands but he shakes his head, lifting his hand as in to stop. “Suction, please.”

Reaching over to the wall, she turns the unit on, handing him the long suction catheter. “Patients can vomit during resuscitation,” Taehyung sweeps it into his mouth, sucking up vomit before giving it back to Younggi. “Be mindful of that.”

He grabs the laryngoscope, inserting the tip of it into the right side of his mouth before fixing it straight into the vallecula. “And it goes right between the base of his tongue and the epiglottis.”

Taehyung looks down into his mouth, elevating the mandible and visualising the cords. Was it in the right place? Opening his other hand to her, he says without looking at her. “Endotracheal tube, please.”

She passes it to him, slapping it in his open palm.

Taehyung inserts the tube down his throat, and to the right side of the oropharynx before pushing the cuff past his vocal cords. The staff around him, prepare the patient for defibrillation.

Removing the laryngoscope, he hands it back to Younggi. Taemin, another student, hands Taehyung the paddles of the defibrillator while nodding to everyone in the team. The nurse gets off the patient's bed, panting from the CPR she just did.

“Administering shock, everyone get back!” Taehyung shouts, prompting everyone to stand back from the bed. Putting the paddles onto his chest, he shouts out louder. “Shoot!”

They all look back to the cardiac monitor for a change in rhythm before Taehyung leans forward to shock the patient again, and again until his rhythm comes back. Taehyung doesn't know how he does it, he blacks out every time he needs to do CPR but here he is, clear minded. The time calls for it, he assumes.

“He’s back in rhythm doctor, blood pressure is increasing ...he’s responding!” Taemin shouts out happily.

Taehyung sags in relief when he does. “Stabilize him please, monitor vitals, insert an indwelling catheter and take him upstairs to the cath lab stat.”

The students nod as do the other staff. “On it.”

Medical emergencies can happen at anytime and with little to no warning in the hospital but it’s the perfect place to have one. Taehyung hasn’t had many hands on experiences with cardiac arrests being in orthopaedics but he’s always loved the thrill of matters pertaining to the heart.

“Taehyung! I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU EVERYWHERE YOU BIG IDIOT! I’m really confused and I need you!” Sana shouts, pulling him to her bedside. “This patient came in without assistance, I literally know nothing about him. I think he might be one of the first patients from the second wave and I don't know what to do.”

“He’s unresponsive too?” he wipes the sweat dripping down his forehead with the back of his hand as he reaches over to look into his pupils. How many more pupils will he look at tonight? “What are his vitals looking like? ” he exhales, watching Sana connect another bag of fluids to the patient.

“Not too good at all doc. His haemoglobin is low, I questioned whether we should give him blood but then again ...I don't really know,” she says. Nodding, he grabs his stethoscope, looking over the patient. “You weren’t told anything about his history or anything but where’s he bleeding from then?” he says, looking at the blood seeping into the sheets.

“Here,” ripping open his shirt, bandages cover a hole in his chest. “His chest. I don’t think it’s an arterial bleed but I have a feeling it went straight through an organ.”

“Shit, why didn’t you tell me that first?” He laments, biting his bottom lip before letting it go.

Sana announces beside him as he turns up the volume on the cardiac monitor. “He’s dying, I’m putting a red ribbon on his bed.”

“Good idea,” Taehyung says, holding his stethoscope over the patient's heart. “Jugular vein distention due to impaired venous return to the heart and I hear muffled heart sounds probably due to fluid buildup inside the pericardium.”

Shit.

Fuck.

Looking at the monitor, he shouts out for a surgical trauma team. “Dr. Yoongi, we have a surgical emergency over here.”

“What?” Yoongi runs over immediately, perspiration dripping down his face. “What is it Tae?”

“It’s pericardial tamponade,” he nods, wrapping his stethoscope around his neck again. “Build up of blood in the pericardium, he’s got all the signs. No other notes on him. We came in knowing nothing.”

“Fucking hell,” he snaps, waving his hand, a trauma team run over, immediately taking the patient out of the yellow zone and straight into theatre. “We’ve got it from here.”

Taehyung and Sana stand side-by-side watching them rush the patient away. It was as if the entire thing happened in less than 5 seconds. “Thanks for that Taehyung. I nearly cried when Dr. Minho left me alone, never leave me like that, you asshole.”

“Stop running away then, you’re my nursing person, how can I possibly save people without you,” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows at her. “Plus, he probably got pulled into theatre so don’t be rude.”

“Communication is key,” she rolls her eyes. “Don’t excuse abandoning your team.”

“You’re right, communication is key. I’ll have a word with him when I see him.”

He closes the cubicle curtains as he leaves. It’s hot, Taehyung feels like a roast potato and he’s sweating, really badly sweating through his scrubs and he feels disgusting. He’s about to head into Yoongi’s office to steal his other coat but the shrivelled sound of his name being shouted across the floor, stops him.

“Dr. Taehyung, we need you!”

He groans, pouting as he reluctantly rushes over to the cubical. “What’s the problem now?” Looking at the patient, he swings straight into action.

Tears were beginning to sting his eyes as he moved from patient to patient. As he sutured, as he assessed as he touched abdomens and legs, assessed fractures and looked at x-rays. He was a machine, running on adrenaline and pure concern for your safety.

Where were you?

Why weren’t you here?

Were you hurt?

Are you alive?

And it all happens too quickly to process how one can simply walk back into ones life as if nothing had even happened at all. It all happens so quickly that Taehyung is caught completely off guard, shocked at your sudden arrival back into his life. He’s struck by the memories as they flood into his pounding heart and every corner of his brain, and for a long moment of time, he forgets where he even is.

But for you? the experience is vastly different. The wounds you sustained in your heart have scabbed over into a hard wall protecting you from peoples bullshit, you aren’t the same soft bitch you were back then. Taehyung lied to you and your brain had processed the dishonesty as a painful reminder that you were not worth the truth to him. It was an ugly thought that festered into your soul, gnawed it’s teeth into your memories and killed the sunflowers blooming in your heart.

But who really needs sunflowers anyway when you’ve already got the sun.

Lifting your bottom off the patients lap, you put all your weight onto your knees as you continue chest compressions while they pull you out of the back of the ambulance. Jungkook moves out of the way, holding his broken arm as Seokjin and a pair of medical students push the stretcher out of the bay and through the automatic emergency department doors.

It’s tense.

Every inch they move you, the buzzing in your ear gets painfully louder. As a result, your counting out loudly, practically shouting to your team as Jimin runs beside the stretcher. “14, 15, 16….”

