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thatnonameuser · 5 days ago

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The Red King holds a Bleeding Head

A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist Chapter 1. Heartslaybul Part 9.

“Ngh….”

Every cell in your body throbs. That’s the first thing your brain manages to register when you come to.

Your eyes burn as you struggle to open them, you can feel the stickiness of blot on your face and skin. It’s like tar, if it burned skin.

You groan and whimper, as you force your body into a sitting position, muscles screaming in exhaustion for rest. You feel like someone’s let you drown in tar and yanked you back out at the brink of death. You can feel blot sticking to your skin, dripping off of you like blood; stuck in your throat and burning and churning like bile in your stomach.

You forced down a shaky breath, before hacking up a mouthful of blot that you didn’t know was in your lungs. Are you dying? You’re not sure.

The last thing you remember is Riddle’s voice. Asking something to his mother? You’re not really sure.

“A-Ace…… Deuce? ……G-Grim?” You rasp, your tongue feels too big in your mouth. Your lips feel like someone super glued them together. You finally gather the strength to open your eyes, and with some pre-emptive struggles, you’re immediately blinded. Wherever you are it’s too bright here, it’s too white. Too- shit. After a few moments, the blinding light subsides for a moment. And you can make out shapes, slowly unblurring and becoming more detailed. But that’s the problem. You made out shapes, not colors.

“Am….Am I dreaming again?” The world is black and white, just like your dreams. A world bleached into a complete greyscale. But the one difference you can see is there’s no red color anywhere in the rose garden. Well, except the puddle of red-black color of the puddle of blot you’re sitting in.

Footsteps lead out from the puddle, staining the garden of gray perfectionism. Speaking of the garden, it’s not like Heartslabyul’s or the Queen of Hearts’ in your dreams. It’s different, because while it is beautiful, it’s completely clean. Like a hospital clean. No scattered petals from the roses on the grass, or stray leaves on the ground or even a speck of dirt on the stone pathway. Not a blade of grass is too long, or a stone out of place. You could even swear that the grass was so cleanly cut that the gardener probably was on their hands and knees with a pair of scissors and a ruler. Everything here is so clean….it’s discomforting.

But, you’re more concerned with the foot prints. If the blot is any indicator, Riddle is involved somewhat.

But why, what does a terrifyingly clean garden and house you’ve never seen have to do with any of what just happened. And why are you involved? All you remember is an otherworldly force pulling you to Riddle, getting struck with a wave of blot and then, you for some reason woke up here. Why are you involved?

With some struggle, you stumble to your feet. Your legs shake like a baby deer’s with every step through the garden. Your footsteps stain the grass along with the ones someone else, probably Riddle, left behind. But you’ll worry about that later. “Riddle?” You call out, but you receive no reply. There's no sound here. No birds tweeting, no bees buzzing, no people talking.

The back door is open, an inky handprint stains the otherwise polished wood.

“Riddle?” You call out, but nothing calls back in reply. In fact, Just devastating silence, and the few sounds you’re making. You feel a chill run up and down your spine. “I know you’re here.”

You push open the door, and it doesn’t even creak. More footprints stain the polished flooring.

You don’t want to go in but you have no choice but to follow the trail through the house. If this is anything like your dream then, there’s something that you’re meant to see. Besides, you don’t have a history of liking being stuck in places you can’t get out of.

“Riddle?” You try again. But no response. You take a hesitant step into the house,searching for any residents. Besides the footsteps stained into the floor , there’s no sign of life in the house. No matter where you look, there’s no movement, no sound of footsteps, nothing.

Just the stains of blot on the wall, all the decorations on the wall. Or it would be better to call it the achievements on the wall. From wall to wall in minimalist frames, are diplomas, medals, certificates, newspaper clippings. No photographs of fond memories, no whimsical or artsy decorations, adorable yet poorly made children’s art or even a visible picture of whoever lived here.

If the walls are not covered with achievements, it’s covered with shelves filled to the brim with books. Not storybooks, or fictional stories filled with entertaining adventures, or non-fictional anecdotes that tell interesting experiences. Journals. Textbooks. Encyclopedias. Any book that would bore a child to tears, or make adults beg for mercy should they read them. Some shelves are full of trophies rather than books. All in varying sizes, but only for first place. They’re not even whimsical activities or hobbyist or amateur events for just fun either, trophies for academics and academics alone.

You can’t help but feel a little inferior walking through the halls, and apparently whoever was in here with you didn’t like them either, having left stains and blotches of the ink on the awards and obscuring the recipient’s name from view, or their faces in the few photographs on the walls.

If this is Riddle’s house, you can understand why he’s a little nuts. This house is so minimally decorated, it looks like one of those sad houses all over the internet back home. Bland and boring, even in the black and white. This house doesn’t look like a home, it looks like a doctor’s office.

You wander the halls, following the footsteps to wherever they lead, looking for life, and finding more depressing decorations. The living room is spotless, except for the blotty footsteps, and horrifyingly untouched, the kitchen is as boring and empty with the most minimal of spices and cookbooks for the most bland of meals. The study you passed in the hallway looks like a mix between a library and a college classroom.

Not one thing in this house is remotely fun. No instruments to make lively music, no entertaining books to read, and no fun games to play. Just endless boredom and lifelessness.

You follow the footsteps through the house, more and more disturbed by how depressing this house is. If your instinct was right, then you can’t help but feel a little bad for…. “Whoa….”

As you enter the dining room, your earlier deduction proves right. Just not exactly as you thought it would.

Sitting at the dining table, obediently following the manners his mother probably ingrained into his head, is a child version of the Red Tyrant, a young Riddle Rosehearts.

And unlike the dim, dull world his youthful features are bright with color. He looks exactly like himself in the real world, albeit a decade younger. Crimson red hair, steel gray eyes, rosy cheeks, he’s a beacon of color in this greyscale world.

And frankly, he’s adorable, smiling softly as he sits as still as a statue, waiting for someone.

And the footprints you’d been following lead right up to him. So if Riddle of the present was here, then this was him. In the body of his child self.

“Riddle?” You ask, but he doesn’t acknowledge you. Can he not see you?

You feel someone faze through you. A woman, whose face is completely blacked out by shadow. But you can still make out the little heart-shaped bangs, just like Riddle��s. Is this his mother?

She sets down- “Wait, what is that?”

The ‘that’ in question is a brick decorated with leaves. An eight birthday candle sits on top of it. If that’s a cake, the baker should be sued.

A woman says, “Happy Eighth Birthday Riddle.” Her voice is snobbish, and sounds completely uninterested given that this is, as she says, Riddle’s Birthday. You can’t see her face, but you think it’s safe to say she isn’t smiling. “This year’s birthday cake is a low-sugar recipe made with nuts and lecithin-rich soy flour to improve cerebral function.”

“Your son’s birthday cake…. That is your son’s birthday cake?” You’re about 90% percent sure, the diet mongering supermodels of your world would just not get a birthday cake than eat whatever that is. And Ms (Mrs?) Rosehearts thought it was a suitable birthday cake for a kid, that looks mostly fine?

Also, you’re not convinced that this isn’t a birthday party. The dining room is as blandly decorated as the rest of the house, the only thing on the table are books as thick as actual bricks and names so long and boring that your eight-year old self would rather play with the wrapping paper than read them if you got them. Plus, besides Riddle and his mother, no one’s here. No friends singing happy birthday obnoxiously, no grandparents spoiling him with gifts, no one other than the woman who thought the inside of the compost bin was a cake.

This can’t be a celebration a loving well-off mother would give her only child.

You remember Trey had said Riddle’s mother was a perfectionist forcing her legacy onto Riddle. And Riddle seemed to think his mother’s word was a law he couldn’t break….so, you don’t have very high expectations for the woman.

While you ponder whatever’s happening before you, Riddle smiles, blowing out the candle and accepting a slice of the disgusting looking cake, before shyly raising a hand to ask a question. “Thank you. But, Mom…”

He waits for her acknowledgement to continue speaking, and you can’t even see the raging tyrant you did fifteen minutes ago. He even shys away under her gaze, shrinking in his seat as he finally asks his burning question. “Just once…I’d like to try one of those tarts covered with bright-red strawberries.” He gives her an adorable, hopeful smile once he finishes, as if hoping for a positive response with great anticipation.

But he doesn’t get one. Not even on the celebration for the day of his birth.

“Absolutely not! Those tarts are monstrously unhealthy. I might as well feed you poison!” The younger Riddle flinches, before shrinking back in his seat immediately. The demure behavior feels so opposite to his explosive rage from before. “Even just a single slice would exceed your recommended daily intake of sugar.”

You feel the same anger that you felt dealing with Riddle earlier. All she needed to say was no. Not lecture the kid till he shrank all the way into his chair. As SHE said, it’s his birthday, and he was polite about it. At least be nice about it in response, lady.

Regardless of whatever you’re thinking, she blatantly ignores Riddle’s clear disappointment and sadness in favor of dishing out an equally bland-looking meal. “Now, dinner tonight will be a tuna saute rich in DHA and omega-3 fatty acids.” This woman has to be an almond mom, because there’s no way any eight year old would know what those words even mean, let alone willingly eat that at age 8, let alone that over the slice of…brick.

“Now that you’re eight, your caloric intake should be 600 kilocalories per meal so don’t eat more than 100 grams of it.” It’s his birthday and Riddle’s eight, does this woman suck the joy out of life as a hobby or a living. What good mother forbids her child from eating something he clearly likes or wants because of a calorie recommendation. He’s eight and healthy, not a kid with diet issues?!

“What is wrong with you?” You say aloud, but she can’t hear you. You’re not saying that she should feed him nothing but junk food, but if she’s always strict about this stuff, give him a little wiggle room on his birthday.

No one hears you, and Riddle only bows his head, glum as he picks at the bland looking fish. “Yes, mom.”

You feel a burst of pity in your chest. Even if Riddle was a tyrant, no child deserves a birthday so boring and restricting as the one he did. But you guess all tyrants were children once, maybe- Wait. No.

No.

No. You are not feeling bad for Riddle. You are not going to feel bad for Riddle. Sure, he had a miserable birthday and probably upbringing because of a horrible mother didn't bother picking up a parenting book, but everyone has shitty people in their life. That’s no excuse to hurt others because of it. And he outed you, no forgiveness, not yet-

“I’d always wanted to try one of those tarts with the bright red strawberries….” The older Riddle’s comes in from the ether and makes you jump out of your skin. Was he trying to get you to pity him? Well, tough fucking-

The world warping interrupts you mid-thought. “Wh-What the hell?!”

Now you’re in a street in front of that beautiful, but actually severely depressing house. A young Riddle walks hand in hand with his mother, his eyes locked on the delicious looking strawberry tarts in a bakery’s window. You spot the name ‘Clover’ painted on the glass. Is that Trey’s family’s bakery?

“The local cake shop had them in the window. They shined at me like forbidden jewels.”

The tarts like Riddle are colorful and match his description. The sugary treats sparkle in the sunshine. And you can see the look of disappointment and longing on Riddle’s face as his mother tugs him away from the treasure that caught his eye, held just out of reach.

“Alright, Riddle.” If he’s just gonna show you this, and not provide any explanation, you’re providing your unsolicited commentary. “That sucks, but plenty of kids don’t get sugar or have depressing birthdays and don’t abuse or threaten to murder their classmates. This isn’t an excuse.”

No reply again.

The world warps again, and this time you’re in the study you walked past earlier. You were right in thinking it looked depressing, as the young Riddle is seated at a small desk, writing notes as his mother shuts a very thick textbook. “That’s enough classical magic study for today.” You roll your eyes at the sound of her voice, which is in your ears thanks to her snobbish tone. “Your homework is to read the first fifty pages of the philosophy of language book referenced in today’s magical philosophy texts.”

“....Fifty?”You’re taken aback at the assignment. “He’s eight!” You say, dumbstruck and outraged, at the mother that made Riddle into a monster.

Fifty pages? Of something as confusing and boring as Philosophy? That was a second year elective at NRC. A high school, for seven’s sake. He’s eight… he’s not even supposed to be learning about this yet.

But the bitch didn't hear you.

“You may now have one hour of independent study before your potionology lesson.” What the-

“Miss ma’am, He’s eight! He’s not supposed to be learning this till high school! How can you expect him to understand this?!” Still, no reaction to your reasonable words. “And why aren’t you letting him have a break?! He’s still just a kid!”

He’s not getting a break? But he might have been studying for hours. Kids need to play and have fun too. But considering a child lived here, and you hadn’t seen a single toy or child’s storybook. You didn’t think he was allowed that either.

“Thank you, Mother.” The young Riddle responds, in a polite monotone. He’s said this before, possibly every day of his life since he learned to talk.

“Don’t thank her! You’re not supposed to be studying all day long!”Despite your dislike for the present Riddle Rosehearts, you want to pull the child version out of the room and away from all the stacks of work his mother was giving him. He’s a child, not a trophy. He should be playing, not studying. Wait.

You slap yourself across the face, “No!” You do it again, “No! We are not feeling bad for him! Even if…. he really is suffering…”

“I need some time to prepare the lesson materials. I will see you in one hour, okay?” Riddle’s mother’s voice is as uncaring as it was when she wished him happy birthday.

“How can you be so heartless to your only child!?” You ask, but you know whatever answer you get won’t be a good one. This bitch is so self-centered that she wouldn’t be able to convince anyone with whatever reason she stitches together in her crazy mind..

She adjusts a stray hair on Riddle’s head, something imperfect on her perfect trophy, before leaving him alone. No gentle ruffling of his hair, no parental hug, no trace of affection. She reminds you of one of your super strict, no-nonsense teachers that was impossible to impress. Always expecting more despite how much effort was poured in.

You watch the young Riddle pull heavy books off the study’s shelves in the study, obediently following his mother’s orders, as the older continues his narration. “I was studying every possible subject, scheduled down to the minute. When I didn’t understand something, the lesson was extended until I did.”

“But you’re a child. Sure, you need to learn but you’re still a kid…. You should be playing, not learning high school level topics.” You say to the ether, but once again you get no reply.

“That was my ‘normal’.” It’s just saddening, really. To watch a child live a life enforced by a parent that raised him to be a trophy. To watch the young Riddle flip through pages of topics that don’t make sense, even to you, and you’re a decade older than him at this moment.

You sigh. No point in pretending now. “Okay, Riddle. I admit it, this sucks…. But why are you showing me this?” If Riddle is reminiscing on his traumatic childhood, why are you here to bear witness to what made him into a monster. Still, no reply.

A knock resounds from the study’s window. Both you and Riddle turn your heads to the window. Someone’s there.

“...Is someone knocking on the window? Maybe a bird?” Riddle steps away from his desk, curious. You follow him, just as curious. This place looks as empty and lifeless as a haunted house. Who would willingly scale the spiked, wrought iron to peak into the windows of the Madam Boring and her unfortunate prisoner/child. The ornate glass swings open, and both you and Riddle gasp for two very different reasons.

A boy managed to slip past the high gates of Riddle’s home. A boy that looks similar to- “Trey?”

No one hears you. But who cares. Like the rest of the world, he’s colored black and white. But the glasses are a dead giveaway. The younger Trey Clover, looks genuinely surprised that Riddle actually answered. “Whoa, he heard us!” Wait, who’s us-

“AHHHH!”

“WAUGH?!”

Both you and Riddle jump in surprise as a familiar, but much younger face pops out of nowhere. Without a body. A younger Chenya, your brain rapidly supplies, fuelled by adrenaline. So he always gave people heart attacks when he first met them. “Hey, hey. Come play with us!”

Good to know that he was always like that.

Anyway, Chenya practically made poor Riddle jump out of his skin in surprise. “Who..Who are you?”

Chenya reveals the rest of his body, giggling and smiling in his Cheshire way. “My name’s Chenya, and this is Trey. Let’s play Croquet!”

“C-Croquet?” Chenya proceeded to give Riddle, and you, another heart attack, as he dug into his clothes, pulled out a curled up hedgehog and tossed the poor creature directly into Riddle’s hands.

But the result of it was frankly adorable, as you watched Riddle’s eyes light up at the small creature resting peacefully in his palms. “He wants to play with you too.”

The sight of the lonely child’s face light up in wonder makes your heart warm up. You feel the urge to pick him up and set him outside, to save him from the prison of his mother’s making and let him have fun for the first time in forever.

But as you think that, Riddle’s budding excitement falters. “But I…” You watch him look back at the books on his desk, the reminder of his mother’s assigned task looming in the back of his mind. And her rules. “It’s my independent study time, and I have to focus.”

