#on the other: terrible time to not remember

[thesiltverses]

The horror of Eric Carle

Becoming a dad has really been a reminder of all the half-forgotten books that got me interested in horror: the ones that I will definitely share with my kid (The Minpins) and the ones that I probably won't (Not Now, Bernard)

And then there's Eric Carle, and now it's all coming flooding back - the very first time in my life that I experienced terror. Seriously, what the fuck is this?

Carle's most famous book, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, is in its own way uneasy and strange (the caterpillar's voracious and growing hunger is presented ambiguously both as an unavoidable and natural process of change and something greedy and grotesque; the caterpillar appears to devour its own place-of-birth and then feels good about it) but it flies under the radar by being very unCarle-like. The caterpillar is largely tiny and cute, we get plenty of colourful close-ups of tasty-looking food, and there are only two pages and a cover which feature Carle's favourite preoccupation: giant animals with irregular, scissor-cut eyes staring unhappily at the reader as they threaten to grow larger than the page itself.

I genuinely remember feeling deeply unnerved by Carle's first major piece of illustration work, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?, written with Bill Martin Jr., but only now do I understand why. Holy shit, I have so many questions.

Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you see? I see a red bird looking at me.

Why is the rhyme-scheme so frantic and breathless, like it's being chanted out during an escalating ritual somewhere deep in the forests? Why are the animals - textured via collage as if half-carved from wood themselves - staring directly at us, the audience, before then revealing that they're actually looking behind us at something else which is staring back at them in turn? Why do so many of the animals look so fearful and haunted as they acknowledge the vast web of visibility which exists between them?

Why does the 'white dog' page - perhaps the only-genuinely-friendly-looking animal - briefly plunge us into night-time, creating the impression that these creatures are somehow watching each other across spans of time and space, when Carle is fully capable of just drawing an outline around the dog?

Why is the teacher's neck extending like a xenomorph's tongue as she glares with narrowed eyes down at the children (what horrible act have they caught her doing?) Why is the cover of follow-up Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear clearly depicting a Tuunbaq stalking the reader?

What seems remarkable and bizarre is that Carle, a talented artist, deliberately chooses to draw animals for infant readers which are neither cute nor charming but which consistently embody the internet joke about hares - feral wilderness prophets who've glimpsed the truth of the universe and gone mad - and has made a stunningly successful career out of doing so.

Carle's beasts know something terrible that they do not fully understand, and which they are incapable of sharing with us.

I'll avoid the crass temptation to draw serious biographical inferences here (Carle believed he had PTSD from an adolescence spent in Nazi Germany, and his works were inspired by his childhood walks with his father, who returned home psychologically shattered by his own experiences as a Soviet prisoner-of-war) and just say that there is something wonderful, awful and innocent in the fact that perhaps the most popular baby-book artist of all time, when asked to draw a goldfish, would respond with what is clearly a monstrous open-mouthed leviathan rising up from black depths to devour us all.

Look at this horrible fucking thing. It rocks.

[keferon]

Okay- I adore the Mecha AU.. so now I have to share MY terrible idea, dunno if anyone has said this yet but- you remember that in pacific rim when Raleigh & Mako DRIFT and they both experience each other’s trauma?

What if that happened with Jazz & Prowl?

Like-

One day Prowl starts noticing a difference in Jazz's behavior, noticing how he would suddenly tense up or flinch whenever somebody suddenly started speaking loud or in the morning he’d notice how he was soaked in sweat and shakily making his way to the wash racks. Whenever he’d ask if he was alright he was always met with a smile and a reassuring remark, yet he knew something was off and he wanted to help.

So then (once he’s fully healed) he suggests to Jazz that they should do trust exercises under the guise that since he doesn’t have another Mecha so they should strengthen their own bond for any future battles. Jazz is hesitant, especially since he blames himself for Prowl being in that situation in the first place, but he also wants to spend time with Prowl so he agrees.

Prowl probably would go to a secluded spot in the forest they’re in, somewhere safe where, once Jazz is relaxed enough he can ask him about these strange behaviors he’s recently been exhibiting. Surely nothing bad will happen and surely Jazz will be fine like he usually is…

The training exercises go well, Jazz is feeling fine and they’re both in the zone when suddenly a bad memory spontaneously starts to haunt Jazz and it triggers a PTSD-esque Episode where Jazz freezes up and is suddenly taken back to that horrible time..

The time he was strapped down to a bedbunk, his body writhing in agonizing pain, the constant sting of needles piercing his skin followed by an intense burning sensation that can only be likened to being burned from the inside out, his vision going blurry and his throat raw and bleeding from screaming and crying, his body shaking and shivering as a thick sheen of sweat coats his body.

And right now… because of the DRIFT.. Prowl sees it too, he not only sees it but he’s there, standing over Jazz's restrained body, he hears screams and sounds he never EVER wanted to hear, not from Jazz of all people. His precious partner, he’s looking down at him unable to help or protect him from these strangers, these monsters who are ignoring the ear piercing, spark-wrenching screams of pure agony. Worst of all? He can’t move, he’s frozen in place, forced to stand there helplessly as Jazz is begging for mercy, begging for someone to help him… and. he. can’t. move.

It lasts just for a moment but for both of them it felt like an hour until Jazz screams himself back into reality, freeing both him and Prowl from his nightmare. Prowl drops to a knee, his mind racing as he tries to figure out what the actual hekk he just saw until he feels Jazz pounding his fist against his chest, he can vaguely make out his choked up plea which scares Prowl as he’s never heard Jazz make that noise before. Prowl opens it and barely manages to catch Jazz as the man tumbled out into his own shaky servo in a trembling heap.

Jazz is slightly pale and tears are in his eyes as he struggles to catch his breath, he knows he’s not there anymore but he still feels it.

Prowl rushes back to Ratchets hideout where he the others are and calls for him, fear gripping his tanks as Jazz is still huddled in a fetal position, hyperventilating as he grips his soaked hair. Ratchet immediately recognizes what’s happened and quickly moves to help Jazz calm down before he has a heart attack which he is very close to having with how high his pulse is. It works but the man is so worn out from the stress that he just passes out.

I don’t know but that’s been plaguing my mind since I started reading your AU and I just HAD to share it lol, what do you think? How do you think Prowl would actually react to that? I figured he’d freak out as humans and their fragile bodies are still new territory for him.

Also sorry if it’s all a bit unclear or confusing or like- boarderline rambling I’m not good at storytelling and just stick to RP and making RP plots lol.

OH MAN. OH FUCK. YEP UH HUH YEAH. THIS. oh my god

Knowing Prowl, he would probably rush to learn every bit of information he can access about. You know. How to help someone in that scenario. Because he’s scared that something would went wrong while he has zero knowledge about humans.

But also. I think it would make him realise just how strong despite his small size Jazz actually is.

Jazz might drop something about his brain being over dramatic when it’s not helpful at all. While Prowl is just are you fraggin serious you’re a superhuman

[askshivanulegacy]

Yeah, seriously.

The thing that I've never understood is how no one on either side who talks about America seems capable of understanding what America IS.

The people who glorify it don't understand it. The people who whine and cry and hate on it don't understand it.

America is an idea. It's the idea of a place where you can live without persecution. It's the idea of America that we should be working toward. That's literally why we exist.

And like every other country ever on the planet, it has a bloody and violent past. And the past has great and inspiring stories on every side. And every figure on every side was a real human being with flaws and contradictions. They were good and they were bad, and they had complex reasons for doing things. History is all of it. History is fascinating. It's great stories! It's Remember the Alamo and all the great things the founding fathers did. And it's also that they fought for the wrong thing, and they owned slaves and never freed them.

You all love flawed characters and tragic stories and watching trainwrecks happen in your media. We all just watched terrible person, murderer, and war criminal Jinx in Arcane and people cheered for her. It was a great story! And also she was a selfish little bastard who murdered people for no reason and other characters rightfully wanted her dead. Well, that's what history is.

We all have the capacity to enjoy stories - and history as stories - and also to analyze the flaws and context and situations behind them. You can find the Alamo an inspiring moment in time because any life and death struggle can be. And you can also criticize it. Both can be true because people are capable of holding opposing concepts in their minds at the same time.

History isn't either/or, it's all of the above is true. And it's water under the bridge.

I think if more people understood that, they'd be able to celebrate historic moments without taking things personally when people decide they don't want to repeat that moment. And they'd also be able to recognize that you can't condemn for history either - it's over and now you take what you have and move it forward.

What I struggle with, as a public historian and a US American leftist, is how right wing US Americans can say they love history and call themselves “history buffs,” but get so righteously indignant when it is suggested that we can learn from history, and that it is normal and healthy to discuss the flaws and dark sides of various historical figures.

It’s like a wall which I, speaking as a public historian, wish I knew how to dismantle. Like when someone’s all REMEMBER THE ALAMO, I think the natural response is something along the lines of “certainly, but it’s important remember that one of the things the revolutionaries were fighting for was the freedom to continue their enslavement of other human beings.”

For me, that’s not a political statement. It’s a commitment to view historical events and figures for what they were in all their good and their bad and their complexity. But you say that to someone with right wing US American politics, and it’s like you spat on their mother and pooped on the flag.

I do make political posts here as an angry, frustrated progressive citizen of the USA who is also a historian. But right now, I’m posting as a historian, who happens to be a left wing US American. I don’t want to talk shit, I want to figure out how to fix it.

But then, knowing what I do of MAGA Americans, I don’t think there is a fixing it? Unambiguously valorizing the American past in order to maintain the illusion that this country was at some point Great is kind of their whole Thing.

Idk. Just some stray thoughts.

[epicthemusicalstuff]

I CRYUNG I NEED SOMEONE TO SUM UP ALL ETM SONGS MY. MEMORY + ATTENTION SPAN IS SO BAD

Let’s speed run epic the musical so far!! (It’s under the cut cause even a summary is gonna take a bit for 35 songs-)

Horse and the Infant:

Giant horse- ATTACK! ZEUS?!?! What are you doing here? I have to kill a baby? But he’s just a little thing-

Just a Man:

This little boy reminds me of my son. Is killing him the morally correct thing to do? Yeet.

Full Speed Ahead:

Let’s introduce our main cast! Wow! Polites- Eurylochus- Odysseus! BFFs forever! We’re hungry- let’s go to this island and look for food!

Open Arms:

Wow Odysseus, you are looking hella tense, maybe you should try being nice and not so mistrustful. Look at these little creatures eating lotus fruit- wow this fruit is bad for you- let’s go to this cave to find food!

Warrior of the Mind:

Athena and Odysseus back story. Odysseus, your actions aren’t very Warrior of the Mind coded. Don’t disappoint me.

Polyphemus:

Let’s kill these Sheep!! NOOO! Scary Cyclops, we killed his sheep, now he will kill us.

Survive:

HES GOT A CLUB. He is killing us- NO POLITES. Oh, Polyphemus is asleep now cause he drank spiked wine.

Remember Them:

Odysseus tricks Polyphemus. They almost get away, and then he GIVES OUT HIS FULL NAME, JOB POSITION, ADRESS, AND SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER.

My Goodbye:

Athena is disappointed and they have a big messy friend break up.

Storm:

There is a big storm. Wow! A floating island! Let’s go!

Luck Runs Out:

Captain, you keep taking risks and not thinking this through. What happens if your plans fail?

Keep Your Friends Close:

Hahahahahaha! Here is a bag of wind! Don’t open it! Oh- the winions told you to open it? No!! Penelope- I’m hallucinating! Darn- the bag is opened.

