#notably very few people were cheering for him

[erikahenningsen]

Fulfilling my gay civic duty (booing the mayor of NYC at the pride parade)

[hadesisqueer]

One of the things I really disagree with is that benders in LoK are weaker than in ATLA.

Like, maybe normal benders kinda were. Peaceful times and all, average benders in LoK probably weren't as strong or trained as people who were forced to learn how to fight because there was a war going on.

Now, top benders, benders who actually take a role in the story? Not really.

We didn't actually see many Firebenders in LoK aside Mako, Iroh II, P'li and 88yo Zuko who we only saw fight once at the North Pole at night, at his weakest, okay. And well, Korra. Still, P'li was one of the rarest benders in the franchise. And Mako was a pretty talented Firebender, and Korra was about his level except the lightning generation thing. They're not Ozai or Iroh, okay, I'll give you that, but about Show Zuko level. And Iroh II was pretty good too.

We didn't see many Airbenders in ATLA, with the whole Aang being the last one thing. We know Gyatso was great we didn't actually see him bend (aside throwing pies or messing with Aang to cheer him up), nor any other airbenders aside other kids-- and also, all that was before ATLA, in flashbacks. Aang was a prodigy and very powerful. But in LoK, Tenzin wasn't a slouch either. Neither was Jinora, who was also a spiritual prodigy, or Zaheer, or even Kai, who was also pretty good considering the kid had only gotten airbending a few weeks ago. And Korra herself ended up becoming a pretty good airbender. Neither her or nearly all of the others were at Aang the Airbending Prodigy's level, okay, but all of them were good, most of all Tenzin. Tenzin was one of the strongest benders in the franchise overall, and tbh he was probably better than ATLA Aang (but probably not as good as Peak Aang).

The strongest Earthbenders in ATLA are Toph and King Bumi, and most of all Toph, I agree with saying that they are stronger than all the other Earthenders in LOK; the only ones who could keep up with them in terms of just earthbending are people like Yun or Jianzhu from Kuruk's and Kyoshi's Era, or, you know, Kyoshi herself as an adult. However, those are the two only Earthbenders who stick out more than LOK'S. The other talented Earthbenders in ATLA-- guys, come at me. Come at me, look me in the eye and tell me that you actually think Tyro or Haru could beat Lin, Su or Kuvira. Tell me that you actually think that any Dai Li agent of Aang's time could beat Bolin or Ghazan. C'mon, tell me, tell me that you actually believe that. Toph was the exception of ATLA, not the rule. Aside her and probably Bumi —and Lavabending and Metalbending could still give any of the others an advantage against him that gives them the ability to put up a good fight—, any Earthbender in LOK could probably beat any other Earthbender in ATLA without breaking a sweat.

And in terms of Waterbending it's not just that the Waterbenders in LOK are as strong as the ATLA ones, it's that most of them are stronger. The only notable Waterbenders in ATLA (the only ones if we're being honest, we didn't see many Waterbenders). Were Katara, Pakku, Hama and Aang. Aang was a weaker Waterbender than any of the previously mentioned ones, and Bloodbending inventor Hama got beat up by 14yo Katara. So, really, the strongest ones are Katara and Pakku. Now, Legend of Korra had, let's see *checks* Amon, Yakone, Unalaq, Tarrlok, Korra herself, Ming-Hua-- damn, even 'weaker' Waterbenders like Tonraq, Kya II, Eska or Desna are still pretty skilled. Most Waterbenders in LOK are insanely OP, and generally stronger than even the strongest at ATLA. For example, in terms of raw power —idk about skill, that's a different thing—, Amon beats people like Katara and Pakku easily; his raw power was, well, more powerful than Korra's, who has the biggest pure Waterbending feat in the franchise, and than Tarrlok's, who had more raw power than Korra, at least in Book 1. The guy was likely the most powerful non-Avatar bender in the franchise.

[floredaqueen]

billy and isa after a huge fight? 👀👀 (love, love, LOVVEEE your art and fics! keep up the great work, baby doll! you’re so fab :))

Hello, helloo!!♡

I love love LOOOOVVVEEE YOU!! And you're so lovely ♡♡ I hope I can do your ask justice (also sorry in advance if it takes me forever to finish but I hope you enjoyy♡>///< ♡♡

BLURB +18

TW: Deals w/Bullying, Heavy Profanity, Billy being a dickhead. Hurt w/Comfort The usual ♡

...

Isa and Billy don't really fight, especially since Isa is very conflict avoidant. She's getting better at that communication, but they rarely ever yell, scream, or say mean things to one another. If they ever did fight, it was probably during the first year they met; their senior year...

The first week of senior year for Isabela was like riding a bike. Easy A's all across the board. The Latina was already climbing the academic totem pole, and now, with all of her extracurriculars, she'd be moving faster and to new heights. She made time for other important tasks, not having much of it for boys or crushes.. that is until she heard about the new boy from Cali.

Rumors were already spreading, and he hasn't even been seen on campus anywhere yet. Just a few greetings on account to the popular girls at school, including her friend - and co-captain of the cheer squad- Nova James.

Still, though, to the intelligent Latina, it was all up to interpretation.. until she saw him strutting in with his denim on denim ensemble. His dirty blonde mullet perfectly quafted, and his ocean blue gaze stared down anyone, whether intentional or not. Her Hersheys chocolate gaze heavied one every perfect aspect he had to offer. His chilled chin was probably a dream to lovingly scratch, his very well-shaped hair, his piercing blue eyes that made her fold into herself, and his beautiful smile. He was all perfect.. too perfect.. which is why she wasn't surprised he turned out to be a complete asshole.

When they first crossed paths, he didn't even acknowledge her, the Cali boy bumping into her and only rolling his eyes in annoyance before brushing her off to the side. That when she knew he was a jerk, even if he was the most beautiful boy she's ever seen.

Later that day, she'd see him a few more times. He was notably in her calculus honors class, looking as confused as one who wasn't ready for this level of comprehension. Out of the corner of her wide eyes, Isabela could Billy trying to get someone's attention... and then he turns to her. He turns to her, whispering, "Hey,"s and "Excuse me,"s until he decides to get her attention by force.

The next thing the fresh-faced senorita knows is she's being hit on the side of the head with a balled up piece of notebook paper. She didn't believe it at first, still trying to process it right as he threw another. The second ball of paper clung to her hair as she turned around to face him, an annoyed expression on her face as she met his eyes.

As "taboo" as Isabela was to Billy, he had to admit that she wasn't half bad looking. In fact, she looked veey sweet with her pouting lip. Her eyes were so full and bright even theough her glasses, like a deer. He found it cute when she very clearly was getting nervous just by the look of him. He knew he could have that effect on people.

Billy smiled with teeth, his eyes setting on her filled out worksheet to note that she one hundred percent knew what she was doing. All of the questions filled out precisely by the slightly timid hispanic. A smart girl too? He knew it's be fun to make her lose her cool.

"What?" Isabela would whisper in annoyance, already wanting this interaction to be over. Of course, quite the opposite happened, Billy dragging on his words as if he was spelling it out for her. top!

"You mind helping me with this assignment? I'm a little lost," He asked, all with a toothy smile. Isa dead panned for a moment, letting herself express a bit of her annoyance with an eyebrow before turning to her own worksheet.

"Clearly," She muttered under her breath before handing him her notes. He looked over them and then stashed them in his notebook on the other side of her desk.

"The hell are you doing??"

"I'm gonna need this if I plan on passing any assignments for this week," Isabela huffed at his snark response as she tried to snatch his folder. Swiftly he moved his things, and her worksheet, away from her grasp.

"Give it back!" She whispered with an annoyed twitch with her upper lip. She even tried to grab at it, Billy quickly gripping her wrist only to throw her hand back in her direction.

"I don't hear that magic word, sweetness," With an eye roll and the crossing of her arms, Isa let it go, hoping she can get it back at least at the end of the day.

...

It'd be like that for the rest of the school year. Isa would be minding her business (and admiring Billy from afar) and the asshole in question would tease her and steal her work if he managed to get his hands on it. As annoying as it was it never got violent.. and it was pretty tame.. until one day.

Isa couldn't shake the feeling of so many eyes on her. She was able to hold her head high, but it felt near impossible today. When she did catch a few guys staring and snickering, she realized it was at her.. was there something on her face? In her hair..? What was their deal??

The hispanic scholar would soon find that out when she was approached by Tommy Hagan. The freckle covered guy was snickering as he walked over, crossing his sweater clad arms as he leaned against the locker beside hers.

"Wheeler, when were you gonna let me in on your dirty little secret..?" He jibed mischievously as Isa attempted to ignore him while retrieving her materials for her next class.

"What are you on about, Hagan..?" She turned to face him, her eyes rolling in response to his snarky grin. He casually shrugged his arms, not-so-subtly cornering her against the metal lockers while simultaneously spilling all of beans to her.

"Well, it seems that a hefty amount of my friends know what's under that pretty skirt of yours.. and I was wondering if I could get in on th-" Before Tommy could even finish his sentence, he was met with a hard slap against his face. It even has him stepping back a bit, giving Isabela ample time to hastily walk away from that conversation.

She knew for a fact he was spouting bullshit.. but it was strange that he had the balls to tell her, so who told him that? Who would even believe it? Whoever it was, she couldn't take for another second someone trying to shit on her perfect reputation and perception of who she really was.

By 6th period, things had only gotten worse, the overwhelmed Isabela finding herself hiding behind the abandoned bleachers that clung to the outskirts of the outdoor basketball court. She was calming herself down, attempting to get lost in one of her favorite Shakespeare fables, wondering if she'd ever find something as tantalizing as this culture phenomenon wrote about instead of having to deal with the likes of these jerks in this podink town..

One of her dainty, delicate hands wiped the tears developing in her eyes from the thought of all the mean and assuming words that were thrown her way today. Isa continued to keep her focus on the pages until she heard a snap of a twig.

The snap was caused by none other than the pretty boy she's been trying steadily to avoid, one of his calloused hands running through dirty blonde curls as the other flicked at his lighter to light the cigarette between his full lips.

She thought quickly.. too quick. She practically scattered as she jumped off the bleachers only to hide behind them on the other side as the rest of possey appeared beside him. The hung out beside on her side, too close to wear she kept herself as hidden as she could.

Their conversation went about as the latina thought it would, overhearing the socialites go on and on about on about their usual. Having or crashing parties, stealing booze from their parents' liquor cabinets, unprotected sex in the most obscene of places.. and girls.. but not just any girls. It was hurt they were joking about..

"Man, Isabela is so damn up tight," Tommy starts with a heavy huff. The side of his face was stilly slightly red from the hearty slap the latina previously gave him.

"The prude acts like she has a stick up her ass every time a guy walks up to her," He jibed, earning a soft giggle from Carol as they both relaxed against the brick wall.

"Only because she's never had dick in her life," She deduced, taking another hit of her tobacco stick.

"Yeah.. because she's boring," Billy finally snorts while crossing his denim covered arms. They both look at him with curious eyes, confused about his knowledge of the mouse that was way closer than they thought she was.

"I dont know about you, but I'm not getting a hardon for someone who's probably going to end up with cats because she doesn't know how to open her legs, "

The other takes, Isa's heard before. They were superficial and petty, especially coming from the two infamous idiots who's never worked for anything. But from Billy? Like an idiot, she thought he'd be above this, but his words hit right on her already racing heart.

"Good point," Tommy nodded, stomping out how own cig as Billy started.

"That's why I spread that rumor about her. Was trying to do her a favor. Maybe she'll actually get laid and get her first taste of dick.." The blonde said matter-of-factly as if she should be thanking him.

"Seems Billy has a soft spot for the prude," Carol would scoff teasingly, her face practically egging him on to prove her wrong. Billy, of course, denies her accusation.

"Nah. You won't ever see me going out with that bitch.."

All of those words.. those mean hurtful words. As much as she promised herself not to let it hurt her, Isa couldn't stop the constant stream of tears going down her cheeks. She tried to remain quiet, but a soft sniff of a breath gave her away.

"Who's there??" The alpha of the pack of wolves called out, his sharp blues finding sorrowful wide does eyes as Isa revealed herself to the group. They all sighed, embarrassed that she just happened to be there to listen to the conversation about her. With the tears still running down her glowing cheeks, they felt a little guilty. Not Billy, though. All Billy could think about was how pretty she looked when she cried. All sweet and innocent, even if they're hope was crushed.

"..you spread those rumors about me..?"

"C'mon, Wheeler- it was a j-"

"You're the reason why guys are following me??? Why everyone is calling me a slut, and how I simplemente no puedo guardarlo en mis pantalones cuando tÚ ERES EL VERDADERO PERRO,"

It was silent for a few seconds after that, the wind the only thing between them before Billy broke the airy stillness with a chuckle.

"You're just upset that I wouldn't waste my time on someone like you.. but," He lazily takes a heavy step forward in her direction.

"If you keep that up..." The way his eyes relaxed gave Isa pause, and then she could feel her body tense as he invaded her space. "..I might throw you a bone,"

Right then and there, she completely tensed, her hand swinging open palm to connect with his face for a hard slap. Neither of them had time to register it as the left side of Billy's face stung.

"You don't know what I could do for you," Isa's voice shook in a shaky whisper, stepping ever closer towards her bully.

"You thinking thay one would get a leg up just by being with you, when you can't even fathom how lucky you'd be to have me. To be with me..." Her sharp eyes stayed on Billy as he scoffed and kept his head held high, obviously not expecting the slightly menacing utterance of her words. For some reason, it was hard to keep a steady eye contact.. The braniac then tilted her head as her brows furrowed.

"..maybe, you wouldn't be so insecure.." was the last thing she said before she turned around and grabbed her things. Billy sucked his teeth, not even realizing that his nails were digging into his own palms.

He watched as everyone around him brushed it off as her being sensitive.. but he knew she was right. And that was something he hated about her. She was always. Fucking. Right.

...

Every other day after, Billy couldn't ignore the heavy weight in his chest. Best believe he tried, using all the usual tricks he had up his denim sleeve. But no matter how much drugs, girls, and bench pressing he did, he knew what he had to do to really get over.

Suddenly, after the usual attempt to mind melt at one of Tommy's parties, he found himself at the Wheeler residence. It was nicer than he anticipated, turning off the loud engine so as not to disturb anyone else.

Isabela was half asleep, cuddling her pillow in nothing but a tank top, mint colored undies, and sunflower socks she had recently bought from the mini market. So, when she heard -and soon saw- rocks being thrown at her window..

Begrudgingly, she got up, her footsteps as light as a feather. Billy annoyingly felt his body slightly perk uo at the sound of the front door unlocking, only to see Isa all tuckered out and peering up at him.

"Good, I got your attention.." He jibed, his hands stuffed in his jean pockets as his sharp blues took her in. Usually, Billy excelled at eye contact.. but this time around, his eyes roamed a lot more than he meant for them to.

Her curls were all messy, her nipples were poking out of her baby tee, and her bottom lip was pouted out. Fuck. Out of all the times to feel something for this girl, this was the worst time.

"What do you want, Hargrove?" She huffed, watching as he slightly awkwardly straightened up.

"I just wanted to.. uh.." He began to trail off, his eyes drifting down to her legs. Billy then only realized how he's never seen them before. They've been hidden by all the loose jeans and maxi skirts she'd wear.

He didn't expect them to be so.. toned. Every smooth curve was built with muscle even though she was known to be light on her feet. Not to mention her huge thighs.

"Yea- okay.." She rolled her eyes, going to close the door in his face only for Billy to swiftly propped his arm up against the hatch.

"I came here to... apologize" There was a long pause after that, the latina blinking a couple of times before parting her lips.

"Well, you're very bad at it," He scoffed, annoyed at her snarky remarks she'd conjure up from every word he spoke.

"Yeah, I've gathered that," He'd pause, letting the air between them fill the silence for a bit as he thought about what to say.

"You didn't deserve what I put you through. It wasn't right, and—" and as he continued to practally ramble, Billy became all the more aware of being under her scrutiny. He could feel her big brown, fatigued eyes studying his every word before her whole demeanor relax.

This.. this whole situation was weird. Why the hell did he feel like this? No girl has ever made him think twice about the words that would flawlessly flow from his kissable lips. And out of all the girls at Hawkins, it was some measly little book worm that had him fumbling.

Isa wasn't doing good either. She was starting to believe him, her mind running through his emotions as he spoke. Billy seemed sincere, but Latina refused to expose her sympathy. Her expression stayed neutral.

By the end of it, the silence between them returned and thickened, Billy cleared his throat before he crossed his strong arms.

"..As much as your apology is appreciated, I don't accept it..." She softly spoke, grabbing the edge of the hatch. As he tried to protest, he was met with a door being shut in his face.

♡♥︎♡...♥︎♡♥︎

[doeidawn]

☁︎ — see you next saturday

a night at the bar turns interesting when a masked stranger crosses your path. he's far from approachable, but something about him draws you in until you're coming to the bar every weekend just to see him. he's enigmatic and exciting—exactly what you needed to interrupt the monotony of life. 11.2k

⟢ pairing: ghost x f!reader

⟢ tags: MDNI/18+; author is american and apologizes in advance—this probably isn't how bars in the UK are, sorry; ghost is unnamed for 95% of the fic but it pays off; alcohol consumption (no one gets drunk, it's just some sipping); awkward first meeting; slow-burn??? idk sex doesn't happen til the very end; implied size difference; biker!ghost; semi-public sex; fingering; table sex; praise; unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it); oral sex [m receiving]; facial

Another excited cheer from the table behind you tells you that one of the football teams on screen has scored. Though you couldn’t care less about the game, you catch a glance at the television hung on the wall near the bar to watch the score rise. Aside from sipping on the same drink and watching people filter in and out all night, you didn’t have anything better to do, anyway.

A night out at the bar probably wasn’t the most efficient use of your time, or your money, but after a week of grueling work and the ever-increasing stress of life, it felt nice to ignore everything for a while. As long as you didn’t drink enough to hate yourself the next morning, who were you to deny yourself some fun? Well, as fun as watching drunk people mingle could be. A cheap local bar wouldn’t give way for much excitement.

You were almost thankful for that. The wrong kind of excitement only would’ve added to the weight on your shoulders. Yet, a part of you still yearned for something more than the monotony of asking the bartender for another round while your eyes scanned the crowds. Only two drinks in and already you were practically praying for an interesting face to look your way and add something that resembled anticipation to your life.

You set your glass down on the bartop with a sigh. Another cheer comes from your left, drawing your attention towards the table of patrons with their eyes glued to the television wearing their excited smiles. It’s only a momentary glance, but with your head turned in their direction, you notice the first interesting face you’ve seen all night.

Rather, it was the lack of his face that drew you in. Just a few seats down the bar stood a tall man, dressed head to toe in dark clothing, sliding an empty glass toward the bartender. Perhaps the most notable thing about him is how his hood sits on his head and a mask covers the bottom half of his face. Is that skull print on the fabric?

Whoever he was, he didn’t seem too keen on letting other people know. Part of you was surprised he was even allowed to be served. To say he looked suspicious would be putting it mildly. 

But there was something about him that caught your attention and wouldn’t let go. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the air of mystery that clung to him, or maybe it was your desperate need for excitement. At this point, you couldn’t quite tell what the reason was, but his presence was magnetic. 

His head turns slightly to look up at the television mounted near the bar. For a split second, you thought he had noticed you somehow. You don’t know why it affected you enough to make your heart leap into your throat, but it was enough to make you stop staring out of fear you’d come off rude.

Your leg bounces nervously on the barstool, itching to walk you over to him. But, Christ, you’ve been out of the game for a while, and you have to assume his…unique sense of attire was to wade off any unwanted conversation. What would you even say to a guy like that? Compliments aren’t easy when you can’t see any part of the man’s face. 