“Go. Go play. It’s okay to break rules once in a while.” You say, even if he can’t hear you. It’s not like the egg donor that is his mother would know. The door’s shut after all. “You can go and come back in time.” You may not be the number one fan of the present Riddle Rosehearts, but you can set aside your anger and hatred to the one that hasn’t done anything wrong yet. And honestly, you had enough of tyrants taking the fun out of everything. Even if this one would grow up to be one, you want him to have fun, for what might be the first time in his life.

Even if you can’t be heard to convince him, the child Chenya turns out to be quite the sweet talker. “That means you get to choose what you study, right? My gramps says that playing is basically a kinda study.”

The sudden epiphany causes Riddle’s eyes to widen, “Play..is learning?”

“Want to come down and join us for a little bit?” Trey offers with a bright and friendly smile on his face. You watch the genuine excitement cross Riddle’s face as he chooses between an hour of fun, and the boring work he’d probably spend every single day of his life doing if he rejected their offer.

“You can do it. Go.” Your words are wishful thinking. You have no say in how this is presented, but you want to actually see Riddle break his horrible mother’s rules.

After way too much contemplation, Riddle gives into the temptation much to your relief, and crawls out the window. “J-Just… Just for a bit then.”

Noticing his apparent struggles, Trey holds out his hand in offering. “Mind if I ask your name?”

Riddle hesitates for a second, and you briefly feel your heart accelerate out of fear for his refusal, but thankfully, he finally gives in, “R-Riddle. Riddle Rosehearts.”

The world warps again, changing scenes. And what comes next is beautiful.

After what has to be years of living under his mother’s strict rule, Riddle finally is free to let loose.

The garden that felt so empty beforehand breathed new life as the trio played. Smiles, laughs, cheers and excitedly uttered words broke the intense silence, as the grass was rolled in, the planters were shifted, and the bushes were crumpled.

It was everything short of perfect. And that was perfect in a way Riddle’s mother could never achieve.

You felt rejuvenated watching the three play. The breath you held was suffocating, caused by standing around in something made to be so perfect, and you finally let it go watching Riddle have fun, breaking the restrictive rules his mother forced him to obey.

The shrills of high-pitched laughter as the young Riddle was letting out suddenly mute as the elder voice continues his speech.

“I had the best time playing with Trey and Chenya. We did so many things that I have never done before. They both taught me things I didn’t know.” Riddle sounds so fond as he reminisces on these memories. It feels so sweet hearing the uptight and strict Riddle Rosehearts let go of his hold on the rules to enjoy having fun but….

“Where did it all go wrong?” You murmur as you watch the young Riddle struggle to tame a flamingo for a game of croquet. There’s no sign of malicious intent that you felt around the one a decade older. “You were so close to learning that the rules your mother made were insane, what changed to make you go back to who you are now?”

Here, Riddle had friends. He had fun, unshackled by his mother’s chains. Free to have fun whilst being the golden child that his mother craved.

But why did he completely one-eighty? Go from a rule breaker who broke a pointless rule to an enforcer of the most ridiculous rules.

This may be extremely beautiful and heart-warming, but it also serves an awful reminder that this young Riddle grew up to be the one that was just as strict and restrictive as his mother.

The world changes again, Back to the study, where a young Riddle pretends to work, subtly watching the window with all his focus. Trey and Chenya appear, and Riddle practically leaps out his chair to join them.

“After that I would slip out of my room everyday.” The child Riddle climbs out the window, his work abandoned in favor of playing with his friends. “During my one hour of independent study time without notifying my mother.”

“Good job.” you praise. You’re just happy to see him having fun.

The world changes again. To out in the garden.

“Whatttt? You’ve nyever had a strawberry tart before?” Chenya exclaims in surprise, kicking his heels on the bench next to Riddle.

Riddle twiddles his thumbs, shyly in his lap. “No…My mother says they’re bad for you.” Perfectly parroting another one of his mother’s bogus rules that she relentlessly drilled into his head.

Now incredibly awkward, Trey readjusts his glasses nervously. “I mean, you probably shouldn’t eat too much of it, but…calling it poison is just kinda…yikes.”

“Yeah, the only poisonous one here is her.”

But seriously, Trey actually speaking his mind feels alien to you. Trey keeping his honest thoughts and opinions to himself when Riddle’s present was the norm for his older self. Had whatever forced Riddle to change had caused Trey to change too? You’re starting to get a bad feeling.

Trey’s eyes light up with an idea, “You know, my family runs a cake shop. Let’s go get a tart right now!” He holds out his hand in offering, and the promise of the forbidden fruit his mother denied him makes Riddle’s eyes widen in excitement.

“Really?” Riddle says excitedly, before he hesitates, “But…I shouldn’t.”

“Just one slice. It’ll be fine.” Trey insists, taking Riddles’ hand in his own, before Chenya steps in and pulls Trey and Riddle out of the garden, in the direction of the Clover bakery.

“One slice for YOU maybe. I want a whole one!”

Whatever objections Riddle is yet to utter dies on his tongue as he enters the warm bakery. Another shift of scene. Inside the cake shop is full of warmth, the treats covering nearly every inch of shelves and the air filled with the sweetness of freshly baked pastries and warm sugar, chocolate and fragrant fruit. Like a literal kid in a candy store, Riddle’s eyes sparkle in awe. Everywhere he, and by proxy you, looks is full of sweets and pastries ready to be devoured. Whatever hesitation he has is rapidly dying.

“So is this what caused it? You didn’t really want to eat the tart because of your mom, but you got peer pressured into it and that made you break the rules?” You ask the ether. You still don’t understand. If Riddle was careful, like he’d said he was, why would this be important?

The Clover bakery, more specifically the part of it that’s Trey’s home, is the exact opposite of Riddle’s. Cluttered with decorations of family portraits, children’s drawing’s height markers on the doors as they grew older. Excluding the scent of sweet pastries, you can smell the love in this home. You can hear other voices, the voices of Trey’s siblings and his father joking scolding them for their pastry based gluttony. Riddle looks around in genuine curiosity, not used to the mess, warmth and life this house has in contrast to his own.

Still, the bad feeling churns in your gut, as time progresses. And as Trey returns with the fresh slices of a strawberry tart, it doesn’t dissolve despite the warmth of the new scene.

“A bright-red strawberry tart on a pure white plate.” Riddle stares at the slice with all the awe, excitement and wonder only a child could. Like a child holding their very first snowglobe, he inspects it with curiosity and barely contained excitement. “To me, it sparkled brighter than any jewel ever could.”

“Eat it. You want to eat it. So eat it.” Your demands actually are answered, as tiny hands raise the fork, shaking slightly in excitement. Riddle takes his first bite. And as soon as the strawberry hits his taste buds….

Color fills the world, chasing the bland gray away.

“The first bite was so sweet and delicious, like nothing I’d ever tasted before. With every bite, I became more and more entranced…”

Not one speck of this world remains in a dark, lifeless gray, filled with color and the life that comes with it.

All it took was a tart, but it was more than that. It was the taste of friendship, of fun. But most importantly, it was the taste of freedom. Freedom that he’d been denied over and over, that he was finally allowed to taste.

Along with the color comes the laughter chasing the dull world away, with its restrictions and its chains. You can’t even fight the smile forcing its way onto your face.

How could you not? This was just so-

“-And completely lost track of time.”

“Shit.” An icy chill runs up your spine as the world returns to that study, completely cold and dull in comparison to the warm and vibrant bakery.

The smile on your face vanishes with the color and warmth. “Oh no…”

“I put on some of the organic tea I ordered-” Riddle’s mother returns to the empty study. And the tea set she’s holding shatters on the carpet. Your joy follows it on the floor.

You hate every second of what comes next.

Riddle, in the middle of the fun time he was having, spies the clock on the wall. And notices the hour he was supposed to spend studying had ended twenty minutes ago.

His mother, searching for him in fury (not worry, you noted) finds him just as he's hurrying to leave the bakery. Trey and Chenya are right behind him, and she immediately spots the crumbs that, in his haste to leave, he’d forgotten to wipe off.

The realization that follows, and the shaming of Trey’s kind parents. As she screams at them in fury for feeding her, now bawling, son; Riddle grips her skirts while begging her to stop. Trey watches, stunned in either guilt or horror, not his parents but Riddle as he pleads with his hysterical mother. Chenya, probably using his magic, is hiding somewhere.

And then Riddle is dragged back to the depressing prison that he calls home….. to be punished. And the warmth and color is gone, replaced with a cold chill.

You feel your blood boil as the bitch screams and berates her son. “Unbelievable!” Completely irate and unreasonable, Riddle’s mother screams at him with all the fury she’d given Trey’s parents. “Not only did you abandon your study time, but I find you eating a mountain of sugar as well!!” Riddle takes her screeches and yells completely silent, trying to interject with apologies to spare himself from her wrath even further.

Riddle doesn’t even try to defend himself, too afraid of her wrath.

If he can’t…you will. Even if no one can hear you.

“SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU SELF-CENTERED BITCH!” You yell back, even if she can’t hear you. This isn’t parenting, this is abuse. You stand between the two to offer a small modicum of protection to the still crying Riddle, but you know that you’re not actually doing anything. Because you weren’t there when this happened all those years ago. Still, you can’t pacify your own anger. “JUST SHUT UP, YOU HEARTLESS WITCH!”

Riddle’s mother chooses this completely horrible moment, to turn to the window. And she spots Trey and Chenya beyond the fence that makes this house a prison. “Those two are what must have led you astray….”

“SHUT UP, YOU OLD BITCH!” Anger forces tears into your eyes. Even if….no, you’re angry but you don’t hate him. Not completely. “All they did was teach him something you never could!” You grind out through your teeth, infuriated.

“There will be no more playing with those terrible influences ever again!” Horror and panic flood Riddle’s face.

And you can feel the blood roar in your ears. “You evil!-”

Riddle fazes through you to apologize and plead with his mother to not take his friends away, to not take his happiness away. “I’m sorry, Mother!! It won’t happen again, so please!”

But the old windbag can’t see reason. “BE QUIET!” Riddle nearly bursts into tears again as she throws him off. “You broke the rules, and now you’re paying for it.”

“AND YOU NEVER WOULD HAVE LET HIM ANYWAY!” Every yell in his defense that you make goes unheard. But does it really matter? No, this tyrannical bitch is a horrible mother, and she ruined someone that could have been wonderful. “YOU’RE AN EVIL, HORRIBLE MOTHER WHO RAISED YOUR FLESH AND BLOOD TO BE A TROPHY! HE NEVER DESERVED THIS, YOU FUCKING!-”

“Honestly, it must have been too soon to allow you so much freedom.” She moves to shut the window. To separate him from sweet freedom forever.

“I simply must keep a much closer eye on you…” Darkness fills the room as the glass and shutters close. And soon all your senses can pick up is the Riddle of the past’s sorrowful pleas and sniffles slowly dissolving into silence. “I’m sorry, Mother! I’m sorry!...”

You’re going to have an explosive aneurysm with how hot your blood is boiling. Not because of Riddle, but because of his evil hag of a mother. No fucking wonder Riddle grew up to be a complete psychopath. Does this world base its laws on fucking nothing?!

And the one of the present, fills the void it made.

“Because I broke the rules….” A small window of light fills the dark. Riddle stands before it, looking in sorrow at his friends just beyond his home’s gates, but still painfully out of reach. “My days of fun were cut short.”

Chenya looks like he wants to come in again, but Trey stops him, his eyes downcast. They both go, leaving Riddle behind to the prison of his mother’s making. “That’s why I vowed to never again break my mother’s rules.”

“B-But it wasn’t your fault. You were a suffering kid being offered freedom. She was the one in the wrong.”

The hag appears behind him, holding the life of drudgery in the form of a textbook, and this time Riddle doesn’t have the freedom of a choice. He does his studies, at the hag’s behest. The color in him leeches out, turning into a cold gray that matches his monster mother’s.

“After all, my mother is the most accomplished in our town, therefore making her the most correct.”

She never was Riddle, she destroyed your life to make hers seem more accomplished.” You can only hope that your words reach his ears. He didn’t do anything wrong, he was brainwashed by his mother’s abusive parenting. And that led to disaster. “Deep down, I know you know that-”A hypothermic chill goes up and down your spine. “Huh?”

The entire room drops in temperature till its deathly cold. You whip your head around in panic for the source, desperate to see whatever the source was.

And halfway through that Riddle’s mother turns from a person, into a human-shaped pile of blot.

“AHH!” You back up until your back hits the wall. And the blot that you hadn’t noticed was on it. Blot is seeping out of the cracks and spaces of the darkening study.

This room is being flooded with blot.

And you and Riddle are still trapped here.

“Still…..How come, mama? How come my chest still hurts so much?”

“Riddle, I know that this is hard for you but you need to snap out of this!” The blot’s high enough to reach your calves now. You wade through the blot towards the child body of Riddle Rosehearts. If Riddle is the reason you’re here, he’s the way out too. You need to snap him out of this.

“I want to eat lots of tarts, even if it’s just for my birthday…”

“You can still do that, you just have to wake up!” The blot’s up to your knees now, and because it’s as thick and sticky as tar, you can barely wade through it. That’s not the only thing though. The boring and enormous textbooks Riddle’s mother burdened his childhood with, stack precariously high. Up to where the ceiling no longer is.

“And play outside all day long, and make lots and lots of friends.”

“It’s not too late, just wake up!”The blot’s at your thighs now. The towers of boring literature sway, threatening to fall at any moment and crush you both.

“Tell me, mama…” The body of the young Riddle, is suddenly engulfed in blot, and reveals the current form of the present Riddle, still in overblot. You can see the tears fall from his eyes onto the desk. His voice, not disguising the pain.

“What rule should I follow to end all of this pain?”

“Riddle, WAKE UP! You don’t have to live in pain forever!” You yell desperately. The blot’s at your waist now. Out of options, you throw yourself forward.

And your hands finally meet cold skin.

“Huh?.....I don’t?” Riddle turns and his eyes focus on you. The towers of books threatening to fall suddenly steady. The blot flooding the room stops pouring, stops rising. All is calmer now.

“You can hear me?” Riddle nods and you sigh in relief. He can finally see you, finally hear you. You embrace him as tightly as possible. “Thank goodness…I was worried we both would die here.”

His arms wrap around you, returning your embrace. “W…Why are you here?”

“I don’t know but I’m glad I’m here…” You withdraw and wipe the inky black tears spilling down his cheeks, away from his face. You take a deep breath before sighing again. “I’m sorry I had to see all that. It must have been hard for you to live like that your entire life.”

Riddle doesn’t respond, his eyes avoid meeting yours. Is it shame, guilt or something else? “How much did you see?”

“Enough. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry that your mother was who she was, you didn’t deserve to suffer the way you did for so long. But you don’t have to live that life forever.”

“How?… The rules-”

You interrupt him, “The rules your mother gave you are ridiculous. Yes, kids need structure and rules to grow but they need to have fun too. And friends. And your mother stole that from you because she wanted you to be a trophy she could show off.”

“But mother was never-”

“She was wrong, Riddle. And a lot of the rules she gave you were wrong too. I know it’s hard to have your whole world crash down around you but there’s a part of you that never liked your mother’s rules….Right?”

Black tears pool in Riddle’s eyes. “I just wanted to eat a strawberry tart… Just once.”

You wipe them away, letting your hand rest on his inky/blot stained cheek. “And you can. You can make your own rules for your life. If you want to eat tarts till you’re sick, you can. If you want to play till you can’t move, you can. You don’t have to follow her rules or the Queen of Hearts’ rules, just your own. As long as you’re happy and not hurting yourself, or forcing them onto someone else, do whatever makes you happy.”

He cups your hand to his face before you can remove it. “Would…Would you do it with me? I wanted you to be my friend, I want to eat tarts till I’m sick with you….”

Ok, bit of a red flag, that's a bit concerning given the world you’re in. But you really can’t do anything if he traps you here. “Of course. But we need to get out of here to do that.”

A flash of light sparks up next to you both, causing you both to turn your heads to it. A door appears out of nowhere.

Small, tiny and barely there, but the light coming out of it shines brightly, it's not the light at the end of the tunnel. You hope at least.

“I think that’s the way out. Are you ready?” You hold out your hand in offering. “You have a lot of apologies to make, one to me included, but I’ll be there to help you.”

Riddle takes your hand, it’s warm and the blot falls away exposing his normal skin. “Not really, but let’s go.”

Riddle sets his other hand on the door knob. And the dark world fills with light.

“Riddle!” Trey’s voice is the last thing you hear before things go dark. Or, uh, white.

Consciousness hits you like a brick to the face.

You jerk upwards so fast you give yourself vertigo. The remnants of blot in your stomach churn threaten to come up with bile. But you manage to choke it down, despite how much it burns.

Ace, Deuce and Grim probably feel the same, because-

“...Hi guys-” You barely get those words out before they tackle you and your back hits the torn up ground of the rose garden. You choke out a weak cough as soon as they hug you so tightly that you can feel the air you just breathed in get squeezed out of your lungs.