Ruthlessness:

You hurt my son. So now I’m gonna kill most of your men. What’s this- a daring escape? Well- I’ll get you sooner or later-

Puppeteer:

An island. Let’s explore! Oh no- scary lady, she turned us into pigs! Let’s run Captain! Or not I guess.

Wouldn’t You Like:

Hey kid, this scary lady could kill you. How about some magic drugs? Totally safe and all.

Done For:

We are evenly matched- big magic fight! Wow! The magic drugs Hermes gave you really are something. Are you trying to seduce me?

There Are Other Ways:

Wow, you really are trying to seduce me. Too bad- I have a wife I love. Wait- you’ll help us? THE UNDERWORLD WHAT?

The Underworld:

We are haunted by everyone we have lost- Polites- wait- MOM?!? I’m too late-

No Longer You:

This dead prophet should tell me what we want to know- wait- what no- this is actually terrible? We came to you for help but now you’re saying you can’t help us? WHO?!a

Monster:

Maybe Poseidon was onto something, and we do have to be ruthless. Welp, time to become the monster y’all.

Suffering:

Ooo, Penelope, I love you, but you know I’m too shy. I don’t want to get in the water-

Different Beast:

SURPRISE I KNEW YOU WERENY MY WIFE. I actually did become the monster, and now I’m going to kill all your friends you Siren!

Scylla:

This is the only way home. Eurylochus, what do you mean you opened the wind bag back in Keep Your Friends Close. Light six torches- oh no, a giant monster is eating our crew. Me and her are the same you know.

Mutiny:

Captain why did you do that? Fight fight fight! Oh no- Odysseus has been stabbed. I’m hungry, let’s eat cows. Oh no, they were a gods cows. We knew that but still ate them. Now Zeus is gonna kill us.

Thunders Bringer:

Zeus is here. You can live, or your crew can live. But like- Penelope. Sorry crew. Crew dies.

Legendary:

It’s me! Telemachus! I never knew my dad- I wish I could know my dad. All these suitors want to marry my mom. I wish I could fight them. DONT CALL MY MOTHER A TRAMP!

Little Wolf:

Fight Little Wolf Fight- we are going to beat you up just cause you were in the way. WOW. ATHENA?? What are you doing here- we haven’t seen you since the second saga! Ow.

We’ll Be Fine:

I’m going to help you cause I feel guilty about your dad. Bet. We are best friends now. Go find my dad.

Love In Paradise:

Rewind- Morning! You were asleep. I’m in love with you now. Ew back away I have a wife. You’re a goddess??? Oh no- now I’m really depressed. I’m haunted by the ghosts again- ATHENA!

God Games:

Zeus- father- release Odysseus. *lots of convincing Gods* NO, YOU DID WHAT I ASKED SO NOW IM MAD. LIGHTNING BOLT. Is she- dead?

I’m Not Sorry For Loving You:

Yes I kept you trapped against you power, but I loved you- why won’t you love me back? It’s not like you have a whole literally family waiting for you-

Dangerous:

HAHAHAHA. Hello old friend! Let’s do some cool dance moves as I tell you how you will get back home. Here is a wind bag 2.0! Let’s hope you don’t have issues with it this time!

Charybdis:

Another obstacle!! But I know how to beat you!! Woo! I see home- I’m almost there! WAIT NO! NOT AGAIN!

Get In The Water:

Poseidon! Please let me get home- I already told Siren Penelope, I don’t want to get in the water! Can’t we get along? No! Drowning-

Six Hundred Strike:

Use the wind bag! I’m out of the water! SIX HUNDRED STRIKE! You’re beat Poseidon- let me go home. What’s this? You won’t. TIME FOR VIOLENCE. Stab. Stab. Stab. Next to my WIFE.

[inbabylontheywept]

Hi there! I just read through a few of your long form posts -- the one about the boss and the glue traps and the lizards, the one about the friend and the radishes and the cop, and the one about the breakup and the car and the neighbor's car and your dad -- and I'm just really blown away by your writing. And I'm just curious, are they actual experiences or are they fiction? They read like actual experiences, and the writing is so naturalistic and...idk, low key sweet, stream of consciousness without the major sidetracking that often happens in stream of consciousness writing and also more...more poetical in a way, I guess. I don't know. Are you published or wanting to? I mean I couldn't help with that or anything but if you've got a book out I'd love to read it.

Patrick McManus was kind of THE legendary writer to my family. When my dad was a kid, he'd sit on the porch the door that the monthly copy of Outdoor Life was going to arrive, and as soon as he got it, he'd run in with it and take it to his dad, who would gather all his kids around and read the stories out loud.

My dad loved it because his dad would make a whole performance out of the readings: He'd do voices, pantomimes, dramatic sound effects, the works. The stories are amazing, but the out-of-character behavior from his dad was half the selling point. Grandpa Hank was, to his core, a good man. But he was gruff, and socially, pretty stiff, and he didn't often show emotion. I think my dad said he saw him tear up one time growing up, and it was when he got dropped off at the MTC. My mom was married to my dad for three years before Grandpa Hank was comfortable enough to sit down in their house, and he liked her. That's just how he was.

(You just praised me for not getting sidetracked, but I'm letting myself wander down those memories a bit. He died last year. I miss him terribly.)

Anyway: Those stories were how I first started learning how to spin a yarn. I got older and I got more influence than just cowboys and Westerns, but the soul of my style is still just The American Tall Tale.

Which is to say that they're not outright fabrications. When I say that I cut all the worms up in my backyard and had a panic attack and hid in a tree until my mom got me, that happened. But I only remember the vaguest outlines of the words that were said. When there's a line in that story about my mom telling me that she's sure the worms will forgive me because they got six hearts to love and no bones to pick, that's not how she talks. That's how I talk.

Other stories, they're far less fuzzy than that, but I can still point out things I don't know. Wrestling story was from middle school, and a lot of those "crisp details" are just me painting by vibe. I've had some people that did wrestling through highschool point out things like refs not actually counting to three, or how double-legs are not actually super effective for tall wrestlers. I don't actually know how much the woman I wrestled weighed, nor do I remember how much I weighed, except that I was more than two weight classes smaller than her. Car incident, I got broke up with, went to her parents door, waited on the lawn, and was given some olives to go with a wireless phone. But exact wording of a lot of the people involved fails me. As a rule, the weirder an event is, the more likely I am to be distinctly remembering it and not just filling in the background. Except for dialogue, which often turns out weird because when I have to make up things for other characters to say, it carries too much of my own speaking style in it, and that's always been weird.

There are even points where things do come right off the rails. In the stories about J post, J himself became a sort of mythic figure after he moved, and lot of the stories about him, I don't even know I'm remembering them first hand or second hand from a story someone else shared with me.

I know it would be easier to just go, yeah, they're true, or no, they're not, but I did a weird thing and mixed them up and now even I'm a little confused.

Regarding publishing: I'm not published, and the thought of trying to get published scares the shit out of me. I

I don't know. If anyone has advice, I'd be interested.

[xinganhao]

✏️ data science major!jeonghan x reader.

if there's one thing you've never been able to decode, it'd be your ex-boyfriend jeonghan ✶ part of my svt university milestone event

⤿ college exes, jeonghan is a menace™, suggestive coding pickup lines, [slight] angst, terrible pseudo-html for the hc (shoutout to w3schools). more content under the cut. ♡⸝⸝ prompt from @choco-scoups & anon!

<!doctype html> <html> <head> <title> decoding the breakup </title> <subtitle> yoon jeonghan (est. 2024) </subtitle> </head> </body> <script>

if (you still love them) {   // remind yourself of why you broke up in the first place   // date other people who don't even come close to them   // bury yourself in schoolwork or literally anything else that will make you forget } else {   // accept that you still have feelings }

if (you want them back) {   // be annoying enough that you're always on their mind   // reverse psychology them into thinking that they want you back   // reference your relationship so they might want it back, too   // hit them with the world's worst pickup lines so you can catch their attention } else {   // keep on trying until you succeed }

<p> confession time: running into you at what's supposed to be our spot was completely unintentional. that wasn't part of the bigger plan, of the grand scheme of things. that was just me trying to find some comfort in something familiar. in the quiet places where you once loved me. i'm a fool who likes to pretend, here and there, that our little corner of campus still remembers what it was like for us to be together. </p>

if (they still hate you) {   // accept it  // settle for what you're given } else {   // live for the hope of it all }

<p> confession time, part two: i still love you. of course i do. why the hell would i be doing all this if i didn't? <a href="https://www.svtuni.com/jun">jun</a> says love isn't a once-in-a-lifetime thing, but i beg to differ. at the risk of sounding like a bigger fool, i truly believe that i don't think i'll ever love anyone as much as i've loved you. </p>

<p> even <a href="https://www.svtuni.com/mingyu">mingyu</a> has gotten his sequel. and he's asked me, time and time again, if that's something i want with you. some second chance romance, one that won't end with me being 'Maybe: Jeonghan' in your phone. </p>

<p> <a href="https://www.svtuni.com/vernon">vernon</a> will be the first to tell us both that the body doesn't lie. some bullshit about the heart knowing what it wants, about it not being good for us to deny our most basic instincts of what it truly wants. our friends don't know how to keep their opinions to themselves, unfortunately. </p>

<p> <h1> anyway. what matters are my thoughts, right? </h1> </p>

<p> and my only thought is that i love you. i loved you when we were together, and i love you even now. i loved you, and i was bad at it, and i will live the rest of my life wondering what i could have done differently. as it is, i'm worried that i'm still not good enough for you. that i'll make the same mistakes that i did back then. </p>

<p> i'm happy to just love you, if you'll let me. i'm happy to be petty, to make up all these terrible pick up lines. to make you smile and scoff and roll your eyes. i want to love you and to want nothing in return. not until i deserve it. not until i can finally, finally say i'm worth your time. </p>

<p> <small> please. </small> </p>

</script> </body> </html>

[ohbueckers]

HEART OF A WOMAN. … instead we’re moving slow, i guess she’s used to it by now.

05, CHAPTER FIVE. YOU BETTER START THINKING.

ju speaks. i procrastinated this so bad lol but i have some time over the break to get some stuff out (more hoaw chapters) so yay! pairing. wnba!paige bueckers x fem!oc. warnings. sexual innuendos.

present day, june 2025.

i’m not sure why i let it happen again.

scratch that—i know exactly why. i just don’t want to admit it to myself. it’s always like this with paige and me. a spark, a touch, a stupid comment or argument that turns into something much bigger, much harder to control. we’ve been here before, over and over, in different cities, in different beds, pretending like this time will be the last time. it should’ve been.

the last couple of weeks have been easier than i expected, softer in a way i didn’t know we were capable of. i’m starting to think it’s too good to be true. paige hasn’t been running from me, hasn’t been trying to prove something every second of our time together. maybe that’s why i’ve let my guard down, just a little.

she’s still herself, of course. cocky, loud, and incapable of stilling. but she’s been showing up. not just physically but in the ways i used to hope for back when we were together the first time. it’s in the way she looks at me when she thinks i’m not paying attention, like she did in high school when she told me she never wanted to let go of me. it’s in the way she texts me good morning before i can even think about reaching for my phone, like she’s trying to prove she can still be someone i want to wake up to.

and maybe, stupidly, i’m starting to believe her.

not completely, not yet. paige bueckers has always been good at saying the right things, making promises she’s not ready to keep. but these past weeks, it’s like she’s trying to remind me who she was before everything got so messy. the version of her i fell for in the first place.

but when she’s here, like this? it’s so hard to remember why i ever tried to stay away.

paige is stretched out on her back, arm slung around me, fingers tracing patterns absentmindedly on my shoulder. the sheets are tangled around her bare legs, and she shifts slightly, the motion sending a faint brush of her skin against mine. i glance up at her, and the smug smirk already curling at her lips tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“you staring at me, nai?” she asks. her voice is rough and a little husky from sleep as she stretches. my eyes flash to her exposed abdomen.