Your fingertips run over the edge of your glass and you can’t help but bring your eyes back over to him. Still focused on the game. 

“What’s with the mask?” The words leave your mouth before you can give them a second thought. You regret it almost immediately, hoping that maybe between the music and the surrounding conversations that he couldn’t hear you. 

There’s a slow turn of his head in your direction. His eyes meet yours, but instead of curiosity you find nothing but a piercing gaze that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s hard to tell in the dim light of the bar, but you swear his gaze moves over you before he turns his attention to the bartender.

Bummer. Well, it was worth a shot…even if you think you’ll have to order another drink to prevent yourself from cringing on the memory later. 

You huff another sigh and swirl your drink, watching the liquid move in the glass. If nothing else, at least you got a good night of people-watching and paid enough attention to the game to know what your coworkers will talk about on Monday. The next sip burns your throat as you swallow. 

“Tactical advantage.” A baritone voice—suddenly very close to you—comes from your left and startles you, making you jump in your seat. 

Your eyes dart to the side, wide in panic, meeting a masked face looking down at you. You curse under your breath, unsure whether it’s appropriate to feel relieved.

“Pardon..?”

“You asked about the mask,” the man gestures vaguely towards his fabric-covered face as he moves to sit on the barstool next to you. The old material groans under his weight. “Tactical advantage.” 

You couldn’t help but continue to stare at him. You could tell he was a bigger guy from far away, but, Jesus, he was even bigger up close. Not just tall, but his shoulders were broad and his hands practically dwarfed the glass he was holding. He was, objectively, terrifying.

Yet, you couldn’t help but smile at his simple, concise words. “Yeah? And what advantage is that?”

“To hide my face.”

You roll your eyes at his attempt at comedy. “Well, I coulda guessed that.”

“You asked.” He looks over at you and instead of the piercing gaze from before, there’s something much warmer in his eyes. You wish you could see if he had a smug smile to accompany his words. 

“That I did.” You take another sip of your drink, hoping it’ll continue to keep your nerves settled. “So why d’you wanna hide your face?”

He’s silent for a moment, looking down at the bar as he folds his arms and leans against it. You faintly hear him sigh before he shrugs his shoulders. “No need to show it.”

“Gotta be hard to drink with a mask, no?”

“Not if you lift it up.”

“Or you could just…take it off.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“‘Cause then I’d get to see what you look like.”

His eyes—you make a mental note of the deep brown color they are—narrow at that. “Oh, I dunno if you want that.”

“I think I do.”

The stool beneath him creaks with his weight as he sits up, straightening his back and reminding you just how tall he is. His chest expands against his hoodie in another deep breath. “Determined, aren’t you?”

Another smile creeps its way onto your face. “C’mon, I’m curious.” You want to lean in, to tease him with your proximity, but you withhold yourself.

Those blond eyebrows that peek out from the rim of his balaclava raise slightly. His eyes move over you in a movement he doesn’t seem to bother being subtle about. Though the gesture makes your heart skip a beat, his silence is deafening.

“Alright, alright,” you concede, hands up in defeat. “I get it. No face.” He makes an affirmative sound at that.

“Smart girl.” He says it so fast, a one-off comment that told you to not bother pressing him for any more information, but something about it makes your breath catch in your throat. 

You have to look down at your drink when you feel your cheeks grow warm. Even though it was nearly gone, you certainly didn’t have enough liquid courage to flirt openly. You wanted to ask his name, to ask where he’s from—what if he lived close by?—but if he wasn’t even willing to show you his face at the bar, you knew the chances were slim. 

From the corner of your eye, you see him shift in his seat again. He digs in his pocket, pulls out his phone, and barely looks at it before he starts to stand. Was he leaving already? Why?

“Where you goin’?” You ask before you can really think about why you cared so much.

“M’needed elsewhere.” 

Blunt, simple, and vague. That seemed to be how he operated. 

“Oh, a popular guy, are you?”

“You could say that.” Your eyes follow him as he moves, but he doesn’t look your way when he stands. Christ, he was a big lad. 

“You didn’t even touch your drink.”

“It’s not mine.” He moves the full glass down the bar until it clinks against your own. It’s then you notice it’s the same color as your drink. Same glass, same serving. Did he really buy you a drink?

“Have a nice night.” You look back at him to see his eyes meeting yours. Maybe it was the last drink still swimming in your system, but you weren’t able to form the words to respond. “Get home safe, yeah?”

And with a nod of your head, he weaved his way through the room until he was out of your line of sight. Despite his size, he was easy to lose in the crowd. You turn back to the bartop and stare at the two glasses. The one on the left—the one he’d bought for you—was invitingly full.

You reach out, fingertips skimming the rim before you bring the glass to your lips. It was the same drink you always ordered when you went out—your favorite. Only somehow it tastes sweeter on your tongue this time.

You’ve never made it a habit to go out and drink. As stressful as life could get, it just wasn’t an outlet you ever turned towards. It was expensive as hell, and you weren’t stupid enough to ignore how much it sucked to be hungover. 

But despite that, you found yourself back in that same barstool when the weekend came around. And for the first time, it wasn’t because of the overpriced liquor.

Only a few sips into your first drink of the night and you were already looking around in hopes that you’d find a skull-patterned mask looking back at you. Desperately you tried to tune out the chatter of people around you, hoping you’d be able to pick out his voice. Maybe it was stupid. It was definitely wishful thinking. 

For all you knew, he wasn’t even in town anymore; you figured he probably wasn’t the type of guy to stick around one place for very long. And, hell, he left so abruptly last time, who’s to say he’d even want to see you again? You hated the tightness that built in your chest at the thought of that. 

Well, you might as well enjoy your drink since you’re here. You tried to pay attention to whatever sport was on the television this time, tried scrolling on your phone, but nothing held your attention. Every sip of your drink tempted you to house the entire bar. But you didn’t figure yourself that pathetic. Still, you were pathetic enough to keep looking over at the entrance, hoping you’d see that tall figure slinking through groups of people.

But you never do.

Fuck. It was stupid to hope anyway. You curse yourself under your breath, rubbing at your temples like it’ll help clear your head. With a huff and a sigh, you finish the last of your drink. It doesn’t taste as sweet as it did last time. You’re more disappointed than you wanted to allow yourself to be.

You decided rather quickly that you’d rather mope and feel sorry for yourself in the comfort of your own home. It wasn’t worth wasting money on another lonely drink.

There’s a chill breeze outside that cuts through you, making you shiver as soon as you walk out the door. You cross your arms, trying to preserve some body heat, as you make your way down the pavement. A still-lingering part of you doesn’t want to leave but your legs don’t stop carrying you further away.

You eventually come to a stop, leaning against a light post as you dig out your phone. Even though you’re supposed to be looking up the rideshare to get you back home, you can’t help but look around last time. You think yourself too desperate for your own good until you see a tall figure just a few steps away.

Standing next to a motorcycle that you can only assume is his, the hooded figure drops a cigarette to the ground, his boot grinding against the pavement to stomp it out. You thought it might be too good to be true, but then he turns just enough for you to see him pull that skull-patterned balaclava back over his mouth. He doesn’t seem to notice you—a fact you quickly want to remedy.

“Hey, big guy,” you call out to him, the nickname a subconscious one you immediately cringe at yourself for. Fucking ‘big guy’? Yeah, that’s not gonna go over well.

But it certainly gets his attention. His head turns in your direction, if only barely. He does a double-take before stopping in his tracks and staring back at you. You have to hope and pray that he doesn’t think you’re crazy as you walk over to him. Luckily, he didn’t move away from your advances. Instead, he turns towards you as if to welcome your approach, dark eyes raking over you in that same conspicuous motion.

It’s when you’re face-to-face with him—well, more like mask-to-face—that you realize you didn’t quite know what to say. You were too sober to be making a fool of yourself like this. After an awkward beat of silence of you taking in once more just how tall he was compared to you, you finally manage to conjure up something.

“I just wanted to say…thank you for buying me a drink the other night. I…I appreciated that.”

“Course.” You’d almost forgotten the gruff sound of his baritone voice. “You leavin’ already?”

You hesitate for a moment, a lie stewing on the tip of your tongue. No, no, I was just hanging out in the cold, what a coincidence, right? How much you wanted to spend time with a man you barely knew was almost pathetic. You resign the thought with a sigh. “Sorry, you’re too late. I already had all my fun.”

“What, waitin’ f’me?” 

You didn’t know if he was just confident or if he somehow truly knew that was what you were doing. Either way, it made you feel like he could see right through you, like he knew you found him interesting. “Maybe I was hopin’ you’d come by.” You bite your lip, gaze hitting the ground before looking back up at him. “You were the most entertaining thing at that bar.”

He takes in a deep breath at that. “M’sorry I missed it.” Yeah, me too. “Can you get yourself home?”

“Yeah. Well, a rideshare can.”

“How ‘bout I take you home?”

The suggestion makes your heart skip a beat, staring up at him, frozen and probably looking half-crazed. The rational part of your brain was sounding every possible alarm. Why would you ever trust a man you met in a bar who never takes off his mask to take you home unless you had a death wish? And yet the winning part of your brain was the one that was extremely curious about his implication.

“Ah, take a bloke I barely know back home? How drunk d’you think I am?”

He looks over you again in a beat of silence. “You aren’t. That’s why I’m askin’.” Knowing he didn’t want to take advantage of you eased some of the lingering anxiety in the back of your mind. But, as if he could sense that anxiety, he continued, “You don’t gotta let me in, I jus’ wanna make sure you’re safe. I’m cheaper than a rideshare, anyway.”

“Well, can’t beat that, I suppose.” You move around him to approach his parked motorcycle. You didn’t have to know much about bikes to realize it was a nice one. Sleek, but not flashy. Your fingers glide over the leather of the seat as you eye the streetlights reflecting off of the shiny black body. “I’ve never been on a bike. People say they’re dangerous.”

“They can be, if you don’t know what you’re doin’.” You hadn’t noticed how close he was—moving as silent as ever—hovering just behind you as he grabs the helmet strapped securely to the bike. Holding it out towards you, he gives you a nudge. “Here.”

You take the helmet, holding it carefully like you’re afraid to leave your fingerprints all over it. You could already tell it’d be too big, but the consideration was nice. “I trust you know what you’re doin’, then?”

“Most of the time.”

Well, wasn’t he quite the comedian.

You slot the helmet over your head with a roll of your eyes. As you guessed, it was certainly too big, tilting forward over your brow and obscuring your view. A bitterly sweet smell floods your senses as you clasp it in place; you can only assume it’s his sweat, mixed with a faint air of tobacco, embedded into the foam lining.

A heavy hand rests on the side of the helmet, holding it steady while he slides the visor up. His head tilts as those dark eyes of his greet you. “Bit big on you, innit?”

“Yeah, just a li’l.”

“How far we goin’?” You should have been a little hesitant before telling him your address, but you don’t even stutter. He spoke like he had to know, like ordering people around was what he did for a living. An affirmative hum comes from behind his mask as he slides the visor back down. “You’ll be alright.”

You struggle to balance both yourself and the helmet long enough to swing your leg over the seat. You were thankful that the helmet obscured your face to shield some of the embarrassment, at least. Then you feel that same heavy palm on the small of your back, trying to keep you steady, only to make your body tense up. The helmet swings lazily on your head as you finally straddle the seat.

Once you’re situated, after asking if you’re comfortable, he slides his hand off of you. He has no problem getting himself sat, taking up the front half of the seat as he slots in the space before you. He turns his head and, though you have to lift your head awkwardly to see him through the visor, you hear his voice say, “Hold on tight. Can’t have you fallin’ off.”

What, did he plan on speeding out of here? Hesitantly, your hands find purchase on his waist. It was gentle, barely enough pressure to feel his hoodie under your fingertips, let alone his body underneath.

You think you hear him scoff. “I’m sure you’re stronger than that.” His fingers wrap around your wrists, guiding your hands forward until they rest on his chest. The movement shortens the gap of space between your bodies as your arms hover awkwardly around him. “I promise you won’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re afraid of. C’mon, tighter than that.” You strengthen your hold, closing the distance between your chest and his back, practically hugging him. “Atta girl.”

Your face heats up at that, and you were thankful the helmet obscured the sheepish smile that had painted itself on your face. 

The engine suddenly roars to life, loud enough to surprise you. The power behind it vibrates through the leather seat and seeps easily through the padding of the helmet. Though his takeoff was as smooth as it could’ve been, it didn’t stop you from tightening your hold around his body. 

The cityscape passes by in a blur of vibrant lights and towering buildings. The hum of the motorcycle’s engine overpowers the surrounding cars, echoing off of the asphalt and thrumming a rhythmic hum during the ride. The already-cool night air bites at your skin as it whips past. 

Though you have no reason to, you find yourself gripping him tighter on every take-off after a stop. And despite the chill on your skin, you felt the heat rise to your face as you realized you could feel how rigid and tough he was under that hoodie. 

There was a thrill, you realized, that ran through you and made your heart race. Not only because you were on a bike for the first time, but because of how close you were to the man in front of you. Holding on tight to a stranger whose name you didn’t know so he could bring you home safely sounded like something out of a novel. The smell of him embedded in his helmet and filling your senses, your body close to absorb some of his heat, the pure generosity of even offering to drive you home: everything made you want to abandon all self-respect and invite him in when you arrived.

The internal battle you fought over that distracted you for the rest of the ride.

You could barely see out of the helmet without cocking your head awkwardly, but you could tell when the trip was nearing its end. A pit formed in your stomach—a part of you unwilling to let the ride end just yet. It wasn’t until he slowed down enough to pick out your building that you realized how difficult it was to see over his broad shoulders. With a point and a nudge in the right direction, you guided him to your stop.

He pulls the bike up to the pavement before parking it. The sounds of the neighborhood replace the monotonous hum of the engine as he turns it off. Your movements are hesitant as your hands slide off his body, something you quickly regret and hope he hadn’t noticed. He helps you off the bike just as he had helped you on, reminding you of his gentle touch, thankful yet again for the helmet obscuring your shy smile.

You don’t ignore the sense of disappointment you feel knowing that he has to leave. Just taking off the helmet was enough to make you miss him and ache for something more, even when he stood right by you on the pavement. You knew it was strange to feel close to a man you barely knew, but he gave you more comfort than most. He made you feel intrigued in a way no one else did. 

“So,” you start, dreading the awkward silence, “do I get to know the name of my chauffeur?”

He pauses for a moment of consideration. Your heart beats faster, something akin to excitement making you hope for an answer. Finally, he looks up from the pavement. “Maybe next time.”

Initially, you felt more disappointed than you wanted to allow yourself to be. Surely his name was the one thing he could give up? But then you find yourself clinging on to that phrase. Maybe next time…Did he expect a ‘next time’? Should you expect a ‘next time’?

As you walked up to your door, he didn’t follow, staying true to his words from earlier. He kept a respectable distance to not crowd you, as if he didn’t want to make you nervous. If only he knew everything about him made you overthink your every move.

There’s a beat of silence when you grab your keys. An invite inside sits on the tip of your tongue, fighting with the rational part of your brain, consequences be damned. But his voice beats you to the punch as he breaks another long and empty silence.

“So d’you go and drink every Saturday?”

Your fingers toy with the keys in your hand as you debate your answer. “No, I don’t,” you admit after a beat of silence.

He hums a deep sound that you can’t quite identify the emotion behind. “So just a coincidence, then?”

You don’t respond to that. Instead, while fighting your sheepish smile, you look back at him. 

“Thanks for takin’ me home.”

“‘Course.”

“Maybe next time you should drink with me.”

Your heart pounds in your chest when the words leave your mouth. Eagerness didn’t seem like such a shameful thing anymore. Not when you were sharing body heat with him just a few minutes ago. Not when he knew where you lived because he cared enough to make sure you were safe. Maybe it was too hopeful to expect him to want to see you again, but when your eyes meet his under the streetlight, you’re confident the hope isn’t unfounded.

His eyes rake over you in a slow one-over as he nods. His voice is low in that same charming gruff timbre when he responds, “I’ll see you next Saturday, then?”

Fighting off an over-excited smile proves to be the most difficult thing you’ve done in a while. You sigh, calming your racing heart. “If you’re on time.”

“It’s a date.”

It wasn’t actually a date.

Surely he couldn’t have meant it literally. Still, it was enough to have you barely managing a flustered goodbye before fumbling with your keys at the door. Even after you were in the comfort of your home your face felt hot, your body practically vibrating from adrenaline. All from a stranger. The faint sound of the revving engine of his motorcycle moments later only served to remind you of his voice, the warmth of his body, and—hopefully—the promise in his words. 

You had to remind yourself constantly, every time your mind wandered throughout the week, that you were hoping for too much. You were daydreaming about a face you hadn’t seen yet from a man whose name you didn’t even know. And, God, that made you feel more pathetic than ever.

It was just a night out, spending time together over a drink, nothing more. Maybe you could learn his name if he was feeling generous enough. But to hope for anything more—a follow-up or anything deeper than friendliness—was foolish. Still, your mind kept wandering back to his words. It’s a date. 

No, this wasn’t a date, you scold yourself in the mirror, shaking your head as if it’ll dismiss the thought faster. That was just a throwaway line, something to draw you in to make sure he’d see you tonight. Nothing more, nothing implied, nothing to hope for. You knew that by now, practically drilled it into your own head. 

So why did you spend way too long looking at yourself in the mirror, obsessing over every little detail you could nitpick? Why did you drudge through your entire closet to make sure you picked the “right outfit”? Why did you stress about what perfume to wear and what drink to order? It wasn’t a date after all. 

Right?

It was too late to fight yourself on it once your rideshare pulled up. The implication of his words was irrelevant at this point; your heart seems to beat quicker with every turn of the wheels that brings you closer to the bar. Despite the cool air making you regret choosing to wear a skirt, you felt hot and stuffy—just downright nervous. Christ, you nearly felt like you could throw up when you saw a familiar tall silhouette outside the bar. 

He was on time. And he was waiting for you.

Every insecurity you nitpicked before comes to the front of your mind the moment you step onto the pavement. You force the thoughts away with a sigh and, for the first time in your life, your steps towards the bar are hesitant. His eyes meet yours as you approach and you almost wish you could see his reaction under that mask. But the more you thought about it, maybe you were better off not knowing.

He straightens up, pushing himself off of the wall, looking down at you with a face obscured by shadows and fabric. “I was startin’ to think I came too early.”

It was a huge relief to see him here, waiting and willing to see you again. You couldn’t hide your smile if you tried. “Well, lucky for you, I like an eager man.”

His steps are confident as he makes his way towards the entrance. “That’s definitely one way to describe me.” You barely hear the sentence when he utters it, which only makes your heart beat faster. He pulls the door open, holding it for you to make your way in. 

The bar is as crowded as it is every Saturday. Plenty of people scattered around, watching whatever team was on the television this weekend, drunkenly shouting overtop of the music. It never fails to overwhelm you when you walk through the entrance. A hand rests on your back, grounding you and making you all too aware of your posture, slipping to your waist before guiding you through the bustle of people.

Your date—it still felt weird to call him that—guides you towards the bar, towards the backend where fewer people crowded the space. His presence was comforting despite his silence. Not to mention how perfectly his hand slotted against your waist, a thought that had you too nervous to bring attention to his sudden touchiness.

The stools squeak and groan as the two of you settle into your seats. The bar is anything but quiet, yet an awkward silence hangs in the air between you. Something told you he wasn’t the type to care about the awkwardness, but you were far too sober to not overthink every thought that popped into your head.