“To the right!” a student says, enabling Jin to push you down the right white hallways. “How many people will we need for this?” he asks.

“As many as you want,” you shout, sweat dripping down your face. “Anyone who will help, I feel faint so let’s do this quickly please.”

“We’re almost there,” he reassures you, pushing you a little quicker on the stretcher. Patients with green ribbons wrapped around their arms, sitting on each side of the hallway, look up, moving out of the way for you, whispering among themselves.

People hold up phones, filming your ascent into the hospital.

Others simply gasp, following your every movement.

You are not surprised.

Nurses look startled as you pass and you can’t blame them. Your face is covered in soot and blood, and you’re doing CPR on a man with an entourage of 9 in your wake. The lights get brighter as you reach the hub of the Emergency Department but you have no time to look at the scenery because he’s still coding and as the minutes go by and no other doctor approaches, so does his chances of survival.

You look around the room for anyone running to your aid, no one does, so you scream. “I NEED HELP OVER HERE!”

Taehyung looks up to the sound of your voice, panicked and strained as he trips over a dressing table while staring at you. It’s contents spill across the floor but he can’t keep his eyes off of you enough to care.

You’re alive and it’s so like you to make an incredibly dramatic entrance.

“Taehyung,” Sana waves her hand in front of his face as she helps him up. “Are you on crack or something, why are you so out of it?”

“Where do we go?” you shout. Doctors look up from their clipboards, nurses begin their hustle to run towards you. The entire department watches you, patients suddenly transfixed by your entrance. “We need a bed!” you shout impossibly louder, a small brunette runs over, pointing to an empty cubicle.

Yoongi runs out from his office. “Over there, go, we have doctors waiting to assist. Are you hurt?”

You don’t answer.

Sweat drips through the dirt on your face.

“She is,” Jungkook offers from behind you. “We were too close for comfort back there, all of us have some kind of injury.”

Yoongi immediately looks over Jimin. “Thanks for letting me know, you should go and get treated Jungkook. Anyone with fucking eyes knows your dumbass did something noble again and got your arm broken.

“What?” Jungkook says, you can feel an argument about to perspire between the two again. “What did you just say?”

“Knowing you, I know you did something so piss off and get your arm treated.”

“No, I’m going to help Y/N, she needs help-

“GUYS, THERE'S MORE PRESSING ISSUES RIGHT NOW! YOU CAN MAKE OUT LATER. GET ME IN THE CUBICAL.”

Seokjin pushes you towards the empty cubicle and sweaty strands of hair fall in front of your face as you focus on compressions. The bed halts against the wall, people buzz around you, quick to provide advanced cardiac support.

“What happened?” a young doctor asks, and Jimin speaks up, relaying off everything he knew as the bedside rails are taken down. Sana connects Jimin’s ambu bag with oxygen, before pulling the resus trolley to the end of the bed.

Taehyung stands beside you, in shock as he looks over your appearance. There's a fresh patch of blood on the back of your coat, your hair is in a tangled floppy mess as loose strands covered your face and your scrubs couldn’t possibly get any dirtier. He’s wide eyed as an unspoken terror rips through him. Were you stuck in the hospital?

“Where’s the defib, we need to shock him now!” you shout, looking in every direction but at Taehyung, having not noticed he was even there.

His hands shake at his side as he watches everything play out as though he wasn’t even in the room. Your white coat is covered in blood and all of you look like a mess. What happened?

“Are you going to help?” Sana asks him, drawing up amiodarone and adrenaline beside him. He falters as she hangs up a bag of glucose and saline on the hook of the trolley, leaving the medication on the trolley. “Taehyung?”

He stands there, unable to move as the shock of seeing you rolls over him like wave full of razor blades. “Y/N…”

“What are you even saying? God, get your head in the game,” she stammers, rushing beside you to set up the defib pads on the patient. “Setting up the pads now, keep compressing doctor. The machine is going to analyse his heart rhythm.”

“Get down from there Y/N,” Yoongi instructs, voice quivering as he shoves Taehyung into the curtain. “Aja, get on compressions after shock delivery. Administrate the adrenaline Sana,” looking at Jimin at the foot of the bed, Yoongi smiles thankfully. “Baby, I’m glad your safe and all but stay at the head of the bed on those resps and you watch me.”

They all follow his orders quickly.

Jimin nods at him. His eyes are glistening with tears as he stares at the two people who matter the most to him, both okay. “Sorry to worry you Yoongi, it was a close one back there.”

Standing in front of Jimin, despite everything, Yoongi leans forward to kiss his forehead. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Jimin smiles at him. “Me too.”

“I’m getting down now. That’s my daily exercise done,” you shout, lifting your hands off the patient and clambering off the bed. Whoever put the bedrails down, didn’t click it correctly into place so as you go to get off, your foot gets stuck in between the bars, causing you’re unstable descent to the floor. “Woah-

Taehyung moves forward quick enough to catch you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you sag against his chest. It was the only thing he had been able to do since you arrived, let alone act like a normal person and think like a doctor. The feeling is so familiar to him that he wants to bathe in it, it’s so familiar it hurts.

You feel his pounding heart against your back and then, you ignore him, thinking it to be Irene as you stand up straight. “God, I nearly broke myself. Thank you for that.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything as he lets you go and stands back.

You don’t recognise him?

“Right, Yoongi, he has no allergies that we know of,” Leaning forward, you rip open the rest of the patients shirt. Jungkook stays at the foot of the bed. “His medical history is a bit complex….”

Yoongi stands beside you listening to Jungkook and Taehyung falls to the side of the curtain to watch. Grabbing the defib, you hold the paddles to the patients chest. “Everyone stand clear. Shoot!” you shock.

You all look back at the rhythm on the monitor.

No result.

The machine continues to analyse his heart rhythm as Aja jumps onto the bed on his knees to do chest compressions. The machine advises a secondary shock. You turn to the defib and turn up the voltage, holding the paddles, you shout. “Everyone move. Administering shock.”

They all move again.

You shock him

Chest compressions start again.

Your vision goes hazy.

And then your knees buck.

Yoongi catches you as you fall to his side.

You try to stand up again but your guts suddenly churn with lungs full of acid and a mouth full of saliva. Everything around you is moving too quickly with no narrative and the floor feels like it’s tilting. “I think I’m going to throw up, Yoongi can you please continue, I need to have a moment.”

Yoongi nods, grabbing the paddles. “I’m giving you more than a moment, I’ll have my team take over. Go and get treated, you too Irene and Jimin. Get out of my sight.”

“I’ll stay,” Irene says, looking between you all. “I’m not hurt and I want to ...no, I need to see this through. He has to be okay after everything we’ve gone through tonight.”