“don’t flatter yourself,” i mutter, though it is so obviously a front.

“tooooo late,” she drawls, shifting again so she’s propped up on one elbow, the other hand sliding up to lazily run along my arm. “you’re terrible at pretending you’re not obsessed, by the way.”

i roll my eyes, trying to hide the way my breath hitches at her touch. “says the girl who texted me five times in a row last night because i didn’t answer fast enough.” i lean back against the pillow, staring up at her, and i swear i could forever.

paige’s grin widens, shameless as she looks away. “i mean, what was i ‘posed to do? sit there and wait? nah, i had to apply pressure.” the smugness on her face tells me she’s having way too much fun with this, fun with me.

i snort, shaking my head as i get up, swinging a leg over her and straddling her waist casually. “pressure? you called me a ‘certified flake’ and threatened to pull up if i didn’t respond.”

paige lets out a low laugh, her hands instinctively finding my thighs as i settle over her. “yeah, and look where it got me.” she licks her lips, smirk softening as her eyes flicker over my face, lingering on my lips that are curled up into a smile. “don’t act like you didn’t like the attention.”

i arch a brow, tilting my head to the side. “oh, is that what we’re calling it now?”

her hands tighten on my thighs, smirk faltering for just a second before she regains composure. “mhm. attention. you’re welcome.”

i roll my eyes but don’t pull away, my hands bracing on her chest. how could i? “you’re such a problem.” i bring the comforter we shared last night up over my back, and its like a tent giving us privacy from the sun of my windows. i really need some black-out curtains or something.

“and you love it,” she fires back, her voice dropping, teasing, as her fingers trail upwards, stopping just far enough.

i do. God, i really do.

i smile, and i swear my face hurts from it as i lean down to kiss her. again and again, each one leaving paige chasing after my lips. i savor the moment. i’m not sure how long it’ll be like this, but i like it. a lot. i pull back, resting my head on her chest, breathing in her morning scent as she bites down on her lip in reminiscence.

“tell me i’m wrong,” she murmurs.

i laugh, more of a pity chuckle just because she’s so full of herself. i furrow my eyebrows just slightly, bringing my hand to a resting point right by my face. “i’m not telling you shit, bueckers.”

“yeah? but you didn’t say i was wrong.”

i don’t want to admit it, not to her, not even to myself, but paige knows me better than anyone. she always has. it’s infuriating and comforting all at once, the way she sees through me like i’m an open book. i’m not an open book. i never have been, but for paige…

she doesn’t press, though. she never does when it really matters. she just watches me with that maddening half-smile, her fingers brushing over my skin like she has all the time in the world, and i know she’s waiting for me to say it. to give in.

maybe that’s why i keep coming back. or maybe it’s because she’s the only person who’s ever made me feel this much all at once—frustration, want, affection, something i’m not ready to name. whatever it is, it’s why i don’t pull away, why i let her keep pulling me closer even when i know i should stop.

i shift, the sheets rustling beneath us, and my chest tightens. not about what she said, but what i’m forcing myself to think about. i hate how much i want this, how much i want her, even after everything. especially after everything. but its addicting, and i know she feels the same.

“maybe i’m just a sucker for this,” i mutter, low enough that i’m not sure she hears it.

but of course she does.

she nearly breaks her neck to look down at me. she doesn’t let the words settle. “nah, you a sucker for me.”

i roll my eyes again, avoiding her gaze, but i don’t argue. instead, i lift my head again as i prop myself up on her chest. “what makes you so sure?” it’s a stupid question, but i was fully ready for her to read me.

paige’s smile turns smugger. “because you’re here,” she says simply. “and you’re smiling like that.”

i scoff, trying to play it off, but the way she’s looking at me makes it impossible. i lean down, pressing my lips to hers again, even slower this time. how could i stay away from her when kisses me like this? i feel the way her mouth curves, realizing she’s smiling too.

my hand slides up to cup her face, and she pulls me just a little closer by the small of my back, grip tight like always, like she’s scared i’ll slip. it’s not rushed—in fact, we have a couple hours to be entangled like this before having to part—it’s intentional. like she’s got all the time in the world and wants me to feel it.

and i do.

“it’s—mhm—okay,” paige says, and i find her muffled words rather cute as i shift my hips up, pushing my lips further into hers. her hand slides up my bare back, fiddling with the clasp of my bra. “i am too.”

i pull away, sitting up a little straighter as i quirk a brow at her. “you’re what?” i ask. i decide to help her out, unclasping my bra, but holding the straps up over my chest until she’s finished speaking.

her eyes fall, tongue swiping over her swollen, pink lips. i’m teasing her, i know it, paige definitely knows it. but as she brings her hands up slowly, tearing my own away, i almost forget what i was doing to her in the first place, suddenly fully exposed. i hear her breath hitch. “a big, fat sucker for you.”

i bite back a smile despite her unserious words, because they always make me do that. i roll my eyes, cusping her mouth into my hand playfully as she laughs, shaking out of it.

paige doesn’t hesitate.

she attaches her lips to my collarbone, trails down to the curve of my chest. i look down, and if i didn’t know any better, i’d say paige bueckers is absolutely enamored with me. “so beautiful, baby,” she huskily says, her hands grounding my hips against her as she moves to my tits, attacking the marks she’d left last night so roughly it has my breathing going faster.

i tangle a hand in her hair, fingers tightening reflexively, and it’s like i can’t look away. her face, her lips—every detail feels seared into my memory. “for real,” she continues, and when she looks up at me unexpectedly, lips curving into a small grin, it’s like i’ve completely checked out.

i’m not me anymore, i’m whatever paige wants me to be.

“need you framed or somethin’.” it’s a joke. clearly a joke, nailea. but the way she’s making me feel makes it land differently.

“framed, huh?” i manage.

“yeah,” she replies proudly, like it’s the sweetest thing she’s ever said. “you know, like for the crib. big centerfold. maybe as my lock screen too.”

i can’t help it—i laugh, shaking my head, closing my eyes momentarily as i pretend her words aren’t setting me closer to giving myself to her completely. “you’re so stupid,” i mutter.

paige doesn’t flinch, her grin only widening as she dips her head again, her lips brushing over the swell of my chest. “nah, just honest,” she murmurs against my skin, and the way her voice vibrates there nearly makes me lose it.

i force myself to breathe, leaning back slightly as her hands wander. “maybe you can,” i blurt out without thinking, and she pauses, glancing up at me again.

“what you talkin’ about?” she asks.

i don’t answer right away, leaning over to grab the pink polaroid camera sitting on my nightstand. it’s old and clunky, a relic from freshman year that my dad had given me, and i’d kept it more out of nostalgia than utility. now, though, it feels like fate.

it always does with us.

when i sit back, holding the camera up, paige’s eyes light up, her grin widening into something more troublesome. “nai,” she drags out.

i lift my eyebrows, playing along, like i don’t already know where this is headed. “i’m listening.”

“you not serious,” she shakes her head, voice etched with some laughter. she doesn’t believe it, yet she still tilts her head, sizing me up like she’s already planning the perfect angle.

“thought you wanted me framed, p,” i counter, poking my bottom lip out as i lift the camera a little higher.

her grin deepens, tongue flicking over her teeth as she leans back just enough, hands sliding up and down my legs, creating some sort of friction. she hesitates. “you sure?”

i pretend to think for a moment before responding. “hmm, depends. you gonna cooperate?”

paige chuckles. “oh, i’ll cooperate.” she shifts again, her posture loosening as she leans back against the headboard, one arm draping casually over her head, the other trailing down to rest just between my legs. shes so sexy it’s almost overwhelming. her grin is the same as always, blue hues pierced into me.

“go on then,” she urges. “show me how you see me, baby.”

i adjust the camera into focus, fingers fumbling over the different buttons i’m sure i’ll have to show her have to work before snapping the first photo. the flash and the sun combined cast her in a perfect light, and though she’ll look less defined in the old pixels, the sight’s engraved in my head now.

the whir of the camera fills the room, and the polaroid slides out, landing softly against her chest. paige grabs it, holding it up with a satisfied smirk as the image slowly develops, inspecting it like it’s a prize. she glances at me, her expression softening just a little. “i’m bettin’ you could do better.”

“oh, you think so?” i shoot back, handing her the camera.

“mhm. there a timer on this thing?”

i step out of the shower and into my room, shivering a little as i pull the towel tighter around my chest. paige, completely the opposite temperature of me, must have messed with my thermostat.

i silently curse her for getting so comfortable.

she’s still here, tall figure leaning over the bed she made up. she’s wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts and her sports bra, her phone in one hand, the other lazily shuffling through the scattered polaroids we just took.

“what you doin’?” i ask, tilting my head at her as i walk over, water droplets trailing down my legs.

paige glances up, her blue eyes gleaming like i’ve interrupted something i should’ve known better than to question. “you thought i was lying about my lock screen?” she smugly says, holding up her phone.

i keep my eyes on her, not knowing what to expect as i move closer, the faintest tug of a grin threatening my lips. “what’d you do?” i mutter, snatching her phone to check it for myself.

sure enough, the lock screen now features a series of the pictures we’d taken. i blink, and i think my boiling, hot shower just cleansed every dirty thought i had before getting in, because i don’t remember us being this fucking horny. my cheeks flush despite myself. “paige, you cannot keep this on your phone.”

she strokes her chin, lowly laughing at my reaction. “why not? looks good, don’t it?”

i shake my head as i fight back every inch of amusement that wants to take over me. “it’s unhinged,” i retort, though the corner of my mouth betrays me. a part of me wants her to keep it.

she looks at me, completely unfazed. “everything we just did is unhinged.” well…

before i can think of a snappy comeback, there’s a sudden knock at the front door, loud and authoritative. my heart leaps, and i freeze. paige stiffens too, her smile faltering just slightly.

“shit,” i mutter, tossing her phone back on the bed. “put a shirt on.”

paige doesn’t move immediately, still grinning like she thinks this is funny.

“now, p!” i urge, hitting her arm and scrambling toward my closet for a robe.

“aight, aight,” she finally says, scurrying over and grabbing a shirt off the back of a chair. she takes her time pulling it on, moving like this isn’t urgent, like we’re not one knock away from being exposed.

but then there’s another knock, louder this time. not from the front door—this one is right outside the bedroom.

the fuck?

i freeze, my hand still on the closet door, dread pooling in my stomach.

paige’s eyes widen as realization dawns on her. “yo, who has a key to your apartment?” she mouths, grabbing the polaroids and shoving them under the pillow in a panic.

i shake my head as if to tell her i wouldn’t know before squaring my shoulders, trying to channel a calm i don’t feel. If i act casual, maybe—just maybe—i can smooth this over. except i don’t know who it is. we don’t know who it is. i tie the robe around myself and open the door slowly, preparing for the worst.

and there she is. cameron brink.

her arms are crossed as she scans the room, and she doesn’t have a reaction to paige’s presence in the slightest bit. i speak first. “how’d you—“ i start, but she cuts me off, holding up a pink key decorated with yellow daisies attached to her keychain.

well, shit.

“i had a feeling i’d need this,” she says coolly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “and your locations.” her eyes flick over my robe, then to paige standing awkwardly by the bed, and then back to me.