But despite the pain, you laugh, now fuelled by adrenaline. “You guys, I’m okay. Let me up.” You say in between laughs.

Ace is angrier because of what you just said.“Okay, my ass ______! You stopped breathing!” Oh, shit. Okay, maybe you should stop by the nurse after this.

Deuce is more concerned, “We thought you were dead, Prefect!”

Grim like Ace is infuriated at your near death experience. “I seriously thought you were going to die, Henchman!”

“But I’m okay now. Just calm down.” After a few more seconds in their smothering embrace, they finally let you go and help you up. You scratch your fingers through Grim’s fur, soothing the tiny rage in your direbeast before giving your two friends a serious apology. “Sorry about that you guys.”

“You better be sorry. We were worried sick!” Ace smacks the top of your head, before finally calming down.“Just don’t freak us out like that again.”

Deuce, in turn, breathes a slow sigh of relief, “Just give us some warning before you try to do that again… I was worried I was going to lose you.” Your adrenaline fueled laughs are replaced with churning worry.

There would be no bad yandere thoughts after the shit storm today. “Sorry,” you say as sincerely as possible.

Cater seems to share your trio of friends' relief, “Well, it’s about time….We were just about losin’ our heads here -figure of speech, sorry - ‘cause we thought you might never wake up.”

You’re scooped up into a hug the next second, and for once you’ll let it slide. “Nice to see you again too, Cater.”

Trey is the only one yet to greet you now that you’re awake. More concerned with waking up the still unconscious Riddle.

Well, now you’re fucking concerned.

As soon as Cater lets you go, which he doesn't, you wiggled out of it; you run to Riddle’s side. “Is Riddle okay?” You ask, now very worried. Why did you wake up but not him? Did something go wrong? Is he going to die after all?!

Trey gives you an anxious expression that seems to worsen the longer “He hasn’t woken up yet.” Trey looks more worried the longer that Riddle stays unconscious. “Why hasn’t he-”

Thankfully because the universe has impeccable timing, The sound of a sharp inhale rings out, followed by a “Gah!” And Riddle’s eyes flutter open, and he’s awake. Thank goodness.

“He’s back!”

“What….What in the world happened..?” Riddle’s weak voice fills the air, and you sigh in relief.

“Ah, Mr. Rosehearts appears to have regained consciousness. Excellent.” Oh, Crowley’s here. Wait.

“Crowley, Riddle and I have been lying dead on the ground for god knows how long and you didn’t call for the school nurse?” The crow doesn’t say anything in response to your question. You’re growing sick of his antics, and he’s the person you’re relying on to send you home. How this school hadn’t been burnt to the ground is a growing mystery.

Trey, in light of Crowley’s uselessness, gives Riddle the check over he desperately needs, whilst calming whatever “Don’t worry, Riddle. Just try to rest.”

“Yo, that’s just the sort of coddling that led to him going nuts in the first place!”

“Ace, the man nearly died. Chill out.”

“Yeah, well now the garden is tore up from the floor up, not to mention that we could’ve died! _____ almost died!” Well, at least he’s concerned.

Deuce gives you a sorrowful look whilst agreeing with Ace, “He’s right, it was looking bad for a while there.” Well, they’re going to be stuck to you like glue for the imminent future.

“For cryin’ out loud. When you humans let that stress build up, the results ain’t pretty.” For a constantly hangry dire beast, Grim does say something occasionally that is very insightful. You gotta give him credit for that one.

“Yes, it isn’t Grim. Yes, it isn’t.”

“The truth is, I…. I really wanted to eat the chestnut tart…”

“Huh?” “And I don’t care if the roses are white or the flamingos are pink. And I prefer honey to sugar cubes in my tea, and I like milk tea better than lemon tea anyhow. And after a meal, I want to be the one sitting around talking with everyone…”

“Riddle…” “And I really wanted to play with you and Chenya more, Trey.” And then the tears start flowing.

“Riddle Rosehearts, in tears…. Hashtag #WOW.”

“Cater…now’s not the time…” You murmur.

“You think a few crocodile tears is all it’ll take for me to forgive you?”

“I’ll repeat. Ace, the man nearly died.”

“I’m sorry, Riddle. I knew you were suffering, and all I did was pretend not to notice.” Riddle keeps sobbing, finally letting all the pain that he contained within him for years flow out. You hug him, allowing him some comfort as he cries. Ace actually opens his mouth to object, but you motion for him to shut his mouth and keep his thoughts to himself for now. “So I’m gonna say what I should have said earlier. Your way of doing this was wrong, and you owe everyone an apology.”

Riddle can barely get out his apologies in between his loud sobs. “I’m sorry…..I’m really sorry.”

“I know I’ve been saying I wanted an apology from Riddle, but now that I got one, y’know what?”

“One stupid ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t even come close to making up for what he did!”

“Ace, I agree with you, but what part of ‘Riddle nearly died” is not clicking?!”

“DUDE! Way to be a capital-J Jerk!”

“And proud of it! Have you forgotten how he made a total fool outta me?!” “Have forgotten how he just threw away that chestnut tart we worked so hard on?! That ain’t something you can make go away with a few tears and a flimsy ‘I’m sorry’!”

“ACE!” Listen, you’re not team Riddle, but you’re team not kicking a man while he’s down post mental breakdown. Like chill out for ten seconds, and not throw a fit about an apology that you think was actually genuine.

“Wow, I ain’t never met anyone who was better at holdin’ grudges than I am.” Yeah, that’s genuinely surprising that Grim is less trouble than someone else.

“Then…then what do you want me to do?!”

“You know…. I don’t got a birthday party coming up anytime soon.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“So I demand a do-over for the unbirthday party! Except this time, we ain’t going to do squat. This time, YOU’RE the one who brings the tart!” Well that’s a fitting apology. Completely fair and appropriate. You’re surprised that- “And no getting Trey to make it for you! Do that, and then things are square between us.” There it is.

Well, after the whole day he sectioned out of your busy schedule, you’re not letting that one fly. “All offense Ace, you had a lot of people helping you make your tarts.”

“Quiet from the peanut gallery! What do you say, Riddle? We clear?”

“Yes… We’re clear.” Well, at least you have a potentially fun party in your incoming future. Maybe if the darling reveal doesn’t make the incoming future hell.

You kind of forgot Crowley was there, until he spoke again.“Ah, yes. Compromise is a beautiful thing. I believe that concludes this matter.”

“You didn’t do anything, Crowley.” You say for the umpteenth time.

Well know that the problem is solved, the garden’s a wreck. And you need a bath. “Welp, looks like we got some cleaning up to do. All that work making the garden Magicam-worthy and now it’s a total tire fire. Laaame.” Cater’s right, this is just a mess.

“Yeah, speaking of which.” You mutter as you detach yourself from Riddle, cringing from the stickiness of the remaining blot all over your skin. “I should probably go clean up.”

“I’ll help out.”

Cater is the one to actually the one to point out the obvious dangerous condition Riddle’s in now that the storm has passed.“No, why don’t you get Riddle to the nurse’s office. That was a full-blown case of overblot. We need to make absolutely sure he’s okay.”

Crowley in his perpetual uselessness proceeds to piggybank on Cater’s actually useful idea. This is really starting to bother you. “Mr.Diamond is correct. I will go along with you.” You bite your tongue before you say ‘To do what?’

“Understood. Thank you, sir.” Trey helps Riddle stand and limp to wherever the nurse’s station is. Crowley does nothing because he wants to be useless when a student nearly died. Just because.

Anyway, that leaves you, Ace, Deuce, Cater and Grim in the rose garden/ battlefield. Well, time to leave this mess behind to deal with tomorrow. And hopefully for the tired and non-magical you, not ever.

“Man, am I starved after usin’ so much magic!” As you prepare to leave and take the longest bath of your life and get Grim some much needed snacks, Grim spots and an odd stone lodged in one of the destroyed rose bushes. “Hmmm. Hey, check it out!”

“What is it?” You ask.

Grim digs it out of the destroyed brambles. “It’s another black magestone, just like the one we found in the Dwarf’s Mine!”

“You’re right. Wonder where it came from?”

“Just don’t put it in your mouth this time-”

Ace’s warning goes completely unheard, “No way. After how great the last one tasted, I can’t get that thing in my mouth fast enough!” Before you can stop him, he stuffs it in his mouth.

“And there he goes.”

“Oh, Grimmy… Have some self-respect, honey. That was literally trash.”

As if describing a five star meal, Grim goes off unprompted. “Ahhhh! Rich and sweet, but with a complex hint of bitterness in the aftertaste. Equally delicious, but with quite a different mouthfeel from the last one I ate.”

“You have such a way with words, Grim…. So I guess this is just a thing now, or?” You hope that he won’t get sick, if he does then you’re just fucked. But with your bad luck it wouldn’t be a surprise.

“As a monster, maybe his stomach works differently than ours?”Ace reasons, but you frankly don’t care.

“Even still, eating trash can’t be good for anyone.”

“As long as it keeps my food bill down, he could eat the grass for all I care.” Since Crowley won’t pay it, you might as well improvise given Grim’s gluttony.

As if on cue, Grim takes a hearty munch of the torn up grass. “Ooh! I just tried the grass, and the flavor was surprisingly pleasant! Crisp, even!”

“See? He’s fine, and if anything happens, I’ll just stop by the vet or something.” You hope this society has free vets. Just in case.

“Hey, that’s our lawn! Don’t eat that!”

“Uh, A-F-K while I go throw up….” As you all leave contemplating the workings of Grim’s digestive track, you can hear Cater say under his breath. “But….seriously, guys. Thanks.”

You had just barely caught that, “What did you say, Cater?” you ask.

Cater laughs, brushing off your question whilst poking you directly on the nose in his usual demeanor. “Nooope. Nothing at all.”

The raging storm is over. And with it, all the B.S. that came with dealing with Riddle and his overblot, you’re sad that it happened, and happy that it’s over. Like any rational human being.

Since you got out of this relatively unscathed, excluding some nausea from , you went straight to Ramshackle to take a very, very long hot soak to at least try to get the blot stuck to your skin and hair off. Turns out that uniform was garbage bound, because after three and half hours of scrubbing your skin and hair, six bath water changes and two full bottles of cheap shampoo being emptied, you were about 80% sure you got it all out.

So with your hair dripping with the remains of your bath water, you decided after all the bullshit you did today, you would just have a cozy night with Grim, trying to figure out how to gaslight Ace and Deuce into thinking you weren’t a darling.

What a great way to spend the rest of your day. But considering Ramshackle was empty, except for you, Grim and the ghosts (who thought it was funny to hide your slippers in the crawl space), you were completely satisfied.

“Henchmannnnn! My tuna!”

“Be patient, you glutton.” You laugh at Grim’s whining. He’d been like this after hour one of cleaning the blot off. While you told him where he could find his tuna, the Great Grim was bested by his inherent lack of thumbs to open the can. Thus, enter the whining and hissy fit.

“Henchman!”

“I’m opening it, chill.” The sound of the can opening fills the creaky silence of Ramshackle settling. The creaking is unsettling, but peaceful. And that’s how this evening was going to go. You ‘sharing’ a meal with Grim, alone. Making conversation in the silence as you try to figure out how to gaslight Ace and Deuce into oblivion about the darling thing. Finally a calm night because Ace and Deuce were staying in Heartslabyul tonight-

“Motherfucker, who is it now!?” You yell throwing the half opened can of tuna hard onto the counter (which ricochets onto the floor), completely pissed. The knocks on your door just remind you of how fucking unlucky you are. Is one night alone impossible? One single night?!

“Henchman, whyyy?!” Grim mourns the tuna scattered as you storm out of the kitchen.

Is one night impossible!? What did Ace and Deuce do in the three hours you left them alone!?

You yank the front door open with a booming slam, before yelling “WHAT!?” at whoever thought bothering you after a rough day was the move they would make today.

“...Did I come at a bad time?” Trey’s on your porch, an awkward expression on his face. Trey so far had to be the only one that was remotely normal. Ooo! and he was holding a cake box.

And you just yelled in his face. “Oh oops, uh, it’s you. Sorry.” You’re now as awkward as he is, your face turning warm with embarrassment.

Trey gives you a gentle smile, “I would have called first, but you don’t exactly have a phone.”

“Yeah…. “ You awkwardly scratch the back of your neck. “After everything I went through in the last three days, I thought I could get a few hours to myself and Grim.”

“I’m sorry I disturbed you. I just thought you might want these.” Trey holds out the box to you, which smells like the bakery from Riddle’s overblot memory thing? Either way, you can feel the nausea in your stomach finally soothe.

“Thank you.” Opening it, you find it full of sweet looking treats, topped with light frosting, sugary glazes and glittering toppings. “But, you didn’t have to save these for Grim and I.”

“It was nothing. I owe you an apology too, so I figured that this was the best start.” Well, considering your dinner today was going to be a bunch of instant noodles, you'll accept the apology.

“Uh, well do you want to come in? Might as well not do it on my porch.”Trey accepts, and now you have the normal one in your lounge, sitting on your couch. Great thinking, you.

“Grim! Trey’s here, he brought us food.” you call out.

As soon as the word ‘food’ is uttered, Grim shot out of your kitchen like lightning. “Where!?”Oh and of course, you called out to Grim the second you passed the kitchen. And then you and Grim played mouthball with a cookie in the dessert box. Turns out Grim was great at catch, but maybe it’s because you threw him food. Aw well, good to know in case of a competition for you to play or something.

“How have you been? You really had us worried for a moment there.”

“Better, the worst thing I got out of that was scrubbing all the blot off of me.”And the darling thing, but you weren’t going to bring that up. “I’m pretty sure that I scrubbed a bald spot into my scalp. How’s Riddle?”

“I checked on him on my way here. He’s fine, like nothing ever happened, but he’s on bedrest and isn’t allowed to use magic for the next few days.”

“Well, that’s both comforting and convenient.” Nice to know that the overblot mess didn’t cause brain damage or anything.

Trey “If you don’t mind me staying so, I thought you’d be more mad at me.”

“That ship sailed yesterday and crashed when you finally told Riddle off earlier, and let’s just say that I can understand why you kept your mouth shut for so long. And while I would punch you in the face, you brought me free food so you’re forgiven.” You stuff a mouthful of a tart slice into your mouth, humming as a delicacy hits your tastebuds.

Trey gives you a warm laugh, before saying. “Good to know. But there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What is it?” You say, taking another mouthful of cake.

“About what Riddle said, about you being a darling.” Shit. Fuck.

“Um…..Do you believe him?” You hope he doesn’t. Four out of five of the people you know is already too much.

The answer Trey gives you doesn’t bring you peace.“I already knew. When Riddle figured it out, he told me because he wanted me to keep an eye on the students around you. I was suspicious, but I was never sure until then.”

“....Great.” you sigh. “This just keeps getting better and better.

Trey puts a hand on your shoulder, in an attempt to soothe you. “Look, I can understand this whole darling thing is very troubling for you.”

You shrug his hand off. “How would you know? You’re not exactly the person being negatively affected by it.”

“Not exactly. Two of my siblings are darlings, one of my brothers and my little sister. I’ve seen them afraid of what their futures hold. I worry about them not being at home when I get back. I've watched them be as jumpy as you are.”

“But you see all of that and you still think it's okay to do that to the person you love.”

“It's not that, it's just the whole darling thing is seen as the lesser of two evils. I would never do anything to hurt people like you.” But you still aren't moved.

Is it worth trusting him to keep his word? Because even if you learned some things about this world, you're still a stranger. A stranger who is stumbling blind in a world you don't understand. For all you knew this could be a technique to gaslight you into thinking he's a safe bet, only to use that against you.

“You…” This is going to sound dumb, but you don’t have a lot of options right now. “You promise?”

Trey smiles at you in a way that pacifies your looming worry, “I promise.”

“Well,” you shift in your seat, “ if you won’t hurt me what about your dorm? Can you get them to forget what Riddle said?”

“Luckily,about half of them were too busy freaking out and running away to pay attention to Riddle’s speech. The other half either doesn’t believe it, or doesn’t care. Heartslabyul’s understanding of darlings is that they’re wild and unruly without us, so some of them see Riddle’s words as an insult. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Well, that’s a relief. But what about Ace, Deuce and Cater?”

“Well, Cater found out on his own. Trust me, when I say that Cater is in the know about nearly everything on campus, I mean it. But don’t worry, he doesn’t have any plans on releasing it to anyone outside of the dorm.” Phew.

“And Ace and Deuce? They were already suspicious of me…”

Trey’s gentle smile drops for a moment, an apologetic expression forming on his face. “Whether they believe it or not is up to them. I’m sorry.”