Yoongi nods. “Fine, but go get some rest after this. Go draw up some more adrenaline.” She smiles widely, nodding her head as she runs back to the foot of the bed.

As you walk away with Jimin, Dr. Xiumin wraps his arm around your waist, suddenly steering you towards the ambulance bay. There’s an urgency in his voice that feels like you two are being defibrillated because you throw thoughts of rest away in favour of the trembling favour on the tip of his tongue.

“I need your help,” he says, handing you a cool bottle of water. “Both of your help.”

“With what?” You and Jimin look over at each other in confusion. “Sure…”

There were many secrets kept at Forest Lakes, that you knew well but what you didn’t know about was the nature of the explosions and that the secret Dr. Xiumin harboured could get you all killed.

“Patients a 64 year old male, hemodynamically unstable with orthopaedic deformity,” Dr. Xiumin announces, pushing the stretcher towards a discrete room in the short stay unit, adjacent to ED. He turns to you, once the bed has been pushed up against the wall. His eyes are serious, hands shaking by his side. “He’s also the congressman and we need utmost discretion with his care.”

You still your body, eyes rushing over to the face you recognise faintly from your past, back then, he was the senator. “The congressman you say?”

He nods.

Stepping close to you, he whispers into your ear. “He was being treated in the VIP ward with other members of congress, Dr. Hoff suspected something wasn’t right ...could barely get a pint of blood in before his vitals crashed and we had to resuscitate him.”

“After we stabilised him, Dr. Hoff had this crazy suspicion that something wasn’t right, people were behaving weirdly, people we had never seen before so he asked that I sedate him and discreetly take him down to ED short stay for further treatment. By the time I got there, I had wheeled him into a chaotic department on Code Black, I haven’t seen Dr. Hoff since.”

The atmosphere is rendered silent by this.

Shooting a concerned sidelong glance to Jimin who had followed you in, you watch him bow his head while clenching his eyes closed. He bites down on his bottom lip to stop the tears from forming in his eyes. Jimin and Dr. Hoff had been close; a relationship akin to father and son.

“You haven’t seen him since you left the ward?” Jimin asks. His voice is muffled and you hear a squall of tears tangled in his throat and when adds, “Do you think he made it out alive?”

Silence.

You look back at the patient.

Dr. Xiumin looks at you. “I don’t need to answer that, you already know Jimin.”

And maybe he does but maybe now’s not the time to believe it.

Holding up the patient's file, Dr. Xiumin paces the room explaining his condition. It becomes clear that he needs more input from specialised doctors. “John Doe is a 64 year old male. Admitted to Forest Lakes today at 19:39 following an apparent car crash on the way to the Blue House. The mechanism of injury is unknown, injuries sustained range from an open fracture of the left radius and closed fracture of the left ulnar, bilateral lung contusion and I think it’s worth exploring whether he has an intracranial bleed.”

Writing on your clipboard, you nod. “Medical history?”

“Has a known history of drug and alcohol abuse, diabetes mellitus type 2 controlled well by oral hypoglycemics, smokes a pack of cigarettes a day. He’s got hypertension too.”

Writing your notes, Jimin takes his vital signs, checking them religiously for a change in status. “Y/N, he’s breathing rapidly, his resps are in the thirties and his oxygen saturations are shot, 78%. I’m putting him on high flow oxygen 15L/min.”

“Please,” you say, doing a head to toe examination of the patient. “Dr. Xiumin, he has unequal chest rise bilaterally with paradoxical movement of the chest wall.”

Walking around the side of his bed, you hold up the white sheet maintaining his dignity as you look at his body. “Upper chest abrasions but from the look of them, no open wounds.”

Rolling the patient on the side with you, Dr. Xiumin smiles. “No posterior injury, thank goodness.”

“Yes but he has reduced air entry and he looks like shit.” you snort, putting the blanket back on the patient. “He has no active bleeding elsewhere from what I see.”

Taking out your pupil torch, you open his eye lids with your finger tips, shining your torch to check for equal reflection of light in his pupils. “His glascow coma scale is pretty shitty but his pupils are good, I’ll still order a CT scan of his brain though, just to be sure.”

He nods. “Good idea.”

“Jimin, can you please hook him up to a litre of IV fluids, just NS 0.9% for now, let’s see if we can lift his blood pressure. I feel uncomfortable with how low it is.” you say, clicking your pen and putting it back into your pocket.

“I’m so glad I found you guys when I did,” Dr. Xiumin says, shifting on his feet beside you. “So, what can I do?”

“Get a pelvic, radius and ulna x-ray, a CT brain and lateral C-spine please. If you’re concerned with the results find the orthopaedic on reg and get him on board, we’ll definitely need his help.”

“I’ll get a portable one,” He smiles at you. “I’ll do that now.”

“Jimin, where's Irene? I need her on this too.” you ask and he turns to you while connecting the bag of fluids to the patient's cannula, making sure not to trip over the line as he walks over to you.

“She’s with our MVA cardiac arrest patient,” he stammers, ripping off his gloves and throwing them in the bin. “He’s been defibbed 10 times now, I think she’s waiting for him to go up to the hospitals lab for catheterisation.”

“Well,” you sigh, opening the door. “She needs to be here, I’ll go grab her. For now, give him some IV morphine and the antibiotics written on his drug chart. Monitor his condition every 5 minutes and I’ll grab Irene to draw some bloods. We need coags, blood chemistry and haemoglobin levels.”

“I can just do that for us?” Jimin nods, rushing straight into action. “I’ll be quick.”

“Yes, please. Let me know when you get the results.”

“Will do.” He says, pouting up at you as he pulls out the medication. “Go get Irene though, Forest Lakes staff need to stick together, we’re in enemy's territory right now and all this white is making me uncomfortable.”

Closing the door behind you, you sag against it, taking a deep breath. The weight of responsibility never felt so heavy and your entire body felt like jelly. You knees were trembling and at this rate, if someone were to hand you a scalpel, you’d be the one being cut open, you shook, everywhere.

Walking across the floor, your patient’s stretcher is quickly rushed past you. “LETS GO TEAM!” Doctors run beside him. Their white coats look like clouds in comparison to the raggedy one you’re about to throw out. Faces are covered with white surgical masks as their feet push the patient towards surgery.

You felt like a storm drain with everything continuously pouring in since the explosion, seemingly never stopping. You close your eyes for a second but the bright light still hits the back of your eyelids, making patterns of spangled chaotic colours of red, blue and white dance inside your skull.

It was disorienting, completely and insanely dizzying.