“bye, paige,” she says pointedly, not even giving her the courtesy of a glance as she busies herself by stuffing her keys into her purse.

paige hesitates, looking between me and cam, clearly debating whether to say something. i’ve got my own arms crossed, chewing down on my lip like a kid in trouble. she takes the hint, and finally, she steps toward me, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek before grabbing her phone and heading toward the door. “i’ll… catch you later.”

if it weren’t for the predicament we were in, i’d call her adorable.

the door closes behind her, leaving me alone with cam, and i don’t even have to look at her to know what’s coming.

“really?”

i roll my eyes, crossing my arms tighter against my chest. i shouldn’t be upset with her though. i’m deflecting. “you stalking me now?”

cam smirks, but there’s no humor in it. “i came to apologize for what happened at the bar,” she says. “in person, because i haven’t seen you. but now i know why—you’ve been busy.” her voice has something etched in it, almost like she’s disappointed in me, but at the same time, knew.

i look away, fingers curling around the fabric of my robe. “it’s not like that,” i mutter, but even i don’t believe it. not really. it is like that. and maybe i’m just too tired of pretending i can stay away.

“isn’t it? i thought you were done with her,” she says, her brows raising like she’s daring me to lie.

i let out a breath, awkwardly keeping my hands to my sides as i sit on the edge of the bed. “me too.”

“then why is she leaving your apartment like a one-night stand?”

“because—” i start, but the words stick in my throat. what was i supposed to say? that seeing paige nearly every day had unraveled every ounce of willpower i had? that being around her felt like falling into an old habit, comfortable and impossible to resist?

“you try having your ex-girlfriend get drafted to the team you work for,” i say finally.

still, she rambles. “and maya?” cam presses. she’s so worried about it you’d think it was her problem. “they’re seeing each other, you know that, right?”

i close my eyes for a moment, guilt clawing at my chest. that wasn’t fair. “we haven’t…” i trail off, shaking my head. “we haven’t been thinking that far.”

cam exhales, hand running down her face. “that’s the problem, nai. you’re not thinking.”

her words settle into the room, a bit harsh for me to hear, but not untrue. and maybe that’s what stings the most—that i’ve been avoiding this conversation with myself for weeks. the truth is, i haven’t thought about anything beyond the way paige makes me feel when she’s close, the way her voice drops when she says my name, the way her hands feel like they’re meant to pull me back in no matter how far i run. i haven’t thought about maya, about what it would mean for her to find out, about how i’d explain myself if it came to that. i haven’t thought about the job i fought so hard to get, and how quickly it could all fall apart if this got out.

i look at cam. she looks like she’s seen this all before. she hasn’t. she hasn’t even seen half of it and wants better for me. she loves us both, i know that. but apart better than together.

i bite my lip, frustration pooling in my gut as i try to put my thoughts together. somehow, the only thing i can think about is how this isn’t just paige and i’s secret anymore, and i should fight to keep it under wraps until we figure it out. “please don’t tell maya,” i plead.

cam looks at me, her expression unreadable for a long moment before she sits down beside me, close but not touching. “you know i won’t.” i feel a sense of relief. “but promise me you’ll start thinking. about how this affects your job. about you.” she chuckles dryly, emphasizing that i don’t really have a choice.

i suppose she’s right. she is right.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Chapter Twenty-Two

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Twenty-Two: Festival Play

Summary: The show must go on no matter what.

            With two days until the culture festival, casting was quick to finish, and rehearsals began. Saiki was pleased to discover (Y/N) was right—Teruhashi couldn’t choose him as Urashima because he avoided the casting meeting—and he got a background role instead of anything in the spotlight. He was happily playing Seaweed No. 4 and stood in his green bodysuit. (Y/N) was one of the other deities in the castle, which meant they also didn’t have to do much.

            “Teruhashi is coming!” announced a boy. The costumes had been finished, so everyone was trying them on.

            “How do I look?” Teruhashi stepped into the room, glowing more than ever. Her hair was intricately pinned up, and her elegant kimono fell beautifully around her.

            “Oh, wow!” was the (almost) unanimous reply. “Teruhashi, you look amazing!”

            “Wow, thank you,” said Teruhashi, smiling. That was a perfect entrance.

            “As usual, Kokomi leaves an impression,” said (Y/N), smiling as they walked up to Saiki. They also wore a kimono, far less ornate but still a pretty pale blue.

            Oh, wow. Saiki thought (Y/N) looked amazing—as usual.

            “I wonder who the other characters are?” wondered (Y/N).

            “We’ve got a great Urashima,” said Kaidou.

            “It should’ve been me,” grumbled Nendou. He wore a giant suit that made him look like a piece of coral.

            “You couldn’t memorize any of your lines,” said Kaidou. “So you’re coral.”

            “It’s a perfect fit,” said Saiki.

            “At first, I thought Nendou as Urashima might be original and interesting,” said Kaidou, his “director” (self-appointed title) speak coming out. “But he couldn’t remember a single line. And then I thought about (Y/N) as Urashima since they and Teruhashi are friends, but we decided that two pretty people wouldn’t work. We needed someone who looked humble enough to be a simple fisherman. Sadly, for a while, we were stuck with Nendou.”

            “We had to rehearse some scenes a million times,” said a new voice.

            “Where is that coming from?”

            “Down here!”

            (Y/N) and Saiki looked down and found a turtle staring up at them with Hairo’s face.

            “What the hell?”

            “Are you method acting?”

            “Hairo is amazing,” said Kaidou. “Coming to school, during gym, he does everything as a turtle.”

            “What an idiot.”

            Hairo began crawling around speedily. “I can move this quickly now!”

            “Turtles don’t move quickly.”

            “I’m still impressed,” said (Y/N).

            “So who is Urashima?” said Saiki curiously.

            “He’s here. You look good in that,” said Kaidou as someone new entered in costume.

            “Reall? I can’t tell.” Kuboyasu entered, not wearing his glasses but looking adorable as the humble fisherman.

            “Oh, it’s Kuboyasu.” Saiki thought that was actually a good choice.

            “Putting on the costume makes me nervous,” said Kuboyasu. “Can I really do this?”

            “You look good,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            Never mind, Saiki thought this was a terrible choice in casting if (Y/N) was going to be complimenting him.

            “You’re the supporting role. You can do it,” said Kaidou.

            “Supporting role?” said Saiki. “Isn’t Urashima the lead?”

            “Make way!” shouted a familiar voice.

            “Damn. He’s here,” groaned Kaidou.

            “You’re in the way, peasant! Here comes the leading role.” Saiko walked into the room in a fur coat.

            “He’s the ‘Other Urashima,’ ” said (Y/N).

            Saiki deadpanned. “What?”

            (Y/N) sighed. “I argued against him, but he bought everyone off, paid for set and costumes, and was generally his usual self.”

            “But what does it mean that’s he’s the ‘Other Urashima?’ ” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) tutted playfully. “You should have read the script, Kusuo.”

            “It’s time for final rehearsal,” said Kuboyasu. “So you’ll see.”

            “It’s not going to be good, is it?” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) laughed. “What else could you expect from us? We’ll have fun, at least.”

            “You will, maybe.”

l

            “Is everyone ready?” said Kaidou, excited for the final rehearsal of the play. “Action! Year 2, Class 3, The Other Urashima Taro.”

            The narration began as the curtain was pulled back. Unsurprisingly, the narrator was Akechi. “Once upon a time, there was a young fisherman named Urashima Taro. One day, Urashima set out to sea as always but saw some people by the shore. He saw some children bullying a turtle.”

            Kuboyasu stood onstage watching with faux shock as Takahashi and Mera bullied Hairo the turtle.

            “Scum—I mean, how awful!” said Kuboyasu, stepping forward.

            “Urashima Taro stepped in to save it,” narrated Akechi. “But then, a demon whispered in his ear.”

            “Don’t do it,” whispered Saiko, appearing behind Kuboyasu.

            “It’s The Other Urashima Taro,” said Akechi.

            “Saving it won’t make you money,” said Saiko.

            “What is this character?” said Saiki, deadpanning. (Y/N) just shrugged. They hadn’t made the script.

            “Actually, Urashima has an alternate personality,” said Akechi.

            “I feel like this has been done before,” said Saiki.

            “Only the strongest will survive in this world,” said Saiko to Kuboyasu.

            “They made this a horror story,” said Saiki.

            “But that turtle is intriguing. Hold it, turtle plebe,” said Saiko.

            “I think he’s improving some of that,” said (Y/N).

            “I can help you, turtle,” said Saiko to Hairo. “In exchange, show me the underwater paradise, Palace of the Dragon.”

            “How did you know about that?” said Takahashi.

            “Disappear, plebe.” Saiko waved a hand, and Takahashi was literally thrown back.

            “I don’t think we’re supposed to have stunts,” said (Y/N), tilting their head.

            “What was that?!” cried Takahashi.

            “It’s just a minor explosive sewn into your clothing,” said Saiko, shrugging. “Don’t stop the play.”

            “Why would you do that?!” shouted Takahashi.

            “Keep going,” said Kaidou.

            Hairo was next to speak. “Thank you for helping me. As promised, I will take you to the Palace of the Dragon.”

            “And with that, Urashima Taro was taken to the Palace of the Dragon,” narrated Akechi.

            Hairo was carrying Kuboyasu and Saiki on his back.

            “You’re up,” said Kaidou to the people watching. “Coral, just stand. Seaweed, just wave or something. (L/N), be nice.”

            “I’ll try,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            That will be an easy role for them, thought Saiki, getting onstage.

            The new set looked beautiful and elegant, with grand doors that Saiko and Kuboyasu stood before.

            “Urashima and the turtle arrived at the Palace of the Dragon,” said Akechi.

            “This is the palace of the dragon,” said Saiko.

            “At the bottom of the sea?” said Kuboyasu.

            “Upon arriving, they were greeting by several handmaidens of the lady of the palace,” said Akechi.

            The doors opened to reveal (Y/N), Miko, and Yumehara.

            “Further inside—” Akechi was cut off as a bright line shone from within the palace.

            “What is this?” said Kuboyasu.

            “Welcome. I’m the princess,” said Teruhashi.

            “Urashima couldn’t help but—”

            “Oh, wow,” said Kuboyasu.

            “—sigh in awe,” said Akechi. “Urashima fell in love with the princess.”

            They added a romantic subplot, thought Saiki.

            “Urashima Taro spent a fantastic time at the Palace of the Dragon,” continued Akechi. “He relished his stay at the Palace of the Dragon.”

            Why keep repeating the name?

            “Before he knew it, a month had passed,” said Akechi. The curtains drew back once more to reveal the beach again. “Urashima Taro left the Palace of the Dragon for home.”

            What happened to the romance? There was no continuity.

            “Urashima tried to court the princess but was rejected. He was given a box that must never be opened and was chased out of the castle. Upon returning, he immediately noticed a change. He didn’t recognize anyone. While at the Palace of the Dragon, hundreds of years had passed. Urashima opened the box.”

            Kuboyasu opened the box, and smoke exploded out of it.

            “Engulfed in smoke, he rapidly aged and died.”

            When the smoke cleared, only Saiko stood on the stage.

            “But the Other Urashima Taro did not die. All that disappeared was Urashima Taro’s life, and the Other Urashima Taro was fine. Urashima returned to the Palace of the Dragon.”

            The underwater set returned, and Urashima walked into it.

            “And married the princess. They lived happily ever after.”

            Saiko stood proudly next to Teruhashi on the stage.

            “Great!” said Kaidou, grinning. “Well done!”

            “…That’s it?” said Saiki.

            “Yeah,” chuckled (Y/N).

            “That was not good,” said Saiki.

            “At least we’re having fun,” said (Y/N).

            “We should end with me kissing the princess,” said Saiko.

            “Ew,” said (Y/N).

            “I’m going home, so have it fixed by next time,” said Saiko, waving a hand. He barged towards the doors. “Out of the way. I’m the lead actor!’