“Well, what about you? Since you know, were you ever going to…. Do anything to me?”

At that moment, Grim yawns while gorging himself on the other desserts in the box. You finish the few bites of the treat in your hands. The sweetness of the pastries fade away to the nervousness as you await in his response. And fatigue for some reason. Maybe a full belly is making you sleepy.

“Don’t worry, I don’t have any plans on hurting you. I owe you one after all.” You sigh in relief. “And if things get tough, you don’t have to do anything on your own. If you need anything you can come and get me for anything. I’m always here to help.” He offers you a hug, which you gratefully accept. After the whirlwind you experienced some human contact in way that’s not fucked up feels like a welcome relief.

“Thanks Trey.” You mumble into his embrace, accidentally cut yourself off with a yawn as soon as you finish your sentence. Well, that was fast. You know that you’ve had a long day, but it was still very early so how in the world did you get tired so fast. Sure you were a little tired, but not to the point where you were starting to feel sleepy. “You should probably go…. I think I should get some sleep….”

“I should leave then, but excuse my bluntness…You should take better care of yourself.” The hell does that mean?

You’re too tired to contemplate it tonight. Maybe tomorrow.“I’ll try. Good night Trey.”

You see him out and just before you shut the door, you can hear him say, “Get some sleep, ______.” You nod in response, shutting the door. As soon as you click the lock into place, you-

“Wha-” Another wave of exhaustion hits you like a bus, to the point that you can’t stop straining your jaw with yawns. Maybe today was more exhausting than you thought.

“Still….. How did…..I-” You can’t stop yourself from yawning in between words. Your heads spinning and your visions already blurring. Your legs become so weak that you can barely keep yourself upright.

You stumble back to the lounge, Grim, his face still covered in crumbs and frosting from the box of treats Trey had brought, is snoring into the box of treats. You gingerly set him onto one of the couch cushions before plopping down on the closest possible sofa. Even if it’s safer and cleaner for you to sleep in your bed tonight, you can’t bring yourself to climb up the stairs to bed, or even carry Grim all the way there.

‘But…..’ a voice in the back of your mind says, ‘you only felt tired after you ate the treats Trey fed you. And Grim was wide awake the whole afternoon. So why?’

Your last thought before losing yourself into the dream world is….. Why am I so tired?

As you lie in a world of dreams, none of your questions are answered.

Not the one about your exhaustion.

Not the one about why you were involved with and forced to fix Riddle’s internal conflict.

And most importantly, not the one about your questions of wonderland.

Why? Because you didn’t dream of Wonderland that night. Nor of Red Kings and lost girls from Earth. You slept peacefully. Too peacefully…….

Your one hope didn’t welcome you that night. And when you eventually awoke the next morning, when you checked it out nothing had changed. Like when you were awake, the doorway it once offered was shut.

And all the information it offered was held out of reach.

And that way was how it remained for three more days.

Just dreams that you couldn’t recall, showing flashes of the odd and nonsensical things that you once did.

No dreams of containing answers, no dreams of containing new questions…

Nothing about the world through the mirror for the next three days either, all the way up to the day of the make-up unbirthday party.

To say that your mind was preoccupied nearing the make-up unbirthday would be an understatement.

But you were mentally just not there the whole way to the unbirthday party, because your mind was just preoccupied with why your nightly journeys had suddenly concluded. As far as you knew, the story had never ended there. Alice eventually got home, following a path she used to escape the Queen’s madness and wake herself up to her normal life and her normal world. If that was your way out, then you needed to figure out how to reach it.

Still, though after a stressful three days of hanging out with Ace and Deuce (three days which neither of them brought up what the darling thing, so maybe you were in the clear) while they were lumped into cleaning up the Heartslabyul garden, it was time for the unbirthday party. Yay!

“All hail our leader, the Red Sovereign himself…Housewarden Riddle!” You stifle a laugh at the goofy announcement. Guess some things won’t change, huh?

“We salute you, Dorm Leader Riddle!” On the positive side, the residents don’t sound as forced this time. Riddle must have apologized to everyone in the past few days, because they sound much happier.

“Hm. The garden roses are red, the tablecloths are white…This seems like a proper unbirthday indeed.” Riddle inspects the garden like during the first unbirthday party, but he looks significantly more relaxed. Calmer even. Ace and Deuce had told you he wasn’t enforcing the Queen of Hearts’ rules as much since he’d been discharged from the nurse’s station. Which to you is a good sign. Because it means that, a weight of the rules was lifted off his shoulders. You hope. “Is there a dormouse in the teapo-” You sure fucking hope n- “Er, well, I suppose it’s fine either way.” Phew, you can actually drink the tea this time. Also, progress! He’s started to see which rules are bullshit and which ones aren’t.

“Not everything has to change completely, you know.” Trey looks much more at peace too. With the disaster in both his and Riddle’s childhood behind them, they both look much happier. “Like maybe spread the jam on your scones, instead of on the dormouse this time?” So the dormouse wasn’t ejected from the party premises, well then you’ll stick with water.

“Let’s try to set the bar at ‘it’s great if it’s this way,’ not ‘it absolutely has to be this way.’” According to the Ace and Deuce of two hours ago, Trey’s been working on trying to get Riddle to relax his old ways and unlearn his mother’s super strictness.

“Yes, that makes sense.” Riddle had been doing well in that department. And while he’s slipped up once or twice but no one lost their heads so, once again, progress.

Ace sighs in annoyance. He and Deuce had been roped into repairing the garden along with a lot of other Heartslabyul residents. Which he, as usual, complained about, “I can’t believe we got roped into cleaning up and prepping the garden again.”

“Well, at least the dorm leader recovered from his overblot without any complications.”

“And the garden is Magi-cam worthy once again! Hashtag #no filter on this gorgeousness!” Cater in his magicam addiction snaps enough pictures to fill his phone’s gallery, but this time you don’t exactly flinch away from them. It’s a party damnit, you’re going to relax.

“Blah blah blah! Let’s just eat already!”

“Then eat we shall! I’ll get the-”

“Wait a minute!” Riddle’s voice sends the garden into terrified silence. Oh no. What’s wrong? What was messed up? Who broke a rule? Are we going to go through this mess all over again?!

“Huh?”

“There’s a white rose!” How the hell did someone miss one?! You were in this garden yesterday, and every rose was painted when you all left!

You’re not the only one panicking.

“We missed one?!”

“Ace, Deuce, I told you to make sure to paint every rose?!”

“Wait, this is our fault?!”

Even Trey’s panicking, “R-Riddle, listen…”

You jump into damage control mode. “Riddle, it was an accident!” and if Riddle freaks out again, then you’re knocking one of his teeth out. “They didn’t mean to-”

Riddle chuckles, still calm. “Well… I suppose I can overlook one or two missed roses.” Everyone in the garden nearly collapses as you let out a sigh of relief. Yay, progress…..

“Geez! Don’t give me a heart attack, Riddle!” You jokingly protest. But you’re very happy he’s not serious. Besides, practical jokes are closer to what you felt was normal.

“After all, if we work together then we should be able to get them painted in no time.”

“What? They still gotta be painted?!”

“Even so…. I’m impressed. You’ve changed, Riddle.”

“I’m starvin’ here! Let’s just get these stupid roses painted or whatever!”

“All right, is everyone ready?” After a very energizing and hunger-inducing rose painting session, you all return to the tea garden to eat and drink. And Ace, as cocky as ever, finally gets to have his cake and eat it too, or rather get his tart and-nevermind. “So what happened to that tart, Dorm Leader?”

“I made it for you, as I promised I would.” Riddle’s actually taken aback for a split second at Ace’s bluntness, but he does direct everyone’s attention to the tart set on one of the dessert tables. “Here: one strawberry tart, crafted by yours truly.” A strawberry tart that sparkles in the sunshine. It’s a little misshapen, but he tried.

“Nice! The shape’s a little off, but I can tell you put a lot of work into that glaze.”

“He’s right. It looks great, Riddle. Good job!” Riddle seems to bolster from your praise, smiling softly before Ace kills the moment.

“Oh, puh-leeze. How about we actually TRY it before you start fawning over him, _____?”

“Hold it! Don’t you start cutting that before I get my Magicam snap!-” Cater snaps a picture without anyone’s consent but who cares, the tarts ready to be cut and served “Okay, got it!”

“Tch, I see Cater hasn’t changed a bit either. All right, let’s dig in!” The tart is cut, and served for everyone. To be honest, you can’t wait to try the fruits of Riddle’s labor. He didn’t really have to make one. But he kept his word to Ace, so you’re glad to see his positive change.

And you get to eat the tart that led to this entire storm happening. You stuff the tart into your mouth and take a huge bite.

And then you choke.

It’s salty, like a mouthful of table salt salty.

“This is kinda….Salty!” You can't even join the scream of the anguished at what has to be a mountain of salt mixed into the tart makes your mouth as dry as a desert.

“What?!” Riddle’s completely taken aback by the fact all his hard work is actually the culinary equivalent of serving salt onto a plate.

“Err? This isn’t KINDA salty - it’s a full on salt lick! What did you put in this?!” You have no choice but to agree with Ace. This is not ‘accidentally added too much salt’ salty, this is ‘completely replacing all the other ingredients with just salt’ salty. How could someone who once followed rules so strictly mess up a tart recipe so badly?

After a few failed attempts, you swallow it down and wince, before dry-heaving. “Did you mistake salt for sugar?” You rasp

“No, I followed the rules exactly, and measured everything precisely! Unless…Oh!”

“What?” You rasp.

“Could it be…. from the oyster sauce?” WHAT. Trey, why?!

Deuce spits out the mouthful of salt tart into a nearby napkin. “Wait… did you actually use that Walrus-brand oyster sauce Trey jokes about?”

“But Trey said that oyster sauce is an unlisted secret ingredient in all tarts! He said all the finest bakers use it.” Damn it Trey…..

“And you actually believed him?! How could you not tell that he was joking?!”

“You fell for it too, Ace. But even then, it was only supposed to be a splash. How much did you put in?”

“It’s an unlisted ingredient! How could I measure it if he wouldn’t tell me how much to put in?!” Geez, no wonder this tart was like drinking seawater.

“Pffft..” Trey practically loses his shit laughing at the successful prank, “I can’t believe someone actually fell for the ol’ oyster sauce prank!”

Instead of flipping out, Riddle takes the realization on the chin and laughs fondly, “Yes; Quite humorous indeed. I truly am a fool.”

Even if you're sure your mouth will never be the same from taking such a big mouthful, all you can do in this situation is laugh. And everyone does.

“Ha ha! It really is so disgusting that it’s actually kind of funny!”

“Yeah, what else can we do but laugh!”

“You know, in its own weird way, I think it’s actually kinda good!”

“Well, uh, it’s an interesting flavor profile…”

In the end, you're just glad to have a taste of normalcy. After the headache the last few days have been, a break to laugh is welcomed.

The garbage tart doesn’t dampen the mood in the slightest. While it led to some discovery of Cater’s own tastes, it was actually more informative and humorous than miserable. Which in contrast to the original unbirthday party you got kicked out of, this is so much better.

What changed the mood is the new voice in the garden. “Mm mm mmm! Your baked goods are always so delightful, Trey.” Chenya appears out of nowhere, stuffing his face with the not-super salty tarts.

Both Trey and Riddle look surprised to see their childhood friend here. “Chenya?! What are you doing here?!”

Still, speaking in his carefree nonchalance, Chenya hums, “Hm? I came to celebrate my unbirthday with all of you. A very merry unbirthday to you, Riddle.”

You're not sure what caused it, but the warm atmosphere drops at least 10 degrees. “The unbirthday party is a Heartslabyul House tradition. It does not pertain to you.” Isn’t Riddle also friends with Chenya, why the hostility?

Chenya points at you and Grim, “And those two? What about them?”

“Favoritism.” You quip, because it is.

The current conversation doesn't kill Grim’s curiosity, because he asks the same question he never got answered. “Hey! You’re that weird semi-invisible cat guy from before! So you never told us- what dorm are you from?”

“Chenya isn’t even a Night Raven student.”

“I knew it!” You exclaim, and then everyone stares at you surprised by your sudden, excited outburst. They laugh slightly at your exclamation, as you flush slightly. “S-Sorry, carry on Trey.”

“He’s a student at our long-time rival school, The Royal Sword Academy.” Oh, there’s another magical school nearby? Must be if Chenya can come here and go back so quickly.

“Whaaat? You go to a different school?”

“The frickin’ Royal Sword Academy, no less?!”

“Uh, guys, why exactly is Royal Sword Academy so important?” You ask, still left out of whatever loop they’re running on.

“Did that guy just say the ‘Royal Sword Academy’?!”

“He’s one of those pompous jerk-faces?!” Hey, isn’t that guy the jerk that tried to pound your face in because of an egg? Hypocrite much?

“What?! Who’s from Royal Sword? We gotta run ‘em outta here!” You can practically feel the bloodlust emanating out of them, as the other residents try to surround him. What the hell are they-

“Well now that I’ve tasted some tart, perhaps I should see myself out.” Chenya literally vanishes, as the single minded Heartslabyul residents try to run him out after he’s already disappeared.

“Whoa, everyone turned bloodthirsty real quick.” Yeah, bloodthirst is right. They went from enjoying the party to ready to commit murder. What the hell did they have against RSA?

“Sure. Let’s not consider the possibly lethal ramifications of this.” You murmur, going thankfully unheard.

Your unspoken question is answered by Riddle. “The vast majority of Night Raven College students perceive the Royal Sword Academy as the enemy.”

“No surprise, given that they’ve kicked our butts every year for a hundred years straight…”

Oh, it’s just a school rivalry. Thank the seven. If it was something like the school having a history of stealing the darlings of the NRC students, then that was awful. “Cool. Something normal like school competition, finally.”

“Hey, stop harshin’ the vibe! This is supposed to be a day of celebration. Can’t we all just enjoy our unbirthdays?”

“Myah! Merry unbirthday or whatever! I’m gonna eat till my stomach explodes!” Grim cheers before diving into one the dessert trays.

And you do. But after a while gorging yourself on not over-salted sweets, you actually make your way to Riddle. Perhaps it's time you have your first real conversation with the no longer Crimson Tyrant. “Riddle?” Riddle almost drops his tea cup at the sound of your voice. You hadn't gotten the chance to speak with him after he'd gone to the nurse. But you weren’t expecting his surprise.

“Y-Yes, _____?”

“I’m glad you’re doing better.” You are and you aren't. Maybe it's the lingering feeling of dread that hasn't displaced itself from your mind. “Trey says you're trying to do better…”

“Yes, I have. I've been making individual apologies to everyone, and I believe that I owe you one too.”

“Well, yeah.” You shrug, you weren’t not expecting this, but you’re not surprised. “Might as well say it now.”

Riddle takes a deep breath with all the original poise he had back before his overblot. “I should not have said what I did about you and for that I am truly sorry.”

Well, if he’s truly sorry, then maybe….“And you mean it?”

“O-Of course, I should not have-”

“Then, you need to let me do something.” The itch in your palm is back. You're not as mad as you could have been then, but you still want to seek retribution.

Riddle gives you a look of confusion, “W..What is it?”

“This. Stay still.” He gives you a confused look, as you draw your fist back. His eyes widen slightly in recognition but he doesn’t make any moves to avoid it, holding still. You hit him hard enough to make him stumble a few feet back. A now inflamed bruise is painted onto his skin. “Alright, you’re partially forgiven.”

Riddle rubs the reddening bruise on his cheek, looking more surprised at your response rather than the punch. “Partially?”

“You kind of outed me to Ace and Deuce and your entire dorm, and while the former haven’t said anything that doesn’t mean they don’t believe it because they were already suspicious of me. So, partially.”

“I see.” Riddle looks disappointed, did he want you to forgive him that badly? “Then how would I earn your total forgiveness?”

You sigh, even with the day being genuinely enjoyable, your first few weeks here had been hectic. So very hectic. You just wanted to be left alone. “I just don’t want to be bothered anymore. I don’t want to be dragged into a mess because they have some stupid problem involving me.” You finish, before hastily tacking on a “No offense.”

“None taken. I deserved that. If you desire to not be bothered, I will ensure that you aren’t.” You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thanks…. I appreciate it.”

“It is no problem. And know that you are always welcome at Heartslabyul.”

“I'll…” Considering all the Heartslabyul drama you were involved in for no goddamn reason other than the fact you were existing, you needed a bit of alone time before you dropped by for sleepovers. “...Keep that in mind. But we’ve all had a hard couple of days, so let’s just enjoy the party today.”

And so you party with worry looming in the back of your mind. Sure, you’re glad that this stressful whirlwind is over, but something doesn’t feel right.

Maybe it’s your unfinished dreams? Or the reason for your sudden exhaustion? Something feels wrong, but you can’t figure out what it is.