You clear your throat, hoping it’ll boost your confidence to speak. “I wasn’t actually sure you’d show,” you admit. “But I’m glad you did.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You weren’t sure how to respond. He raised a good point, one that spit in the face of your insecurities and anxiety. “I dunno…guess I worried I wasn’t exciting enough for you.”

“Well, you’re no mask-wearin’ bike rider.” He leans in your direction and nudges you with his elbow. “But I think you’re plenty excitin’.” You look up at his eyes just fast enough to catch his wink.

Flustered, you avert your eyes to the bartop as you laugh. “You don’t know me well enough, clearly.”

“I’d like to. That’s why I’m here.”

That brings your eyes back to his. You may not have been able to see his face, but those eyes told you everything about his sincerity. There shouldn’t have been any doubt left in your mind after that. The man admitted to having an interest in you—in getting to know you—and it surely set your heart on fire. 

“Well, that and to drink, I’m sure.” Your smile is an attempt to distract from the way you stare at him. It was like you had yourself convinced you could make out his features if you just studied him long enough. 

“Ah, that’s just a bonus.” He gestures for the bartender with a simple wave of his hand before fishing in his pocket for his wallet. 

“So what’s the drink of choice for a bloke like you?”

“Bourbon.”

You aren’t sure why that admission surprises you; of course a big guy like him would drink whiskey. Something about that fact makes you feel warm inside. You request one for yourself, an excuse to have something in common with him. 

Your eyes follow the bartender as they move, but your mind is far from the alcohol. Everything was going well—probably the best it could’ve gone meeting someone who could still classify as a stranger for the third time. But there was still something gnawing at the back of your mind, festering insecurity and uncertainty.

“Can I ask you something?” You almost surprise yourself with the lack of hesitance with which the question leaves your mouth.

“Shoot.”

“That night we met, when we spoke for the first time, you left awfully quick.” Your fingers tap against the bartop in an anxious rhythm. “What was that about?”

From the corner of your eye, you see him shrug. “Wasn’t my choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was work. It asks a lot of me sometimes.” Work calling at such a late hour was hard to believe, but the way he said it—a layer of exhaustion sullying his words—had you convinced. “Trust me, I would’ve preferred staying to talk to you.”

You believed that, too. 

“What do you do for work?”

He pauses, taking in a deep breath, like he’s thinking about how to phrase his response. You’ve started to learn how deliberate he was with his words. “A lot of dangerous shit.”

That definitely piques your attention. You hear the two glasses clink against the bartop, but you were more concerned with him than the alcohol. “Yeah? What kind of shit is that?” You didn’t have a lot of hope that he’d open up any more than that, but the curiosity ate at you. 

He reaches for one of the glasses, sighing as he moves. “The kind of shit that makes you want to drink to forget it.” He lifts the glass in your direction. “So let’s drink, yeah?”

Even if he didn’t completely open up, it was a sentiment you could sympathize with. You may not know exactly what he spent his time doing but you knew enough to hope he saw your company as comforting. You reach for the other glass and lift it until it clinks against his own. “Just don’t drink enough to forget me.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be forgettin’ you anytime soon.”

You smile at his sentiment, taking a sip of whiskey to wash away the anxiety-borne tension in your throat.

It’s done in a split second before you notice it, but he lifts the bottom of his balaclava over his mouth, resting the hem on his nose. It gives you a view of the blond scruff that dusts the sharp angle of his jaw, of those peach lips that look surprisingly soft as he raises his glass to take a drink. The way his mask sits makes you aware of the crook in the bridge of his nose—a sign of cartilage broken multiple times over. He’s rugged and rough underneath the soft cloth, far more attractive than anything you could’ve conjured up in your own mind. And that was without seeing his entire face. They were features that any other man could have, but he hid those features from the world for reasons you couldn’t fathom. Maybe that was what made him so alluring.

“You’re starin’.”

It takes a moment for his words to register in your head. You only realized he was speaking because you could actually see his mouth move. You scoff, brows furrowing as you finally blink for the first time in a while. “I wasn’t starin’.”

He grunts in response. You didn’t have to hear him speak to know he doesn’t believe you. Hell, you didn’t believe yourself. You roll your eyes at the sound, taking a sip of your drink and averting his intense gaze by catching a glimpse of the television behind the bar. You didn’t care one bit about the scores on the screen.

Especially when you suddenly felt the warmth of his hand on your thigh. There was no way he didn’t notice the way your muscles tense, flinching at the sudden contact. It’s indescribable the way it makes you feel. His rough and calloused touch barely underneath the hem of your skirt to feel the smooth and tender flesh of your thigh sends a jolt down your spine, a heat coursing through you that you haven’t felt in a while.

“You’re a terrible liar.” It isn’t lost on you the way his voice deepens when he whispers to you, leaning in close and quiet so he can make sure you hear him.

Your mouth suddenly goes dry, your face hot and your heart racing. “Piss off. The…bourbon’s just strong.” You force the words out in a half-hearted tumble as you bring the glass to your lips. 

His grip tightens ever-so-slightly, gently squeezing your thigh. Something about it tells you he doesn’t buy that lie either. “Ah, s’that what it is?” 

The sarcasm in his voice makes the whiskey burn as it slides down your throat. You take in a breath to try and combat the smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. Squirming in the stool, you press your thighs together to quell some of the heat pulsing through your veins. Nerves and excitement battle for control over your body. 

“I didn’t take you for a touchy lad.” Your own voice quietens to a whisper, almost too nervous to acknowledge his bold move.

“Usually m’not.”

Setting your glass down, you’re almost disappointed to find the mask is settled back over his face when you finally make eye contact again. “Mm. You must like me, then?”

The question wasn’t really meant to have an answer, but he didn’t hesitate to give you one. “Was that not obvious before?”

“The confirmation is nice.” You force the words out before you can think too hard about his reply. 

He liked you. One of the most enigmatic, confusing, intriguing people you’ve ever met—who should’ve made you feel scared—actually liked you. It was relieving and exciting and terrifying all at once.

You look down to see his hand on your thigh. The sight is enough to turn excitement into something much stronger that pools in your core. You run your fingertips over his knuckles, the discolored skin telling you they’ve been wounded multiple times over. You didn’t have the guts to ask. The contact makes his grip tighten slightly, his thumb slowly brushing gentle strokes against your skin.

The whole thing had your mind running wild. You certainly didn’t have enough to drink to excuse the images that flashed in your mind. But seeing his hand on you—feeling his touch—in a way you could only describe as intimate had desire pumping through you. You don’t know how good a job you’re doing at hiding it, either, but you’re certain he can feel when you squeeze your thighs tightly together.

“So,” you start, clearing your throat as if to excuse the rampant thoughts in your head, “do I get to know your name yet?”

You look over to see his eyes lingering absentmindedly on the television. “Depends on how this night goes.”

Well, it wasn’t a ‘no’.

You scoff, feigning annoyance. “What, y’gonna wait until I’m too drunk to remember it?” Your hand moves to your glass, raising it in his direction before taking a sip.

“Oh, I’m not gonna let you get drunk.” He says it so matter-of-factly that you couldn’t argue if you wanted to. Then, his hand moves carefully, readjusting his grip until the plush fat on the inside of your thigh is squished between his fingers. “Can’t have any fun if you get yourself plastered.”

At least now you knew you had no chance of embarrassing yourself in a drunken stupor. But your mind was far more preoccupied with that word—fun. Sure, he could have meant it literally; maybe he planned on taking you somewhere more exciting than a cheap bar after this. You silently scolded yourself for being disappointed with that reality. 

“I suppose you’re right…” The words came out breathlessly into your glass. You didn’t know if he heard you, but it didn’t really matter. He seemed like the type of man to be dead set on whatever he was determined to do. You just hoped the ‘fun’ he had in mind was the same type that had your heart pounding whenever you thought about it.

His hand slides off you and—God help you—you almost whimper at the loss of contact. Your eyes follow his movement, watching him slide his mask up enough to take another drink. You didn’t think you could ever forget what he looked like. It was a sight you swore you could spend the whole night staring at, but you looked away before he had the chance to tease you about it.

“Y’know,” he says with a voice quiet enough that only you could hear, “if you need somethin’, you can just ask.”

Your eyes dart over to him with an unconscious, wide-eyed look of guilt and confusion. There was no doubt in your mind that you needed something from him, but you hadn’t intended that to be obvious. A bewildered “what?” is all you manage to force out while you try to convince your rapid heart to slow.

“If you need somethin’ from me, you can just ask me for it.” He speaks slowly this time, looking in your direction with brown eyes so dark it was like his pupils had blown wide. Fuck, did you look like that too? He sets his glass down with a sigh when you don’t respond with anything more than a confused scoff. He leans in close, so close you could feel his breath on your ear and a whiff of tobacco and musk in your nostrils. “You were practically humpin’ my hand.” You swear he growls the words. “That makes me think you need somethin’.”

That immediately shot down any hope you had that you were doing great at hiding your wandering thoughts. Excuse after excuse ran through your mind, trying to justify why his touch made you squirm. But…was there really any point in denying something he so clearly had picked up on? He read you like a goddamn book—not that you were difficult to read—and something about that only made the desire heavier. And, most importantly in your mind, there was no sign that he disliked it.

Your lips quiver as they part, hesitation making your mouth run dry. “Maybe…maybe I do need somethin’...” It feels like your heart has jumped in your throat. But it wasn’t nerves that made your skin run hot. “Are you…offerin’ me somethin’?”

He straightens in his seat and pulls the balaclava back over the lower half of his face. From the corner of your eye, you watch him tap his fingers against his glass. Just before you think he’s going to end the conversation there, you hear the rumble of his voice from behind the skull-patterned fabric. “There’s a storage room in the back hall, last door on the right. Hardly anyone goes back there.” His tone is almost conspiratorial. “If we go one at a time, less chance of being noticed. We could have some privacy there.” There’s a pause before he looks in your direction, not bothering to be subtle when his eyes move over you. “That’s what I’m offerin’.”

Holy shit.

There was no reason to think he was joking, but you still couldn’t believe it. You also couldn’t believe that you were so desperate that turning him down didn’t even cross your mind. “You’re serious? Here? In the bar?”

He shrugs like the thought is obvious. “Well, you said it yourself: can’t take a bloke you barely know back home.” He leans in again, eyes boring through you. “I promise I’m worth all the hassle.”

Somehow, you didn’t doubt him one bit. You play off the disbelief and hesitation with a scoff, shaking your head. “Yeah, you better be.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you for a moment. You wish you could hear his thoughts or see his face, get some inkling of an idea of what was running through his mind. 

Then he sits up straight, cocking his head in the direction of the back hallway. “Go on, then.”

Truthfully, his impatience had you relieved; at least now you wouldn’t have to be the one to initiate. But that didn’t mean you wanted to be the first to get caught sneaking around the back of the building. “Why am I goin’ first?”

“So I can make sure no one follows.”

“Is that your specialty?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You weren’t sure how to feel about that confession. Just how much sneaking around was a guy like him doing? “Go on.”

You’d marinate the thought later. With a sigh, you slide off of the barstool. Looking at him you find his eyes on the television screen once more. With no reassuring glance or even a flirtatious wink, you set your sights on the hallway in the back of the bar.

You’re relieved to find that no one was waiting in a line outside the bathrooms. At least that would make the sneaking around part a lot easier. You felt ridiculous, like a teenager trying to avoid their parents when they snuck out. But the promise of what could’ve been awaiting you was enough to will you to walk down the dim hallway.

There was a door towards the end of the hall, on the right side, just past the bathrooms. Just like he had said. You didn’t have time to wonder how he knew it was here, or how he knew it was a storage room. But sure enough, after slinking past the bathrooms and quickly pushing the door open, you were greeted with a room full of boxes, cleaning supplies, and old furniture. The smell of mildew made your nose crinkle as you stepped further inside.

It was then you realized he didn’t tell you how long to wait. Your thoughts spiraled from there; What if he flakes? What if an employee comes back here? Each second felt like an hour, your anxiety mounting with every moment you were alone in the stuffy room. You move to an old table shoved in the back corner. A thin layer of dust coats your finger when you run it along the trim.

Your heart jumps when you hear the door click. You were prepared to play the part of a drunken fool looking for the bathroom in case it was an employee, but you’re relieved to see the large figure you’d come to recognize slink through.

“Hey,” you call out to him, casually greeting him like you hadn’t snuck in here under the implications of sex.

His steps are slow as he moves towards you. “Hey.” That gruffness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. The room feels smaller with every step he takes in your direction.

“So,” you sigh, “do you take all your dates to storage rooms?”

“Only the lucky ones.”

He stops just in front of you, closer than he’s ever stood before, making your breath catch in your throat as you look up at him. “Suppose I should feel lucky, then.” You don’t mean to sound breathless, but you weren’t too concerned with appearing composed.

“I’d hope so.”

“I will if you take off that mask.”

You think you hear something resembling a laugh from beneath that skull-patterned fabric. He tugs at the mask and, for a moment, you think he’s actually going to remove it. But the hem only moves to the bridge of his nose, taunting you by not revealing any part of himself he hadn’t already. You must look expectant, or disappointed, because he gives you an incredulous look in return. 

“What? You seemed plenty happy with this earlier,” he gestures towards the lower half of his face, earning an eye roll from you. He scoffs, leaning in and tilting his head to follow your gaze. “If I remember, you couldn’t stop starin’ at me.”

“Fuck off. I liked what I saw.” His teasing made your cheeks feel hot. That same heat thumps in your veins when your eyes meet his again. “...Still do.”

You barely feel the warmth of his fingertips as they graze your skin, tracing your jaw. He was gentle, exploratory, like he was waiting for your approval. When all he got from you was a sharp intake of breath, his thumb ran gently over your bottom lip. 

“So do I.”

You’d chastise yourself for leaning in if you were any more self-conscious. You’d blame the eagerness on the alcohol, or the way he seemed to pull you closer with his hand, but there was no denying the want stirring in the pit of your stomach. Nothing else mattered except making your lips meet. And when they do, all you find is gentle hesitance and the taste of whiskey. 

It was soft and careful, yet completely consuming. His lips were as soft as they looked and moved perfectly against your own. You couldn’t stop yourself from sighing into his mouth and inching your body closer, bringing your hand to his chest and feeling the soft fabric of his hoodie go taut as you curl your fingers into a fist. Afraid he’d move away if you didn’t, you kept your grasp firm and pulled him closer. 

He was the one to close the gap between your bodies. It was like he was waiting for that confirmation that you wanted this. His hands move to your waist as his groan vibrates against your lips. Gentle kisses slowly turn more desperate as both of you breathe heavily. The taste of cigarettes and alcohol is sickeningly sweet on your tongue.

Strong hands move down your body and over your hips. You half expected him to grope you and leave it at that. And while you would’ve been fine with it, you’re surprised when you feel his hands move down to your thighs to lift you off the ground. The sudden movement makes you yelp and gasp into his mouth, fingers clawing at his hoodie to keep you balanced while he haphazardly sets you on the edge of the dusty, wobbling table. 

It’s brash and hurried but it’s exciting. The type of exciting that makes you forget about the dust on the tabletop and the possibility someone could walk in. Nothing else mattered when his mouth was on you, trailing over your jaw with hot and wet kisses that took your breath away. 

“You’ll tell me if I’m too much, yeah?” The rough sound of his voice surprises you, grounding you amidst the overwhelming sensations. 

You nod, running your hands over his shoulders to try and feel the rigidity under his clothes. “Y-yeah, course.”

“Good girl.”

A small kiss is planted on your neck before he pulls back enough to look you over. As your hands fall from his shoulders, he hastily rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie. Not only does the sight of sinewy muscle hidden underneath make your blood pound in your veins, but the intricate sleeve of tattoos on his left arm catches your attention. In any other scenario you’d ask him question after question about each line and symbol. But right now his hands are running up your thighs and under your skirt, the muscles in his arms flexing as he kneads the fat between his fingers. 

The way he groans at your softness makes you throb. He nudges your legs further apart—a movement you would have done on your own volition—and pushes your skirt up as he moves to hold your hips. You lean back on your hands and watch mesmerized as his eyes lock onto the sight between your legs. 

“Pretty pair,” he mutters as his thumbs rub circles against your hips. It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about your panties. “Makes me think you were hopin’ I’d see ‘em.”

Seems like it paid off to overthink every part of your outfit. “Maybe I was.”

“Yeah? Hopin’ I’d see how soppin’ wet they are?” His thumb moves inwards, running over your slit through the wet fabric. The fabric clings to your sensitive skin, proving his point, as does the way you whimper and buck your hips.

“Yeah, that too.”

His fingers hook into the strip of fabric covering your cunt, pulling the garment to the side with a forceful tug. And you swear, even in the dim light, his pupils dilate at the sight. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

Two fingers drag through your slit, through that slick that told him just how much you wanted him. His fingertips are rough but his touch is gentle. You gasp when he finds your clit and toys with the swollen bud by circling it teasingly. His lips find yours again with bruising kisses that swallow your sounds as you pant into his mouth. His fingers spread you open, gliding over your cunt and teasing every inch, gathering your slick as he circles your entrance.

Even though he moves slowly, the stretch of his thick fingers is certainly more than you were expecting. You whine as they curl and pump in and out in a rhythm that makes your cunt flutter and squelch with each push. Your head falls back with a moan when he hits something deep inside that sends shockwaves through you. 

His mouth moves down to your now-exposed neck, marking your skin with wet and sloppy kisses. “So fuckin’ wet for me,” his voice vibrates against you. “This is what you needed, isn’t it?”

You hum a broken “mm-hmm”, unable to focus long enough to form a proper response. But it’s that confirmation that has him moving faster and harder until your hips are jerking forward to meet his movements. 

“Yeah, y’couldn’t sit still ‘cause you were achin’ for it.” His free hand cups your face, gently squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. His eyes are dark with desire and something desperate that bores into you. “Just needed your pretty pussy fucked, huh?”

Your cunt flutters around his fingers at the praise, heat building in the pit of the stomach. Your pants turn into a moan as your breath catches in your throat. “Yes, I need it. I need it so fucking bad.”

His hand picks up speed as he coos a soft “I know, baby,” against your lips. His fingers curl and push just right, hitting every soft spot that makes your toes curl and your cunt tighten. One of your hands flies to his chest to claw at his hoodie as your body begins to tremble.

“Fuck,” you groan, barely able to get the words out, “d-don’t stop…”

“I won’t, love. Not ‘til you cum for me.”

For him. He wanted to see you fall apart under his touch and cling to him like he was the only thing in the world. You’ll care more about the sweetness of the thought when you aren’t stuffed full and moaning in the back of a bar. 

Whether it’s that thought or his touch or the heady mix of both, it’s not long before the muscles in your thighs go taut. Your breathing turns heavier as your moans and whines grow louder on each exhale. If it wasn’t for your subconscious fear of being caught and his need to feel your lips against his own you’re sure you would’ve screamed until the sound echoed off the walls. 

But even if your sounds were restrained, the sensations surely weren’t. That heat stirring in your core spilled over and your cunt clenched around his fingers until all you could hear was soft squelching as he pushed your slick cum back inside. Your thighs trembled and your chest heaved with the effort to catch your breath. It wasn’t until you could see straight against that you noticed the sweat along your brow and the ache in your back.

His fingers slid out, their girth just enough to leave you feeling loose. Before he could even take his hand off of you, his mouth was latching onto your neck for another set of rough and wet kisses.

“Turn around,” you barely hear his gruff instruction over the sound of your own breaths, “bend over.”

Still, you aren’t one to disappoint. You land on shaky legs after sliding off the table, using his sturdy form to balance yourself as you turn around. Your forearms rest against the table as you bend over the wobbling piece of furniture. 