            “Saiki, what did you think?” said Kaidou.

            “I made even less sense than the original,” said Saiki.

            “Was it strange to see a happy ending for the Other Urashima?” asked Kaidou. He grinned. “Of course it was. Because that script was a lie. Saiko kept complaining, so we changed the script. In the real script, the Other Urashima will age due to the box, and the real Urashima will live happily with the princess. Set and costumes were bought by Saiko. If he were to pull out, it would be a disaster.”

            “Then why didn’t you have Kuboyasu be the Other Urashima and let Saiko be Urashima so that the right ending is ready and Saiko is appeased?” said (Y/N). “I don’t support him getting everything, but having a secret script feels like a lot of work.”

            “…”

            He didn’t think of that, thought Saiki as he watched Kaidou blink. (Y/N) just stared brightly at him, waiting for an answer.

            “Is that so?” said Saiko.

            “Saiko!” exclaimed everyone who had hidden a script.

            “You tried to trick me,” said Saiko in irritation. He snapped his fingers, and his bodyguards appeared. “Take everything away!”

            “Uh-oh,” said (Y/N).

            “Yare yare.”

l

            The day of the Culture Festival had arrived. (Y/N) stood nervously backstage. Without the costumes or sets, after the performance of the Wizard of Oz, poor Class 3 was going to look, well, poor.

            But, still, as Class 3 was announced, Kuboyasu steeled himself and walked out. The entire class had their determination behind him. Even without Saiko, they’d put on a good show. The quality would be different, but their hearts would still be in it.

            “One day, Urashima found children bullying a turtle,” said Akechi.

            Hairo curled up on the ground while Takahashi and Mera “kicked” him. It looked really bad without costumes.

            “Urashima intervened,” said Akechi.

            At this rate, the show was done for. And what was going to be troublesome was that Kaidou was the Other Urashima now, and he was a terrible actor.

            “A demon whispered in his ear,” said Akechi.

            “Saving it won’t make you money,” said Kaidou. Amazingly, he had put together a good costume and makeup

            Kuboyasu’s eyes widened, and Kaidou blushed, pleased that he had surprised everyone. They had a chance.

            “It’s, you know, only the strong…survive.” Unfortunately, Kaidou’s stage fright was still posing an issue.”

            “What?” said Kuboyasu.

            “Kusuo—”

            Saiki nodded as (Y/N) looked at him worriedly. Hypnosis. Now Kaidou could say his lines correctly.

            “But that turtle is intriguing,” said Kaidou.

            “Alright, you’re on,” said (Y/N).

            Nendou brought out a sign as the seaweed stood on stage and swayed sillily. “Urashima and the turtle arrived at the Palace of the Dragon,” narrated Akechi, having gotten through all of the “Other Urashima” dramatics while the set changed.

            “Welcome,” said (Y/N), Miko, and Yumehara, keeping on brave faces and smiling kindly at their friends.

            “The Princess of the Palace of the Dragon emerged to greet Urashima,” said Akechi.

            It was time for Saiki to put his powers to work again to make sure (Y/N) was pleased with how things went.

            “Welcome to the Palace of the Dragon.” Teruhashi stepped onstage in just her gym clothes. She still had a kimono left behind, but she had chosen to wear what her friends were to preserve the camaraderie.

            That’s fine. I can still work with this.

            “Urashima, you’re very kind,” said Teruhashi, ignoring people’s whispers about her being in her jersey.

            The crowd frowned as she acted. As she glowed and spoke, her clothes seemed to transform before their eyes. Suddenly, she wore the gown of a princess, her hair was pinned, and she was true royalty.

            “An illusion caused be her beauty and performance!” exclaimed the boys in the crowd. “And it’s not just her! Next to her, he looks like Urashima Taro.”

            “Oh, wow,” said Kuboyasu.

            “Urashima Taro just gasped! The turtle, seaweed, and seamaidens looked like humans a second ago, but now—Wow, it’s really the world of Urashima Taro!” cried the audience. “No, it’s Teruhashi’s world!”

            That’s right. I don’t need a costume. Teruhashi smiled. With my acting and beauty, I can make you see anything I want. “Make yourself at home.” By wearing the same jersey as everyone else, it made it easier to project onto them, too. And together we can share the spotlight. She glanced at (Y/N) for a moment and smiled before returning her attention to Kuboyasu and Kaidou as Urashima Taro.

            Yare yare. She’s good, but not even she can change everyone’s appearance. So I used hypnosis to make the audience seen the whole cast. Without her, using hypnosis this way would’ve made someone realize something was up. I’m an organizer, so I have to do this much.

            (Y/N) glanced at him from onstage and winked.

            Saiki smiled.

            I guess I would have helped anyways.

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@mymomsdisappointment

@lvvcian

@kyliexreads

@b3bybunny

@sle3pyh3ad2

@snowy-violet

@jaguarthecat

@isaacdaknight

@newttheglue250

@thelameone101

@peqch-pie

@rai-xxx

@loverzxi

@s0ggyrats

@introvertathome

@pandaquick

[revvethasmythh]

So I went and watched all the possible endings, and it confirmed something I had been thinking, which is that the redemption ending choice is, perhaps, the most immediately regretful one--but that they all come with some form of regret. In the redemption ending, Rook has to knowingly deny themselves the catharsis of retribution (should they desire it, which, at least for me it felt difficult not to) in order to offer Solas one last, painful chance to do the right thing. That willful denial of your own catharsis feels like an immediate regret. Giving Solas the opportunity to pursue atonement might very well be the best choice all around, but it is also incredibly painful to offer that to someone who has done so many terrible things (not a small amount to you personally). Why does he deserve another chance? Especially when so many dead (including a beloved mentor) lie in his wake? Which, I suppose, is the point: he doesn't. But you offer it anyway and it SUCKS ASS, because how could it not?

I don't know how this plays with other story choices (a sacrificed Davrin or a Harding who embraced her anger, for example), but within the context of my own choices, I can imagine an immediate satisfaction to either tricking or fighting him--especially the trick ending, where you can actively name drop Varric--but it feels like the sort of thing that would feel worse as more time passes. Once you've calmed down and are able to ask yourself if that's what the people you've lost really wanted. Varric, in Regret Superhell, didn't want vengeance. He just wanted his friend to walk a better path. And Harding always believed there was another chance for anyone, so long as you kept reaching a hand out for them--even when it sucked ass. So the redemption ending feels like a sort of indignance, an instant regret for not doing worse, for not getting comeuppance, for being forced to eschew satisfaction (related: I wonder if the Inquisitor feels those things as well coming out of this ending, considering how long they've lived under the shadow of Solas' actions). Conversely, the other two endings feel like an immediate satisfaction, because you got to trick the trickster with all the wits Varric taught you, or because you finally got to punch him in the face and it felt really good. But I feel like those endings would come with a creeping regret, something that sneaks up on you later, especially when remembering the fallen and what they would have wanted you to do. Ultimately, because of that, it feels like no ending is devoid of regret. Which I suppose, is rather thematic.

[teamchillidogs]

Oï!!

First, I want to say, I love this comic and genuinely can’t wait to see what awaits for us next ♡♡♡

The premise is such an interesting concept– And the art is to die for, hello?? (all my ♡ to you guys, and I mean ALL of you!)

I just had two tiny questions, if it haven’t been already answered:

If it doesn’t spoil anything, is Sonic still going to be able to run at his full speed with that mechanical leg? Or is he going to be limited? I can’t imagine my poor baby stuck with average speed, but I’m not really sure that this leg is capable of supporting his sonic speed.

And second, mostly adressed to others fans... WHY IS EVERYBODY BLAMING MAH BOI TAILS FOR EVERYTHING?? Like, yeah sure he’s technically responsible but–

Why is nobody blaming Knuckles too?!

Both Sonic and Amy told Tails to come back to the ARK and let Sonic&Shadow handle things, and I think we can safely say he would have (even reluctantly) obeyed and gone back to the ship.

But noooooo, Knuckles had to chime him and told him to make himself useful.

Useful.

To the boy who literally just witnessed his BigBroTM (fake) death in an explosion without being able to do anything abt it.

The kid who just had an entire arc abt gaining confidence and learning to step out of Sonic’s shadow (pun not intented), to be his own person with his own purpose and all that jazz.

The child who’s probably still pump up on the adrealine from his fight with Eggman (which he won if I remember my SA2 correctly).

Knuckles, mah bro, best hot-headed himbo of the franchise. You could not have chosen a worst time to utter these words.

Of course Tails was going to take him up on that and try to ”MaKe HiMsElf UsEfUl”, why wouldn’t he?? He defeated Eggman in battle (Left-over adrealine and possibly cockiness?), and didn’t seem to trust Shadow with Sonic (who, again, was thought Dead literaly less than half an hour ago bc of the Team Shadow was on– Seriously, I can see why he’d like to be by his side when Sonic is again risking his life out there for them)

And franckly, how was he supposed to realize how bad his intervention would turn out to be? It never got that bad before, why now?

#StoptheTailshate #HoldKnucklesaccountable

Sorry for the rambling and the terrible english, but it had to be said, bruh. Tails ain’t even in my Top-5 favorites character, but everyones’ so harsh on the baby, he needed some backup 🥺😭

Hii @sookilini here answering as per usual!

this is the best ask we have ever received and it's honestly my favorite, thank you so much for sending this.

I always get to excited and emotional when i read these things, thank you so much for your kind words <333

ALSO THANK YOU FOR NOT ATTACKING TAILS, he has been DRAGGED TO FILTH I CAN´T TAKE IT /j

So first: is Sonic still going to be able to run at his full speed with that mechanical leg? Or is he going to be limited?

Unfortunately, the people of Marmolim (the planet he landed on) as you may have been able to tell, don't know who Sonic is and are unaware of his speed and abilities. So, the prosthetic leg isn´t capable of withstanding his speed...

Secondly

Why is nobody blaming Knuckles too?

I honestly have no idea why most people commenting did not catch onto Knuckles provoking Tails by poking at his insecurities, I'd even dare to say his ego more so... Tails got into his head "oh I don't need Sonic to get things done. I can do anything, I'm more than just the brains, I can do the action too" at least this is my intention with his actions.

We have to remember, Tails is literally just a child at the end of the day, yes he is incredibly smart but can you really expect a 12-year-old-ish kid to act rationally when put in a stressful life or death situation while getting yelled at by everyone for just trying to help?

Nobody would ever expect a kid to even be in that situation to begin with right? at least that´s what I think.

We all know Knux isn´t the smartest in hindsight...he isn't stupid by any means, but he will say what comes to his mind without second guessing for sure.

But oh well...Knuckles isn´t here to defend himself....anymore...

But there is still hope

[lalchimiedecupid]

Sins of the Past buried at the Old Creek:

II: The Plague

TW: Death, vomiting, mentions of rape, childbirth (a bit graphic),

"Sister Lilia?" The voice weakly croaked out, body covered in sores and bubones. The poor girl was one of the youngest to have the plague. She was tending to her mother first before she eventually became far too ill to recover.

Like most of her coven.

The Black Death had come and wiped as many as it can. But she knew it was coming to an end, eventually at least. They shall rest. But how many of her sisters will she mourn before the plague leaves them?

Before Death removes her cold clutches,buried deep. Deep within the soils of Europe and all it's poor citizens. Every country has suffered, and she has lived through it. She tried to, she really did.

They came to her in hopes of healing, her poor coven, now having had deteriorated into nothing.

Death comes for us all. And it was no comfort knowing that death left her alone in the world while she reaped the souls of those she loves.

She couldn't stop The Plague.