Being a doctor, you were aware of these symptoms. You need to stop and take a break, you’ve just experienced a massive trauma. The anxiety you are feeling is normal, you’d expect it following such an event. You rub over your heart, feeling palpitations ripple through your chest and the telltale signs of an anxiety attack as it forces your eyes back open. You don’t get a good look at the doctors pushing him away because everything looks like you're mixing pink paint with water.

“RUSH HIM BEFORE HE CRASHES, WE NEED AN EKG STAT!” A doctor you don’t know screams. “RUSH HIM TO CARDIO, WE’RE PUTTING HIM UNDER-

The doors close behind them.

His screams turn into muffled hopes of recovery as they get further and further away.

It is as though time stops for you, when Irene runs towards you, ponytail swishing behind her. Concern is drawn across her face as she rubs your shoulders, and somehow the simple action grounds you. She stares at you with big bright eyes.

You feel relieved.

Smiling at you, she says. “Hey, we brought him back, Dr. Taehyung went against his superiors orders and continued CPR, he didn’t die, we bought him back.”

“Wait, excuse me what did you just say? Who?” Your heart spikes as you look up in alarm. “Dr. Taehyung’s here?”

“He was, he went with the patient to the cath lab,” She smiles innocently, patting the dirt off her white nursing scrubs. “He was the good looking doctor who caught you when you fell getting off the patient. You lucky duck! Living my dream!” She smacks your arm playfully but the feeling of friendly banter doesn’t register as ice grows in your blood.

“Kim Taehyung?”

Blinking at you, she asks. “Why? Do you know him?”

You laugh nervously before shaking your head. “No, not anymore. He was someone I went to school with.”

“Oh.” She frowns, knowing not to press on the piece of personal information you’ve just offered. Irene hasn’t worked with you closely before this but everyone in the department knows about your personality and how closed off you are to your past.

It’s what made you a mystery but Irene knows better than that, you were a strong woman, dominating your field of medicine in a male dominated profession.

Diluting your art with matters of the heart, would be down right stupid and it would prove all the bearded smirking consultants right. You were a professional who moved like the wind when the need rose with enough force to become a hurricane. Irene respected that.

You still think about it sometimes.

What happened.

You were young back then, you sincerely believed everything you did was disposable, temporary; never meant to stay. Taehyung was different but you drove your own speeding car away from that one, leaving him and memories of him far behind. It hurt and you didn’t want hurt anymore, not when you had the ability to take the pain away.

Somehow you had thought meeting him again would be more dramatic and your heart would be able to point him out in a crowd in an instant. You snort before laughing loudly at the now growing fact that you hadn’t even recognised him, to caught up with your patient.

Go figure.

“I feel good.” you smile, and she shakes her shoulders cutely at you.

“Do you?”

You nod. “I’m a good doctor.”

Laughing, she slaps her your shoulder playfully. “Of course you are, you’ve done well. You should seriously look after yourself though. Now that we’re kind of free, do you want to see if there are any doctors to patch us up?”

“Yeah, I was going to ask you that to,” you say, pointing at her cheek. “Your wound doesn’t look deep enough for stitches, maybe just some steri strips for now?”

“I was thinking the same,” looking down at her scrubs, she frowns. “Honestly Y/N, I’m going to kill you if this blood doesn’t come out of my uniform.”

You snort. “Is that what you care about right now?”

“Of course, looks matter too! How else am I supposed to find myself a husband in this hospital?”

Rolling your eyes, you flick her forehead hard. “With your personality and compassion and you don’t need a man!”

“Not yet.” she giggles.

Yoongi walks up to you two with a stern look on his face, immediately throwing his arms around you. He pulls you into his chest tight, tenderly holding you against his smelly sweaty shirt. “I’m so fucking happy to see you, come on, let’s get you treated.”

Pulling out of his embrace, he pulls you and Irene over towards the bed next to Jungkooks. He looks up at you, arm already dressed and hanging up in pillowcase hanging from an IV pole.

“Hey.” he whispers as you gently sit on the bed, embarrassment floods your body when Yoongi closes the curtain and you realise that he’ll have to dig shards of glass out of your ass.

“How you feeling?” you ask him, peeling your coat off and dropping it to the floor. “You good?”

Jungkook sighs, putting his other arm up behind his head. “They gave me pain relief and I definitely won’t be able to practice with my arm like this but that’s fine.”

He watches you gently move onto your side, grimacing at the pain shooting down your leg. “Where are you hurt?” Yoongi asks, sitting on a stool beside you. Irene sits on the stool in Jungkook’s cubicle as a junior doctor attends to her cheek. “There’s a lot of blood here…”

You sigh, gesturing for Jungkook to close the curtain between you. “I have shards of glass in my butt.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Well,” Jungkook laughs behind his curtain. “We all knew you had something up there.”

“Yah.” you shout at Jungkook, holding up your fist at him and Yoongi laughs loudly behind you.

“Hey, can you not encourage him?” You turn and slap Yoongi’s chest. “Shut up, and treat me.”

After her cheek is bandaged, Irene pops through the curtain, standing next to Yoongi as she helps to gently pull down your pants. It stings and you really wish you had done your laundry because the underwear you’re wearing is a $3 thong you bought 3 years ago and it’s ugly.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he whispers, looking at the shards embedded into your skin. “Irene, can you cannulate her and draw up some IV pain relief for her, this is going to be fucking painful.”

“No, don’t do that. Just pull them out,” You say, sinking into the blankets. “If you give me pain relief, I won’t be able to work.”

Yoongi sighs. “Fine, you’re the boss.”

“Jungkook,” you say and he pulls open the curtain as Yoongi begins his extraction. “Talk to me, distract me. Tell me what's going through your mind.”

He glances at you, pink dusting his cheeks. “Thank you,” he whispers, the sincerity in his voice silences your automatic retort. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“Did she save your life Jungkookie?” Yoongi asks from behind you. You bite into the pillow as he pours antiseptic all over your butt.

Irene pops out to grab you a pair of new scrub pants.

“She saved my life Yoongi,” Jungkook says, eyes glistening intensely at you. You look away, unable to handle the intense sincerity on his face. “I got locked in the drug room ...and everyone had left me in there and when the first blast went off, I thought I was a dead man. I honestly and earnestly thought, I was going to die.”

Yoongi stays silent.

“I had grabbed a vial of medication, ready to end it all. I didn’t want to die in pain, you know? I had drawn it up and everything and was going to stab myself with it.”

You nod.

“I just kept thinking that if I died, no one would remember me as a good doctor and my family would be so upset about it. I rammed that door so many times but it wouldn’t budge. I had been bolted in.”