You just hope this is the end of this.

Do stories end at the ‘the end’? Because the ending isn’t really the ending. It’s just where the narration concludes. The people in the tale continue living, facing victories and tragedies.

And this story isn’t a tale that ends with a victory for the protagonist. No, it ends with a tragedy, the bloody kind.

Shall we watch the blood on the ax dry?

#yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yandereverse au

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ryker-writes · 6 months ago

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Firefly

A post for @cloudcountry 's event to get Idia out of his room! Yes this may or may not have been inspired by a small quote in Auburn's profile

"This is it. I'm gonna die. You're trying to kill me."

"Idia, you're fine. There's barely anyone out here."

It's was quite a sight to see the tall man hunched behind you as he tried to hide out of sight from other people. Any time another student was in sight, even if they were far away, he would move ever so slightly closer to you. His hand held onto your own as you led him along the pathway to Ramshackle Dorm.

It certainly wasn't often that Idia got out of his room for...well, anything really. So you were actually doing him a favor. On the way out of Ignihyde, Ortho had even given you an approving smile.

But you knew Idia better than most, and you truly cared about him! So while you wanted to show him something, you also wanted to make sure he was comfortable. That's why you tried to take him out when there wouldn't be as many people, and you two took the paths others didn't go on as often to avoid anyone that was out.

"We're not far now. I promise there won't be anyone there either. Just us."

He didn't really respond, but you could sense the appreciation. You could just see him relax slightly. His hold on your hand had loosened, but he didn't let go.

The small lanterns around the outside of Ramshackle were the only thing lighting your path. Under the night sky, the building could look ominous, but not to you. To you, it was peaceful. Almost like a home. But you weren't taking him inside. Instead, you were taking him to the small forest behind the old building.

You already had everything set up. A small blanket laid upon the grass in a small clearing between the trees. Near one corner of the blanket there were some snacks and two small jars.

But what caught both of your attention the most, was the sight you had brought him here to see. Throughout the small clearing and behind the trees were dozens upon dozens of small flickering lights. Possibly hundreds of small fireflies flew through the air around the two of you. Their lights twinkled and decorated the dark night like stars in the sky.

You led Idia with you over to the blanket in the clearing before handing him one of the jars. He stared down at it for a small moment before clearing his throat.

"You...brought me out here to catch bugs?"

"Not just any bugs. Fireflies. They're pretty and if we catch them then they can be like a small memento. Or a gift for Ortho in proof of what you did."

He paused in thought for several moments before letting out a sigh and took the jar, carefully unscrewing the lid.

"Fine..."

"Think of it like a quest. A quest to capture say...three fireflies."

He seemed content enough with that, and stepped away to try and scope out the fireflies. You watched him as he followed several and stumbled about trying to catch them. While it seemed easy enough in the beginning, the fireflies were quick and kept managing to escape his capture. He'd mutter curses under his breath each time one escaped before quickly moving onto the next one.

The true plan of yours unfolded once he had managed to get two fireflies in his jar. He'd taken a quick moment to look down at the small bugs he'd captured with a small smile, and that's when you saw your perfect moment.

His victorious smile was quickly wiped off his face and replaced with a startled expression the second he saw the flash of light. His head snapped towards your direction only to see you smiling and pulling the camera away from your face as it printed out the photo. Your hand grabbed the newly printed photo and started to shake it lightly, laughing as he looked like a deer in headlights.

"This was a trap?!"

You shook your head, "It wasn't a trap. Look! You caught some fireflies!"

His hands tightened around his jar of fireflies that he had worked so hard to catch. Those golden eyes shifted from you down to your empty jar.

"You haven't been trying to catch any..."

"Of course I have. I just have a different method than you."

Looking at the photo, you were quite proud of yourself. It perfectly captured the moment of Idia's victorious smile as he looked down at the bugs in the jar. All around him, several firefly lights could be seen shining, some even flying near his fiery hair in interest. It was perfect.

You smiled over at him once more as you carefully put the photo in the jar, and shut the lid.

"Look! I caught my firefly!"

#sweet shroud summer 2024 #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #twisted wonderland idia #twst idia #idia x reader #the urge to put that song quote in this was STRONG #i hope this is good #ortho was very happy when the two came back

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yurozo · 3 months ago

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resident evil (university au headcanons)

a/n: this is purely based on the beginning of my last year :( feeling bittersweet

chris redfield: a third year sports medicine/kinesiology student. if you're looking for someone who almost always has a water bottle full of creatine in his bag, chris is your guy. he's never the type to dress up, especially because he insists on 8am lectures to 'increase his productivity', so he's usually in sweatpants and under armour compression shirts. he joined the rock climbing club at claire's insistence of getting involved around school, but is unfortunately still getting the hang of it. it's hard to lift all that bodyweight, so the majority of the time he just hangs there. has very little social life. he'll go to a party, drink a single beer, then leave. turns women down because it would mess with his schedule. he's paying a lot of money to be there, and save for a bit of attitude towards his professors, he takes his studies seriously. diet-wise, this man preps like a mfer. protein peanut butter shake at 7.30 am no exceptions, within a 20min time limit of his workout. the dorm fridge has an ungodly amount of boiled eggs. toxic trait: does that white man hand raise when he has a question, and usually only thinks about what he's going to say after his hand goes up. jill valentine:

sociology major, criminology minor. has her schedule perfectly planned out so nothing is before 10am. she can and will ignore chris' pleas to meet her on campus beforehand, usually preferring to go for a coffee before a lecture. is never seen without some source of caffeine in her hand. jill isn't a huge fan of sociological theories, instead choosing to focus on the statistics aspect of it.

her dorm room is an absolute nightmare. there is not a single space on her floor that is not covered in clothes, but has no shame in bringing people over despite this. she'll just kind of awkwardly shuffle them away with her foot to make a pathway.

isn't part of any clubs, mostly because she can't be fucked for that kind of socialization. people always hit on her during class anyways, so it's not like she's hurting for company. she usually hangs out with chris or claire on campus, goading chris into doing something with her or letting claire drag her along into studying. toxic trait: has a windowsill full of empty monster energy drinks. leon kennedy:

a math major, criminology minor. has absolutely handed in multiple sheets of homework with tear stains in the corners. for how nonchalant he seems to be on the outside, he really does take his studies seriously, and always shoots for a perfect gpa. he's primarily seen haunting the third floor library, always looking like he's in a perpetual state of agony.

despite all the silent attention he gets from people during lectures, he does not entertain it whatsoever. the man is there to learn. he has one class with jill where they sit in complete silence together save for a couple of witty jokes at the professor (or other students) expense. the professor both loves and hates him. he's a frequent visitor of office hours, but his assignment is always printed and crushed in his fist. he's had a few short-term girlfriends in university, but nothing long-term. he firmly believes that he has rizz, but he does not. most people just let it slide because he has that attractive weird aura around him. toxic trait: unironically shushes people during a lecture. claire redfield: engineering major, communication minor. another person who takes her studies fairly seriously. the fortunate thing about claire is that she doesn't particularly have to try, the good grades just descend on her from the heavens. it makes chris furious. however like jill, she is not a fan of mornings and is usually seen frowning angrily at the board.

has a friend with a house off campus to store her bike so she can fix it up on her days off, using her engineering notes of course. she's part of a few clubs, but isn't fond of being part of leadership or anything. claire goes purely for the vibes.

goes on a couple strings of dates with guys, but always refuses to go out with people from her classes. she's seen it crash and burn so many times that she's not doing herself. will, however, recommend other people to her brother. toxic trait: pulls up to campus at 9am with the loudest motorcycle engine known to man, and always slams her helmet down on her desk when she sits down.

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littlespacereader · 8 months ago

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I haven’t regressed for a while because you know, life sometimes gets in the way. But I finally got a moment after class to have the rest of the evening off and just regress. At first I was worried I wouldn’t be able to regress after a stressful day at college. Then I literally was two second into a Blue’s Clues episode with Steve and suddenly I’m a baby😂 Steve just had the magic touch🥹💞

I felt inspired to write a cute fic with him and a little reader. I’m actually thinking of making a mini series of fics with a little reader in a kids show. What do you think? Would you guys like something like that? Let me know😄

So please enjoy another “side quest fic” I didn’t plan on writing😂💞

Looking for Blue’s Clues🐾

Caregiver!Steve Burns & GN Little!Reader

Tags - scavenger hunt, Steve is the most gentle and patient CG ever, hand holding, hugs

I held my head up high as I walked through the woods, stuffie in hand, backpack on my shoulders, wandering around on my own little adventure. I needed this, just some time away from the busy and hectic working world. I just needed some time outdoors to regress in peace.

And that’s what I did. All my supplies shoved into my backpack, my favorite stuffie in hand, I am ready to go! I started on a trail, following the winding trail through the thick woods. I’ve been on this trail before, it’s calm, quiet and peaceful. Perfect for a regression day.

As I kept walking I noticed something with my usual trail. The trail split into two pathways. One, the usual path, went right and down towards a river. But now there’s a left path, a path that’s never existed before. Maybe the parks department decided to make a new path for everyone?

There was something deep down inside of me that filled with excitement for the new adventure. I looked to my stuffie in hand, “What do you think (stuffie name)?”

Though they didn’t outright say it, I knew my stuffie wanted me to go forward towards the adventure.

“You’re so right! New trail it is!”

The path wasn’t very different than the other trail, though it did go deeper into the woods. But there was a clearing up ahead, I could see there was a colorful neighborhood with a yellow house.

A blue dog ran infront of me, stopping me in my tracks. She began talking to me before she skipped away. I smiled to myself, a blue dog?! That’s a first!

Suddenly out of the corner of my eyes I spotted something. On one of the tall trees next to me is a blue paw print. I walked over and looked at the print and smiled. Why would there be a blue paw print here? Did that dog leave it behind?

“A clue!”

I quickly turned around to be greeted by a man in a stripped green shirt. He smiled, happy to see me as if he knew me his whole life.

“You found a clue!”

“A clue?” I pointed to the blue print.

“A blue’s clue! Great job! You’re very smart.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the praise. “Thank you, but I wasn’t even trying.”

“You weren’t trying to find blue’s clue and you found it anyway? You’re better at this than me! Wow!” Again, the stranger glowed with praise.

“I’m Steve, it’s so nice to meet you.” He put his hand out to shake.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you too.” I gladly shook his hand.

“Now that we have our first clue, we gotta put it in our handy dandy notebook!” Steve pulled out his notebook from his back pocket, popping the crayon out from the top and flipping to the first page.

He stood along side me so I could see what he was drawing. “So our first clue is a tree. We’ll start with two big lines for the trunk of the tree, then we’ll draw smaller lines on the top for the branches, then we’ll make this curly lines for the leafs at the top of the tree. There, a tree.” He looked up from his drawing to smile back at me.

“Our first clue is a tree. So what could Blue want to do tonight after dinner with…a tree?” He asked me.

I began thinking of all the possibilities a tree could mean. What does his dog want to do tonight? “Maybe she wants to play fetch with one of the branches of the tree?”

Steve hummed in agreement, “Good idea, maybe she does watch to play fetch. But we have to find the other clues to be sure.”

I nod my head in agreement but I can’t help but ask. “How many clues are there?”

“There are three clues. Once we find all three clues we sit in our thinking chair and think, think, think. Because when we use our minds, we take a step out of time and we can do anything that we want to do.” His smile is utterly contagious because I smile just as big as him.

“I’m really going to need your help to find the other two clues. Will you help me find them?”

“Yeah!” I practically jump saying.

“Really? Thank you! You’re the best! Now, this second clue must be around here somewhere…Lets go this way.” He hold his hand out to me as a silent offer.

I appreciate him not being pushy or just grabbing my hand. It was an invitation if I wanted it, so I took his hand in mine. Together we walked to the yellow house I saw earlier.

Steve opened the door and lead the way into his house. It’s beautiful with its peach tone wallpaper and big red chair in the living room.

“That’s the thinking chair,” Steve pointed out, “Once we’ve got all three clues we’ll sit there and think.”

Then it was off to the kitchen to further find a clue. Inside on the counter top is a family different spices.

“Y/N,” he squeezed my hand, “I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper and their children Cinnamon and Paprika.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes as the Salt and Pepper shaker waved and talked to me.

“Bonjour Y/N! Welcome to our home!” Mr. Salt waved.

“So wonderful to have you here.” Mrs. Pepper added.

“So nice to meet you both.” I smiled back.

But then my eyes caught it, across the kitchen on another counter top sat a bag of marshmallows. And on the bag? A big blue paw print!

“Steve! A clue! A clue!!” I squeezed his hand back and was jumping out and down.

“The flu? You don’t look sick to me. Here let me check.” He held his hand to my forehead. “No, you don’t have a temperature.”

I couldn’t help but giggle to Steve. “No! A clue! Over there!” I pointed to the paw print.

Steve gasped and quickly the two of us ran over to the bag of marshmallows. “So our second clue is…marshmallows. You know what we gotta do. We gotta put this clue in our handy dandy…”

“Notebook!”

“That’s right! Our notebook! Now, a marshmallow. We’ll make two round lines on the side and an oval on the top. At the bottom we’ll make half a circle to connect the sides. There! A marshmallow! But what could Blue want to do tonight after dinner with…a tree and a marshmallow?”

The two of us stopped and started to think about the clues. There were pretty different from one another. It would be hard to tell what they meant together.

“Maybe she wants to play fetch then eat some marshmallows?” I suggested.

Steve gasped and nodded his head, “Maybe! But I think we should find our last clue before we decide.” I nodded in agreement.

Mail time, mail time mmmmaaaaaiiilllll ttttiiimmmmeeee

“Oh! The mail is here!” Steve grabbed my hand and together we ran into the living room. Blue and him started dancing around happy for the mails arrival. After a minute I started to join in the fun.

“Here’s the mail, it never fails. It makes me want to wag my tail. When it comes I want to wail, MMMMMAAAAAIIIIILLLLL!!!”

Steve plopped down into his thinking chair and held his hand out for me to sit as well. “You’re more than welcome to sit on my lap or on the arm of the chair. Whichever is more comfortable for you Y/N.”

After a moment of consideration, I chose to sit on the arm of the chair next to Steve. The mailbox stretched into the room and over to our chair. “Mails here! Mails here!”

“Mailbox! I’d like you to meet my friend Y/N. Y/N, this is Mailbox.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” I smiled to the purple mailbox.

“It’s nice to meet you too! Infact this letter is for you.”

“It’s for me?”

“Yup! Here you go!” Mailbox opens his lid and Steve grabbed the letter for me.

“We just got a letter, we just got a letter, we just got a letter, wonder who it’s from.” He went to open the letter but paused and looked to me. “Y/N this is your mail. Would you rather open it or would you like me to?”

“Could you open and read it?” I asked a bit shy. But Steve brought me back to feeling comfortable with his warm smile and nod.

“Of course I can. Now let’s see, oh! It appears that this letter is from a (stuffie name here).”

I gasped and looked down at my stuffie. “It’s from (stuffie name here)?!”

“Uh-huh. That what it says. The letter goes,

Dear Y/N,

Thank you for always taking such great care of me. Thank you for always coming to me whenever you need extra love and comfort. Always know I will forever be with you even when you have to go to school or work. There’s always a piece of me inside of you just as there a piece of you inside of me.

Love you always,

(Stuffie name).”

Tears started to fall down from my eyes as I looked at my stuffie in hand. They looked back up at me with a smile and a wink.

“What a beautiful letter! Your stuffie is very grateful for you Y/N, just as I’m sure you are for them. Oh, I don’t think we were introduced. It’s nice to meet you (stuffie name).” Steve leaned over and shook the stuffie’s (hand, paw, fin, ect.)

“They said it’s nice to meet you too.” I add back to Steve, wiping the happy tears from my eyes.

“Are you okay?”

I hum in agreement. “My stuffie was just so nice.”

“They seem great! You’re perfectly matched because you’re great and they’re great too.” Steve smiled. “Now, would you like to take a moment here or would you like to go find the last clue?”

“The last clue!!”

“Alright!” He stood up and offered his hand again. I jumped off the chair and took his hand in mine again. “Off we go looking for clues…but ummm…where do you think we should go?”

I looked outside and saw the sunsetting. It might be nice to get some fresh air again. “Maybe outside?” I offered.

“Great idea! Follow me.” Steve led the way as we ventured back outside.

Outside we started to walk around the town. Steve showed me the eye doctor where Blue’s friend Magenta got her new glasses, then there was the present shop where his brother Joe works and another house down the block where his cousin Josh lives. The town seemed so nice and peaceful.

Since we didn’t see anymore of Blue’s clues we ventured back to Steve’s house and into the back yard. There it seemed all of his friends were handing out around a picnic blanket, tree and a fire pit. WAIT A MINUTE! THE FIRE PIT!