"She's so young" Lilia whispered quietly to the shadowed figure hidden in the corner.

"I'll be gentle" The figure whispered as it slowly stepped into the barely lit room, the skeletal face morphing into one of a woman."I'll be here before dawn"

"I'll wait for you" Lilia whispered ever so quietly.

"Death does not call for you"

"Yet"

"..Yet"

"You almost killed her" Agatha hissed angrily at Death as she approached them.

"Her time has come. And yet again, you fail to serve me" Rio shot back as Agatha tightened her hold onto Lilia.

"Stay away from her, Rio! Haven't you taken enough?" The witch hissed through gritted teeth. "You took Nicky and now Lilia?"

"Calm down—" The older witch said quietly as she tried to soothe Agatha's growing hysteria.

"Nicky was never meant to be born" It was a cruel snarl, one that cut deeper than her dagger ever could. "Don't you remember? The three days labor? The tremors? The chaos you've caused because you refused to be cut open and deliver?"

"Agatha" Lilia's quiet voice called for her, pulling her out of her state of unconsciousness.

"Mhm" A tired groan escaped her lips before she was jolted awake by a new wave of contractions.

It was her second day of labor. To be more precise, her water broke at the news of a new witch hunt. When one of the young witches she had cared for and helped care for her in return was killed by being raped to death. Filthy pilgrims. Filthier mortals. The poor girl couldn't be older than 14, a sweet child with the prettiest curls and big bambi eyes. A ray of sunshine she had allowed herself to grow attached to. Terrible, terrible mistake. But it was the way that sweet angel looked at Lilia and behaved like her. Followed her around like a lost duckling and always clung to her on cold nights. The domesticity that Lilia and that girl— Amar — had made her anticipate the arrival of her baby. So her and Lilia can raise them together, and Rio too. But knowing her she might not always be present. But as long as she had Lilia by her side, she'll be okay.

And yet,she's been in labor for 2 days, 12 hours, 37 minutes and 56 seconds. The blood loss has not stopped. The baby was stuck, and Rio's presence filled the air but was not yet present to take away her child from her.

So she holds still onto the invisible strings of hope.

"Lili—" A chocked sob escaped Agatha's lips as she went back to pacing around, a hand on her lower back and one rubbing her thigh, a failed attempt at self soothing.

"Let me help you" The older witch whispered, approaching Agatha carefully and placing a hand on her belly. "Let's try to push"

Agatha could only nod her head, tears still streaming down her cheeks, down a familiar path, before she settled onto the bed, now with new sheets while the other soaks in a bath of water and vinegar.

"Spread your legs for me" Lilia instructed gently, coaxing her legs apart so she can see how dilated she is. It did not look well from the way her brows furrowed and the dimple on her forehead appeared. No it did not look good at all.

With a darkened expression, the Sicilian witch said softly, testing the waters almost "We may have to do a little cut—"

She tried to explain the process to her like one would to a wounded child. But she was smarter than that, she knew how this usually goes. Mortal women died in their birthing beds. Witch women survive but barely. But she trusted Lilia, and she'd let her go through with it because she knew the woman wouldn't let her bleed out. But Rio's presence in the air was not reassuring.

"NO!"

"Okay, okay, sweetheart" Lilia said almost immediately, trying to shush her as Agatha's whimpers grew in sound.

The divination witch sat by her and wiped at her forehead with a damp cloth, getting behind her so she can hold her to her.

"You'll be okay" She kept on whispering the same words, Agatha's face buried into the crook of her arm, sobbing away her pain.

After a moment of tense silence, Rio had approached them both and ran her hand over Lilia's back, healing the wound the divination witch sustained from the sword's blade.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap" Death mumbled into Lilia's hand, avoiding Agatha's glare at all costs.

"It's alright. My time was supposed to come" Lilia tried to reassure her, as she always did. Because Lilia always accepted harm when it came her way. Because Lilia does not know how to mourn, her grief grows and grows to a point of no return. Where it's far too big to breathe in, to live, to cope. It suffocates and it kills. So sacrificing herself always seemed more logical, if only to spare her exhausted heart the pain of losing someone once again. Yet Death was much more cruel, even to her lovers.

"I want that boy, and you will give him to me Agatha" Rio said bitterly. "Walking the "road" with another woman's son! Thinking this would give you what you want, right?" She scoffed. "Look to where it lead you! Lead us! He almost killed Lilia and then he'll be after you"

"You want the boy?"

"He broke the rules, he ruined the balance. Instead of gaining two souls I got none"

A pregnant pause was in the air before Agatha said in an ever so quiet whisper, a tone used to threaten and get a point through Rio's thick head.

"I'll give you the boy, if, you retire this form"

Another pause as both Lilia and Rio stared at Agatha with wide eyes.

"No no no — NO!" The Sicilian witch sobbed as she cradled Amar's body to her chest. "How could you? How could you sit back and watch them hurt her?!" She screamed at the skeletal figure that stood in the shadows.

"Ten of swords —"

Both present and past gasped, eyes wide as they stared at Rio.

"You watched them hurt her! You let them hurt her! She was but a child! An innocent soul!" Lilia could only sob, clinging onto the girl's battered body. "How could you? How could you?"

"I'm sorry" Death whispered, coming to hold her close, a failed attempt at soothing her.

"But this is the form you fell in love with" It was a broken whisper, almost desperate.

"And I regret every second of it"

"You two can not be at it again! You're only now just reuniting , you can't be at each other's throats once more!" Lilia scolded, attempting to fix the miserable situation between the two of them.

"I'm not the one who took our son from us!"

"I didn't have any other choice! Nicky was never meant to survive the birth, he's the son of Death! You think I wanted you to go through the pain of carrying him only to lose him all over again?" Death growled.

"Then you should've never—"

"STOP!" Lilia yelled, her hands covering her ears. "Don't — Don't take her don't — Five of cups" Her eyes snapped open with a gasp, feeling Rio's cold hands on her face as she stared at her with teary eyes.

"Shhh, you're okay" She whispered ever so softly, wiping away the stray tear that fell from her eye.

"Lili?" Agatha asked quietly, those sad eyes now directed at her, making her heart clench almost painfully. "Lili, Melilla, are you okay?"

"I don't think I have much time" She whispered hoarsely. "I don't want to spend it all alone"

"GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT! GET THE MONSTER OUT!" Agatha screamed, clawing at her swollen belly as more blood dripped down her calves.

"Shh, shh, sweetheart, please let me help you—" The divination's witch's words were falling onto deaf ears as Agatha continued to pace around in pain.

"It's been three days! Three days and the baby— the baby won't come out" She sobbed tears she could no longer shed. Her throat was raw and her eyes were red. She's been bathed twice now, said it'll help with the contractions, will make her feel better. But pain is worth than death. And her body could carry on bleeding out for so long before it reaches it's limits.

"Lilia — Lilia baby —"

"I'm here, I'm here" The older woman guided her to sit by the foot of the bed, coaxing he legs open once again.

3 days, 16 hours, 57 minutes and 12 seconds.

"I see a head!" Lilia exclaimed, feeling somewhat relieved.

The atmosphere shifted, the air grew cold, and the sent of damp mud and grass filled the air. Death. Rio.

"No—No it can not be— no—" Agatha pleaded, her hysteria having had reached it's final straws. "Please, please, please— you can't do this to me"

Rio came with a blue Lilie in hand, staring at Agatha with her eyes wide and empty, but behind that facade hides a vulnerability she was far too terrified of revealing yet.

"It must be" She said quietly, approaching them, worried for her lover.

Lilia's eyes did not leave Rio's. Her gaze hardened, a subtle threat in them, warning Rio not to take this from her either. She can not mourn anyone else. Not now. Not again.

"Please, my love" Agatha begged, whimpering once more as the pain returned from her contractions.

Rio's gaze turned to Lilia, allowing the woman to see past her facade, to see the restricted tears. "I can only offer time" She whispered , before disappearing into thin air.

It took them a few minutes, but baby Nicholas was born and placed into Agatha's arms whole she rests in Lilia's. The only sound in the room were his little suckles and Lilia's quiet lullaby as she sang it to soothe Agatha's exhausted body, mind and soul.

They'll be okay.

"The Fool and Death" She suddenly whispered the tarot cards, her eyes widened if only for a moment before softening again. Resting her head against Agatha's, she kissed her temple and held onto her. For now, she'll enjoy their limited time, she'll have more to mourn later.

❛°•☽☼☾•°❜

Tag list: @yourbasicqueerie n @thoroughly--confused, @walkethisway , @thegoddamnfeels, @jubshead

[dc418writes]

|Bump in the Night|

✨Pairing✨: Tim Rockfordxblack!reader

Summary🪄: You can always count on Tim

🚨: attempted break in/breaking and entering, mention of stalking, brief mention of gun(s), language, violence (man-man), ends in fluff tho💕

A/N🎤: hello☺️! This is my submission to @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope event (I’m so sorry that it’s much later than the deadline/expected😓). Everyone please support the other works that were submitted and I hope you enjoy what I came up with🌸

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest. Although my works are imagined with a black reader, all are welcome to read💕*

Trope: friends to lovers

Hearing the familiar address come across his police scanner, Tim couldn’t care less about the lawyer that was supposed to be under his surveillance. His silver Honda Civic practically floating over the asphalt as he sped towards the apartment complex.

Specifically, yours.

“No apparent injuries to occupant. No ambulance needed.”

Tim’s grip on the wheel slightly loosens at that. Although he was still stressed not completely knowing what happened yet, at least you were currently safe and unharmed. Minutes later, his car screeches to a stop in the parking lot already occupied by a flashing patrol car.

“Detective Rockford?,” the young officer - he still couldn’t remember his name after all this time - asks slightly startled from seeing the usually stoic and aloof man. “What-?”

“Where is she?” His steps never falter and the younger officer - Davey? Casey? - has to lightly jog to catch up with the detective on a mission.

“She?”

“The victim.”

“Oh! Currently with Daniels as he does a final sweep.”

“Still nothing?,” Tim asks as they both finally arrive on your floor from their ascent up the stairs. He wasn’t surprised to see the elevators out again. There was always something wrong with this place which is why he tried urging you to another complex.

“True it’s not perfect, but it’s not terrible. I’ll be fine Tim,” you assured with that sweet smile that could warm the coldest of hearts.

“Just some shifted furniture, nothing missing yet. We tried dusting for prints, but perp was smart enough to use gloves.”

Walking in to see your nervous expression - lip worried between your teeth as your arms wrapped around yourself - had a storm of emotions swirling he’d never experienced all at once. Relief that he could physically see you were unharmed. Rage at whoever did this. Finally, a sense of protectiveness wanting to make sure this never happened to you again.

By any means.

“T-Tim?,” you asked finally meeting his eyes. Immediately he’s crossing the few feet between you to hug you close. Gently rocking you back and forth as you savor the much needed comfort.

“Let’s uh give them some privacy Kaz,” Daniels whispers. “Kazinski!,” Tim thought as he finally remembered the man’s name. Wow he was way off.

“What happened?”

“Well,” you sigh, “I came home and the door was cracked open. Something didn’t feel right this time though-,”

“Wait, this time? Someone’s done this before?”

You slowly nod. “Well, then again I could’ve accidentally-,”

“We both know you didn’t leave it open. You never leave your door open or unlocked.”

Too many times you were the one reminding him to make sure he’d locked up both his house and car. Always on the go with mind focused on other things, there’s a very strong chance he’d leave his head home if it wasn’t attached to him.

“Why didn’t you call me?,” he asks with deep brown eyes full of concern and slight hurt.

“I didn’t wanna interrupt your case. Plus it’s nothing I can’t handle on my own.”