Pulling out the first shard of glass, you whimper into the blankets. “I’m so sorry Jungkook,” you whimper. “No one should’ve ever gone through what you did.”

“I screamed so much that it felt like my throat had been ripped raw Y/N, I thought I was going to truly die in there but when you opened the door, it was like taking a breath of air after being in water for too long. In those seconds of seeing you and that door opening, the most indescribable relief I have ever felt washed over me.”

You giggle. “I have that effect on people.” you wink, but it goes straight over him.

“I can’t thank you enough Y/N, I owe you my life,” you watch tears fall down his face. “I promise you that I’ll be different after this, I’ll be a good doctor and you’ll be proud of me.”

Yoongi pulls out the rest of the shards and you wince loudly, gripping onto the sheets. Jungkook wants to lean over and hold your hand through it but you’ve never been the type of girl to need someone else to support you and he has a broken arm, so he doesn’t.

Despite your aching need to be consoled.

Gritting your teeth as he dresses the wounds, Irene walks back through the curtains with a a pair of new pants, a new coat and a tetanus injection for you. “Look, Jungkook. Don’t tell me what you’re going to do, show me. I know you have it in you, just show me.”

“I will,” He nods. “I definitely will.”

Irene stands in front of you, injecting the vaccine into your arm. “Do you feel like this was supposed to happen?” she asks. “I’ve been thinking about it since we got here, but doesn’t it feel like we were supposed to come here?”

Yoongi’s pager goes off as he slaps your butt, you wince, shooting him an aggressive facial expression. Looking down, he clicks through the little black box before checking his phone.

He sighs immediately. “More incoming casualties, they’re closing down the Children's Hospital and all pediatric patients are being sent here. Great, just fucking great.”

Sitting up, you tie your hair back up, pulling all the strands out from your face. “Do we have any paediatric doctors on standby?”

He nods. “We do and we have you too.”

“Lets go, the others probably need help.” you sigh, jumping off the bed to put the fresh new pair of pants on and grabbing a fresh white Seoul Hearts coat from Irene's hands. You pick up your mangled stethoscope from your own coat on the floor before chucking it into the bin.

“Hey,” Yoongi stops you from following him. “Wash your fucking face girl, you look like you’ve been rolling around in dirt.”

“You swear too much Yoongi,” Rolling your eyes, you push his smirking face away. “I do not miss your potty mouth.”

He smiles sincerely at you. “I’m sure that’s not true. I’ll see you in the hub when you’re done, best to get some food in you.”

You salute him before walking towards the staff bathroom. Pushing through its white gender neutral labelled doors, the cold air conditioning hits your face as you walk towards the sink. You don’t look into the mirror yet, in fear of what you might see. So, you sag against the counter, turn the tap on and shove your hands underneath the stream.

You aren’t sure if it’s the relief from the water that you feel rush through you or the systemic relief from being alive. Who knows?

Leaning forward, you scrub your face with the warm water and a dollop of hand wash from the dispenser in front of you. You watch colours of black, brown and red go down the drain as you scrub behind your ears.

It hurts, your body hurts, you feel anxious, your joints feel stiff and your ass is burning and you’re kind of terrified for the next 48 hours but at least you were alive, and unlike any other situation, feeling the aforementioned was a truly good sign.

It’s true what they say about trauma being undeniably agonizing but as you as finally look up and stare at your now clean face, save for the scratches and superficial wounds on your arms, you realise the beauty of it all.

You’re safe.

Turning the tap off, you pull down the sleeves of your coat. You stare at your reflection one last time before pushing off the counter and heading out the bathroom. The next hours are uncertain, anything could happen, especially with Taehyung but there is one thing you are certain about. You are profoundly aware of the extraordinary value of life, happiness and love now that you have faced the possibility of loss.

You wonder how that might come into play when this is all over. Will you still be the same? Or will you realise your own life, happiness and love are important? And that no matter how many times you scrunch up the past like a piece of paper and throw it into the nearest bin, people who are meant to be in your life will always come back and be in your life.

The bathroom door closes behind you as you walk towards the hub of the Emergency Department.

Taehyung stands a couple feet away, throwing his surgical mask and apron into the bin.

You stop, faltering at the sight of him as chaos erupts around you both. He looks up, hands twitching at his side. It’s like time has paused when you both stare at each other for the first time in a long time.

And Taehyung smiles softly at your now clean appearance. “Y/N,” he says, beginning to walk across the room to you. You watch him as he makes four long strides towards you, closing the gap between you two. “It’s been a long time.”

Your heart begins to pound in what you hoped to be muscle memory as you stare blankly at the man. Your lips move and your brain blunders,

“T-taehyung.”

A/N: If I made you feel things, tell me here

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts imagines #kpop fanfic #bts v #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts trauma #bts medical #bts hospital #bangtan scenarios #bangtan ffic #bangtan imagines #bangtan fanfics

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primabcllerina-blog · 6 years ago

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⇢ ☆ did i just see CINDY KIMBERLY walking down hollywood boulevard? no, that’s just JULIETTA SANTOS, the TWENTY-ONE year old CISFEMALE and aspiring DANCER. i heard SHE has been described as +ARDENT & +CREATIVE, but can also be -RETICENT & -STUBBORN. i think i heard on tmz that UP UNTIL THE SHOW BEGAN, SHE WAS HOMELESS, LIVING OUT OF HER CAR but that’s probably not true. guess we’ll have to see if they make it.

heeeyyOoOoOoo friendos!! i’m mack, and this is my tiny dancer julietta. uh uhhh uhhhh under the cut you’ll find a run down of her background + her personality + connection ideas and i’m gonna .... try not to ramble but i’m Queen of That Shit™ so. .. .. .. godspeed

BACKGROUND.

julietta was born and raised in san bernadino, california where the crime rates are high, the public schools are shitty, and the temperature never dips below 50º !! her father wasn’t around and her mother ... really wasn’t much of a mother. she tried to be, but [ DRUG ADDICTION CW, OVERDOSE CW;; she was a young parent and struggled with a heroin addiction before her pregnancy and unfortunately continued to struggle with it after her daughter was born. she was in and out of rehab, clean one year and hooked again the next. when julietta was ten, her mother lost that battle and died of an overdose. ]

luckily, jules was in good hands. her grandmother loved her like she was the only good thing in the world. she was the one who enrolled jules in her first dance class at the age of three. the two of them spent an obscene amount of time in dance classes or at competitions. julietta thrived on stage, in fact, it was the only place she really allowed herself to be unapologetically, vibrantly her.