You feel your skirt flip up, the fabric resting along your waist, before his large palms run over the swell of your ass. They’re warm and heavy and you can feel each callous as he kneads the fat in his grasp. He’s not rough, but it’s like he wants to savor the softness he finds.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cum.” That was enough to make you twitch, but then he runs a finger over the cum-slick fabric of your panties. “Think you can do it again for me?”

You barely muster a nod and an “mm-hmm” before his fingers hook into your panties and pull them down to your knees. His impatience was only riling you up, especially when you felt him spread you apart and groan at the sight. 

“Christ, look at you…” you hear him mutter, the sound accompanied by the jangle of a belt buckle coming undone. 

You could practically feel his stare boring into you, branding your skin with his gaze. You think you hear him spit before a hand rests on your ass to knead your skin again. That hand moves to your hip, holding you firmly in place while the head of his cock glides along your slit and stops at your entrance. He isn’t even attempting to push in and it already has you whimpering. You can feel it—thick and warm and heavy—waiting to split you open. 

“Breathe for me, baby. Just relax.” His voice is soothing, deep and soaked in desire, and it makes your body obey without thought. 

A few deep breaths later and your mouth is falling open in a loud gasp as he pushes in. He moves slow, pausing every time you whine to mutter soft encouragement through clenched teeth. And while his voice was soothing, it didn’t exactly ease the stretch that had your cunt pulsing around him. Nothing had made you feel so full before.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget the way he groans when he’s fully seated inside you. Both of his hands hold your hips tight as he mutters a curse under his breath. Slowly, he starts to move, pulling back only to push in deep. You swear he hits deeper every time, every push forcing the air out of your lungs in a desperate moan. 

“That’s it, you can take it.” His voice was somewhere between gruff and breathless, tense beneath clenched teeth and restrained moans. Your back arches and your hips push back to meet his movements halfway to encourage him to speed up his steady rhythm. “Oh, good fucking girl.”

All you can manage is broken strings of curses and moans. Between his constant praise and the fullness of his cock, you couldn’t think straight long enough to focus on anything except the pleasure shooting through your veins. If your nails were any sharper, you might’ve left claw marks on the table beneath you as you held on.

“Fuck me. H-Harder.” You knew you were being greedy, aching for more every time you accustomed to his pace. But you were still so sensitive from your recent climax; you knew it wouldn’t take much more to hit that high again, especially when his cock kissed that spot deep inside that made your eyes roll back.

“Yeah, you need it harder, baby?” He put up no argument as he moved his hands to your waist for a better grip. He pounded into you with a force that made your legs shake, his hips meeting your ass with an obnoxiously loud sound that you couldn’t care less if anyone heard. “Goddamn, this cunt’s perfect.”

Underneath your squeals and whines are his own moans and growls, each one making you clench around him just to draw another one out of him. Knowing he was as lost in pleasure as you were filled you with pride. 

His hands move up your body, snaking under your shirt, feeling you tense and tremble underneath him. Strong palms find and grope your chest, kneading you eagerly while he bends over you. His thrusts don’t cease even as his lips find your neck.

Soft bites and hot kisses only add to the sensations wracking pleasure on your body. You almost don’t hear him when he mutters against your skin, “Simon.”

“...Huh?”

“Simon.” He repeats, moving his mouth to your ear so there’s no doubt you’ll hear him. “Say it.”

“Si—fuck…Simon…” The name comes out in a moan, something he seems to enjoy judging by the receiving growl in your ear. 

“Atta girl. Now you know what to scream when you cum for me again.”

Your panting lips curl into something resembling a smile. Simon. You were too far gone to recognize the implication of trust behind his sudden openness, but you did know how sweet his name felt in your mouth. And, evidently, it wouldn’t take long for you to mutter it incoherently as your body begins to tense.

Heat and pleasure and everything warm builds in your core with each hit of his cock. He—Simon—mirrors your heavy breaths with his own. He must feel the way you tighten; his fingers dig into your skin so tight it’d probably hurt if your mind was less hazy.

“M’gonna cum—shit, you’re gonna make me cum, Simon.” Your eyes flutter shut, all your focus narrowed to the pleasure between your legs. 

“I know, love. Cum for me, let me feel you.”

His rough and steady pace makes the build-up all the more sweet. When your climax hits, it hits hard. White-hot pleasure shoots through you, making your hips twitch and your legs shake, a breathless cry that you try (and fail) to hold back ripping through the room. Your cunt pulses around his cock, sucking him deeper while he fucks you through the high with much gentler strokes. The obscenely wet sound is accompanied by his groans on every push. 

“Fuck, y’gonna make me cum squeezin’ me like that…”

That was enough to snap you out of your haze. Perhaps a much less restrained version of yourself would’ve let him finish inside you right then and there, but you’ll entertain the thought another time. Still trembling and panting, you force yourself to sit up. “Wait, wait. Pull out, hold on,” you urge, pushing him back with your hand.

He follows your movements, his hands sliding off of your body as he leans back. The emptiness that follows as his cock slips out of you leaves you feeling gaped in the best way possible. Your body aches, sore from the rough treatment and the wobbling table underneath you, as you stumble to your knees in front of Simon. Your eyes immediately land on his cock, a dumbfounded grin you’re sure looks ridiculous painting itself on your lips.

Fuckin’ hell…that was inside you?

It was every bit as impressive as it felt. Thick and heavy and so damn hard you could practically feel it throbbing with the need to cum. No wonder he needed to prep you, and no wonder you felt so stretched regardless. 

“Enjoyin’ the view?” Simon’s voice startles you, bringing your mind back to reality.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

Your hand wraps around the base of his cock, guiding it to your mouth as you lean in. Licking a slow, wet stripe along the underside makes him hiss and twitch against your tongue. You could taste yourself on him, your cum mixed with his musk, and the heady combination made your head spin.

Your eyes flicker up at him, at that mask still obscuring half of his face. “Dunno if I can take all of you,” you admit as your hand glides up and down his cock. “You’re a big lad.”

Simon curses and you watch his jaw tighten as his cock twitches in your hand. “Don’t worry about it. After the way you felt around me, I’m not gonna last long anyway.”

You flash him a smile—a cheeky one that, no doubt, showed how proud that made you feel—before closing your lips around the head of his cock. His musk hits your tongue and fills your nostrils and you can’t help but groan at the taste. The rest of his cock fits in your hand, throbbing under your palm while you stroke. 

“Christ, that’s good, sweetheart.” One of his hands lands on the back of your head. He doesn’t push you down or force more into your mouth, he just rests it there, watching you through heavy eyes. “Real fuckin’ nice…”

You swallow around him, taking more of him into your mouth. His hips buck involuntarily in a movement that makes you gag when the tip of his cock grazes the back of your throat. He mutters an apology that you ignore, groaning around him as your head bobs and your tongue swirls.

“Fuck, I can’t…” Simon’s other hand flies down to his cock, replacing your grip as he wraps it around the base. “M’gonna cum, baby.”

The way he growls the words makes you hum, the sound vibrating through him. You give one last firm suck as your mouth slides off of him. “Cum on my face,” you utter before you can even catch your breath.

“Y-you sure? Your makeup—”

“M’not askin’, Simon.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” He can barely get the words out as he strokes himself, fisting his cock with a lewdly wet sound thanks to your spit and cum coating his sensitive flesh.

You can hear his breath grow heavy, slowly turning to moans as his body tenses. All you can focus on is his face—what parts you can see—watching his mouth as he pants and seeing his brows furrow in pleasure. You think you’d give just about anything to see him like this without that mask on.

His hand stills on his cock just before he mutters a curse and spills onto your face. His cum lands in thick, warm globs across your skin, and you’re thankful he seems to have enough awareness to avoid your eyes. He taps his cock against your lips, spreading his cum just to revel in the sight. 

Simon’s growling breaths steady out as he comes down from the high. “You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he sighs, peach lips curling into a smile.

Your tongue darts out to clean your lips, tasting the unique saltiness that painted them. “You’re not too bad yourself. Simon.”

He offers you a hand and pulls you up to your feet. His thumb brushes against your cheek, collecting some of his spend before bringing it to your mouth. You gladly accept his digit into your mouth, moaning around it as you suck it clean. With a growl and a curse, he pulls you into a rough kiss.

“Next time,” he starts, still panting as his breathing steadies, “how about we go to your place? Then we can have a proper go at it.”

Your heart skips a beat. ‘Next time’…he wanted a ‘next time’... 

“As long as you’re a gentleman and drive me there.” You pat his chest before pulling back enough to readjust your clothing. There wasn’t much you could do about the smeared makeup and tousled hair, but you weren’t the only person in the bar who looked a little worse for wear. 

“Deal.” You can hear the shuffle as he refits his own clothes. Thankfully, the mask doesn’t come back down. “You fancy another drink?”

“Uh…m’not sure, why?”

“‘Cause if you don’t, I can take you home right now if you’d like.” You meet his eyes and he matches your smile with one of his own.

“Deal.”

[nymphbroadcast]

Scarabia x MC! Like Charlie Morningstar

⊹Synopsis ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆The Scarabia boys with an MC! or Yuu like Charlie Morningstar.

⊹Relationship ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆Fall in love / free of interpretation.

⊹Fem! MC/Yuu/Reader ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆

⊹Clarifications: This scenario is based on my own analysis of Charlie in the series, adding some information to give more meaning to the story.

⊹Charlie's Analysis ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆

• Charlie is a kind and generous person, despite her obvious royal status she does not take advantage of it and also finds it "mean" if she used her status to intimidate other people, she tends to be completely disinterested unless she is in a desperate or dangerous situation with their loved ones. Charlie is a sensitive, very artistic and dreamy person who enjoys musicals, plays, shows and entertaining movies. She is a firm believer in second chances and always strives to understand the tastes and hobbies of others even if they are not entirely to her taste. When she hurts someone else's feelings she tends to exaggerate the situation and blame herself excessively even if it's not a big deal and she tries to make up for her mistake. She is quite skilled when it comes to her supernatural abilities and immense power but curiously she doesn't usually brag about it. and notably prefers to be "simple" and act like a less powerful person. Returning to her emotional sensitivity, Charlie is usually a pacifist but will not hesitate to use her immense power to defend her loved ones even if that includes sacrificing herself or hurting her enemy (only hurting because she is incapable of killing) and intimidating anyone if it is necessary only because of her love for "her people" even if she knows that they would not do it for her, it is easy for her to connect with people thanks to her pure heart.

Kalim Al-Asim

☀️ (Charlie and Emily Interaction 2.0) Kalim is very similar to you, you may be a little less childish but you are both innocent rays of sunshine who like to make others happy.

☀️ Kalim usually drags you with him everywhere to show you things he thinks you will like and you are delighted to see his thousands of animals and all his family's treasures and all the legends that follow them.

☀️ YOU TWO ARE THE LIFE OF THE PARTY, since you are splendid in singing and entertainment activities and Kalim in the organization and planning of banquets and parties... THE DUO IS PERFECT!!! You complement his skills and even help Jamil get at least 5 minutes of rest!

☀️ We all know that Kalim can be a little messy, but on the contrary you have an ENTIRE ITINERARY ORGANIZED IN YOUR HEAD so you usually remind him of certain things he must do and appease many of his extravagant desires with kindness and before Jamil explodes. (Jamil thanks you)

☀️ Kalim realizes some time later that you use your sorcery skills for similar things to what he does! For example, you light light bulbs for Halloween decorations or create fireworks at larger celebrations, it is something that fascinates him because often you hardly use them for anything and he thinks they are very cool!

☀️ At first your little panic attacks surprise him, because he thought you were much more relaxed... Seeing your VERY few moments of pure anger, the poor thing is terrified to see you so angry and your powers almost destroying everything around... fortunately It hasn't happened more than twice and you've never hurt anyone.

☀️ Kalim sees that you are a cheerful and very kind and generous soul like him, you both definitely have certain ideas of "justice" and "redemption" in common.

☀️ The first time he participates in your trust exercises he can tell that you and Jamil were the people he would trust the most, you were too honest to tell him that and Jamil... Well it's Jamil.

☀️ Kalim is a little curious when you introduce him to your two butlers, they look like goats in his eyes but you correct him and tell him that this is just a more friendly and functional way of looking, when you decide to show. Kalim the true form of the goats... THEY ARE TWO HUGE INFERNAL DRAGONS??!!! He is excited and offers to fly with you on his magic carpet, now imagine how terrified all of Scarabia is to see two dragons flying with their dorm leader through the sky... (RIP Jamil viper)

☀️ So you and Kalim are nicknamed "The Sun and the Rainbow of Night Raven College" and you both take care of and cheer up others together!

Jamil Viper

🐍 Upon meeting you and seeing how naive you seemed he clearly takes advantage of this, using his unique magic on you seeing that you're never particularly as alert as you should be since you arrived at Twisted Wonderland.

🐍 He is surprised by those two goats that follow you and Grimm wherever you go and how they are so protective of you, you explain to him that they are your twin butlers and that your dad gave them to you to guarantee your safety and he doesn't know what to think... why a couple of little goats???

🐍 However, the times he interacts with you while you are not under his control, Jamil can see that in addition to being naive, you are too helpful and kind, offering to help him with his tasks and duties in Scarabia and with Kalim.

🐍 At the time of the Overblot and being sent to the farthest corner of Scarabia, you asked the Octavinelle boys and Kalim to "ride" your two little butlers. Their surprise was pleasant when both goats turned into... COLOSSAL INFERNAL DRAGONS... Floyd he's having fun and Azul is terrified... (I know it doesn't have much to do with Jamil but I had to add Razzle and Dazzle's transformation)

🐍 Also during his Overblot Jamil was able to see for the first time what your anger was like (unleashed by feeling betrayed and Jamil's horrible audacity in controlling Kalim, who fully trusted him) and your powerful chaotic witchcraft, fortunately you have a law of "Not hurting anyone" and you only dedicated yourself to tiring and stunning him until Octavinelle and Kalim's boys hit a final blow.

🐍 After that, Jamil thought that you would be willing to give him some kind of punishment with that powerful "magic" of yours, however his eyes widened when he saw how you extended your hand towards him and talked to him about a second chance.

🐍 From then on he has tried to be as formal as possible, both for your status and for your sensitive personality (He doesn't want to feel a couple of fireworks breaking his eardrums again).

🐍 Every time he discovers more facets of you, your cheerful, almost invasive personality sometimes reminds him of Kalim and he only torments himself thinking that he will have to take care of you too.

🐍 Luckily for him, you are much more responsible and calm than Kalim and you are often the one who gently convinces Kalim to stop his extravagant ideas and he thanks you (not out loud).

🐍 On the other hand, Jamil sometimes doesn't know what to think about you since you listen to him when he starts rambling about his childhood and his desire to be even better than Kalim... And you're also sane enough to remind him that it's not Kalim's fault that Jamil is forced to take care of him 24/7 and that in reality Kalim is just a spoiled child who is too innocent and a bit ignorant to realize that maybe he forgets to give Jamil some space and quiet.

🐍 YOU EVEN PROMISE THAT WHEN YOU ARE THE RULER OF YOUR HOUSEHOLD YOU WILL HELP HIM STOP BEING A SERVANT OF THE ASIM FAMILY. (I see Charlie capable of this, sorry)

🐍 He definitely takes on the role of your protector out of will, seeing that you are perhaps too pure to be there and be labeled with the "Villains".

🐍 You catch him off guard when you say with the purest of smiles and the most honest words that it doesn't bother you when people call you "Villain" because all of them, including him, are your people... they are your family...

🐍 In the end he appreciates your company and your firm beliefs, he strives to make you understand that sometimes you cannot give a second chance to certain people but you always show him the opposite, you become his refuge and a cloth for tears because you are so pure that he He knows that you will never take advantage of his weaknesses.

Nymph's Note:

Charlie is my favorite character from Hazbin Hotel, since this is my first writing I hope you will forgive my mistakes because English is not my native language, I hope you liked it... And I have been thinking about doing one of these for Malleus! As the SIMP No. 1 of Malleus, I feel like an MC! like Charlie would be the perfect Yuu to be the darling of the cute dragon boy!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!

Remember to tune in, end of this broadcast!

Scarabia Dorm x MC! Like Charlie Morningstar Done! ⊹ೃ 🏜⋆

Next...???

[project-sekai-facts]

Pspsppspspspsp…,. Any weird facts on how sekai works? Specifically wondershow if you can, but from what I know is that in general sekai will kick you out forcibly if your phone dies, school sekai has no daylight cycle, wondershow has a Victorian ages style library, empty sekai is so big you can get lost in it, and street sekai has a city

Okay I'm going 100% Wonderland SEKAI on this because I can and I have some stuff scheduled already about general SEKAI lore. And because holy shit Wonderland SEKAI is interesting.

Without further ado, 8 facts about Wonderland SEKAI...

Under the cut due to length

This doesn't display well on the desktop dashboard I apologise for that.

Wonderland SEKAI fact #1: KAITO might have been stabbed.

This is all the same magic show, just three different references to it (and a minor inconsistency that Tsukasa gets told about it twice). These are from an area conversation, Miku's Wonderland SEKAI 2* story 1, and KAITO's Wonderland SEKAI 2* story 1. Either KAITO really is that flexible or Virtual Singers cannot die. This probably applies to all SEKAI not just Wonderland but I just wanted everyone to know about KAITO getting stabbed.

Wonderland SEKAI fact #2: Miku seems to be younger than the members of WonderlandsxShowtime.

In an area conversation, KAITO says he thinks Emu would be the oldest if she and Miku were sisters. However, in this conversation he seems to be mainly referring to personality, so there is a possibility that Miku is still her standard age of 16 and just acts younger than she is. That said, the ages of Virtual Singers do vary through other SEKAI (particularly School), which adds a bit more evidence for this fact.

Wonderland SEKAI fact #3: Plants are sentient.

They're alive. They talk. They sing. They have conscious thought. Alice in Wonderland type shit. (Sources: KAITO's Troupe Positions Open 3* card stories, @/pjsekai_eng's translation of 4koma #72)

Wonderland SEKAI fact #4: Wonderland SEKAI is the only SEKAI with distinguishable inhabitants (not counting Virtual Singers)

While the Stage SEKAI has audiences that come and go, we don't know much about them and they don't seem to have any defined personalities or characteristics (it may be an instance of leaning on the 4th wall). Wonderland SEKAI is inhabited by plushies and puppets, all of which have their own individual personalities and free will. KAITO believes that these may be plushies that Tsukasa played with and performed shows with as a kid. You'll see this again in a bit.

Wonderland SEKAI fact #5: Since everything in the SEKAI is pulled from Tsukasa’s psyche, not all the plushies are based on shows he wrote as a kid

For example, Usa-chan. She seems to be based on a younger version of Saki, where she was more sensitive and would need cheering up a lot. Obviously connecting to Tsukasa's main drive being making people (specifically Saki) smile.

One more notable example is the cat and dog plushie from Full Power! Wonder Halloween!. The dog plushie is very obviously meant to be Tsukasa (it even has a star on it), and the cat is Rui (and it has cameoed in his cards a few times). In the event story, Tsukasa and Rui had an argument due to Rui holding himself back after a stunt gone wrong, and the cat and dog plushie have a very similar conflict, albeit the cat plushie representing Rui is much more aware of it's feelings.

KAITO's A Chat With The Lost 4* card story shows him making a different (although possibly the same, the story contradicts itself) pair of dog and cat plushies resolve a conflict and open up to each other. Yet again, the plushies very obviously represent Tsukasa and Rui.

TLDR: Tsukasa's feelings and experiences work their way into the SEKAI in real time through the form of plushies.

Wonderland SEKAI fact #6: Oh yeah literally everything in the SEKAI reflects some aspect of Tsukasa.

I find it interesting how KAITO tells Rui that he should go and talk to Tsukasa about it but then to Emu and Nene he gives a more confident answer. It's a nice little detail that ties into Rui's character (read: he didn't have a lot of friends at this point).