“But you don’t have to do it on your own,” he sighs. Your hyper-independence just might be the death of him. “Grab some clothes and whatever else you need, you’re staying with me.”

“Tim-,”

“If you think I’m leaving you here tonight you don’t know me as well as I thought,” he simply counters sitting in one of your wooden dining room chairs waiting for you to get your things with arms crossed against his chest.

There’s no use in arguing when his mind is set - which tends to be often. All you can do is what he says swiftly turning towards your bedroom and softly padding down the short hall.

-

Phone to his ear, Tim can’t help the smile that forms at your sweet voice. Deep inside he feels like that giddy teenager again excited and in slight disbelief that he finally gets the chance to talk to the prettiest girl in school.

“Hey, just uh wanted to check on you. Make sure you made it in okay.”

“Yep just got the last of the groceries in,” you smile locking the door behind you. “Hey don’t pick up anything to eat! I’m making lasagna.”

This is how it’s been for the past week. Tim checking to see you made it in and how your day had gone before you both discussed your plan for dinner that night.

And he loved the domesticity of it all. Never did he think he’d say that, typically preferring to be alone so he could come and go as he pleased with no one constantly in his ear. But there was something about coming home to warm meals and music softly playing in the background that had an unexpected calm rushing over him.

Then again, maybe all those new things he was feeling - now wanting every day and wondering how he thought life was better without it - was from you.

“Sounds great, I’m gonna be a bit late getting in though so don’t wait on me to eat.”

“Oh, okay.” Your disappointed tone has him ready to quit if it’ll make you happy again. “I take it there’s good news on the case?”

“Yea and new evidence that potentially puts us closer to solving this.”

“And freeing-?”

“That I can’t discuss. You and I both know,” he softly chuckles. At your little huff he can already picture you rolling those dangerously perfect eyes.

“Okay,” you pout, “I guess I’ll see you later then. Be careful.”

“I will. I’ll try not to be too long.”

Saying your final goodbyes, he’s embarrassingly greeted by the smirk of officer Daniels while he leans against the doorframe of his office.

“Soo the infamous friend..,” he states with a knowing grin.

“Don’t.”

“Can’t blame you, she’s really sweet. Not to mention beautiful-,”

The mix of annoyance and anger on Tim’s face is enough to stop Daniels in his tracks making him deeply chuckle with hands up in defeat. “Relax, I come in peace.”

“Wishing you didn’t at all,” Tim mumbles causing more chuckles from the man in front of him.

“Don’t think you’ll say that after you see this.” Gently placing the folder on his desk, Tim’s brow raises as he curiously flips open the gray cover. “Pretty sure this is our guy.”

-

You think you’re still dreaming when you hear that first click. Another - followed by a scrape against the hardwood - has your eyes quickly opening trying to register what was happening. You can faintly make out the bedroom thanks to the sliver of yellow-gold coming from the hall light as you slowly sit up. Not finding Tim asleep in his usual recliner in the corner of the room, you wonder if it’s him finally returning home.

“Tim?!”

The heavy footsteps - seemingly pacing back and forth - pause, and you feel an uneasiness creep over you at the momentary silence. A shadow of something to come you couldn’t quite place.

As the footsteps grow closer, that unease sets off alarms at the realization that those steps were heavier than Tim’s. He doesn’t wear boots…

It’s as if the intruder senses they’re caught in that same moment increasing their speed towards your bedroom. Luckily you bound from the bed locking the door mere seconds before they reach the knob furiously twisting and banging against the door trying to enter.

Amid the pounding in your chest and ears, you’re focused enough to lock yourself in the adjoining restroom and lie in the tub with trembling hands covering your mouth. Tears slowly slipping down your cheeks while wishing for the darkness to take you before the stranger can.

On the third hard thud, the room door breaks from its hinges startling you and sending screws scattering to the floor - and no doubt chips of wood.

“I know you’re in here. Might as well come out now, it’s only a matter of time before I find you.”

That familiar voice sends goosebumps down your body and bile stinging your throat.

His laugh isn’t a humorous one stepping across the threshold. Wood creaking and cracking under his weight. “I don’t know why you’re making me do this. Things could be so much easier if you’d just…listen.”

The echo of your vibrating phone carries into the bathroom making more tears spring from your eyes. Tim would be home any moment coming face to face with this man who wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. Possibly unarmed not expecting danger in what was supposed to be his safe haven.

A danger you ultimately caused.

If something happened to Tim-

“You run to him, but he’s not even here for you! Huh, some protector.”

If you weren’t so terrified, you’d easily be ready to defend your friend. Fight for him just as he’s always fought for you.

Hearing the bed squeak, you know he’s probably leaning on it to lift the cover’s edge and peek in the space under. Not finding you there, you figure there’s only seconds before he’s barging into your hiding place and doing God knows what.

“Guess you won’t believe me until you see for yourself though.” His tone hushes to just above a whisper taking a step closer. Then another, and you’re surprised he hasn’t said anything about your heartbeat how it surely could be heard thudding in your chest. “Fine with me doll.”

Flashes of what that could mean enter your mind only making you sob harder. A sheen of sweat breaking along your body anxiously waiting on that fearful moment the life you once knew would be over.

Rather than the cracking of another broken door, you’re met with Tim’s gruff voice yelling for the intruder to freeze and allowing you to finally breathe. His trusty black handgun drawn and trained on his target daring the stranger to move. “It’s over Kane. Down on your knees with hands on your head.”

Surprisingly he follows Tim’s instructions, slowly kneeling down on one knee then the other. Once his hands are in the right position, handcuffs are being tightened around his wrist and a solid blow sent to his ribs causing Kane to painfully grunt as he keels over.

“That’s assault!”

This time his cheek receives the punch immediately reddening the tan skin under his left eye - and Tim’s knuckles in the process. “Where is she?!”

Kane just darkly chuckles. “You tell me. Aren’t you the detective?” His smug jokes are no more feeling cold metal against his temple. A quick click signaling how the weapon was ready to fire at any moment Tim chose.

“Last fucking chance! Tell me-,”

He hears your cries the same moment Daniels and Kazinski rush into the bedroom with guns drawn themselves. Immediately they take over, hoisting the slightly battered man to his feet and reading him his rights, while Tim hurries to retrieve you. His heart breaking the moment he sees you visibly shaken in the tub with tears staining your face.

“I’m here honey it’s okay,” he attempts to soothe quickly gathering you in his arms. Your face instinctively buries itself in his neck finding comfort in the scratch of his beard and smell of tobacco mixed with sandalwood and his earlier cups of coffee. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

It’s a few moments before you can find your voice again; even then it prickles climbing your throat and escapes in a hoarse whisper. “H-How did you know?”

“Your coworker told us about him. How he was banned because he came to the job every day bothering you. Daniels looked into him and we found…”

The way his Adams Apple bobs you can tell he’s struggling for his next words. Probably trying to soften a blow that would surely worsen your already destroyed mental and emotional state.

He clears his throat rubbing a soothing hand up and down your arm. “There was enough evidence that led us to believe he’d try something. We rushed here as soon as we could.”

Just when you thought your heart had been through enough. You could read between the lines and knew what Tim meant by evidence, and it made that queasy, unsettled feeling return. Kane found the somewhat secluded house of your best friend, who’s to say another of your friends wasn’t next? Your family even.

Hot tears - summoned from some unknown hidden reserve - begin to soak his shoulder as he slowly rocks you back and forth. Tim’s thick arms holding your shaking body tighter. Little did you know it was as much for him as you.

“He-He’s n-never gonna stop…is he?,” you direct more so to the open air. “Everyone I know-,”

“Hey hey listen to me,” Tim gently starts. His hands slightly pushing you away before moving to caress your face so you’d have no choice but to meet his sympathetic and caring eyes. “We got him. He can’t, and won’t, do anything to you or anybody else.”

“But-,”

“Even if - and it’s a very very small if - he tried something, I love you too much to let something happen.”

Maybe it was the overwhelm of emotions from such an eventful night. Maybe it was how Tim cradled your face - practically dwarfed by his larger hands - looking at you as if you were his most prized possession given by some high deity themselves. And maybe it was your hidden feelings finding a hopeful hook to latch onto that he felt the same about you. Either way, you couldn’t stop your lips from meeting his; moving so smoothly together it’s as if you’ve done this plenty of times.

Just pulling back an inch, Tim’s quick to follow smashing your lips together again as if he was addicted already. Inwardly, it makes you giggle. Feeling fuzzy and light as if dancing on the brightest sun ray on a spring day.

“We’re gonna take him downtow- oh..”

Forgetting where you were, Daniel’s voice is a startling reminder as you quickly part turning your heated face away from the bathroom’s entrance. Meanwhile, Mr. Rockford appears dazed attempting to act anything but trying to focus on his co-worker who just said..something important? “Um…y-yea Kane! We gotta-,”

“It’s taken care of Rockford,” Daniel’s answers professionally hiding his chuckles in his rock solid chest. Wait till he gets home to tell his wife this tea. Hell, he’ll have to text her on the way this was too good. “You uh take care of things here. I’ll keep you updated. Have a good night guys.”

And just as he said, Tim’s kept to his word almost a year later. Lying in your now shared bed with you perfectly molded to his side - your new home just outside of town in the relaxing countryside - he presses a loving peck to your forehead careful not to disturb your pleasant sleep. Watching you go so long without, it gives him a new layer of joy that Kane could no longer steal that from you. Your arm slung over his middle, his chest swells looking at the square cut diamond shining on your finger just waiting for you to wake up and notice it. To say yes to the question he’s been hoping you’d give him the chance to ask for some time now.

And down the line, maybe even build your little family giving you both a reason to decorate and fill the empty room across the hall.

[imkinddassus]

This au take place after the events of poppy playtime chapter 3, by some magical unknown reason, the smiling critters are now reincarnated in a cartoon form (except Catnap who is a doll) there are three prophets that is in charge of the paradise they live in. THE SUN and THE MOON must not united, and THE WEATHER must keep these two at bay.

MEET THE CAST!

The prophets:

Prophets can't dream and have nightmares, their emotions heavily impact on their powers, uniting with one another will cause strange effects to their world, they remembered their past life and can relive the moment when someone trigger a specific word

The others smiling critters:

Have nightmares of their past but assuming that they are vivid nightmares. They have no memories of the past neither was the hour of joy. It's like they are reborn.

Chapter cuts:

Camping

Moonlight Falls

Trusting

Hallucinations

Devil's Hours

One Small Step

Rules on asking in this blog:

Do not ask anything overly sensitive, out of topic and inappropriate ask.

Be respectful

Don't spam ask multiple times, I'm not a robot that can answer every second (and I'm terrible at answering all of it)

Catnap will answer only in certain situations and will not always answer. So when I say he's available.. he is available.

You can traumatized these critters but don't say anything that would traumatized me too

Of course I like watching all your ask and wanna see more creative one's you all would cook!

(if you want more content and lore.. sorry.. ya gotta have to search it urself! That's what makes it fun!)

[viajandopelomar]

Rhys fcked over all of Prythian for one twinkle city. Tamlin fcked over all of Prythian for one person. Both‘s goal was to align with the enemy but secretly spy on them to end them. How are they different?

I guess the only thing that‘s different is that the one person trade is a bigger deal than the city trade. The fandom conveniently forgets that Tamlin was trying to find a way to end Hybern, just like Rhys tried to end Amarantha, and only focus on the fact that he traded Prythian for one person. The fandom only acknowledges the fact that Rhys saved his own, favorite city, nevermind that he caused trauma all over Prythian, 2/3 of his own court included, under Amarantha‘s command.