she did well in school but kept to herself for the most part. her evenings and weekends were spent in a dance studio or at competitions, and what little time she had left was taken up by her place on her high school’s dance team, homework, or a part time job teaching dance classes. things weren’t perfect, they weren’t easy, but they were okay for a while.

when jules was sixteen, however, her grandmother fell ill. she took the year off of competitions, picked up more hours of teaching, and watched as the woman who raised her withered away along with any financial stability the santos family might’ve had. hospital bills were high and morale was low. after a year and a half of sick, rita santos, the woman who shaped julietta, passed away.

jules was left alone, lost, and reluctant to go into the foster system as she was on the cusp of eighteen, so, as the sole benefactor of her grandmother’s assets, she did what she could. but funds run out and things go terribly wrong. after graduation, she hightailed it out of san bernadino and drove just a bit farther north to get back into the dance game and to further her education.

she used what money she had left to rent a shitty apartment and worked her butt off teaching dance classes and going to school part time. but funds run out and things go terribly wrong. unfortunately, julietta got involved with the wrong people, fell in love with the wrong boy, and signed a contract with the wrong agency. her ‘friends’ surrounded her with the same toxicity that killed her mother. her boyfriend made her feel small and slept with a slew of other people while they were together. her agent took her money and never got her gigs, skipping town when she finally caught on.

so she was pretty down in the dumps, but if her grandma taught her anything, it was resilience. but funds run out and things go!! terribly wrong!! unfortunately, she was forced to leave that shitty apartment and couch surfed in between stints of living in her car.

most of her money comes from teaching courses at different dance studios, cash prizes from competitions, and now the show. it was pure luck that she got on, got an apartment, and got to cut back on working in order to spend more time auditioning. things are looking up, but she’s not entirely sure she’s ready for the pressure of sharing her personal life with national television.

PERSONALITY.

julietta is incredibly passionate about dance and really comes to life when she’s on stage. pointe/classical ballet is her favorite, but she’s also professionally trained in contemporary/modern, hiphop, ballroom and–– though she might not admit to it–– tap. the julietta on stage is her truest form, where she’s honest and open and good. really, really good.

she’s stubborn as fuck and a little bit too much of a perfectionist. she works herself to exhaustion and tends to be her own biggest critic. it adds to her greatness as she pushes herself to be the best she can be, but it causes issues as well. because she’s so hardheaded, she doesn’t recognize her own limits. she won’t take help, even when it’s stupid to refuse it. like yes life throws her some curveballs but fucking hell she tends to make her own problems much worse.

she’s very very very ,... quite. ‘demure’ or ‘wallflower’ fits tbh. when she speaks, it’s purposeful, but it’s rare. more often than not, she spends her time observing rather than speaking, at the edge of a party rather than at the center of it. like she really is an introvert through and through, only letting that goofy, more vulnerable side of herself out when she’s around people who know her very well.

she’s got an old soul. like she just carries herself in the way natalie wood or rita hayworth or grace kelly would. she’s a hopeless romantic like that, idk how to explain it!!!

worries about literally everything all the time. Mom Friend™

she’s just... v quiet. v thoughtful and v quiet. wants to be your friend but is too scared to ask you.

FUN FACTS.

goes on runs when she gets stressed out; stays after hours in the studio when she’s had a bad day

dabbles in choreography and might be good at it but is TOO NERVOUS TO SHOW ANYONE

has a cat named binx that is a very recent addition to the santos family but yes he’s named after that binx

loves holidays. is 110% the kind of mom friend that sends her friends holiday themed care packages when she can afford it

life dream??? being misty copeland tbh. would settle for dancing with the stars opposite like.... chris hemsworth or michael b jordan tbh

keeps a thought journal on her at all times

wears one (1) piece of jewelry at all times: gold pendant necklace her grandma gave her on her 16th

wannabe selena quintanilla but isn’t a pop star soOoOoo

CONNECTION IDEAS.

old pals!! like long time friends from socal or school

bad influence/good influence

confidant.... both ways man someone she can talk to or someone that feels ready to vent to her

competitors like get her riled up and angry because that doesn’t happen too often

that brother/sister friendship like so close they might as well be family................ bc you know she doesn’t hAVE any

this bitch is BROKE so !! roommates wanted and appreciated

“are they just friends or are they dating who knows? not me”

that ride or die best friendship like seriously i just really love... fierce girl gang plots ok ok ok

“you know what stan twitter would love? a making it showmance”

bitch i love brainstorming and chem!!! so!! these are just run of the mill ideas to start with

SO ANYWAY THIS IS JULIETTA .... and it’s 1443245432 times longer than i wanted it to be so tldr: ya girl has had a rough go at it but she’s a-okay, quiet and observant and thriving on the dance stage !! will mom u and love u forever unless u hurt her feelings too much ya know???

so!! like this and i’ll IM you SORRY SORRY SORRY THIS IS SO LONG ALSDKJFHA

#drug addition cw #overdose cw #THIS IS SO OBNOXIOUS I HATE MYSELF Y'ALL #millennialsintro

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surveys-at-your-service · 6 years ago

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Survey #162

“in catholic school, vicious as roman rule, i got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black, and i held my tongue as she told me, ‘son, fear is the heart of love,’ so i never went back.”