“Steve!! A clue!! Another clue!!” I pointed out again.

“Really?! Where?”

“There by the fire pit! The final clue!”

Steve gasped and looked at the fire pit. There, at the base of it was the clue.

“A clue!! Our final clue! And it’s on the fire pit. You know where we need to put this, in our handy dandy…”

“NOTEBOOK!”

Steve grabbed his notebook from his back pocket and began drawing. “So our last clue is…a fire pit. We’ll start by making a cylinder for the fire pit. Then spark points for the fire inside of it. There, a fire pit!”

He closed the notebook then looked at me just as excited. “We have all three clues! We have to sit in our-.”

“Think chair!!”

“Yes! Come on!”

The two of us raced back inside the house and over to the thinking chair. Steve sat in his usual spot and I opted for the arm of the chair again. Blue ran over and joined us, to see if we got it right.

“So now that we’re in our thinking chair, let’s think. So what could Blue want to do tonight after dinner? What’s our first clue?”

“A tree.”

“That’s right! A branch! Good job remembering. So our first clue is a branch. But what was our second?”

“Marshmallows!”

“You’re right it’s marshmallows! You have an amazing memory.” He smiled.

“Finally our last clue is a fire pit. So what could Blue want to do tonight after dinner, with a tree, marshmallows and a fire pit?”

The two of sat in the chair together and think, think, think. They did seem random at first but they meant to go together. Then suddenly it hit me!

“Steve! I’ve got it! I’ve got it!!”

“What is it Y/N?”

“Blue wants to use the wood from the tree to make a fire so that she can roast marshmallows!”

Steve’s face lights up to the idea. He looks to Blue who start jumping around the room happily. “You did it Y/N! You figure out Blue’s Clues!”

Steve jumps up and put his arms open to me. I immediately run into them, getting a big hug from him. “You are so smart! I am so proud of you!”

Tears build up in my eyes hearing the admission. He’s treated me so sweet for hardly knowing me. I haven’t felt this safe and happy in such a long time.

“Come on, let’s go outside and get ourselves a marshmallow.” Steve says as we break apart.

The two of us join the rest of the neighborhood outside to roast some marshmallows. There I meet Joe and Josh as well as the rest of the family including Magenta, Sidetable, and more.

I sat next to Steve as the evening turned to night. We looked up at the stars above as we ate our marshmallows.

“You know, you could stay if you wanted?” Steve said after a moment. I looked at him shocked at first. “It’s just that, you did such a good job finding all the clues. And Blue and I loved having you here. Plus, I could look after you and show you the rest of the town and-.”

He stopped himself. “Sorry, what I’m trying to say is. If you like to stay you’re more than welcome to. I’d love to have you here. And before you say anything, I don’t mind your regression. I’d love to help take care of you and maybe even possible be your Caregiver. So what do you think?”

I immediately began to tear up again. “I’d love to stay and I’d love to have you as my Caregiver.”

Steve’s nervousness turned immediately to happiness as he put his arms out again. I didn’t waste any time as I joined him in a hug.

“I’m so happy to hear that Y/N. I think you’re going to be the best person for this town. I couldn’t be more happy to have you here Y/N.” Steve added as we broke apart.

“I couldn’t be more happy to be here.” I smiled back.

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pandagyaru · 9 months ago

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A lost Tau leads to Romance

Description: Tau runs away from Hassian to visit you!

Warnings: None! This is a sfw fanfic!!

Pairing: Hassian x Gender Neutral reader!

Author's note: I love Hassian so much dude, only reason I play Palia for real <3 /hj. I've only been playing it for awhile so I'm using Palia wiki for info and what I've come across in game! I also see no fanfiction for this game and I'm gonna change that 1 fanfic at a time!!

The night was still, the only sound the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind. You had just settled in for the evening when you heard it—a soft scratching at the front door. At first, you dismissed it as the branches of the nearby tree brushing against the wood. But then, it came again, more insistent this time. Curiosity got the better of you, you hesitated, hand hovering over the handle. With a deep breath, you flung the door open, expecting to see something horrific. But it was just

"Tau? what are you doing here boy?" You ask. He turns his head to you, tongue hanging out. "where's Hassian?" You look around the dark abyss that was the woods around your house, the only light being your garden lantern you set out when you first moved in and a few stray lightning bugs. No hassian in sight.

"Come on in" You open the door for Tau, he trots on in; tail wagging behind him. "He's probably worried about you Tau" Said plumehound raises an ear up at his name, turning around and barking at you.

"You're no help" You deadpan. "Guess you're staying the night, you're lucky you're cute" You joke. Tau jumps on your bed, yawning and walking around in a circle till he lays down. "Glad you're comfortable Tau" You walk over to the bed, turning your ceiling light off as you walk past. You plop down on the mattress, jostling Tau as you move under the covers. You close your eyes and drift off, your thoughts filled with that pretty hunter named Hassian. (Completely cause you're worried about Tau and not at all cause of other things).

You wake up to hot air being blown on your face, really stinky hot air if you were to be honest. You peek your eyes open to see Tau's snout in your face, his tongue hanging out as he breathes on you. You push his face away gently. "I'm up! I'm up!" He makes a noise as if he's laughing at you. You glare at him. "I got some left over sernuk meat, if you want breakfast" You tell him, he yips in excitement; jumping off of you and sitting patiently near your kitchen counter. "I'll take that as a 'yes please (name)'" You get up, shivering at the cold of your floors; you dig around under your bed for your house slippers. You silently cheer as you find them, dragging them out and slipping your feet into them. Tau huffs at you in impatience as he watches you "slowly" move around your kitchen, he clearly wants the sernuk meat he was promised.

Hassian trudged up the pathway that leads to the gate of your mountain home, following plumehound prints (ones that clearly belong to Tau, cause who else has a plumehound besides him). He slowly closes the gate as he walks up to your front door, listening around for Tau's barks as he knocks. You look up from your stove as hard knocks sound through your house, you walk over to the door; Tau padding behind you as his hair raises up in warning. You open the door to see Hassian!

"Oh Hassian! Perfect timing, I think this is yours" You joke as you move out the way of Tau. He barks at Hassian as he runs up to him. Hassian sighs out in relief.

"Thank you for taking care of him (name)" He says, scratching Tau's ears.

"It's really no problem. I'll take of him anyday. Speaking of taking care of him, I was just about to give him some sernuk meat. Wanna come in and eat with us?" You ask him, hoping he'll say yes. He looks you over as he thinks, his eyes going from you to the happy plumehound next to you.

"Sure, why not" He says, walking into your house as you move aside to let him in. He sets his quiver on the floor near your coat rack, walking over to your kitchen table. You close the door and walk over to the stove, grabbing the packaged sernuk meat and taking one of the raw steaks; holding it out for Tau. He walks over and snatches it from your hand, scarfing it down. Hassian holds in an amused chuckle. You look over at him as you put the other steaks away, grabbing ingredients to make a nice Veggie fried rice.

"He scared the crap out of me last night, I was reading letters that i got from everyone and he was scratching at my door like some crazed chapaa" You tell him, getting a bowl to wash your rice in. He looks down at Tau and then back at you, a small smile on his face at the look on Tau's face at being called a crazed chapaa. You turn the faucet off and put the bowl of fresh washed rice up, grabbing your cutting board and some veggies.

"So how much do I owe you?" Hassian asks, reaching into his pockets to grab out a small pouch of gold coins.

"You don't owe me anything, You company is payment enough Hassian." You tell him, putting the vegetables in a pot of broth. He looks at you questionably, putting the pouch away slowly. Your face warms the longer he stares at you, you cough awkwardly as you pour the rice into the broth/veggie mixture. He looks away from you, his face a dark purple. Tau looks at the both of you with his head tilted to the side, questioning you two.

"well then!" You clap your hands, putting 2 bowls on the table and sitting down. "Here you go Hassian!"

"thank you" He mutters, grabbing a spoon and dipping it into the fried rice. Tau whines at him and headbutts his leg. Hassian looks at him and then back at you. "Hey uh (name) would you like to go with me on my next hunt?" He asks, not making eye contact. You look at him, your face flushing.

"I'd love to Hassian" You whisper to him. He looks up at you wide eyes for a second before he "fixes" his face and stature.

"Cool. Cool Cool Cool" He says, face palming in his head. You smile.

"Cool. Cool Cool Cool" You repeat, giggling.

HOPE YOU LIKE IT CAUSE IT TOOK ME A FEW HOURS <3

My creative juices did not flow for this one

LOVE YA

#x male reader #male reader #x reader #palia game #palia hassian #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral insert #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #male insert #x female reader #female insert #palia fanfic #Spotify

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no-hhamani · 8 months ago

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Title: Home

Ship: Knock Out x Autobot! Reader x Breakdown (POLY!)

(Cant believe there's a lack of Breakdown GIFs)

You are a scout, while scouting an area with your bestfriend Bumblebee in a complex system of the underground mines, you both are forcefully separated when the structure collapsed. As you walk around the only remaining pathway trying to find a way back to your bff, you came along two mechs you haven't expected to meet

Note: Pronoun of Reader is not specified and there will be OOC!

You groaned when you came up with a dead end. Again.

You and Bumblebee were assigned to scout an abandoned human mine, now filled with pestering drones and whatnot. You were entailed that the mine is about 100 years old, give or take

From the supporting beams itself, you know it's old as fuck. Not older than you but with how short a human life span could be, it is definitely way pass their average life span.

You let out a steam of pressurized air again and went back to where you came, crossing a 'X' on the path in a poorly digitally drawn map by your wrist. You really are somewhat thankful for the tracking chip that was drilled into you, who knew it could be this handy personally?

You again looked at the map, wobbly lines of your walking pattern printed itself in a red line by the screen, only a single pulsing dot indicates of yourself. With your signals and comms disrupted by the fallen debrees earlier, it would have been easy tracking your partner and other forms of sentient beings that could possibly surround you right at this moment or you could have just commed the team and sens a SOS signal but bad luck seems to follow you in dark damp places. Ugh

You turned off the screen and continued trecking on dark paths, it took for a silent while before you started humming and murmuring the song with the tongue of Old Cybertron. It's a song with the oldest language you have learned.

Your scouting program in your processor warned you of such action, which is logical but you're tired. The war is going on for too long and you just want to go back to the times of festivals and bantering with old friends.

Humming such a lively tune warmed up the constricting pressure in any mech or femm's spark. The tune where it reminds of home

You hummed and hummed. Slowly trecking the long tunnel before you stopped and heard familiar voices far ahead and chuckled.

You moved fast but silent, drawing in closer by the dim light and quickly jumping by the corner when you knew they were present

"GLITCHES!" You whooped, immediately dodging a large fist with a loud laugh

"[NAME]! WHAT IN THE DESIGNATION OF PRIMUS WAS THAT FOR?!" Knock Out huffed, holding back the larger mech by the arm to avoid him toppling over you

"Hey, I heard you guys and thought why not?" You chuckled, which earned you a falling mech on you and you squawked

"I should've let him hit you" Knock Out groaned, crossing his arms as he watches the other two grounders piled on the ground

"Miss you too guys" You huffed and hugged the mech on top of you who snorted and did a noogie on your head, that definitely would have scratched your paint off "Nah we miss you more" Breakdown sighed and contently laid down on top of you

"Up Big Boy, you dont want to pressurize [Name] into a flat sheet of metal" Knock Out smirked and watched Breakdown slowly stand up, both then holding a hand out for you as you stood up with their help

"I'd still look pretty as a flat sheet" you chuckled and rotated your door wings to get the debrees out in between cracks which earned you two different actions from them

The three of you then hugged eachother, nuzzling eachother's armor as each bonded sparks hummed a happy and content melody. A melody like home

"Scratch my paint or else."

You and Breakdown froze and took a big gulp

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You, Breakdown and KnockOut have been conjunxes before the war, but have been separated during the Decepticon uprising.

You had joined the Autobots when the bombing and raid had started, thinking your conjunxes had also joined in but you haven't seen any of them

Only when the war had started to worsen when you caught a glimpse of them with a Decepticon symbol as they boarded a ship

Due to being in different factions, you had tried to secretly meet them in order to avoid suspiciouns from each side. Soon you and your conjunxes saw eachother with relief, they thought you were somewhere safe and hadn't joined any factions. They both had joined in the faction willingly, also thinking they could have found you earlier and kept you safe if they ever found you

From there on, you had kept secret of having conjunxes and them for having a third one. It avoided the affair of cross-faction relationships that could be used against any of you. So, you guys had secretly met up once in awhile

It hurted your spark to be so far away from them, and so were they. But, it kept you all safe.

During the war, with your small frame and a grounder alt mode. You had taken up a scouting role, soon meeting Bumblebee, a young spark, in one of your missions and you both became friends. Soon becoming partners in every mission you went out to

Bumblee actually followed you one time when you sneaked out and found out you're in a relationship with decepticons and he hadn't told anyone. Even you

When the war is finally over, everyone who you were close to were shocked when you kissed each of your conjunx infront of them, while Bumblee is just in the sidelines clapping, happy that his best friend is finally free to love

#non canon compliant #transformers prime #tfp #knock out #breakdown #tfp knock out #tfp breakdown #knockout x reader #breakdown x reader #tfp knockout x reader #tfp breakdown x reader #tfp knockout x reader x breakdown #polyamourous

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felassan · 5 months ago

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Cliff notes on the new info on Dragon Age: The Veilguard from the print issue of Game Informer (DA:TV spoiler warning for link) that came out the other day (magazine hub link) that contained story spoilers - spoiler free version. This post is a version of this post (DA:TV spoiler warning for link), only with story-related information of note removed.

In CC you can customize things like shoulder width, chest size, glute size, hip width, how bloodshot your eyes are, nose crookedness, and more

There are hundreds of sliders for body proportions

CC detail: “Features like skin hue, tone, melanin”

There is nudity in DA:TV, “which I learned firsthand while customizing my Rook” in CC

Rook’s backstory also affects “reputation standing”, along with the other previously-known things like in-game dialogue etc

Lords of Fortune are pirate-themed, “piratic”

Rook ascends because of competency, not because of a magical McGuffin, contrasting with the ‘destiny-has-chosen you’ angle DA:I has for the Inquisitor

Rook is here because they chose to be, “and that speaks to the kind of character that we’ve built. Someone needs to stop this, and Rook says, ‘I guess that’s me'”

The 4 voices we can choose for Rook each have a pitch shifter in CC

The game starts inside the bar (as previously detailed in other coverage)

In some dialogue wheels there is a “romantically inclined ‘emotional’ response” option. These are the replies that will build relationships with characters, romantic and platonic alike, but you can ignore them if you want to. Giving a companion the cold shoulder might nudge them into another companion’s embrace however

Bellara’s surname is Lutara

In the streets of Minrathous (in the opening segment of the game), there is a wide, winding pathway with a pub which has a dozen NPCs in it (is this The Swan tavern?)