Linking this back to the previous fact, it does seem like the other members of WxS do have some influence in the SEKAI, specifically over their plushie equivalents (since the cat plushie has the exact same internal conflict as Rui that Tsukasa had zero knowledge about at the time). The power of friendship I guess.

Wonderland SEKAI fact #7: Wonderland SEKAI manifests as a response to Saki asking Tsukasa why he wants to be a star.

But that doesn't sound quite right, does it? It's stated constantly that SEKAI are created by strong feelings, and this is true in all other stories (Ichika thinking about how she had drifted apart from her friends, Minori reminding herself to never give up and keep aiming to be an idol, An's declaring her dream while Kohane wished she had one, Mafuyu's depression and longing to find herself). So it really sticks out that Tsukasa's SEKAI is formed by this:

Sorry about the wiki screenshots

There's not really any strong feelings here... In all other instances, the SEKAI are formed by a concious desire for something, and yeah okay, Tsukasa seems to want to remember why he wants to be a star, but at the same time it doesn't seem hugely important to him (not pictured but he drops the train of thought just after this) and the SEKAI isn't born from that anyway. The SEKAI is born from the feelings that he was trying to remember, which implies that the SEKAI was formed by his subconscious.

Further supported by Miku immediately picking out the correct reason for him wanting to be a star in chapter 3 of WxS' main story.

And in the Opening chapter of the same story where KAITO explicitly mentions that the SEKAI is nostalgic to Tsukasa, suggesting that he knows exactly what Tsukasa has forgotten. Tsukasa himself had noticed that it seemed nostalgic, although he denies it when KAITO brings it up.

Oh and then he somehow manages to remember everything by the end of the story and like I'm not a psych student but that doesn't seem right? Honestly from what I do know about psychology the situation sounds like a repressed memory but it doesn't sound 100% accurate either? I dunno, maybe it's just fantastical psychology coming into play (it probably is).

Regardless of all of that, it implies that you can somehow form a SEKAI through subconscious/repressed feelings which is really interesting actually.

Anyway they're probably never going to elaborate on any of that in the game because...

Wonderland SEKAI fact #8: the game goes out of its way to not tell you Wonderland SEKAI lore, and if it does tell you, it's usually not clear

For example, this area conversation. KAITO doesn't tell them directly and we never find out if they learnt the answer.

Or this area conversation (very abridged) where KAITO doesn't even know the answer.

Or the fact that Rui still hasn't had that talk with Tsukasa that he said he would have in KAITO's 2* card. Or that KAITO isn't 100% certain about the things he says about SEKAI. How do more plants grow in Spring? Does the Wonderland SEKAI have a plant lifecycle or do they just never die? How is Miku seemingly derived from Emu despite having existed before Tsukasa had ever encountered Emu? (I know Kohane and An hadn't met either but Kohane was at least watching An's performance. Miku actually mentions "others" in the Main Story Opening which means there's some more weird fate shit going on. The power of friendship I guess.)

The other SEKAI have their quirks explained (for the most part) but everything in Wonderland SEKAI kinda just exists and is never really explained beyond "it's something from Tsukasa's psyche". I mean there's stuff from other SEKAI that isn't explained but it just seems like there's a bit more here.

I mean you can infer a fair amount of stuff just from Tsukasa as a character but I want the game to talk about it to make my life easier I have a fact account to run I need evidence. Tsukasa please be less emotionally constipated, sincerely, mod.

If you made it this far I'm sorry.

Love is stored in the WxS KAITO <3

Bonus Wonderland SEKAI Fact #9: this is a mistranslation and KAITO should be calling Tsukasa the top star-to-be and not himself. Poor TLs aside KAITO does seem to be like, Tsukasa's "ideal self" for lack of a better description. Also Len takes traits from Rui while being a foil to him, MEIKO takes some traits from Emu, Rin is a foil to Nene, Miku seems to be a mirror character to Emu but don't ask how that works and Luka is derived from ???

[presidenthades]

Day 2 of HOTD adventures at New York Comic Con

As I mentioned in my Day 1 post, I did end up attending the HOTD panel today! It was live-streamed, so I won’t bother with a full recap because a lot of people have probably watched the recording. I’ll just list a few things I thought were highlights.

First of all, I just want to brag about my very excellent seat. I had a great view of the stage.

My personal highlights:

Before the panel began, an event host went around the room to get some sound bites from the audience. The most notable was a pair of women who cosplayed Rhaenys and Meleys. That’s right, someone cosplayed MELEYS. I wish I’d gotten photos, but believe me when I say the cosplays were amazing.

When Matt talked about how he’s attended many fan events, it made me think about how during his brief interactions for photos and autographs, he still made every fan feel seen and appreciated. I read online that Matt, who was scheduled to do Saturday autographs only until 7pm, stayed after 10pm to make sure everyone in line got their autographs. He probably is aware that his lines are generally really long, and he did his best to make the experience worth it even though he had limited time.

It was a CROWDED room, I think 4000 people? If Fabien seemed a little startled/awestruck at first, that’s why. He also seemed surprised (at the panel and during other fan interactions later) that people were genuinely happy to see him. I suspect this is due to some people letting their feelings about Criston seep into their real-life interactions with Fabien.

Cock jokes. 😂😂😂

The host asked Tom and Fabien if they became more comfortable going from Season 1 to Season 2. Not sure if the livestream caught it, but Tom let out an awkward giggle after that question. 👀

When the host asked Fabien how he would rate his job as Hand and then the question was tossed to the audience, the reception was indeed lackluster. Lots of people held up hands with just one or two fingers raised. Fabien seemed really sheepish about it, though Tom defended Criston’s character. It reminded me of a conversation I overheard while queuing before the panel. There was a group of friends in the queue, and one of them said she’d never seen HOTD and knew nothing about it. Her friends told her that if the panel asked any questions about Cole, “don’t cheer because we hate him.”

Matt and Fabien discussing Daemon and Criston’s homoerotic trysts/tension. 🔥

Tom’s spiel about how he can’t turn his back on Aegon as a character or else everyone else will turn their backs was interesting. Also about how digging into the reasons Aegon behaves the way he does is “an explanation not an excuse.” I think that’s a nuance which unfortunately some people disregard, and that leads to toxic interactions in the fandom.

Matt’s description of Viserys’s death instilling in Daemon “an odd level of psychosis and grief” was VERY interesting.

I can’t believe Matt forgot Milly’s name. 😂 And when Fabien recounted that he told her to join them at NYCC, Milly said “no fucking way.” 😂😂😂

I happened to get a photo when Tom announced he spilled water on his trousers and, in his own words, it looked like he pissed himself.

The way the actors talked AROUND their feelings about the script/writers was intriguing. 👀 I wonder if Matt will actually make requests of the writers…

When the host asked what other character the actors would like to play, Fabien had trouble thinking of an answer, so the host said, “You love your character so much!” Fabien IMMEDIATELY said, “Don’t put that out into the aether.” It seems like he doesn’t allow himself to publicly declare that he likes anything about his own character, because he knows how much vitriol that would generate. 🥺

Tom has never watched Lord of the Rings??? CANCEL HIM. (JK please don’t.)

When the host asked the actors what was the worst note a director had ever given them, Fabien said it would have to wait a few years after HOTD. So I am pretty sure his “worst note” was something during HOTD. 👀

Matt thinks chipmunks and mice are the same thing. 😭

When the panel ended, Matt and Tom left pretty quickly because their handlers were ushering them to their next event. Fabien lingered onstage to take a picture of the giant audience. People SWARMED to the stage, and Fabien was nice enough to sign one or two things that people were shoving up at him before he also had to leave.

I ended up having time to go to Fabien’s autograph session later that day. On the way, I saw that Matt’s line was ridiculously long again. Tom’s line was also huge, I think because he left early the day before, so people were all trying to get his autograph today.

When I arrived, Fabien was going on a break, so several of us early birds waited for him to come back. Fabien and Tom’s booths were next to each other, and we were able to see what Tom was doing. Tom seemed tired again but was still nice and friendly to all the fans. I’m 99% sure his girlfriend was sitting nearby. He definitely perked up when he paused to chat with her.

When Fabien came back from his break, fans in the lines for both actors started cheering for him. Tom also started cheering and clapping and going “whooooo!” It’s good to see that the HOTD cast really do like and have fun with each other. ❤️

Once it was my turn to get an autograph and selfie, I told Fabien that I enjoyed his performance at Rook’s Rest, and I named a few specific Cole moments (pre-battle speech, stumbling around afterwards looking traumatized). He seemed to really appreciate hearing that; I feel like he might get a lot of “I hate Criston but…” kind of comments.

My HOTD adventures today were more Fabien-centered, and I enjoyed it! From my brief interaction, I would say Fabien is friendly, sweet, and genuinely interested in fan interactions—although maybe a little nervous/scared about what people will say to his face.

TBH I’m tempted to write a Criston POV for my fic series. I got Fabien to autograph a print that his team provided, but it would’ve been nice to be able to have him autograph something more personal. I love it anyway!

Now I’m going to show off my GOT/HOTD merch!

Postcards:

Stained glass window cling print that looks gorgeous when it’s backlit:

Not GOT/HOTD-related, but I found out last minute that Naomi Novik, AKA Astolat, AKA one of the founders of AO3, was attending NYCC on Sunday to sign books. So I hightailed to that event. She signed my copy of her new book (including my AO3 username) and my Fanbinding pouch. 🥰 I told her how much I adore her writing and appreciate her contribution to fandom. She was lovely!!

That little squiggle she draws in the middle is a dragon doodle! For those who don’t know, Naomi’s first published book series was Temeraire, which is about the Napoleonic Wars but with dragons.

Later that day, I was shopping at a booth selling gorgeous headbands. Then I turned around, and there was Naomi again, shopping at the same booth!! She was off-duty doing her own thing, so I tried very hard to pretend I didn’t know who she was, even though I was fangirling inside. She really is a nerdy fan like the rest of us, enjoying her con experience. ❤️❤️❤️

Here’s one of the headbands I got:

All in all, a very successful and fun con! But now I desperately need to catch up on sleep and get back to my normal routine, so maybe I can resume writing. 🥲😴

[hotpinkrathian]

I know that the holidays are *technically* over, and I'm late posting this. But if anyone has any cheer leftover here's a Hallmark movie Kyalin fic

Kya stepped off the train, the tempered air pinching her nose. 

She looked at the crisp snow as it landed on her belongings with a certain fondness. 

The snow in RC was different than the snow at the poles, or the lack of snow in Ba Sing Se. 

It had an aura to it, which she attributed to the density of airbenders in the area. 

She pulled on her mitts, setting her bag down for a moment. 

She would regret it though, as almost instantaneously someone came up behind her, looping the handles of her purse around their arm and sprinting into a run. 

“Hey!” She shouted, running after them. She pulled her suitcase behind her, inevitably slowing her down.

The perpetrator was far ahead of her, clearly a skilled thief as they expertly maneuvered through the crowded station. 

“Someone stop them!” She shouted, but people simply watched her futile chase. 

She was about to give up, when a woman stepping onto the platform stuck out her arm, stopping the thief with a self-inflicted blow to the throat. 

Kya gasped as she went up to the stranger and the fallen perpetrator. 

“Oh my, thank you so much,” she said, wrapping the woman in a hug. 

The woman stiffened, but accepted it. 

When they pulled apart she picked up the bag by the straps, the thief wheezing on the ground. 

“I believe, based on circumstances, this is yours,” the woman said, handing it to her.

“It is, thank you so much. No one else stopped them and I guess my yelling didn't quite warrant the attention of security.” She said sarcastically, doing a quick check of her bag to make sure everything was there. 

“Yeah the security here is pretty terrible.” The woman agreed. Upon closer inspection, Kya was able to make out a few distinct features. 

She had porcelain skin with jet black hair. Her eyes were a very distinct shade of green, undoubtedly speaking to her earth nation heritage. 

But most notably were a set of paired scars, running from her cheekbones to the base of her face. The tissue was slightly raised, speaking to a rushed patch job, but relatively neutral in color. 

“Tell me about it. What a warm welcome back to the city, robbed as soon as I step onto the platform.” Kya said, brushing herself off and strapping her purse onto herself.

Past the other woman she was able to see a couple of guards coming up to them, a definite lack of pep in their step. 

“We'll take it from here- chief?” 

“Surprise.” The other woman said. Kya watched, trying to make sense of the interaction.

“We were just-”

“I know what you were doing, and it nearly cost this lovely woman her purse, and you three weeks of desk duty.” The officers looked at each other, defeated as they picked up the thief and began to carry him away. 

“You're the security,” Kya said, facepalming.

“Mm, close. Lin Beifong, Chief of Police. Please excuse my lack of uniform, I've just arrived from Zaofu.” 

Kya accepted the hand shake, still feeling a little embarrassed. 

“I feel like an idiot,” she told Chief Beifong. 

“Don't. We appreciate the feedback. Helps me decide who's cut out for field work.” 

“Well, I'm glad I could help.”

“What's your name, you know, for the incident report?” 

“Oh, uh Kya. Kya Cloud.”  Kya watched the gears turn in the police Chief's head as her name registered. There was no way someone of so much status hadn't heard her name before. 

She was the only daughter of Avatar Aang, after all. 

“Well, I reckon it's about time we met, Miss Cloud”.

“Just Kya is fine.”

“Right. Well, is there anything else I can do for you, maybe something that will increase your rating?” 

Kya laughed, pulling her things close to her.

“I think this will suffice,” Kya told her, “you can expect at least three elements from me.”

“I'll take it.” Chief Beifong stated. “I'll see you around, ‘just Kya’.” 

Kya bade her farewell, watching the woman go down the platform. 

She took a deep breath, suppressing her smile, and the butterflies in her stomach as she started the walk home. 

“I can't believe you almost got robbed!” Her mother said, hugging Kya again for good measure. 

“Mom, relax, it ended up okay. You know I could've taken him. If I had been prepared.” 

“Your lucky Lin was there.”

“No kidding. She was very efficient.” 

“She's excellent at her job. The best Police Chief the City has ever seen. Including its first.” 

“Who was the first?”

“Kya, I know I've told you.”

“And you know I'm forgetful. I'm a busy woman, mom.”

“Lin's own mother, one of my best friends, Toph Beifong.”

Memories came back as Kya pieced history together. No wonder Lin had come off familiar, she had been an essential person in Kya's early childhood. Kya was about fourteen when the Beifong's stopped hanging around. It seemed like a lifetime ago despite it being only twenty years. 

“Right, I remember now.” Kya said. 

Her mother didn't seem assured, but carried on with her preparation anyway. Her and Kya were currently decorating the temple for the holidays, making everything either sparkle, or shine. It would be the first Christmas with a baby in the family, and Kya's first time meeting the little one. 

She felt terrible she hadn't seen Jinora, but her career often had her on the road, and she hadn't gotten a chance to stop at Republic City in nearly eight months. 

She took some solace in knowing Jinora was only a month old, so there was still plenty of time for her to become the career-wine aunt. 

“When will Tenzin be by?” She asked.

“He told me he and Pema should be back tomorrow. They decided to break the trip from the air temple into one more day, to give them some time to sufficiently rest.” 

“So just you and me tonight then mum?”

“Actually I have to make a City council meeting. The last one before the holidays.”

“So just me?”

“Sorry dear. You're welcome to come, or you could go out. Spend a night on the town? It's Saturday so it should be alive. Not Friday night alive, but alive nonetheless.”

“Alright. Know any good spots?”

“Hmm, I've heard some friends talk about Rafters. It might be old for you though.”

“Gotta start somewhere. Maybe I can bring a plus one to Christmas,” Kya smirked. 

Katara shot her a glare, so Kya just laughed.

She supposed she was going out tonight.

Her mother was right about the crowd of Rafters being older. Kya didn't mind, it meant more people willing to buy her a drink. At this rate, she'd be plastered before the tides even changed directions. 

She sat at the bar, absorbing the chatter of the crowd. Sipping on a peppermint Mojito- tis’ the season. The TV was set to a pro-bending tournament, which she hadn't paid attention to.

Her attention was drawn to a boisterous chatter at the door. A group of people came in, laughing, and dressed uniformly. 

At the tail end of the group was a woman, in her thirties, porcelain skin, black chopped hair and a pair of scars on her cheek. 

The woman saw Kya, too, excusing herself from the others and coming up to her.

“Are you stalking me?” Lin asked, setting an elbow on the bar and leaning in.

“I could ask you the same.”

“Hah, I always come here on Saturday. Like clockwork.” 

Kya had an inkling her mother may have had some ulterior motives sending Kya here.

It was frustrating, but Kya had to applaud her mother's nonchalance. 

“Well you got me. Take me away, officer,” Kya said, holding out her wrists. 

Lin smiled, looking at the table of her colleagues, then back to Kya.

“Why don't we pretend you weren't drinking alone, and you come join us?”

“Saving me twice today? Someone is looking out for me.”

“Seems to me you're still owed a proper Republic City welcome.”

“Your rating just went up, Beifong.” 

Lin smiled, ushering Kya to their table. 

“Everyone, this is Kya Cloud.” Lin introduced. Kya watched the same gears turn in their heads as she had with Lin earlier. 

“She'd like to join us tonight, if that's alright.”

No one protested, and Kya slid into the booth next to Lin. 

She absorbed their stories, shopping recommendations, restaurant recommendations and tourism tips for RC. By midnight she had a comprehensive list of everything Republic City had to offer.

She had also had another Peppermint Mojito, a Gingerbread Martini, and a shared pitcher of Apple Cranberry Sangria. 

“Have a good night everyone!” Lin said, watching her coworkers leave. The two of them were left in the booth. 

“You didn't want to go with them?” Kya asked.

“No.”

“Why not? And don't say because I needed a walk home.”

“Hah, I'm wasted. As soon as I stand up I'm going to hit the floor. Didn't want them to see me like this.” 

Kya laughed, sliding out of the booth, offering her own dizzy hand to Lin, who took it. 

“You got cash?” Lin asked. 

“A bit, why?”

“Tip the bartender. I used all mine on the pitcher.” Kya pulled her cash out, leaving it on the table as the two of them headed outside for the sobering cold. They walked a ways, shivering slightly at the brisk air, before Lin pulled a cigarette from her pocket, using a lighter to ignite it. 

“You know those are terrible for you,” Kya told her.

“Yup,” Lin replied, handing it to her. Kya accepted  taking a puff before handing it back. 

“So, you're back for the holidays?” Lin asked her.

“Yeah, my brother had a baby. Figured it warranted a visit.”

“Really? Which brother?” 

“Tenzin, the younger one.” 

“Wow, I remember going to school with him. He always wanted a family, so that's good to hear.” 

“Yeah. A little girl, Jinora.” 

Lin nodded, taking another puff.

“And what about Bumi?”

“Still with the United Forces Navy. He's coming back in a couple days. His service will be over in… a couple years I think? Got a couple medals, and don't ask because I'm terrible at that stuff.”

Kya watched as Lin took another long, contemplative puff before handing the cig back to Kya. 

“And you?” Lin asked. 

Kya scoffed on her exhale, relishing the warmth of the smoke on her face.

“I move around a lot for work. I'm a doctor, wherever a patient needs me to be one. Just came from Ba Sing Se.”

“How's the patient?” 

“Dead.”

“Jeez, I'm sorry.” 

“Don't be,” Kya said, handing what little was left of the cigarette back to Lin, “she was old, she knew it was coming. I was there easing the pain.”

Lin seemed satisfied with that, and her cigarette had run out, so they kept walking. They were making their way towards the ferry, and as the alcohol wore off, Kya was starting to feel the real effects of the cold. 