Has a rainy day ever ruined your plans? I'm guessing at some point. Do you think you could survive a month of solitary confinement? HAHAHAHA NO I'd lose my fucking mind. What is something that you find utterly boring? TV in most cases. It's honestly really difficult for me to get into shows and be consistently entertained by them. What noise/sound can put you to sleep? Rain. When you are upset, do you tend to shut others out? It depends. Sometimes I seek comfort in others, other times I isolate. When was the last time you felt abandoned by someone? Recently. Does the sight of blood gross you out? Nope. Do you like red roses, or do you prefer another color? No preference, really. What is something you like to eat that is red? Strawberries. Have you ever gone through a red light? No. Do you fail to stop for stop signs, sometimes? No. When was the last time you were near the ocean? A couple months ago. What is your favorite eye color in the opposite sex? Bright blue. During which year of your life were you the most unhappy? 2016 was born of Satan himself. Have you ever seen a bluejay in person? Yeah, but now they give me a somewhat uncomfortable vibe, all the while thinking they're beautiful. Jason's nickname was "J Bird" by his father, and I collected feathers when I found them outside. Have you ever consumed a blue-colored drink? Mountain Dew Voltage is actually holy water. Is there anything you recycle, or should recycle? Ugh, we did recycle cans, but don't now. Mom got tired of going to do it. However, we do keep plastic bags for cleaning up a mess the dogs might make, and I also use it when changing Roman's litter. Do you like leaves better in the summer/spring, or in the fall? Is ANYONE going to answer with other than fall??? What is your favorite aspect of life? Just. Experiencing it, experiencing the emotions, feeling alive and real and valid even with how incredibly fleeting we are in the eternal universe. I really can't stand nihilism. Like make a DIFFERENCE, because enough of those change the world. When was the last time you were purposely amongst nature? Not since going out on that walk like... forever ago. I can't do this heat, but here, I don't really. Have anywhere to go. What do you think of global warming & the greenhouse effect? If you don't believe in them, honestly, just don't talk to me. Do you typically like green-colored candies? Yessss, apple-flavored. <3 Who is the most energetic and happy person you know of? Hmmm, that I personally know? I'm not sure. Who makes you smile the most often? Sara and Mark can do it at a snap of the finger. Magicians. How do you express your happiness? I become very vocally affectionate and obsessively express love for others, care more than ever at cheering others up, and I smile, laugh, and talk more. Has someone helped you out in a big way, recently? I don't know about /big/ way recently. Do you like to sing? I think I'm starting to??? I don't like my voice, but. It feels good to do. Where is somewhere that holds fond memories for you? This fishing spot deep in the woods that Dad and I would go to a lot to catch mostly striper. I loved that it was in the core of nature. Sometimes I would just stop fishing to explore. Do you like to watch the setting/rising sun? Always when I get the opportunity. Do you know of anyone who is going down the wrong track? Shit, most people I know. Most people I was friends with. Have you ever encountered a black widow? I believe so? Pretty positive at least once. They're so pretty to me, buuut not touchin'. What scares you, more than anything else? Losing those that mean most to me. I fear them leaving me in life by choice more than them dying, possibly. If there was no afterlife, could you handle it? Uh, I have to???? I wouldn't be aware of anything????? When in life did you feel the most care-free? Obviously as a child. Are you well-hydrated? Do you like water? Technically, no. I drink about two bottles a day I'd say, but that's not actually enough. I'm not a big fan of water, but. I do it for my health. Has an animal ever peed on you? Lol Venus did once when she was chilling on me for a long time, and some rodents I've had probably have. What would make a cool substitute color for the sun? Let her be p i n k. Which do you prefer: purple or pink? Can you guess??? What is your favorite color of the sunset/sunrise? *screams in pink* Is purple a good color for a car? Yaaaas. Do you prefer green or purple/red grapes? Purple. The green ones usually aren't firm enough for my taste. What color is your birthstone? Purple. Do you prefer hardly toasted at all or burnt toast? Barely toasted. Do you prefer guitar or piano music? Guitar if it's electric, but otherwise usually piano. Have your parents ever suspected something untrue about you? I don't believe so. Have you ever wished you’d been born someplace else? Yup. I'd far rather prefer to have not been born here. Have you ever had, or wanted, a pet ferret? Wanted. What’s a habit you find gross? Smoking. What’s the worst tattoo you’ve ever seen? This girl got her boyfriend's name a c r o s s h e r f a c e. What’s your favorite name ever? Alessandra. Think of how you used to be 3 years ago: how do you feel about who you were back then? Depressed as fuck. What’s the strangest fortune you’ve ever gotten from a fortune cookie? None come to mind. Do people ever force you to eat? Biiiitch you ain't gotta force me lmao. Is there a TV show you’ve wanted to start watching but never gotten around to? When I actually watched TV, uh... I'm not sure. When’s the last time you felt pressured to do something you didn’t really want to do? Not sure. Who was the last person to mess with your feelings? Mini. When was the last time you were in denial about something? What about? Boy, so many "I dunno"-type answers lol. I'm not really one for denial. Is there any certain style of architecture you really enjoy? GOTHIC. What was the last thing you gave up on? Colleen. 110% done with her ass. How easy is it for you to talk to someone else about your feelings? IT'S HARD. If you watch Parks and Recreation, who is your favorite character? Don't watch. Do you like watching documentaries? About animals, yes. What’s the last DIY project you did, if any? If you can’t remember, what’s something you’d be interested in doing? I've never done one. I suppose I'd like some Halloween ones I've seen. When’s the last time you had a problem that nobody could help you with? Recently. Friendship stuff. Do you have any siblings you absolutely despise? Why do you despise them? No. How many times a week do you shower? Is this a healthy thing for you? Four, usually. It's good for me. How many times a day do you eat a full meal? Is this a healthy thing to you? Like... maybe only once. Or none. What’s your favorite movie? Why do you like this movie so much? The Lion King. Who doesn't love it??? What’s your favorite genre of movies? Why is this? Horror. They just give me adrenaline, and I think about what if that actually happened. How many times a day do you say I love you? Who to usually? Always before bed to Sara. Sometimes multiple times a day to her. Always to Mom if she's leaving to go somewhere for a while. Do you prefer hoodies or jackets? Why do you prefer this choice? Hoodies. Just more comfy to me. Have you ever contemplated suicide before? Ever attempted it before? Contemplated a million times. Attempted once. Do knives scare you? Is it from watching scary movies? Yes, and no. They have horrifying potential to cause serious pain and warrant torture. Then I was running to slit my throat the night of the breakup, but Mom had to physically stop me, so I'm just. Uncomfortable around them. What would you consider to be the worst television channel out there? MTV. Have you ever had anyone drop off animals at your house and what kind? No. Do you remember when some of the Walmarts had a McDonald’s in them? Both the two in my area still do. When was the last time you were stung by a bee and what kind was it? Early spring, maybe? It was a bumblebee. Do you know anyone personally who had their house burn down before? Yes. Do you think the media can further manipulate our teenagers anymore? HAHAHAHA IT'LL NEVER END. Have you ever had someone sympathetically lie to make you feel better? Probably. Do you know anyone who has their septum pierced and does it look painful? Yes, and for me personally, yes, because I have thick cartilage. Has