The devs used the DA:TV CC to make each in-world NPC, except for specific characters like companions

There is smart use of verticality, scaling and wayfinding in the gameplay

If you play as e.g. a qunari Rook, the camera adjusts to ensure larger characters like them loom over those below. The camera also adjusts appropriately for dwarves to demonstrate their smaller stature

Neve Gallus is described as being capable

Demons are fully redesigned in this game, on their original premise as creatures of feeling that live and die off the emotions around them. “As such, they are just a floating nervous system, pushed into this world from the Fade, rapidly assembled into bodies out of whatever scraps they find”

Our base in this game is the place where the team bonds, grows, and prepares for its adventures

Clock symbols over dialogue icons signal optional dialogue options

If you are playing, e.g., a qunari, and you encounter elfy stuff, you might be missing unique dialogue options and an elf Rook would have more to say at that point

“There’s a heavy emphasis on storytelling and dialogue, and it feels deep and meaty, like a good fantasy novel. BioWare doesn’t shy away from minutes-long cutscenes”

For Rook, this story is about what does it mean to be a leader? We define their leadership style with our choices. “From the sound of it, my team will react to my chosen leadership style in how my relationships play out.” This is demonstrated within the game’s dialogue and a special relationship meter on each character’s companion screen

In gameplay/combat, players complete every swing in real time. Special care was taken in development for animation swing-through and cancelling. We can dash, parry, charge moves, and a completely revamped healing system that allows us to use potions at our discretion by hitting right on the d-pad. You can combo attacks and even ‘bookmark’ combos with a quick dash, which means that you can pause a combo’s status with a dash to safety and continue the rest of the combo afterward

Abilities can be used to customize your kit. They can be used on the fly as long as you account for cooldowns

When you pause and pull up the ability Wheel, it highlights you and your companions’ skills. There you can choose abilities, queue them, target specific enemies, and strategize with synergies and combos

Each character plays the same in that you execute light and heavy attacks with the same buttons, use abilities with the same buttons, and interact with the combo wheel in the same way, regardless of which class you select

Sword and shield warriors can hip-fire or aim their shield and throw it like Captain America

Warriors can parry incoming attacks which can stagger enemies. Rogues have a larger parry window. The mage the writer played couldn’t parry at all. Instead they throw up a shield that blocks incoming attacks automatically, so long as you have the mana to maintain it

On the start/pause screen: it has the map, journal, character sheets, skill tree, and a library for lore information. You can use it to cross-compare equipment and equip new gear for Rook and their companions, build weapon loadouts for quick change-ups mid-combat, and customize you and your party’s abilities and builds via an easy-to-understand skill tree. There aren’t in-depth minutiae, just "real numbers”. For example, an unlocked trait might increase damage by 25 percent against armor, but that’s as in-depth as the numbers get. Passive abilities unlock jump attacks and guarantee critical hit opportunities, while abilities add moves like a Wall of Fire to your arsenal if you’re a mage. As you spec out this skill tree, which is 100 percent bespoke to each class, you’ll work closer to unlocking a spec, complete with a unique ultimate ability

Combat is flashy and quick, with different types of health bars. Greenish-blue represents a barrier, which is taken down most effectively with ranged attacks

The game is gorgeous, with sprinkles, droplets, and splashes of magic in each attack a mage unleashes

The game looks amazing on consoles both in fidelity and performance modes

Bellara is bubbly, witty, and charming. She is spunky and effervescent, a sweetheart and a nerd for ancient elven artifacts, which is why she’s dressed more like an academic than a combatant

While Neve uses ice magic and can slow time with a special ability, Bellara specializes in electricity, and she can also use magic to heal you. electricity magic is effective against a certain mob type. “However, without Bellara, we could also equip a rune that converts my ice magic, for a brief duration, into electricity to counter the [enemies]”

If you don’t direct your companions in combat, they are fully independent and will attack on their own

The style of the game is more high fantasy than anything in the series thus far and almost reminiscent of the whimsy of Fable. Matt Rhodes says that this is the result of the game’s newfound dose of magic: “The use of magic has been an evolution as the series has gone on. In the past, you could hint at cooler magical things in the corner because you couldn’t actually go there, but now we actually can, and it’s fun to showcase that.” however, areas of whimsy will starkly contrast to the game’s other areas. The devs promise some grim locations and even grimmer story moments because, without that contrast, everything falls flat. Corinne says it’s like a “thread of optimism” pulled through otherworldly chaos ravaging Thedas.

We can advance our bonds with our companions on their own personal quests and by including them in our party on main quests. Every Relationship Level you rank up, shown on their character sheet, nets you a skill point to spend on them. “The choices you make, what you say to companions, how you help them, and more all matter to their development as characters and party members”. Each companion has access to 5 abilities.

Each companion has issues, problems, and personal quests to complete.

You can create Arcane Bombs on enemies. It does high damage after being hit by a heavy attack

It sounds like mage characters can charge heavy attacks on their magical staffs. “then switch to magical daggers in a second loadout accessed with a quick tap of down on the d-pad to unleash some quick attacks”

Some enemies are “Frenzied”, meaning that they hit harder, move faster, and have more health

re: an arena-like boss fight "[it] attacks, hitting hard with unblockable, red-coded attacks and a massive shield that you need to take down first. It is weak to fire"

The design of the game is not open world. The devs describe it as a “hub-and-spoke” design where the needs of the story are served by the level design. it is not a connected open world. locations include Minrathous, tropical beaches, Arlathan Forest, “to grim and gothic areas and elsewhere”. Some of these areas are large and full of secrets and treasures. Others are smaller and more focused on linear storytelling.

Each location has a minimap, though linear levels won’t have the 'fog of war’ that disappears as you explore like in some of the game’s bigger locations

The game has the largest number of diverse biomes in DA history

The Thedas of DA:TV “lives in the uncertainty”. “the mystery of its narrative”, “the implications of its lore”

The writer is surprised by BioWare’s command over the notoriously difficult Frostbite engine, and by how much narrative thought the dev team poured into these characters, even for BioWare.

—

[source: the Game Informer pages from Issue 367 - the cover story from June 18th (link), two] <- DA:TV spoiler warning for links

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #long post #longpost #video games

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byhees · 2 years ago

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boyfriend moments.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 5000 genre fluff established relationship warnings not proof-read nicknames slight insecurity — more

a/n. blank

heeseung

when he teaches you how to play video games. heeseung absolutely loves gaming (but he’s said that he loves you more ^^), so he’d want to spread the joy of it! after all, you’d been so infatuated with these highly-detailed graphics and mechanisms, often finding yourself perched on the edge of the bed, watching the game progress from the ‘sidelines’. at the start, heeseung would stand behind the gaming chair, giving simplified instructions and guidance to you, an absolute gaming newbie. sometimes, you’d panic a little and smash random keys, leading to an inevitable fail to your advances — heeseung would giggle a little, seeing you huff in frustration and disbelief from how horribly you were playing. now, he had even generously shifted his set-up to the left, clearing a sufficient amount of space for you to have your very own yn-ified area! heeseung had added you to his friends list, and you two have occasional couple-gaming nights, filled with laughs and cheers.

when he takes pictures of you. heeseung just finds your beauty to be so enthralling and breathtaking, so he’d try to captivate each precious moment spent with you on camera, just for the memories ^^ you’re smiling at a cute surprise he had showed up to your doorstep with? he’s taken a photograph of your cheery grin and crescent-shaped eyes. you’ve dressed up extra prettily for a date? he’s telling you to strike a pose for the camera. you’ve decided to wear an embarrassing onesie out in public? he’s giggling behind the phone, snapping a picture of your ‘uniquely glamorous’ state, probably using it for his lock screen too. he just loves you so much, and wants to remember each second.

when he pokes your cheeks. heeseung had always found you to be extremely adorable, and he especially loved your cheeks; to him, they were super cute, and made you resemble a chipmunk, which he decided was a new nickname. he’d have a habit of poking your cheeks at least once a day, if not, he’d be pretty pouty and would state that he “wouldn’t be able to function normally”. in addition, he’d find the slight widen of your eyes and the rosy tint spreading across your face after the act, to be endearing ^^ you’d familiarised yourself with this habit so much, to the point where you’d expect for it to happen at any point; and when he had happened to forget, you’d personally wrap your fingers around his pointer finger, raising it and guiding it to your cheek with a soft sulk — “gosh,,, can’t believe you didn’t do it today :(“

when he buys matching clothes for you two. it was only after seeing sunghoon buy matching hats for him and his dog, gaeul, that the idea sparked within him. so he’d now head over to the nearest stores, browsing through the clothing racks until he’d spot a pair of similarly-printed shirts. he’d show them off to you with such a wide grin, that it’d be nearly impossible for you to refuse. he’d take a lot of selfies with you, and would reenact cute couple poses on the internet, with you! expect him to come home with a whole shopping bag filled with cheesy matching t-shirts and caps,, and expect to see a thorough haul of each item!!

when he ties your loose shoelaces for you. whenever your laces happen to come undone, he’d always be the first person to notice, stopping you abruptly mid-walk. at first, you’d gawk at him with knitted eyebrows, and would be on the verge of voicing a question, because it was quite peculiar to pause in the midst of the pathway. he’d bend down and outstretch his arms, fingers wrapping round the flimsy material, tying a quick, secured ribbon. the last thing he’d want was for you, his treasured girlfriend, to step on the lace, and come landing on the concrete ground!!

jongseong

when he opens and closes doors for you. it was very well-known, even amongst acquaintances, that jay was a gentleman — someone of polite and chivalrous conduct. he had always been so respectful to everyone; he’d treat others as they wish to be treated, and had a good etiquette! as his girlfriend, jay would take his courteous mannerisms to the next level, always ensuring that you were treated with absolute care. the first time he opened a door for you, he worried a little about potentially offending you by implying another meaning to the gesture, but you reassured him that you were flattered by the sheer kindness in his intent. now, he’d open and close doors for you, even adding an old-fashioned line while doing the slightly traditional act.

when he styles your wardrobe. jay was a proclaimed fashion professional, with his knowledge of colour pairing and styling being being very extensive. he’d just know the right pieces to compliment you, and would help you in picking out the outfits that’d make you radiate even more! sometimes, he’d use this to his advantage, slipping in a few of his personal shirts just to see you wear his clothes, the fabric draping your body loosely. and he’d even fiend in faux surprise, exclaiming, “is that my shirt??”. most of the time, you’d be quite flustered, unsure if you should change to a new shirt. when you’d ask, he’d always protest, telling you that you look better in it, and that you could keep the article of clothing for yourself — an excuse to see you wear his clothes more often,, ^^

when he offers you his jacket. this could apply to several situations — during chilly nights, or during a dinner date. when he spots you shivering beside him, limbs trembling in the midst of the cold, with your thin cardigan doing little to shield you from the breeze, he’d take off his own jacket and wrap it around your shoulders, taking you by surprise. you’d protest profusely, exclaiming about how he’d “freeze himself to an icicle” without it, but he’d just shake his head, a small smile creeping up his face and adorning his curved lips while zipping it up for you. when he spots you uncomfortably pulling down your skirt or dress during dinner, a bothered expression written over your face, he’d take his jacket off, draping it over your lap without any hesitance. you’d be extremely startled from the sweet gesture, fingers gently brushing against the cotton, eyes darted to jay, who was shifting back to his seat. unknowingly, the corners of your lips would raise, and you’d inquire in a sing-song voice, “ooooh what’s this?” jay would gaze off into the ceramic plate, feeling the tip of his ears reddening as he responds with a mumbled, “i figured you’d need it more.”

when he surprises you with flowers. he’d love to see the elated look on your face, and the little “thank you”s you’d say, peppering his face with a million pecks. one fond memory was when he showed up to your school/workplace with a bouquet of your favourite flowers hidden behind his back. he was standing outside the exit after hearing news that you’d be coming down soon, heart pounding against his ribs, hands clammy from all the times he’d accidentally mistaken someone else as you. when you’d waltz out, he’d feel his breath hitch from how pretty you were, simply just walking over to his direction, locks of your hair blowing in the wind. “hi babe! you’re here early,” you sounded, embracing him in a hug. jay would’ve reciprocated if it weren’t for the fact that he was busy contemplating an appropriately romantic way to bring up the flowers. “what’s up with your left hand hm?? are you hiding something, bub?” okay,, now or never ^^ gingerly revealing the surprise, it had caused a soft gasp to be elicited from you — it was so sweet of him,, especially after a horrible day at school/work. muttered swoons from passers-by could be heard, and it went well with the thumping of your heart — that’s your boyfriend <3

when he makes playlists fit for your music taste. jay had always been very attentive to your words, making it a point to catch every minute detail. you could be rambling on about something trivial, like how someone snatched the last waffle in front of your eyes, and he’d pay absolute attention to you. that was also the reason why he knew you so well — including your preferred music genres! jay was an avid music-lover as well, so he was able to recommend some good tunes to you, ones that reminded him of you ^^ he’d gotten slightly worried if you’d be unable to catch all the music titles, especially the longer and more complicated ones, so he decided to make playlists for you — easier to share to your account too! you could be preoccupied with something, and he’d whip out his phone, already typing in your name, or a nickname of yours, followed by a ‘part 4.8’ (the number changes with each playlist made!), as the playlist’s title. after he was done with song queues and orders (because he wanted the experience to be as amazing as possible,,), he’d show it off to you, playing it on the speakers with the brightest grin, and a small, silly shimmy! though he’d probably cover his face after it, feeling very very embarrassed,, and you’d smile so hard at the sight of him :))

jaeyun

when he offers you an earpiece during train rides. you two absolutely loved train rides, always found them to be enjoyable, especially in each other’s company — perhaps it was because you two met at a train station, after you courageously approached him for navigation assistance, and barely got any information back because he was equally as confused as you were,,, so you two just got on a random train and hoped for the best! now that you were in a relationship, you two found regular train rides, paired with some music, to be a ‘tradition’ of sorts. and truth be told, you were kind of forgetful, always leaving your bluetooth earphones uncharged, and your wired ones lying on your desk — but not to worry, because jake was there to save the day! he’d often offer you an earpiece, to which you’d gratefully accept. he’d play your favourite songs, which complimented the low chatters of the public, and the muted rattling of the train on its tracks ^^

when he pecks you on the lips. jake adores you, and everything about you, including your lips, which would curve up into the prettiest, and most precious smile he’d ever seen in his entire life — and that was a unique combination with his love for physical affection ^^ he loved leaving kisses on your velour-soft lips, but he loved your reactions even more. it was endearing seeing your eyes glint with newfound astonishment, your face lighting up from the mere gesture. he’d giggle at the sight, leaning in to peck your lips once more.

when he watches horror movies with you. jake and you shared many things in common, but one point that truly stuck out for being immensely similar was the fact that you two were renowned scaredy-cats. any slight contact would initiate a harsh flinch of surprise, and a sharp turn of the heel to detect potential ‘monsters’ lurking behind. though you two couldn’t stand a single jumpscare, you found horror movies to be inexplicably amusing, and quite intriguing — the plots were mostly good, and could have a mysterious twist with a large impact. that was why you two agreed to watch them together, because two scaredy-cats totally equate to a good idea! mid-way through the movie, your concentration wouldn’t even be on the television, but rather the ‘mini competition’ on who could tug, and pull the blanket up first. in the end, you two cowered beneath the thin material, limbs messily wrapped around one another in a questionable attempt of a hug.

when he sleeps in with you. it wouldn’t be done on purpose, but being sprawled out on your bed, whilst gently tracing jake’s features, and playing with his messy morning-hair seemed more appealing, especially when compared to folding the laundry. legs stretched out, blanket now residing on the cold wooden planks, you two shared a unified giggle — it wouldn’t hurt to lay in bed for a little longer ^^

when he plays with your hair. it had all started when jake found interest in hairstyling, scouring the internet for easy-to-understand tutorials on how to do certain styles, like braids! at first, he considered purchasing a mannequin head, and sticking a wig on it, but the thought of seeing such a sight in the middle of the night, especially while unsuspectingly refilling his glass with water, was mortifying, so he decided to not opt for that. seeing his bent-over posture, and his fingers, which were struggling to grasp onto those stray yarns, you frowned a little. hence, you offered for him to experiment round with your hair, allowing him to try out his newly learnt techniques ^^ it wasn’t something to grumble about though,, you actually found it to be relaxing. jake had been super elated about this, buying little clips with little cinnamon roll charms pasted on them, and even some butterfly ones as well! he’d ‘decorate’ and ‘spruce up’ the hairstyle in his own jake-way! :)

sunghoon

when he gives you shoulder massages. he’d see your tensed-up shoulders and the slight tremble of your pen, and know that something was troubling you. “want me to give you a shoulder massage, cupcake?” he’d ask all of a sudden, his honey-like voice resounding in the room, giving you internal serenity almost immediately. he wouldn’t be the best at it, so at times, he’d accidentally tickle your neck, causing numerous giggles to erupt from your lips ^^ but the feeling of being in his reassuring hands, and the little kisses he’d leave on the top of your head, did measures to calm you down <3

when he plays with your fingers. sunghoon would be cuddling you in bed, and would absentmindedly begin fiddling with your fingers, fingertips gently brushing against yours. he’d find it entertaining to trace the lines on your palm, and would occasionally intertwine fingers with yours ^^ a plus was when you wore rings, the dainty metal complimenting your skin tone perfectly. he’d love fidgeting with the small accessory, twisting and turning it around softly round your finger, with a sleepy excuse of “the pattern’s not facing the right way”, even though it was a plain stacking ring. he just loved finding open opportunities to play with your fingers :)

when he tucks you into bed. at times, you’d insist to continue watching your movie on the couch, despite being half-asleep and barely comprehending the subtitles. and when sunghoon walks back into the living room for his phone charger, he’d see you knocked out on the uncomfortably shaped couch, half of your body hanging off the chair. of course, he wouldn’t leave you ‘hanging’, quite literally! scooping you up in his arms, he’d attempt to tiptoe his way to your shared bedroom, careful not to make unnecessary noises. gently laying you on the sheets, he’d pick up the abandoned blanket, draping it over your curled-up body (because he didn’t want you to feel cold in the middle of your rest ^^) planting a kiss on your forehead, he’d whisper a short, “good night, love,” before switching off the lights, and closing the room door.