How different are these 2 exactly? I‘ll always laugh when I come across the „Stop comparing me to him, I‘m not him!!“ scene from Rhys, Denial is a river in Egypt…

MY FIRST ANONYMOUS MESSAGE 🥹

First of all, I think the levels at which they fucked Prythian were different. Rhysand massacred people from all courts, all of them. Massacred families. Whereas Tamlin's actions were limited to the spring, but obviously had consequences beyond the territory, and I also think it's valid to wonder how everything would have happened if Feyre hadn't implanted false memories in the sentinels and manipulated things, you know? Like, would the spring have stayed in the state it's in? Would Tamlin have been able to find out more about Hybern and the war wouldn't have seen so many losses? I think it's a valid question.

About the exchange between territory and city, Feyre and the alliance with Hybern... The people of the spring didn't seem so opposed to Tamlin's intentions. You realize that they still remained loyal, and still welcomed Feyre even when she was the reason for the alliance. Because THE WHOLE COURT WANTED FEYRE BACK, everyone thought she was under torture and abuse in the night court. Everyone welcomed her and trusted her lord, even the fairies from other lands. They all hoped that Tamlin had more behind his intentions. On the other hand, Rhysand had always been hated by everyone outside Velaris, even though he was raised and grew up in Illyria and had fought in the war with them.

Rhysand lived in the camps for around two hundred years and never, at any time, did he get anything but scorn, even though he was the crown prince. The plot never delved into this detail, but I also think it's worth thinking about.We also have the legions that Rhysand hunted down for allying themselves with Amarantha. Those males were hunted down and killed for doing the same thing as Rhysand: allying themselves with the enemy so that their family would survive. But only Rhysand is right, so he hunted and killed them all even when he knew about the war with Hybern beating his ass, and that's never mentioned again either.

Rhysand allied himself with Amarantha after she had decimated half of the excavated city, and then he went and decimated the other territories (if it had been written by another author, perhaps another lord would have allied himself with Amarantha just to destroy Rhysand. But they just kept their heads down) while Tamlin sheltered refugees and fugitives and gave them jobs. Tamlin also only sent his sentries to the human lands at their own insistence, and Rhysand claims he was annoyed that he took so long, he was also pissed that Tamlin didn't give in to Amarantha like he did.

Here's how I understood it: Rhysand was angry that Tamlin protected his own and didn't send them to their deaths, and he was angry that Tamlin didn't want to prostitute himself.

The main difference for me is that Tamlin's people trusted him and were with him until Feyre entered their minds. Rhysand confessed that he enjoyed destroying Amarantha's enemies and is still hated by his people even when he claims to have protected them (he was hated before too).

I also want to point out that in ACOSF Cassian tells Nesta that Emerie came out of a terrible UTM place (I won't remember the exact words, but he said something like that) where the lesser fairies were kept. So in the end Rhysand didn't protect them that well and it was all down to Velaris.

I use a translator called DEEPL, so apologies if anything is confusing.

[deathbxnny]

I’ve been busy.. but that doesnt stop me from daydreaming!

Can i request platonic Vi with a best friend that is like Wriothesley? I didnt realized how similar those two are until i saw Wriothesley’s birthday art. It’s just.. mind blowing. ALSO WRIOTHESLEY AND CLORINDE, VI AND CAITLYN. DO YOU SEE IT?! Personally, i dont ship Wrio and Clorinde but i can see why people even ship them in the first place. I see them as platonic besties who support their endeavor with their respective lover (Neuvilette and Navia respectively)

Context:

Reader and Vi met in prison and just clicked bc they just understood each other. When Caitlyn came to ask Vi for help, Vi also made Caitlyn to allow reader out with her as well. Whatever happens next is your choice to make but please also note how reader is from Piltover.

That’s all and have a good day/night!

(School is just.. really busy rn and i have my final exams next week. Im honestly scared, so i might not be active for a while here. But know that i do read your stuff to time to time to destress. Also i really like the post with my navia request, tysm ^_^)

- Flower Anon 🌸

Vi with a best friend Wriothesley-like!Gn!Reader.

Your words about the Wriothesley and Clorinde comparison have enlightened something in my mind lmao. Also, good luck with your exams, Flower Anon! I really, really hope that they go well and dw about not being active much! I appreciate your support either way and hope you'll enjoy this!<3

Content: Reader is from Piltover, past murders, crimes, platonic relationships, Vi and Reader being a menace duo, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not proofread))

You and Vi had your backs from day one after meeting in Stillwater. You were both teens then, having been imprisoned under terrible circumstances, and that made you stick together as a team. There was no one else to look out for you in that hell after all.

During your long, seemingly endless time in jail, you both got to know each other perfectly, with no details about your pasts spared. She came to know about your dark past and the murder of your abusive parents rather early on, yet never judged you for it. If anything, she may have been the only one to understand you.

This was surprising, considering your vastly different upbringings. Vi came from poverty down in the slums of Zaun, whilst you once tasted silver spoons and golden dishes on the daily. But it all faded in this hellscape of a prison, where you both endured torture and pain as equals.

You became an unlikely duo out of that, one that upheld a scary and menacing reputation amongst prisoners and wards alike. She was the more angry, violent one, whilst you were a bit of a joker, your words alone enough to send shivers down anyone's spines. It made you both feel more confident and hopeful, even if a way out was unlikely after many years spent in the prison.

Now, far into your adulthood, you decided to give up on that childish dream of freedom, accepting that your life in Stillwater is all you'll ever know. You were used to it by now and built a routine to follow and survive with. But things changed when that Enforcer girl showed up.

You didn't trust her at all, despite roughly remembering who she was. And unfortunately, she remembered you two, although for all the wrong reasons she would simply scoff at. However, since Vi decided to make a deal with Caitlyn, you decided to leave the past behind and simply accept this opportunity to finally escape this place.

And so, after what felt like endless years of fighting for your survival together, you were finally permitted to breathe, mostly, fresh air and live freely again... even with the grim mission at hand that often left you having to comfort Vi whenever things got too out of hand with her emotions. Hunting down Jinx was more traumatic than she'd let on anyways.

But alas, you eventually began enjoying your time out by trying new tea and pastries, running around your okd neighborhoods, and beating up people with Vi that wronged her in the past. It was all in good fun, even if Caitlyn had to hunt you both down every time.

You were the more calmer and gentler out of the three of you, however, as your rationality and ability to lead effortlessly often came in handy. You were somewhat of a balance between the two when things got really bad, despite your own reservations, and eventually ended up being an accidental wingman with how well you spoke of Vi to Cait. You knew firsthand how bad the prejudice against Zaunites could be and would be damned if she ever mistreated Vi because of it.

Ultimately, life turned out a lot more chaotic outside than it was outside of the prison... but with your best friend at your side, you suppose things would only get more interesting from here.

[aruanism]

The Ocean Blue and Bloodied Hands

1.0k words | ooc, self indulgent aruani ff :33

(I'm not fluent in English T.T + I'm still taking creative writing classes)

Since when did you start looking at me that way, with your pretty sapphires and ever-so-curious gaze?

Because I'm a monster—a mass murderer with blood on her hands. I was trained to kill; I murdered countless people for the sake of missions. Yet, you still stood by me. When our gear was inspected that one day, you called me a nice person. Why? During an expedition, I was trampling comrades without hesitation. And you, you looked so scared under my gaze. I knew you'd figure me out soon enough after that, dearest. Yet when you did, you kept my secret for a whole month. Although I'm wounded, my dear. You gained my trust and betrayed me afterward.

Though I'm glad I could be a good person even just for a while. At least for you.

I was trapped in a crystal with my thoughts for four long years due to your betrayal. And yet, you still talked to me—looking up at my still form with your pretty blues, as if I would reply. I stood there, my eyes closed, still encased, wishing I could; could see the look on your face as you talked about your explorations or the way your eyes sparkled with each word spoken from those precious lips I wanted to kiss so badly. And when you said you understood me, do you really? I can only hope that I'm still a good person to you.

While countless colossal titans trampled over millions of people, it was also the first time we talked to each other properly, uninterrupted. The ship’s engine roared beneath our feet, the ocean’s waves humming its continuous rhythm. I pressed my knees close to my chest before patting the space beside me. Please, I need you. Awkward silence and unsaid feelings lingered between us until I remembered I had to thank you.

“I realized…that I hadn’t said thank you yet.”

“Huh?” Is that all you have to say?

“For coming to talk to me over all those years. Thank you.”

“Oh.” I missed you, more than I’ll ever express.

In truth, I was so lonely. I thought I was going to lose my mind. Four damned years of being hardened, I could see nothing while my thoughts were louder than ever. I had to look forward to hearing you and Hitch’s voice, just to remind me that I was alive and breathing. Even if those stories were as stupid as Hitch talking about her bad taste in men, it gave me a sense of normalcy that I yearned for. I remembered the story you told me—that day you visited the beach. You told me that you even found a beautiful conch, though I bet it's as beautiful as its beholder. I may not see the wonder in your eyes when you told me your experiences, but I can see it so clearly now, in those deep blues that I fell for since the beginning. How I wish I was there to hold your hand, gaze into your eyes, and...and...

"Oh, Annie." Hearing my name on your lips…sounds so right.

“Tell me why?” I need to know something.

“Why bother talking to a rock that couldn’t so much as grunt a response back?”

“Huh?” Give me a response, please.

“I mean…There must’ve been girls out there more fun and cheerful than me, right…?”

It’s true. There are girls out there more deserving of your attention than I am. Some girls might even give you the world if you asked them to. Of all the women in that island, you chose the terrible Female Titan under the name of Annie Leonhardt, whose presence is but a living nightmare. She's a traitor, a bloodstained Marleyan warrior candidate, a horrible being who deserves—

“Annie, I did it because... because...I—” I want to….no. I need to know.

“...I missed you.” What?

Three words, three syllables. A combination of words I never thought I’d hear in my whole life, spoken from the lips of the man I hold so dearly to my heart—Armin Arlert. Suddenly, the hardened warrior I was crumbled to a million pieces. I felt so vulnerable, so real, so human. My cheeks reddened as the unfamiliar yet felt-so-right feeling of being oh-so-loved spread through my chest. I never felt this way, not in my 20 years of living in this God-forsaken world.

“...Why?” The only thing that came out of my dried lips.

“Huh? Do you really not get it?” I don’t, Armin.

“Even after Hitch teased me so much?” Yes.

“...I don’t. ” I’m being honest.

Because for years, Armin was talking to me, an enemy. He’s a good person compared to myself. He was willing to visit me, knowing I might wake up at any moment to strike once more. When I stood to stop the conversation, he held my hand. Those hands that belong to the man I've felt human with for years...

“Sit back down.” Alright.

Squeezing my hand even tighter, I sat back down with him avoiding his gaze. He's holding my hand so tenderly, the same hand possessing the ring behind multiple people's lives lost. Besides, why should I stay? I already said what needs to be said. I had thanked him for being there. What's more to be talked about?

“And I know I’ve told you this before.”

“But I’ve decided I really don’t like being called a good person.” Huh?

“I’ve killed a lot of people. Not just soldiers. Regular people, children…” So have I.

“I’ve killed comrades…” I know.

“I’ve been a terrible monster myself for a long time.” Then let’s be terrible monsters together—you and me. I want to be there for you like you were for me.

Hours after our conversation on that ship, I could only wave goodbye as you rode the flying boat with the others. I decided I wouldn’t fight anymore. To spend the final moments of my life in peace…with you. Even if this is a selfish dream, I want to enjoy every year of my life with you, not worrying about anyone else. I could look into your eyes every morning and run my fingers through those golden hair strands on your head.

Because I love you, my dear Armin. I loved you, and I still do.