“Can I ask you something?” Kya asked as they walked.

“I got them on duty. Apprehending a getaway driver for a triad.”

“Oh, uh, I'm sorry.” 

“Don't be, I haven't even told you the worst part.”

“Oh.”

“The driver was my sister.”

Sister. That was right, there were two Beifong children… Lin and…

“Suyin.” Kya stated. Lin seemed impressed, and nodded.

“She was young, dumb, and fell  in with the wrong crowd. We've… made up, sort of. I visit once a year, if just to see the kids.” 

“She has kids?

“Yup, four with one on the way.”

“Wow.” Kya said, unsure of what to make of that. She didn't even know what Suyin looked like anymore. It was hard to picture the toddler she once knew with five kids. 

They were coming up on the pier, and Kya was getting tired of seeing her frosty breath in front of her. 

“You don't have to come on the ferry,” Kya told her, “I get it's a hassle, really I'll be okay.”

“It won't affect the rating, will it?” Lin teased, sticking her hands in her coat. 

Kya laughed, shaking her head. 

“Of course not. Assuming I don't get mugged aboard.”

“Well, if you do, you know where to find me.”

Lin said. The Chief removed a single cold hand from her coat, offering Kya a handshake, which Kya accepted. 

They bade their farewells and Kya continued on to the ferry, opting to sit indoors and warm up. 

She had to wait ten minutes for the change of the hour before the boat departed, but the journey across was only twenty minutes. 

She used the time to reflect on her night, how it had immediately improved upon Lin’s arrival at the bar. She wished she had a better way to express her gratitude. 

When they docked she tipped the ferryman, and made for the warmth of the temple. 

As expected, her mom was already asleep. Kya went for the pitcher of water and poured herself a glass, hoping to curve the hangover she was going to have tomorrow. 

She made her way up the stairs, pausing at her mother's door, but moving on.

She laid in bed, her mind once again drifting to the events of the day, and how circumstances had guided her interactions with Chief Beifong twice. 

How many times before she could stop the coincidence excuse?

“Coming!” Kya said, walking to the door. The bell had gone off, and her mother's hands were full with bed sheets as she prepared for the prodigal son’s return. 

“hel- Lin?” 

“morning Kya,” the earthbender said, her arms crossed. 

“did I forget something or-” 

“Actually, I'm here for Katara. You don't mind if I borrow her for a moment, do you?”

Kya was caught off guard, and she was well aware of her processing delay crossing her slow response. 

“right, of course, come on in.”

“Katara?”

“Chief Beifong in the flesh! You aren't fed up with me and Kya yet?”

“fed up with you? Me? Never. I brought those papers you inquired about last night. I know you won't have another order of business till after the holidays, and it seems you have your hands full here, or you're about to, so I figured I'd bring them over early. Take your time, I just need them back before the hearing on the second.” 

“Absolutely it's no problem Lin, and thank you so much. I'm surprised you didn't send one of your ‘henchmen’”

“my ‘henchmen’ are far and few right now. No one wants to work over the holidays.”

“and you shouldn't either,” 

“heh, I've had my fun. I went to Zaofu last week. I just got back yesterday- when I ran into Kya actually.” 

Kya allowed herself to drift into the conversation at the mention of her name. 

“good for you! How are Su and the kids?”

Kya could see Lin bite her tongue, and she wanted to ask for the tea, but refrained in fear of coming on too strong. 

“as good as they'll ever be.” Lin replied after a thoughtful pause.

“and you?” Katara asked, surprising Kya by placing her hands on either side of Lin’s face.

“good as I’ll ever be.” Katara didn't seem convinced, but she released the earthbender. Lin looked at Kya, a shameful look on her face. Like a guilty puppy. 

“Why don't you come for dinner tonight?” Katara asked. 

“I shouldn't. Kya tells me you're getting the other thirds this afternoon. You've got a full house.”

“Really it's fine,” Kya interjected. “I mean, there's plenty of food, and you've been such a help.” Lin looked torn. Like her heart said yes but her head said no. 

Kya told herself she would accept either verdict. 

“Alright, but just for dinner. I refuse to disrupt your family anymore.” 

“Of course, we will see you tonight then, Lin.” 

Katara said. 

“I'll walk you out,” Kya offered. The door was only a few meters behind them, but Kya walked anyway. 

“Thanks,” Lin said, placing her nimble fingers on the doorknob.

“It's no problem, really.” Kya assured her. “Holidays, right? No one should be alone.” 

Lin nodded, her hands turning the knob slightly. 

“Right. Um, last night… you had fun, right?” Lin asked nervously.”

Kya looked at her, not in an inspection way, but in the most honest way she knew how. 

“Of course. My mom can't stop teasing me about it.” 

“We should do it again sometime,” Lin suggested, and Kya felt her heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, totally.” 

Lin's hand finished turning the knob. 

“I'll see you tonight, Kya.”

“See you tonight,” Kya replied, watching her step out into the snow, closing the door behind her. 

“You are an evil woman mother,” she said, shaking her head. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” 

“Mhmm, so you just sent me to the random cop bar last night?”

“It's the only bar I know about.” 

“Right and it happens to be a cop bar?”

“Lin's the only person in the city that I know goes to bars.”

“And inviting her over?”

“She's a friend Kya, we see each other all the time. I helped her with her… accident a while back. You get close in a situation like that.” 

Kya eyed her mother suspiciously but decided to let it slide.

She was onto Katara, but truthfully, she didn't mind. 

In fact, she was hoping things went well tonight, even if it meant her mother had to do a little meddling. 

Things were just as exciting as Kya had anticipated when her brothers arrived. They were both coming from different directions, but their arrival times appeared to be coordinated with Tenzin and company arriving fifteen minutes after Bumi. 

“How was your trip?” Katara asked, embracing her youngest in a hug.

“It was fantastic, mother.” 

“Mm, so we can expect baby number two in nine months?” Kya teased, earning herself a swat from Katara. 

“I prepared the rooms for you guys, washed your sheets and everything. Little Jinora's nursery is all ready for her upstairs.”

“Perfect, I think this one could use a nap, inside a real house, with an actual crib.” Pema stated, taking Jinora inside.

With all of them together the absence of their father was more noticeable. It had only been ten months since his passing, and the first holiday season without him. Kya could see the pained look in her mother's eye, but she knew that offering a hug would only make it worse.

At least they had a baby to help fill the void of Avatar Aang. 

Kya helped Bumi and Tenzin carry their belongings inside, like the good sister she was, while she thought about what it would mean for them to have a festive dinner without her dad.

Surely Bumi would take over the toast because he was the oldest? Or Tenzin because he was also an arrowhead? 

Either way she was off the hook, which meant she could focus on the chief. 

“Lin will be joining us tonight,” Katara told the boys.

“Lin? I haven't seen her in…well it has to be over a decade,” Bumi said. 

“How did you manage to convince Lin to join us?” Tenzin asked, looking up the stairs for his wife. 

“Oh you are too hard on her Tenzin. She was happy to come. Plus I owe her one for taking care of your sister.”

“You got arrested?” Bumi asked, directing his inquiry at Kya.

“Excuse me? I got robbed at the train station and she caught the guy. Why did you automatically assume I was the perpetrator?”

“It wouldn't be the first time,” Bumi stuck his tongue out and Kya wanted to slap him. 

“You got robbed? Kya are you okay?” Tenzin asked, and Kya nodded her head.

“Bumi, see how he was concerned for my well being? Yes Tenzin I am fine, I didn't even lose anything. The guy tried to make a run for it and Lin stuck her arm out and basically throat-punched the guy as he sprinted down the platform.”

“Badass,” Bumi commented, earning a glare from his brother and mother. 

“Anyway,” Katara interjected, “I invited her for dinner, it's bad enough she has to work this time of year. The least we can do is offer her a warm meal and some company.” 

“Didn't she make up with her sister?” Tenzin asked. 

“Yes, but she went last week to see them. As the Chief she's kind of expected to be here over the holidays.”

The others seemed convinced and Kya leaned into Bumi's ear.

“Plus, Lin is super hot now,” she said, earning a raised eyebrow from her older brother. 

She caught her mother's smirk, and Kya realized she may not have been as quiet as she'd thought. 

Dinner time came, and with it so did snow, and of course, Republic City Police Chief Lin Beifong. 

She came in, an impressive bottle of wine in her hand, and allowed Kya to take her coat. 

They exchanged small greetings before Kya led her to the dining room. In the better lighting Kya was able to make out more of her features and clothing. 

Her pants were gray Khaki's which she paired with a black turtleneck and a black and gold belt. 

Kya felt underdressed in her corduroys, but she took solace in knowing she was still more put together than either of her brothers. 

“Welcome Lin, please take a seat.” Katara greeted, gesturing to the chair next to her, in between Katara and Kya. 

“Thank you for having me everyone,” Lin said as she sat down.

“It's no problem dear. I owe you one for keeping Kya safe, and busy the other night.” 

Kya immediately blushed, sure of the insinuation her brother would read into. 

Sure enough Bumi smirked at her, and she forced herself to look away.

“Just doing my job, Katara. Tenzin, Pema, Katara tells me you just got back from the Eastern Air temple, how was it?”

“It was beautiful,” Tenzin told her.

“But no place for a newborn, the building is far too drafty. Trying to get Jinora to sleep when the wind is echoing throughout the entire place was a nightmare.” 

Kya chuckled a bit, satisfied with Pema's honesty. Tenzin had good intentions, but he was the kind of willfully naive type. 

He was optimistic, without the necessary caution. Something he'd learn as a father no doubt. 

“And Bumi, I've heard much word of you over the years, Rear Admiral.” 

Kya was aware of her brother's status in the Navy, but truthfully she had no idea what rankings meant. She remembered when he was made Lieutenant, and that was a good thing. “Rear” made it sound worse but “Admiral” sounded like a promotion. 

Lin was congratulating him, so Kya took it as an improvement. 

“You sure know how to make a guy feel special,” Bumi said, “I appreciate that Lin. Take notes, Kya.” 

Kya waved him off, plucking a piece of her meal onto a fork and stuffing her mouth. 

“Well Lin, we've heard the story from Kya, but we would love to hear your perception of what happened at the train station the other day.”

“Of course,” Lin said, placing her utensils gently on either side of her plate. 

“I'm getting off the train, I'd just come from a long, and I mean LONG week at Zaofu. I step into the republic city air, honestly I was looking forward to it. Then I hear this woman shouting, pulling a suitcase behind her, flailing her arms. And a man she's running behind and instinct kind of just kicked in. I stretched out my arm and he hit it. I will never forget the look on Kya's face though. Jaw agape, sweat coating her brow and her eyes shocked and relieved. Went through all of the emotions in a single moment.”

The table burst into laughter, and Kya did too. The whole thing seemed so silly and spontaneous now. 

“I owe you one, Lin,” Kya joked, “next time you need a bad guy apprehended and you're double booked let me know. Can't promise it'll be as clean as what you are used to, but it'll get done.”

“Mmm, it's very tempting Kya, don't make a promise you can't keep.” 

“I can keep it.”

“Wonderful to hear, you want to go to work for me tomorrow?” 

“Can't, holiday plans,” Kya grinned. The look on Lin's face was… confusing. 

Captivating, titillating, flirtatious. 

Uh oh. 

Kya was now well aware of the table watching their banter and she wanted to excuse herself but doing so would confirm what they were all thinking. 

She side eyed her brother's smirk and returned to her meal with a blush. 

Luckily her mother offered to get the dessert and the conversation continued to flow smoothly for the rest of the meal.

It was nearly 9:30 pm before they were wrapped up. After a glass of wine (or two) Lin was ready to leave so Kya offered to walk with her to the ferry. 

“You know,” Lin started, “you don't have to make excuses to come see me.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, if you wanted to stop by the police station sometime you could say it's to follow up on the train station thief. Or you could say you wanted to see me.”

“And why would I say that?” Kya played along. 

“Because you wanted to ask me on a second date.” 

“Think you skipped a step there, Lin. The wine get to you? Or was it my gingersnaps?”

“On the contrary, Kya, I think it was you. My head hasn't been quite right since the day I saved your purse.” 

“Anything I can help with? I'm a healer after all.” 

“Probably. I have some free time Saturday at seven. We could go to  Zoryu's Palace at seven-thirty.”

“Why not seven?” Kya asked.

“I need time to pick you up.” Lin replied.

It was something about the nonchalance, yet the nervousness. All of the personality, but the withholding words that tempted Kya into saying yes.

One day, Lin would ask her why she agreed to get dinner with the Chief of Police and Kya would tell her it was because she wanted to say thanks, or that Lin's charismatic charm had won her over. 

But truthfully, Kya had known she met her match from the moment she saw her throat punch the thief at the train station. 

"It's a date."

[ink4spots]

Rohan apologizes?!

In which Rohan is mean to Ryoma and regrets it, which turns into him begrudgingly asking Reimi for advice about how to make amends.

Characters: Rohan Kishibe, Ryoma Román, Reimi Sugimoto.

Pairings: Ryohan

Genre: Fluff? It's lighthearted idk

(A/N): No art for this one sadly (yet) since art fight just started, but! There's a little something extra at the end.

For the last fifteen minutes, Ryoma had been rambling on without end. He had made the mistake of mentioning insects, unaware about how passionate they were for the subject, which had triggered this bout of chattiness. He liked bugs as much as the next guy, but Ryoma was on an echelon of their own. He didn't know how much of this he could take. They were usually very attentive to his signals, but he guessed their love of arthropods had blinded them.

His patience was wearing thin that day, he wanted nothing more than to work on his manga, but unfortunately, they were getting in the way of that. He stared down at the nearly blank page before him. He was only able to get a few lines in before Ryoma had stopped him. At his wits end, his irritation fired off an instinctive response.

"Don't you ever shut up?" He snapped.

He didn't immediately realize the impact that simple phrase had left. Once the room fell silent, he was just happy to finally begin drawing. Tunnel vision clouded his judgment significantly, thoughts about his work filled his head and left space for little else. He only recognized something was off when Ryoma spoke up once more.

“I'm.. sorry. I won't bother you anymore.” Their voice was notably quieter than before, stripped of its cheerful quality.

He put down his pen, and turned to look at them. He caught only a glimpse of their face as they turned to leave, but that was enough for him to immediately regret his words.

…

For the remainder of the day, he waged a losing battle against his brain. Now, he was again unable to get any work done because of his own actions. As hard as he tried, he couldn't scrub Ryoma's sad visage from his mind. He dumped another ruined manuscript into the trash, joining the other dozen from that day, and cradled his head in his hands.

The sound of someone coming up the stairs pulled him out of his stupor. Suddenly, he was electrified. In a flash, He pushed that day's failures deeper into the bin and fixed his hair. He spent the next seconds trying to too hard to seem nonchalant as he waited for Ryoma's eventual arrival.

They passed by without a word. Sparing not even a glance in his direction.

He slouched back down. There was no point in pretending he wasn't moping. Ryoma was consciously avoiding him. Truthfully, they had no reason to be in his art room, they had already finished cleaning there when they started raving about bugs. However, Ryoma would regularly come up to see him several times a day, if not to chat then to ask if he needed anything.They were friendly like that. But after what he’d said, it made sense how they wouldn't want to do that anymore.

He was used to people like his editor, his rude remarks would bounce off her like it was nothing. Or Koichi, who was meeker but would still fight back when he disagreed with him on something. People that couldn't deal with his attitude wouldn't last long around him, and he preferred it that way. Usually. But gentle, doe-eyed Ryoma, they cared too much about what people thought. With their heart on their sleeve, it was obvious when they felt hurt.

Their words echoed in his mind, bringing with it the image of a forlorn Ryoma.

He groaned and laid his head on his desk. He had to fix this, but he didn't know where to start. It wasn't in his nature to admit fault. He was going to need to, he shuddered, ask for help.

…

A cold breeze swept the ground as he stepped into the mysterious alley. Koichi was unfortunately out of reach. Something had come up, family matters. He could've waited, but the guilt was eating him alive and he refused to spend another moment agonizing over it. If Tamami was to activate his stand on him, he was sure the resulting pressure would be deadly.

So, he begrudgingly decided to ask Reimi. As an adult, he had only spoken to her a couple times, but she seemed reasonable, and most importantly, unlikely to spread the news of his plight. Admittedly, he wasn't close with many people. He could count two people who liked and talked to regularly. One being the aforementioned high schooler, and the other being the reason he was seeking help in the first place.

He called into the empty alley. “Reimi? Reimi, are you here?"

It only took a moment for the ghost girl to materialize in front of him, Arnold in tandem. "Rohan? What is it? Did you find out something about Kira?”

The shock had long worn off, but it was still surreal to witness. The midday sun illuminated the wounds they wore, reflecting shades of orange on the ever flowing droplets of blood. Such a ghastly, mesmerizing display. It occupied his mind for a moment, but he quickly remembered what he'd come for.

"...No, not yet. I…" Rohan's face burned with embarrassment. Verbalizing his predicament was difficult for him, but he would need to swallow his pride if he wanted to fix things with Ryoma.

“I need your advice.”

“Oh?” Reimi raised her eyebrows, curiosity fully piqued. It even seemed like Arnold had perked up a bit.

After a deep sigh, he began to detail what had been ailing him.. “So, there's this... ‘friend’.” He was unsure if they were close enough to be labeled that but he continued. “They were over today as I was getting ready to work. I happened to briefly mention one of their interests and they went on about it for a whole fifteen minutes.” It's true, he'd counted.

Reimi nodded attentively, prodding him to go on.

“As you probably know, like any good artist, I require my full concentration to work, as well as a keen eye, and I can't have that if I have someone talking at me. They kept prattling on and on without end, so I got irritated, and…lashed out at them. I'll admit It wasn't my best moment, but now they've been avoiding me and I'm not sure what to do.” At first, he muttered his words, but the farther he got along with his explanation, the easier it got to stomach. The initial embarrassment gave away to reveal a dull shame lying underneath.

“By any chance, Is your ‘friend’ Ryoma?” Reimi copied his stilted pronunciation.

Rohan's alarmed expression confirmed her suspicion. He had been vague on purpose, but for Reimi, it was easy to put two and two together. Just because she was trapped in an alley didn't mean she was completely shut off from the outside world. Word travels, even to places such as the intersection between the dead and the living.

Being called out so plainly took him out of the conversation for a moment. “...Yes, but how did you know?”

She smiled coyly at him. He didn't know what to garner from that. “Lucky guess.”

“So, can I ask what you told them exactly?” She took advantage of the brief silence and took charge of the conversation. She was ready to crack into the details, hands clasped. Beside her, Arnold blinked slowly, curling up at her feet.

A familiar ache filled his chest as he replayed the events in his mind for the hundredth time that day. “It was a rhetorical question… ‘Do you ever shut up?’ Those were my direct words.” He couldn't help but cringe at himself.

“I'm guessing you didn't quite say it like that.”

Reimi would've perhaps scolded him, if it didn't seem like his mind had already punished him enough on its own. He looked as if he was ready for the earth to swallow him whole, so she held back. Plus, doing so now would probably discourage him from seeking help again. For Rohan to go so out of his comfort zone for the sake of someone else… Now that was something special. It meant he was making real connections and she was happy for him.

Rohan said nothing, so she piped up again. “Yeah, hearing something like that would definitely hurt them. But you're lucky, knowing Ryoma, it's nothing an apology can't fix. Just be honest, and lay out where you messed up.”

Rohan still looked a little worried, she continued.

“Ryo is one of the most understanding people I know. They're not the type to hold things against you, so don't worry, okay? You'll be just fine.”

She watched, amused, as the relief washed over him. The change was almost comically drastic.

“Was that all?”

“Yes, that was it.”

There was an awkward silence. Arnold yawned.