anyone ever kissed you in the rain and did it seem romantic at the time? Yeah, and I guess. When was the last time you listened to a genre of you music you despise? A couple days ago in the car. "IDFC" by Blackbear came on and I love that song okay. Have you ever taken a pregnancy test? No. Does your ex still think about you? Probably not. Honestly, who is the last person to tell you that they love you? Sara. Have you ever made out for more than a half hour straight? More like literally all night with a few pauses. What color was the last swimsuit you wore? Black. Have you ever been to an auto show? When I was very young because our family friend invited us to one. I was too young to stay home alone. Do you know anyone who still doesn’t have a smart phone? Maybe. Have you ever been on a cruise? No. Have you ever had an x-ray? Yes. What is your favorite Thanksgiving food? Honey ham, but I can't eat it anymore. What letter does your surname begin with? "D." Did you have a New Years kiss this year? No. Do you prefer to eat carrots raw or cooked? I hate carrots so much. What was the first video game you remember playing? Spyro. What is your favorite flavor of Skittles? Red. Have you ever met a famous political figure? No. What’s your go-to website when you’re really bored? I guess Facebook if it's been some hours since I looked. What is your favorite chocolate bar? The Reeses one made of little rectangles. But if you mean like, a *traditional* bar, Milky Way. What is your least favorite Sour Patch Kids color? Orange. Have you ever seen the movie Matilda? Yesss, adore it. Are you allergic to nuts or diary products? No. Do you have trust issues? "Pistanthrophobia: fear of trusting people due to past experience and relationships gone wrong." Do you think age matters in relationships? In romantic ones, yes it does if one is a juvenile. I can't find anything morally wrong with adults and big gaps, but they creep me out regardless. Has anyone ever called the cops on you? No. Have you ever had your nails so long that they curved down at the ends?  Omg no. Do you always wear flip flops no matter what the weather is? Is this??????? A direct attack????????? Has anyone ever told you that you have pretty feet? No, but it'd creep me the fuck out. If you don’t have one already, would you consider getting an iPhone? I want one. Who would you consider your favorite stand-up comedian? Living, not sure. Actually, probably Gabriel Iglesias. Would you say you’re too experienced or too inexperienced for your age? The latter. What is your favorite neon color? Ever buy nail polish that color? Pink. I don't paint my nails. Has anyone ever mistaken you to be a member of the opposite sex? No. Would you ever consider yourself over-dramatic? Not usually, but I can be. How often do you text people? Who do you text the most? Everyday, and Sara. What would you consider your second choice as a dream career? I really don't know. Both my dream jobs aren't obtainable for me, but uh. I guess something involving art. What is the longest amount of time you’ve played video games consecutively? Ha, definitely when a new WoW expansion came out. Can't remember if I played WoD or Legion longer in one go. Do you ever use cheats when you play video games? The kind that makes shit easier, no. Aesthetic changes, sure. Does your family go 'all out’ during the holidays? No. What’s your favorite kind of lunch meat to put on a sandwich? Ham, when I ate meat. When will you next see the person you love or are in love with? OCTOBER 3RD. Do you have anything that’s limited edition?  Maybe? How well can you handle vulgar things (i.e. gore, disturbing images, etc)?  I have a pretty high tolerance. But not so much at like disgusting medical issues. Would you marry someone if they were unable to have sex? I'm most likely marrying a girl. And I'm a girl, so. Who was the last male you hung out with? My dad! Who is your favorite person to text? Sara. She texts just like she talks, so I actually have interesting and more "real" conversations with her. What’s one nickname your family calls you? Just "Britt," really. Has anyone ever mistaken you for being gay/lesbian/bi? I had a therapist once who thought I was gay in middle school, so before I realized I was bi. Explain why you last threw up? A medicine I was on REALLY didn't like me. Ever kissed your best friend's significant other? That would be me. :'D But if you don't count Sara, no. Everyone deserves a second chance, right? Nooope. Would you ever want to ride in a canoe? I'd love to!!! Gay marriage: love is love or a horrible stand against God? Fuck any "loving" god who thinks consensual, sincere love is evil. Honestly. I will never be able to fathom how I was once against it. Do people tell you that you have an accent? No. Have you ever had an eating disorder? No. Do you prefer road trips or traveling on an airplane? Road triiiips! Do you enjoy tanning? Not at all. Have you ever seen The Breakfast Club and what’s your opinion of it? I didn't get the hype at all. Have you ever touched a dead body? Dead pets. Which of the seven deadly sins do you commit the most? Sloth. Did you have a Furby when you were younger? Yes. Demonic creatures. What part of your body are you self-conscious about? Everything???? But my stomach more than anything. Have you ever made out on a couch? Yeah. Have you ever been drunk at school or work? Nah. Have you finished school yet? I'm resuming college in January. What is your favorite kind of fruit juice? Mango and peach. Have you ever used a muscle stimulator before? Did it hurt? No. Have you ever done anything dangerous enough to have risked your life? Overdosing. Other things that we don't really think about too, like driving. Do you consider yourself egotistical? Do people call you egotistical? Not at all. I don't think anyone has? What gives you anxiety? So much, but I'll try to list those I can think of. Socializing (especially with those I don't know well), deciding the appropriate amount of eye contact when talking, making phone calls, driving, public speaking, being beside 18-wheelers, talking about things I'm really really passionate about, asking for things, awkward silences, answering the door for anyone (like when pizza is delivered and such), most men making even the slightest move that could be seen as flirting, and the list goes on and on. Could you ever be a medical guinea pig? Fuck that. Whats your favorite letter of the alphabet? "Z," maybe. Or "x." Whats your favorite Disney movie? TLK. "Finding Nemo" is right behind it. Have you ever handled a snake? Plenty of times. Could you ever be a living organ donor? For my mom, Dad, Sara, or my sisters, yes. Mom only has one kidney so I'd give up one of mine in a heartbeat if the last one was going. Have you ever contemplated suing someone? No. Have you ever drawn on a sleeping or inebriated person? No. Is it acceptable or unacceptable to smack a child as form of discipline? Fuck no. What’s your favorite way to dress? I feel most like myself in a gothic or metalhead look. What movie/game/etc. helps you calm down? My best bet of calming down via media is watch Mark. Probably go to old favorites. No movie is guaranteed to help me. Playing Silent Hill can soothe me, though. Ironically. Primarily the second. I think its the subtle ambiance and the steady footsteps that just relax me a bit. BUT SH2 also has my favorite soundtrack, so the actual music in it just does it for me. Do you believe in auras? I think I might? The concept is very interesting and some people really are talented at picking up the vibes of others. Animals are especially talented at that. What instrument do you wish you could master? Guitar. What do you put on hotdogs? When I ate them, ketchup and mustard. Do you have an unpopular opinion? What is it? Guacamole is fucking disgusting. Have you ever legitimately saved a person's life? No. What's your favorite book genre? Tbh, if I was to start reading again, I almost feel like it'd be something like teen/young adult romance???? Or fantasy, idk. Actually why not both. Do dogs like you? No joke, I've never had a dog be wary of me for more than a minute or so when first meeting me, rarely even that. Even when I go to others' houses and they have a usually uncertain dog, it's always pointed out that it's strange how (s)he takes to me so quickly.

#survey #quiz #questions #random

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