Rohan cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Farewell then, Miss Reimi.” He didn't know how to make a graceful exit after being so vulnerable with her. His usual aloof demeanor wouldn’t do after that. He began to quickly reverse out of the alley.

“Little Rohan?”

At the sound of his pet name, he stopped to look at her. He didn't know why she insisted on using it, there was nothing little about him anymore. “What is it?”

“I'm glad you're finally making friends. Come visit me anytime, okay?”

He didn't know why, but the combination of her words and her wistful smile struck a chord deep inside. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he offered her a weak smile before he left.

…

When Rohan returned to his house, they were mopping the kitchen. Rohan noticed her head flick in this direction, but they made no effort to acknowledge him like they usually did. So, he approached them, instead.

They softly sang a poppy tune to themself as they made quick work of the kitchen floor in a state of utter focus. “♫Y al final, ni hablaaaar. Los dos nos destruimos, y al final, que taaaaaaal—♪”

He spoke up just as Ryoma vocalized a rising note.

“Ryoma.”

Startled, Ryoma emitted a quick, high-pitched noise, akin to what a small animal would make. Ryoma fumbled to put down their mop, nearly dropping it in the process. They popped out their wired earbuds. “Uh, y-yeah? what's up?” They bit down on their bottom lip, exposing their two front teeth. Although they were a full head taller than him, they shrunk under his gaze until they were almost eye to eye.

Rohan swallowed thickly. The moment of truth had arrived and he was ready, yet still nervous about the outcome.“...Listen, I would like to apologize for what I said the other day. It was quite rude of me to tell you to shut up like that, and for that I'm truly sorry.” The words felt strange coming out of his mouth, but they were genuine.

“Oh, no, no! It's okay!” They frantically waved their hands at him, furrowing their eyebrows. “I know you're very serious about your work, and It's my fault for distracting you like that.” They casted their eyes down in an obvious, yet earnest display of remorse.

The way she flipped it on herself made that ache within his chest return ten-fold since he was sure they truly believed that.

“No, Ryoma. I was wrong for snapping at you. You did nothing to deserve that.”

Ryoma was about to utter a rebuttal, but the way Rohan held their gaze so firmly made them choose otherwise. They conceded, a soft, sweet smile on their lips.. “...Well, I accept your apology.”

Rohan couldn't help but offer them a small smile of his own. “Good.”

They shared a pleasant moment where no words were spoken.

“Well, back to work!” He clapped. Can't have them getting too comfortable now. Ryoma nodded and went to pick up their mop once more.

After that, they both resumed work on their respective tasks. Rohan, newly reinvigorated, finished several chapters in a single sitting, meanwhile Ryoma finished cleaning up early with a cheerful spirit. Mission accomplished.

---

Reimi teases Rohan about Ryoma

A deviation from the scene with Reimi and Rohan!

* Ryoma's legal last name is Román, but they've unofficially started calling themself a Higashikata. After spending 5 years together, Ryoma is considered part of the family.

"Do you think I should get them a gift?" Rohan's head buzzed with all the possible gift ideas he could get them. Insect merchandise, tickets to a show, a bulk order of their favourite candy...

He wasn't sure his words would be enough, and he wanted to ensure forgiveness.

"I don't think that's a good idea, it would make her feel like she owes you."

He supposed that was true. They'd been very hesitant to receive any material goods from him before. If ever he'd offer, they'd vehemently decline. Once, they'd borrowed a pen from him, and had forgotten to return it. The next day, they attempted to give it back to him, but he assured them they could keep it. They borrowed it often, so he considered it theirs, anyway. When he wouldn't budge, they slipped it into his pocket along with a new one without his notice.

They were very particular about not receiving anything from anyone, but he was unsure how Reimi knew about this quality of theirs. To his knowledge, they'd only met briefly.

Rohan raised an eyebrow at her.

Reimi answered his unspoken question."They told me. We're friends, you know?"

That was a reality he hadn't considered. If he'd known, he might've not seeked her help. It was possible the word of this would get back to Ryoma, how he was looking for advice on how to reconcile with them. He wasn't sure he could survive the resulting embarrassment.The thought shook him, and his mind was flooded with countless possibilities.

Technically speaking, he could've used Heaven's Door on her to guarantee confidentiality, but doing so would feel wrong. Selfish as he was, he refused to use his ability so callously, not on her.

Then, a curiosity creeped up on him, one he couldn't shake. "Have they ever... said anything about me?" He didn't know what made him ask this, but he wasn't proud of it. Caring about what other people thought of him was something he didn't do.

The way her smile grew made him regret ever asking. So terribly smug. "Are you asking me if they like you?"

He was set alight with a reactive anger. No, that wasn't what he'd meant at all! He just wanted to know if... she had ever talked badly about him behind his back. It made no sense, It's something he could never picture Ryoma doing, but he wanted to convince himself that had been his reasoning. The great Rohan Kishibe cannot have feelings for Ryoma Higashikata.

"Nevermind, I don't need your help." He huffed and turned to leave. He had no tolerance for disrespect such as this. What a preposterous suggestion.

"Wait! Come back! I'm sorry, I won't tease you anymore!" She laughed, running to stop him before he could get far.

[extraordinaryhistories]

#28 - 'Jamila' (non-album track, 1998)

If you love someone, write a song about them. It’s real easy! Pick up a guitar, buy a tape recorder, learn three chords, scrape your fingers over the strings a few times, and sing about how you feel. It matters not whether you have the voice of Pavarotti or of Florence Foster Jenkins – all that matters is the intent. People are mortal, but art will endure long after we pass on; to record and release a song for someone is to let them experience a sliver of eternity. And if you happen to be Sufjan Stevens, twenty-something Australians from the opposite side of the globe will analyse your song decades later.

‘Jamila’ is not the first song that Sufjan wrote about a named individual, and it will certainly not be the last. It is, however, a rare unearthed document of a period in Sufjan’s career where writing about named individuals was just about all he did. ‘Jamila’ was recorded around 1998, which was a transformative year for Sufjan: the final stretch of his time at Hope College coincided with a torrent of musical productivity. To channel that productivity into tangible, skill-based gains, he decided to restrict himself for weeks at a time to writing songs concerning very specific themes. Sufjan has left the overwhelming majority of his work from this era unreleased – understandably so, given how limited his means of recording were back in the four-track days – and as such we are only privy to two of these themes. One was serial killers. The other was, less helpfully, names. Names of family, names of friends, names of strangers who, in an alternate universe, might have been either.

Strike one for the ‘family’ subcategory. The name ‘Jamila’ is an anglicised rendering of Djamilah, one of Sufjan’s sisters. Even ignoring interviews and Tumblr posts, there is plenty of evidence to demonstrate the life-long closeness of the Stevens siblings; observe songs like ‘Sister’ and ‘Djohariah’, or hear their voices wheedle their way through your speakers on ‘Godzukie’. These songs – their tenderness, affections and candour – reveal everything about this difficult family dynamic that Stevens’ biography could, or more. In the face of endless transience and a mother (their mother) who would be in, and out, and in, and out, and in, and out of their lives, it is no wonder that they share between them a bond worthy of encasing in song. Sufjan loves, and loves loving, his sisters. Can you really blame him?

‘Jamila’, unearthed and released by Sufjan in 2013 for his sister’s birthday, is a very simple song. It is short – clocking in at a hair over two minutes – and betrays its shoddy four-track recording in nearly every second; once you notice those astringent slides up and down the strings every time Sufjan changes chords you will never be able to un-notice them. The melody is sunny and endlessly cheerful, its highlights coming in the moments where Sufjan deviates from the main phrase (especially that jazzy little run at 1:45, a carnally satisfying moment). The vocal inflections are hugely indebted to Sufjan’s influences, notably Elliott Smith, in their mixture of nasally highs and obscured whispers. And to underscore all of this, the recording begins with an extended false start that feels less like a deliberate ‘Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream’-esque artistic choice and more like a genuine inability to hit that first chord change on Sufjan’s one-and-only take of the song.

The thing about a song like this is that you would not have it any other way. ‘Jamila’ thrives in its clear-eyed earnestness. It is one of Sufjan’s most honest pieces of music, back in the days when his biggest artistic concerns were remembering chord shapes and figuring out whether ‘sister’ could rhyme with ‘missed her’. The total lack of pretention on display here lends itself so well to a simple, celebratory outpouring of familial love, a folk singer’s ode to one of his life’s greatest joys. Even the violent way that Sufjan rips those chords out of his guitar feels ripe with genuine enthusiasm. Messy, but about the truest possible representation of a young man’s love. Look here, Djamilah, see what I can do!

Neither do the lyrics hide much in the way of subtext. These are adorable couplets that capture real feelings. A couple lines are clouded by odd rhymes (‘Eleven, like heaven’ is a lyric that remains more or less indecipherable), but there is no need to interpret ‘My sister, I missed her / She's always a good friend of mine’ or ‘Write her a letter, a letter / To tell her that I am just fine’. Real affection, delivered sincerely. The song’s cutest moment, though, is ‘My sister, my sister / She'll keep me from liquor and crime’ – both because the notion of sibling-as-moral anchor is beautiful and pretty much the platonic ideal of sisterhood, but also because of the implication that ‘liquor and crime’ are the worst evils that Sufjan can imagine. Absolutely not beating the ‘flower child’ allegations there.

By the time Sufjan finally released ‘Jamila’ – post-Age of Adz, pre-Carrie and Lowell – his art had long since matured. Heartbreak, sex, illness and death had now crept their way into his songs, and his images and turns of phrase had become fractally nuanced. He had become a better writer. But I don’t think he could have put together a song like ‘Jamila’ in 2013 – not with that same sort of innocent love spilling out of every lyric. Growing up necessitates certain corners of the self fading away, and as such, I’m glad Sufjan thought to immortalise Djamilah in song at the moment he did. Youth isn’t always wasted on the young, you know.

[scraftyisthebest]

Thinking about the Explorers and the relationships between different members in the group, and the characters of the individuals ones we've met so far.

There's clearly a dichotomy between them and the Rising Volt Tacklers about how the Rising Volt Tacklers are a close knit and supportive group of people who take good care of each other and that is their strength, while the Explorers...really don't.

The above image is a very basic showcase of what the closest connections seem to be, but to elaborate a bit.

I think there are a select few characters among this group who are probably the most redeemable and present the clearest foils to the kids of the RVT, namely Liko. Those being Amethio, Coral/Sango, and Sidian/Onyx.

Amethio and Coral in particular don't seem to be inherently evil per se, but in different ways they seem to have underlying insecurities and problems that show themselves a lot, especially in contrast to Liko. Especially in the recent episode where Liko and Coral had a baking showdown. Liko won because she had experience, and notably she had her friends Roy, Dot, and Murdock cheering her on. Meanwhile Coral was alone and had no support, and yet it's clear she was genuinely trying and seemed to want to be recognized as someone who can do something. Sidian doesn't seem to be a particularly bad guy either.

Within the groups Amethio is pretty close with his two grunt subordinates Zirc and Onia while Coral and Sidian are close with each other specifically. Those are the closest they have to friends in their own groups.

Hamber and Chalce (Agate) are probably the closest to being adult figures for certain members of the group. Hamber takes very special care of Amethio, while Chalce is specifically close with Sidian and Coral where she's the one giving them orders and now is posing as a teacher and working with them specifically.

That said, for whatever reason that we don't fully understand, it seems Hamber and Chalce aren't particularly good at being the proper parental figures Amethio, Coral, and Sidian seem to need. Liko, Roy, and Dot are with the RVT and have so far been looked after by a very supportive group of adults in Friede alongside his buddies Orla, Mollie, Murdock, and Ludlow, all of who care about each other and have been great parental figures to the kids throughout their time with them. Diana, Liko's grandmother, also has a good relationship with Liko, which is also a contrast since Diana and Hamber were once friends. Meanwhile Hamber and Chalce are also pretty detached from each other as are the members they care for, the Hamber+Amethio+his goons and Chalce+Coral+Sidian sub-groups don't really like each other very much for whatever reason.

Which definitely raises some interesting questions about the dichotomy and contrast that seems to be presenting itself. Hamber and Chalce are admittedly interesting in different ways as they're the closest to being like the RVT adults in that they are serving a guardian role for certain other members but evidently aren't the adult figures Amethio and Coral truly need, or the support network they seem to need.

---

And yeah, Spinel is there on the right all by himself. I think it's quite obvious what his deal is. He does not care about anyone else in the group. He openly dislikes Amethio and admits to using Coral, Sidian, and Chalce for his own self-gain. He only cares about himself, and he's setting up to be the traitor and a big bad himself who's sucking up to Gibeon for the time being, but fully intends to backstab the group and try to overthrow Gibeon once they all stop being useful to him. He's the most straightforward purely evil villain character like Hunter J from DP.

A long ass ramble but some interesting notes I felt were fun to speculate about.

[lovesongbracket]

Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.

Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)

Your Song

Written By: Elton John & Bernie Taupin

Artist: Elton John

Released: 1970

Cover included: Ewan McGregor for Moulin Rouge!, 2001

The song was composed and performed by Elton John but the lyrics were written by Bernie Taupin. It originally appeared in his self titled and second album. Elton John hadn’t come out of the closet yet, but Bernie Taupin knew, which is part of the reason why the lyrics avoid using gendered pronouns. In a 2013 interview with Rolling Stone, Elton John said: “What can I say, it’s a perfect song. It gets better every time I sing it. I remember writing it at my parents' apartment in North London, and Bernie giving me the lyrics, sitting down at the piano and looking at it and going, ‘Oh, my God, this is such a great lyric, I can’t fuck this one up.’ It came out in about 20 minutes, and when I was done, I called him in and we both knew. I was 22, and he was 19, and it gave us so much confidence. ‘Empty Sky’ was lovely, but it was very naive. We went on to do more esoteric stuff like ‘Take Me to the Pilot,’ of course, but musically, this was a big step forward. And the older I get, the more I sing these lyrics, and the more they resonate with me.”

[Verse 1] It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside I'm not one of those who can easily hide I don't have much money, but boy if I did I'd buy a big house where we both could live [Verse 2] If I was a sculptor, heh, but then again, no Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do My gift is my song and this one's for you [Chorus] And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple but now that it's done I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is while you're in the world [Verse 3] I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss Well, a few of the verses, well, they've got me quite cross But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song It's for people like you that keep it turned on [Verse 4] So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen [Chorus] And you can tell everybody this is your song It may be quite simple but now that it's done I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is while you're in the world [Outro] I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Demolition Lovers

Written By: Matt Pelissier, Mikey Way, Ray Toro & Gerard Way

Artist: My Chemical Romance

Released: 2002

The Demolition Lovers are the couple seen on the cover for MCR’s next album, Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge. This song, along with much of the album, is a prequel to the story of Three Cheers… in which a man makes a deal with the devil to get his dead lover back by killing 1,000 evil men and giving the devil their souls in exchange for her. This song is most likely where the lover dies. The two “Demolition Lovers” are featured on the cover of the album.

[Verse 1] Hand in mine, into your icy blues And then I'd say to you, "We could take to the highway With this trunk of ammunition, too" I'd end my days with you, in a hail of bullets [Chorus] I'm trying, I'm trying To let you know just how much you mean to me And after all the things We put each other through and [Verse 2] I would drive on to the end with you A liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full And I feel like there's nothing left to do But prove myself to you, and we'll keep it running [Chorus] But this time, I mean it I'll let you know just how much you mean to me As snow falls on desert sky Until the end of everything I'm trying, I'm trying To let you know how much you mean As days fade and nights grow And we grow cold [Post-Chorus] Until the end, until this pool of blood Until this, I mean this, I mean this, until the end of [Chorus] I'm trying, I'm trying To let you know how much you mean As days fade and nights grow And we grow cold But this time, we'll show them We'll show them all how much we mean As snow falls on desert sky Until the end of every… [Interlude] All we are, all we are is bullets, I mean this All we are, all we are is bullets, I mean this All we are, all we are is bullets, I mean this All we are, all we are is bullets, I mean this [Guitar Solo] [Bridge] As lead rains will pass on through Our phantoms forever, forever Like scarecrows that fuel this flame We're burning forever and ever Know how much I want to show you You're the only one Like a bed of roses There's a dozen reasons in this gun [Outro] And as we're falling down, and in this pool of blood And as we're touching hands, and as we're falling down And in this pool of blood, and as we're falling down I'll see your eyes, and in this pool of blood I'll meet your eyes, I mean this forever!

[aleksanderscult]

Analyzing "Demon in the Wood" (book) - Part 2

(Part 1, Part 3, Part 4 and Part 5 btw)

Merry Christmas Eve and here have this meta to depress you cheer you up! 🥳🎁🎄🎅💕

Even though like calls to like he still was afraid of the darkness as a child.

And he didn't sleep for two days because of that fear.

And he was curled beneath his blanket 🥺

His mother didn't stop to think or ask if he needed light and be didn't want to disappoint her by saying "Can you leave it here?".

He wanted to prove to her and to himself that he's brave and he fears nothing.

No home to stay, no people to connect with.

Just with his mother, adopting new names every now and then, faking his life. And he despises this so much.

And yet Baghra dared to say "hE hAd PlEntY oF tImE tO LeArN hoW to LiE".

Yeah because he was raised on your knees, Baghra.

"They did their best to hide their tracks"

They were trying to leave nothing behind. As a child the Darkling was allowed to leave no trace, no memories of him in others.

And that reminds me: "Someone to mourn me"

Someone to remember him.

Also, it's notable that names are an important part of the Darkling's life.

- Adopted innumerable names as a child

- Held his true name close to his heart

- Kept saying Alina's name

- Trusted Alina with his name

- Refused to call Mal by his name

And I believe it was something important for him too because names were actually a vital part of his survival from the time he was born.

(So for anyone who says that he gave Alina his name out of some kind of manipulation technique, needs to stop. There's no way a person like him to give his name that easily).

The way they're thinking and hoping two different things.

Baghra hopes to gain knowledge and experience and Eryk a home and stability.

Their priorities really show their needs and characters at this point of their lives.

The way the Little Palace had all these three things 🥲

The thought of him waking up and thinking "Wait. Which name I go by now?" is so depressing and stressful. Both for Eryk and the reader.

I wonder if he really called her "Mama" at this point of his life or just Baghra with her usual grace said "You will call me by my name".

From this: "To him, she was always Mama, Madraya".

To this: "I will not fight you", said the Darkling.

"Then strike me down"

"You know I won't" 🥲

When Grisha fear and mistrust their own kind then you know that the situation is fucked up.

Baghra is extra careful 'cause she always had trust issues and made her son mistrustful as well.

It's really a dog-eat-dog world where every man is for himself and very few Grisha have made safe camps (actually the word "safe" is a stretch). And even when they do, they only let powerful Grisha to live inside.

Also, the phrase "a second Ravka" is kind of chilling. Ravka back then was divided between otkazat'sya who lived in the open and Grisha who lived in the shadows. Two different worlds and the Darkling became the first person who united them for the first time.

"Fear is a powerful ally" - DitW.

"Do you fear me, Alina?.... Fear is a powerful ally. And loyal." - Siege and Storm.

I can only imagine how many times the Darkling saw people either run away from him or wanted to use him because of his power. I bet he desired for someone to accept him as he is. To look at his shadow summoning and see it as a gift, not a curse or tool.

"I've seen what you truly are. And I've never turned away. I never will" is a phrase that he probably wanted to hear from someone too.

Wait. "Like calls to like", right? So when Aleksander was afraid of the dark, does that mean he was afraid of his powers in a way? *cries*

"Be careful what you wish for!🎶"

He tries so hard to impress his mother and live up to her expectations. That shows a child that is raised by a strict parent who almost always shows disapproval and is never satisfied with his efforts. Those children then feel constantly like failures.

(are you sad yet, dear readers?🥲)

What people cannot understand, they fear it. The unknown. The strange.

Baghra has been a pariah not only because of her powers but also because of her sex. So she had to toughen up and "hone" her sharp tongue too in order to make it difficult for others to boss her around or cast her out.

Sometimes I sympathize with her (but most of the times not😒).

To be honest, I find this fear kind of one-sided. I mean, Alina's power was unique too. No one else had the power to manipulate the light. And yet people liked her and were fascinated. But with Aleksander people were afraid of his power (even before he was the "Darkling"). So they showed acceptance with the power of light but not with the darkness.

Double fucking standards.🙂

(Of course they accepted her more easily because she was the one destined to liberate them from the Fold but still. Even if the Fold didn't exist, people would still show great favor towards Alina and not Aleksander.)

[cielgram]

The lights flicker on and off. The familiar buzzing of a lightbulb resounds on your ears as your eyes adjust to the light.

CIELGRAM - JACKALOPE'S "SECOND TRIAL COMMENCEMENT NOTICE" BEGINS NOW.

Good morning, Warden Key. I'm assuming you had a nice sleep? I would hope that's the case.

… Hm? A nightmare? I apologise about that. I suppose the first trial took a bit of a toll on you.

Speaking of which… Your awakening means the start of the second trial. Although… I guess I never really explained something crucial… … Now, now. Don't look at me like that. Even a few details escape my mind. I'll explain right away.

After the first trial… The prisoners were treated in accordance to whether they were FORGIVABLE or UNFORGIVABLE. That is to say, those found INNOCENT were given slightly more freedom. Look. You'll notice some of their restraints have loosened up. Conversely, those found GUILTY have been… Restrained, so to say. A harder existence, so they can atone for their sins and reflect more upon it. That being said… They have not really been… Excessively punished. At least by me personally. Their freedom of thought is still left intact. Unfortunately… This has caused a few things that… I wasn't really able to interfere in.

… None of them resulted in death, Key. You can stop looking at me like that.

Sigh… I guess a status report would be better. Very well.

Prisoner #O1: Ueno Kei.

Your judgement was INNOCENT, and thus, their ideas were affirmed.

Because their ideals were affirmed… They've found even more comfort in a bit of… Self expression. Dare I say, they've been finding themselves more comfortable on their own skin?

I would say it slightly attributes to #O6 also helping around… But we'll get to her later. That being said… #O1 has also become somewhat… Self-centered? Earnestly throwing away the opinions of others. I'd say good for them, if I didn't find that mentality somewhat unhealthy.

Prisoner #O2: Hanakawa Aya.

Your judgement was INNOCENT, and thus, her ideas were affirmed.

Much like #O1, Aya has become somewhat more expressive. Almost as if she has thrown caution to the wind. Well… More specifically… She seems far more cheerful. Almost as if she has returned to her idol persona. Although… She definitely seems more genuine than before? I'm… Unsure of what to make of this.

Prisoner #O3: Hoshino Shuu.

Your judgement was GUILTY, and thus, his ideas were denied.

Although… Saying his ideas were denied is a bit of a stretch? If anything… It seems more like he's doubled down on them. Feeling exceedingly nervous and trying to make sure he's becoming "better". It's gotten to a point where he'll often practice and… Injure himself, due to the restraints not allowing him to move as much. It's a sad spectacle.

Prisoner #O4: Minoharu Tentou.

Your judgement was GUILTY, and thus, it's ideas were denied.

#O4 has… Definitely become more hostile towards others. Although not as badly as #O9. …No. Rather, I'd say it's become spiteful? Cursing the prison's system rather than you as an individual. That being said, #O4 is one of the few that has become apprehensive towards #O6. To them, it appears camaraderie is just some sort of trick.

Prisoner #O5: Takahashi Minoru.

Your judgement was INNOCENT, and thus, his ideas were affirmed.

#O5's change… How do I explain it…

It seems like #O5 has… Become extremely complacent with MILGRAM. Almost to a scary degree. I don't really know how to word this correctly? But he's become far friendler and a massive people pleaser. Most notably, it seems like he's also established some sort of coodependency with #O6. Of course, #O6 has taken herself to try to help everyone… But #O5 seems the most attached to her. Speaking of which…

Prisoner #O6: Dokugamori Satsuki.

Your judgement was INNOCENT, and thus, her ideas were affirmed.

#O6 has decided to take her role as a "good girl" pretty seriously. Trying to be the prison's "moral support" or "healer" in a sense. Of course, she seems to be dismissive to those who reject her. That being said… I can't really make sure that's entirely the case. Well… At least she's kept people from extremely freaking out over #O8's attacks. … Huh? What do I mean? I'll talk about it in a bit. For now, let me continue with the status report.

Prisoner #O7: Mochizuki Hikaru.

Your judgement was GUILTY, and thus, their ideas were affirmed.

Sigh… I wish I could say their ideas were denied. But it looks like they were looking forward to this. I don't think I can understand them. That being said… #O7 seems… Awfully sturdy. Guess those supposed years of delinquency paid off.

#O7, though not as badly battered as #O3, has been shielding those who were guilty from #O8's attacks. That being said, they also didn't seem to attack back. Guess they feel like they're above hurting a child.

Prisoner #O8: Inaba Rika.

Your judgement was INNOCENT, and thus, her ideas were affirmed.

I assume I don't have to repeat what I said before, right? Childhood innocence can be terrifying if left unchecked.

#O8 has decided to take her role as a hero quite seriously. She even managed to get a metal pipe to use between trials.

Of those who you said were UNFORGIVABLE, #O8 attacked #O3, #O9, and #O7. As stated earlier, #O7 taking the vast majority of blows. It doesn't seem like she was… Fully content with it though. Maybe it's the fact she saw #O3 and #O7 as sources of comfort before. Or maybe it could also be attributed to #1O's intervention. Her feeling conflicted doesn't seem to change much however. She still seems willing to enact her so called "justice".

Prisoner #O9: Itsuki Umi.

Your judgement was GUILTY, and thus, his ideas were denied.

You might call it a much needed wake up call. He definitely has taken a knock off his pedestal, and treating others a bit more…. Equally. Best example of this is #1O. …That being said… I'd argue it might have felt like the change was quite abrupt for him. He's definitely become more… Defensive. Hostile. Like a small kicked dog. That's not to mention periods of time where he seems to…. Zone off. Even I am conflicted. I did not think someone could fall this low in the span of one trial.

Finally… Prisoner #1O: Yoru Makoto.

Your judgement was INNOCENT, and thus, her ideas were…. Hm.

I'm not sure whether to say they've been affirmed or denied. Dare I say… She's doing more of her own thing. Helping others in a different way. Most notably, she's been trying to calm down #O9 as best as she can, and even intervened every time #O8 was about to hit him. And yet… It feels as if she's given away her own free will. She's become more of a puppet than anything.

Thus, concludes the status report on the prisoners. As you can see… Just their veredicts were enough to drastically change things. Their relationships, their mindsets, and so on. Ah. Worry not. Fighting will not be allowed throughout the duration of the trials.

Haa… I can see this being quite troubling, however.

That being said… You have more plans on how to vote, right? MILGRAM allows for many reasons to vote someone INNOCENT or GUILTY as your basis. …Though…

It would be dissapointing to see you vote based on what's best for everyone. These people are first and foremost murderers after all. Even the smallest change can have massive ripple effects.

Just because you think someone could be more benefitial… That doesn't ensure that they'll actually be in the way you expect. Humans are complicated and unpredictable, after all.

Ahem… Withthis information in mind… I hope you can continue judging without too many problems.

Do not waver. We're counting on you, Key.

Let CIELGRAM: The Second Trial…

…Begin.

[box-architecture]

Uhhh ckau au where fusion is possible thoughts:

Sam and Dream a couple of times while building the prison together. Generally they didn't fuse that often before because they weren't as close, but as two of the OG 8 they cared about each other and trusted each other well enough to fuse a few times as kids.

Sam doesn't mind fusion, he likes getting to have a connection with people. He'd do it with Ponk to just zoom around together, and Bad. He's used to the Many Limbs and thinks they're very useful.

Punz has not actually fused with Sam prior to ckau. They didn't fuse much in general as a kid. They get a little antsy at the idea of people having access to their head. Purpled and him have, and possibly he did so with Dream once when they were kids? But they don't actually do it that often until the revival book shows up, and when the first of their experiments works, they jump and cheer and someone leaps into the others arms for a hug and- well.

Dream fused with the dteam a lot. He loved it. He loved getting to be surrounded by the love they all had for each other. He loved knowing he was cared about. If one of the OG8 said "let's fuse" he'd be ready in an instant. As the dsmp goes on and the DTeam stops fusing, he has a hard time dealing with it. Feels very cold. He pretends he isn't starved for affection until he accidentally fuses with Punz and then it becomes a thing they do Often because Punz could feel those little cracks where Dream was lonely.

Sam never actually fused with Dream in prison. He never asked. Dream never offered, even when he offered sex, because it didn't occur to him that that might be something Sam would want.

Sam would probably insist that the idea was revolting: Dream was Evil his mind was likely Tainted (even though he had fused with Dream just a few weeks back and had been happy and warm and in sync.) Sam pretends to consider it only as a way to Keep Dream Locked Up. Wouldn't it the ultimate way to do it? Dream can't escape Sam that way. He'd be able to keep Dream with him. Just the two of them.

Dream doesn't fuse for a while after prison. Punz tentatively offers, hoping to comfort, but Dream is terrified of Punz feeling or seeing anything that happened. Punz can't know how it felt, being tortured, Dream won't do that to them.

a few sessions into the ckau, Dream feels well enough to fuse with Punz during Aftercare in an extremely tender moment. It's uplifting. It's everything to them. After the tension of adding Sam to their relationship, it's exactly the thing thats needed to calm and reassures Punz. Feeling their bond overwhelm with lovelovelove I trust you more than anyone

Drunz fusing is also something that Punz taunts Sam with during one of their spats. Yeah, Sam may be able to fuck Dream, but Punz and Dream fuse, they have love and trust, and Sam doesn't. It's something that bothers Sam immensely.

they don't fuse after Sam rescues his partners from Quackity. They don't fuse in a high tension moment, or even a particular notable one. Sam and Dream are taking one of their evening walks, somehow end up holding hands. They stop for a bit to let Dream rest, and he leans his head on Sam's shoulder. All Sam has time to think is Oh. and then-

SamDream curls up in the grass until late in the evening, just quietly existing. They're not really able to identify the emotions in their chest, they just know they don't want to leave this moment

Sam and Punz actually do fuse during a notable moment. During the first anniversary where Punz comes alone to reveal that he's a hybrid to Sam. Punz puts a leg on Sam's shoulder, and Sam grabs it with gentle firmness, and for a moment they're just. Both staring. Intimate and intense. They don't remember who leaned in first, but that's okay, because SamPunz doesn't care about that. They feel a rumble in their chest before they even stand. Warm.

there's a competitive air to who gets to fuse with Dream More for a while in the beginning. If Dream fused with one he has to fuse with the other. He thinks it's ridiculous but he'll do it, because he loves fusing with them, but good God. Neither of the two will admit to being jealous of the idea that the other has a deeper connection to him. It's only when the two finally Settle and fully complete the triangle that the insecurity fades.

Sam tends to crowd Dream against the wall and beg to fuse. He is Very sad wet and pathetic.

SamDream has Dream's adhd and Sam's ocd. They also tend to get caught in loops very easily

It's very important that I tell you that when Sam and Dream fuse, their fusion is filled with complete and utter contentment. Sam's need to Keep Own Consume is finally appeased, their souls are now Entwined. He is in a formless state of bliss, and their fusion reflects that, purring constantly. They are together, and Dream is so cozy from how wanted he is. He's being engulfed by love, enough to make him want to rest, just a little.

Their fusion is a many legged puppycat, all fluff and fur, several long tails that poof a little, and loveslovesloves Punz so much. They have zoomies where they get So Excited and have to Build Things and Go Places, but it's always followed by a period of needing to lounge and sleep and get So Many Pets. They've created a large tree made of non-wood materials that is big enough to hold them in its branches, and they like pawing at Punz.

When Dream and Sam have to unfuse, Sam tends to become discontent, whining and begging for just a little longer; he doesn't want to leave Dream. But Dream tells him he wants a kiss and a hug and to see Sam for real, and Sam remembers how much he loves those things too, so it makes the transition easier. They have to kiss after they unfuse. It's Important.

-

"Are you coming down any time soon?" Punz called up to them. The mass of fluff and arms peeked out from over a branch of deepslate.

"Hm," they considered. "Maybe. Yes?"

"That doesn't sound very sure."

The fusion shrugged, and leaned over to hold out a paw. Several tails wiggled hopefully. "Punz?"

They sighed, but couldn't help the wry smile. They leaped onto the offered paw and let themselves be brought up to the top of the strange, manmade tree that they had been building for the entire day.

Humming in delight, they set him carefully in the top base of the tree. He looked around, at the numerous branches, the insane amount of blocks required for the sheer size of the thing, and felt a soft warmth.

"It looks good." He said. Immediately, a thunderous purr echoed.

[lunayuu]

Seen In Shadows: Part 1

BNHA fanfic that I have yet to give a proper title, despite the fact I have not engaged with canon in ages - leave me alone the world is too interesting to not write about ok... ALSO go look at @written-in-the-clouds's work because they did completely inspire me to even start writing again - props to them!

more credit: divider made by @strangergraphics-archive, this post being where I got it from!

Ao3 Work Part 1 | Part 2 | X

What's In Your Future?

Izumiwa Yori was a man who did not particularly like to get involved with people outside of his circle. A circle that was very small and contained mostly online friends (and clients). This was something he was starkly reminded of about himself as he promptly tuned out the noise around him via the thick headphones he usually kept around his neck. His middle school class was cheering about all going off to be heroes, something that Yori couldn’t exactly disagree with, even if he was planning on staying far away from the limelight (he’s never dealt well with too much attention, no matter the source).

He didn’t know the name of the guy that was currently being yelled at by the resident class disruptor, Bakugou. Something starting with a ‘Ma’, he was pretty sure. Thanks to the headphones covering his ears, he couldn’t actually hear what was being said, but of course, his Quirk just had to act up and inform him directly of what was going on.

Bakugou Katsuki is angry at Midoriya Izuku for wanting to apply for UA High’s hero course. Bakugou is only angry due to him feeling horridly inferior to Midoriya, and wanting to prove that he’s better than someone he views as “weak”. The teacher is content to ignore it due to the immense Quirkism within the school, something that has never been investigated by authorities as-

Oh, so that was his name. Yori had completely forgotten, Midoriya tended to fade into the background more often than not, and as such had completely passed by Yori’s radar. The only notable thing about him was that he was Quirkless, something that caused Yori to feel bad for the poor thing, not because he was Quirkless, it’s not like Yori was prejudiced against Quirkless people, but the abuse from people like Bakugou was something Yori saw to really weigh on him. He wished he could help Midoriya properly, but the most he could do was try to flag it with the teachers, but judging by how no adult was doing anything about Bakugou’s unlicensed Quirk use, much less his bullying and Quirkism, Yori doubted anything would really happen.

As he shut his eyes and took a deep breath, Yori’s thoughts stayed on Midoriya, he resolved to talk to him at some point this week, hopefully being friends with someone with a neutral-to-positive enough reputation would keep people like Bakugou from hounding the guy. His silence was, however, broken by a notification ringing in his ears through his headphones. Pulling out his phone in a way he automatically Knew was missed by the teacher (and any potential snitches in the class), he saw that there was numerous messages from one of his central clients, and someone he thought of as a quite good friend, in their shared server for Yori’s small collection of his friends. Unlocking his phone, he started reading what he missed from a good few hours prior.

-

vampire^v^ Today at 11:21 hii guys!!! ＼(≧▽≦)／ how is everyone???

LivingLies Today at 11:22 Doing well, work is as dull as ever, sadly.

iceboy Today at 11:22 Hello, all. I’m home sick from school today, ha.

vampire ^v^ Today at 11:22 ooooooh luckkyyyyy (￣＾￣) also rude

copycat Today at 11:23 still in class. good luck with work lies!

Erased Today at 11:24 focus on your education, cat.

vampire ^v^ Today at 11:24 laammeeee erased ⋋_⋌ let him talk!!!!

Erased Today at 11:25 no.

vampire ^v^ Today at 11:25 (⋋▂⋌)

-

Yori smiled down at his phone, content that his friends were also amicable with each other. He glanced at the other messages he had yet to read, deciding promptly to ignore the messages from his clients asking for more information, he could handle all of that when he went home and out of the public eye.

Yori pocketed his phone again and looked at the form that he felt would set his future in stone as whatever he wrote on the flimsy printer paper. He filled out a name that was not his on the top (he was still seen as she when not online under ‘Apollo’, he planned to rectify that in high school, whatever one he ended up in, but for now he could get by just fine, he was sure of it) and stared at the next prompt: ‘Quirk:’.

See, Yori was one of the surprisingly few people in Japan to technically have more than one Quirk. The reason behind it wasn’t too complex as, from what he knew (and he Knew a lot), Yori had the ‘luck’ to have a Quirk more linked to his immediate family that was, on a genetic level, expressed weaker than normal, and as such, a dominant Quirk gene from many, many generations ago that Yori was still mildly surprised about it even being in his genome appeared his phenotype to make up for the less active gene, something about incomplete dominance meaning that most family members on his mother’s side had something linked to Knowing things, but was overall weak enough that other Quirks completely overshadowed them.

The Ishikawa family had prided themselves on having Quirks based entirely around light for at least 3 generations now (this included his generation, the light based aspect of his family’s Quirks only came about from his father’s mother, but they still acted like it had been around for a lot longer). It was expected by this point that at least one family member would not have a light Quirk, but the opposite, some similarly latent gene signalling to invert the effects of the inherited Quirk, it something a younger Yori thought was cool as all hell. However, the only people in the family to have darkness based Quirks in the family had all passed, his grandfather and his uncle (both paternal in relation) were people he never got to meet properly outside of a few interactions that he was far too young to form lasting memories about. And as such didn’t have any real people around him to help him learn how to use the Quirk that made him the, no pun intended, black sheep of the family.

Yori shook his head, trying to get rid of the sinking feeling that he was lying (something that always made him feel a bit nauseous, a side effect that he blamed his non-shadowy Quirk for) and put down ‘ShadowStep’ on the form, writing in the next line under ‘Description of Quirk:’ that it allowed him to travel where he liked within an area of about 24km that was sufficiently dark. Pointedly leaving out the minor omniscience his other Quirk somehow gave him (Yori has wondered many times just how that Quirk functions, but for all the Knowledge it gave, the Quirk didn’t give him an answer.)

As for the central part of the form, he knew what he would put already. Thoughts drifting to the many, many clients he had received and forum posts made both by and about him over the years that he had been doling out information, he knew by now that it was a no-brainer. While being less well known it was still useful to apply for, even if it was so utterly down-low he Knew he would most likely be the only candidate, as it was something that played to all his strengths, something that would be immensely beneficial to not just him, but all those around him as well (while he couldn’t Know the future, he was pretty sure that he was right).

Yori wrote on the form: “UA Hero Course – Analysis Track”

(Trying not to pop up in any other fandom's tags is very important. to me. so umm awkward censoring go brrr)

I did completely steal the formatting of chat messages from Discordance, a [Archive] ft [Archive] Fandom fic that was written in 2020, and as such references current events from 2020 quite often - it's such a good fic though <3<3

And more [Archive] fandom stealing, the whole thing about ShadowStep (a) will be explored properly soon and (b) IS just stolen from Redeath, Cyäegha my beloved <3<3<3<3