when he has karaoke nights with you. sunghoon loves to do karaoke, to belt out slightly incorrect lyrics to an instrumental, to try his best to achieve a high-score of (hopefully) 90 and above — he knew he was good, didn't want to discredit himself, y'know? once while passing by your room, he had happened to catch soft mumbles and hums, as well as a familiar song playing as the backtrack — no way,,, was yn... singing?! instantly, he'd burst into the room, receiving a pillow to the face and a high-pitched "AHHH—!! WHAT THE???" he'd suddenly begin singing praises of your voice, and would pull you in for a random hug with a "why didn't you tell me you could sing THAT amazingly??" from then on, he'd invite you to his weekly karaoke sessions, and would cheer you on from behind, doing weird dance moves to match the beats of the songs — "wahhh, that was the most angelic thing i've ever heard!!", and you'd reply with a reddened face, "stop it, oh my god.." (but he'd keep going because he feels like you deserve the recognition ^^)

when he sends you loving text messages. he’d often check up on you, asking you questions like, “have you eaten yet, love? make sure you eat the lunch i packed okayy?? it may not be the best but i tried :(“ or “how’s your day baby~? mine’s kinda bad because i haven’t seen you in foreverrrr…” in addition, he’d love to compliment you, both verbally and through text. you could be seated slightly further away from him, and would receive a notification from the texting app, reading, “wowowowowo are you really my girlfriend?? i must’ve saved an entire village in my past to have you in my life <3”, or even “you look so beautiful today, cupcake!” you’d wind up chuckling from those messages, finding those knowing glances he’d send you, as adorable as the texts.

seonwoo

when he hugs you. sunoo approaches you for daily hugs, always. he finds your presence to be soothing, and always melts when your arms wrap around his build, face nuzzled against his shirt — you were really his personified serotonin booster. there were times when sunoo would sneakily, or rather, not so sneakily, steal a hug. you’d be trying to adjust your necklace, neck retracted to hook the clasp into the jump ring, and he’d wobble right up to you. “need some help, bub?” taking your chain necklace in his hands, he’d swiftly hook it at a comfortable length, before leaning in for a hug, hands wrapped around you. “oh-!” “a way to thank me~ hehe.”

when he reads you snippets of his favourite books. sunoo was a wide-reader, and found himself to be easily immersed in the stories being unveiled in the form of words and texts. he had an entire bookshelf dedicated to his favourite reads, the ones he wished he had the ability to erase his memories of, just so he could reread them without knowing the endings. he even decorated the area with potted plants and photo frames to make it feel more cozy. it was quite obvious that he took pride in his collection ^^ though he was a tad bit particular about his prized books, he’d allow you to roam the selections freely. through his generosity (and hint of partner privilege :0), you’d developed a love for books as well! hence, every night, sunoo would read excerpts of his favourite paragraphs, or even share impactful sentences and phrases, with you :)

when he orders food for you. if someone were to quiz sunoo on your food likings, he'd probably ace it with flying colours — being late-night snack buddies, he knew your comfort foods, your favourite ice-cream flavours, and even your preferred nostalgic childhood snacks. at times, you’d have to come home late due to extracurriculars / additional work, hence you’d be unable to purchase your dinner, or even a little sandwich to sustain throughout the winding walk to the apartment building. seeing the dwindling biscuit storage, he’d probably figure out that you’d been resorting to those small cookies as a substitute for dinner. hence, he’d order a plentiful meal for you, adding on a copious amount of side-dishes (only the ones you liked, of course!). he’d lay the containers out neatly on the dining table, and would patiently wait for you to come home :(((

when he writes encouraging phrases, and draws on your wrist. after hearing you open up about your insecurities and concerns, sunoo would try every means to lift the mood, and to give you some encouragement during challenging times! he’d shower you with kisses, and offer comforting cuddles, but he’d know that actions alone wouldn’t leave a lasting reminder for you; he’d then pick up an easily erasable (and non-toxic!!) marker, writing little phrases like, ‘fighting!!’, and ‘i knew you could do it!’ on your wrist. he’d even draw tiny smiley-faces too! :) sunoo really adores you, and wants you to know that he’ll be there with you, no matter what.

when he buys you chocolates and plush toys. having a really bad day? sunoo would personally head down to the nearest shopping mall, even if it were later at night, and would purchase a new plush toy, as well as your favourite chocolates! he didn’t want you to fall asleep with troubling thoughts and conflicting emotions, and he certainly didn’t want to see you cooped up on the bed, body leant against the headboard in sorrow, after not getting a wink of sleep, either. he’d come home, hands full of comfort items, and would stay up (even though he was starting to fall into a state of exhaustion) trying to brighten your spirits <3

jungwon

when he sends you cat videos and pictures. jungwon was quite well-known for his love for cats, and he even had cat themed objects lying round the house — like an alarm clock, with two pointy ears and a squiggly tail. unfortunately, he was allergic to them, and could not adopt one for himself :(( so, to reduce the disappointment, he’d watch random videos of cats on the internet, often giggling at how adorable they were. downloading the videos, he’d forward them over to your number, with a little message of ‘good night ynnnn!’. at first, he’d send videos and separate messages, but after learning from the internet, he’d mastered the skill of editing texts onto photographs. hence, he now sends five cat pictures a day, all having notes like, ‘i think i love you too much. is that possible? i feel like i should slow down’, or ‘can you please make me sandwiches the way you do? with the diagonal cuts and all? pleaseeee i miss ur cooking :(“ unbeknownst to him, you’d be saving each one into your photo gallery, organising them into a folder, tilted ‘won’s goofy behaviour…’

when he invites you on nightly walks. after finding out about your love for walks, he’d invite you to accompany him on his late-night trips round the neighbourhood, hands intertwined with one another. it’d be pretty quiet out, considering the point that many would be prepping for bedtime,, so it wouldn’t be crowded or anything, just the way jungwon liked it ^^ he’d take in the idyllic sceneries, and appreciate the littlest details of nature with you, amusingly gazing at a flowery shrub to point out your favourite blossoms amongst the bunch :)

when he brings you on cafe-hops. jungwon would only do this once a month, considering the amount of money needed for it, but it’d be the most action-packed, eventful, lovely day ever! do you like studio ghibli? well, lucky you, because jungwon managed to find a studio ghibli themed cafe nearby, one selling spirited-away cakes, and totoro macaroons! do you like sanrio? lucky you again, because jungwon just chanced upon a website advertising a sanrio themed cafe, one selling sanrio desserts, and a whole bunch of merchandise! oh,, did you say you liked mushrooms? well, jungwon found a fairy-themed cafe with mushroom latte art, and and, mushroom stools!! he’d be so elated, bringing you round his researched eateries, and ticking off his itinerary for the day ^^ coming home, you two would slump into the couch, legs aching from all the rewarding walking.

when he draws you. though jungwon didn’t pride himself to be an excellent artist, he wanted to try sketching you,, just for his little scrapbooking hobbies ^^ you’d be completely immersed in pouring the accurate amount of milk into the measuring cup, and the right amount of flour into the bowl, that you wouldn’t notice the boy sat on the dining table, a sketchbook and pencils sprawled out in front of him. he’d try his very very best drawing you, because he wanted to capture as much of your beauty as possible! though it’d look a little off, and slightly stick-man like, he’d pridefully cut it out, pasting it onto a brand new scrapbook page, with the header ‘ynie’s baking me cookies again,, hope they aren’t burnt this time hehe’. he’d shade the drawing in with mismatched colour-pencil brands, and a drying black marker, hoping that he wouldn’t mess the entire thing up by taking the bold move. and of course, a storybook replaced by a scrapbook for storytelling :)

when he writes you love letters. jungwon would drop in handwritten letters ever so often, leaving them on your desk, or under your pillow — it’d be an entire treasure hunt really,, which jungwon liked because it made everything more interesting! … and maybe because he didn’t want you to wind up reading the sweet note in front of him,,, he’d probably shrivel up from all the corny jokes he’d chosen to include. but of course,,, “ahem ahem, to my little burri—“ “OH MY— bubb :(( i said to read it when you’re alone!”

riki

when he learns your hobbies. there had been several occasions when you’d share your updates on a project in progress, or even proudly mention the improvement you’d managed to make,, but riki found it upsetting that he couldn’t fully comprehend those complicated and baffling terms — he really wanted to say something of relevance to the topic, but he was absolutely clueless. so, he’d make the choice to learn the works of your hobbies, wanting you to open up more about your veiled passions ^^ while filling him in about what you’d done, he’d suddenly blurt out a complex word, explaining it in as great of a way possible (especially with his limited knowledge). “woah… how did you…?” “what can i say, i’m super awesome, cool, good-looking, AND a genius. boom.” no, but he’d genuinely be fascinated by your hobbies, and might even start taking them up as fun pastimes! (receiving your help too keke)

when he accompanies you to concerts. the troubles and frustrations of purchasing concert tickets, either online or offline, are mostly common — the website crashes, a code doesn’t work, payment’s not going through the system, having to stand under the scorching sun; but thankfully for you, riki would be there to support you, trying his best to land desired seats ^^ “OH MY GOD I GOT THEM BABE!!!” “—huh?! ARE YOU FOR REAL?????” ,,, and of course, he’d tag along, given the fact that he likes the artist as well! once at the venue, he’d probably be super confused seeing masses of people move at different directions, but he’d make it a priority to shield you from the crowd, worried if you’d get pushed away with them. when the concert starts, riki would most likely jam out to the music, and might even yell out lyrics with you, large smiles adorning his delicate features :)

when he teaches you how to dance. riki loves dancing, and is insanely talented at it as well — his technique, his flow, his body control, they were all heavily commendable ^^ after hearing you chat about “wanting to attend a dance class”, he’d immediately jump up from the bed, the action looking unusually animated. “i was waiting for the day you’d say this,,, mura’s 25/8 dance studio is open~!!” and you’d just stare at him, a glint of startle clouding your orbs. he’d go through the basics with you, starting off with simpler moves — and somehow, you’d still manage to stumble… holding an arm out, or gently grabbing your shoulder, he’d help you steady your balance, acting more like a supportive railing. and when you’d get the short routines perfectly right, he’d start cheering, and would abruptly begin billy-bouncing, little “aye”s falling from his lips. but all silliness aside, he’d grin so widely, to the point where his jaw would start to ache — he loved that you two shared a similar passion for dance ^^ (and he’d definitely teach you more complicated choreographies,,, and maybe you two could film dance cover videos together? hehe)

when he pats your head. this could be for two different reasons — as a playful way to tease you, or as a loving, affectionate gesture. there was one thing for sure though — that unfortunately, riki was blessed with the height of a streetlight (okay, not that exaggerated, but still..). it wasn't like you were short,,, it was just that he was way taller! when complaining to him about the disappearance of your donut, which you had specifically kept in the fridge with a large post-it stuck to it, he'd flash a sheepish smile, outstretching his arm to give you a pat on the head, slightly ruffling the top of your hair. "i KNEW yo— uh..." "hehe, you're so cute, dumpling." not the right moment, riki >:( or, he'd pat your head as a means to congratulate you, to signify that he was proud of your achievements and success — kind of like a “woahh, that’s my girlfriend everyone!! yep yep, i’m her boyfriend!" type of manner.

when he holds your hand. riki loves your hands — they looked so delicate, and fit perfectly with his! ^^ he claimed that it was "destiny", and that he must've been fated to meet you. sometimes, you’d tease him for it, wiggling your fingers to break free from the interlocked hold, before stuffing them into the side-pockets of your pants. a large frown would play on his lips, followed by an incoherent noise, and the cross of his arms. “hmph—! fine, i guess you don’t fancy your boyfriend’s affection :(“ you’d instantly protest, words of reassurance spilling out of your mouth. “huh?? NO NO i didn’t mean it in that way..!!” you’d raise your hand up, shaking it furiously to contradict your previous actions. he’d glance over at you, before unfolding his arms to resume the lovely hand-holding. in all seriousness, you loved intertwining fingers with riki — it gave you a sense of warmth and familiarity that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

taglist open! @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno

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b0r3dtod3ath · 2 months ago

Note

Could I pls request smth a bit more dark/angsty? Ben Shelton x tennis player!reader where reader is dealing with a break-in from a stalker? And how Ben reacts and deals with reader experiencing some trauma and wanting to protect/care for her?

Inspired by “The Diner” by Billie Eilish

♡ navigation / request info / tennis masterlist

♡ warnings: none

♡ a/n: thank you for the request! i like this idea a lot and here's how it turned out. i may rewrite it in future tho

You signed as you stepped out of an uber. It had been a long tournament, every match you fought hard and managed to get into the semis. But now, all you wanted was to collapse on your couch and relax.

Walking up the pathway to your apartment building, you reached into your pocket for your keys, feeling the familiar weight of them. As you approached the mailbox you braced yourself for the usual collection of bills and junk mail. But as you flipped open the mailbox, your stomach dropped. There, amongst other letters, was an envelope with your name scrawled in messy handwriting.

You froze. This wasn’t just any letter. You could recognize this handwriting anywhere. You’d seen it before in the disturbing messages that had been arriving sporadically for the past few months. Messages you tried to ignore, hoping they were nothing dangerous.

With shaky hands you closed the mailbox and looked around you for any potential people. You grabbed the envelope and hurried up to your apartment. Fumbling with your keys, you unlocked the door and immediately knew something was wrong.

As you walked inside your cautious eyes darted around the scene. The living room was in chaos - drawers pulled out, many items on the floor, bookshelves emptied.

The kitchen was a mess - plates and glasses laid shattered, the refrigerator door was open, its contents scattered all over the countertops and floor. A chill ran down your spine when you noticed an empty slot. A knife was missing from its usual place.

You slowly made your way into your bedroom. And then you saw it: the picture frame on the ground, shattered glass glittering in the sunlight. It was a photo of you and Ben, taken at a tournament months ago. In matching outfits, both of you smiling from ear to ear, having just played your first doubles as a couple. But something was horribly wrong. The part of the photo where Ben had been standing was ripped out, leaving only you. His side was torn to pieces.

Your breath caught in your throat, when you started checking other photo frames. In every single one, Ben’s face was gone, either cut out, ripped off or scribbled over with a pen.

You forced yourself to breathe, to focus. The letter was still in your hand, its edges crumpled from your grip. You didn’t want to open it, didn’t want to see what was inside. But you felt the need to know what was inside.

You tore the envelope open and pulled out the contents. A chill ran down your spine as you unfolded several printed photos of yourself. Candid shots of you in various places: walking to practice, grabbing coffee, even through your apartment window. Your hands shook as you flipped through them, each one a violation of your privacy. On the back of each photo there was a date has been messily scribbled.

And the letter. Tears ran down your cheeks as you read the words. “Don’t be afraid. I’m what you need” , “I know, we’re meant to be” . But the last line made you drop the letter “If something happens to him, you can bet that it was me”.

Without a second thought you grabbed your phone and dialed your boyfriend’s number. It rang once, twice, and then his voice, calm and steady, came through the line. "Hey, you back already?". His tone opened a flood as you started hiccuping and crying even more. “Are you okay? He.. he was in my apartment..” you choked out. “What? I’m coming over. Don’t touch anything, I will be there soon”.

You stood in your bedroom, amongst all the mess, and cried while Ben was still on the line with you. You heard someone walking into the house. Once Ben found you he immediately pulled you in a tight hug, comforting you as his eyes darted around the room.

After a moment he broke the hug but his arm still rested on your body. As he called the police he noticed a letter on the floor and picked it up. His brows furrowed as he briefly read the message.

For the next hour, the officers moved through your apartment, taking photographs, collecting samples, and documenting the scene. You sat back down on the couch, Ben’s arm around your shoulders, keeping you anchored as you watched them work.

One of the police officers recommended staying somewhere else while they look for the offender. Somewhere safe.

The days that followed were filled with tension and sleepless nights. You stayed at Ben’s place, he refused to leave you alone even for a second. He could see how scared you were all the time. He wanted to do more, to fix everything but all he could do was be there for you, to try and bring back some sense of security.

Ben took care of all the practical things. He called the police for updates. But every time he came back to you, his focus shifted completely to how you were holding up.

Some days were harder than others. But nights were the hardest. You couldn’t sleep alone. Every sound, crack or light made you jump. He noticed your state, he stayed up late, stroking your back. “I’m right here” he’d whisper into the darkness whenever you woke in a panic. "No one's going to hurt you. Not while I'm here”.

You started going out less, avoiding any public places. He didn’t push you, instead he bought your favorite places home. He brought your favorite foods, organized dinner dates and movie nights in his apartment.

He knew you missed the court, but he also knew you needed time. He made sure your practices happened on very private courts with no one else there. He was always with you.

You were grateful, but you could see the toll it was taking on him too. There were mornings when he looked as exhausted as you felt, dark circles under his eyes. He put on a brave face, never letting you see how worried he was, but you knew. Even with death threats from the letter in his mind he was trying so hard to be strong for you, to keep you safe while pushing his own fears aside.

Gradually in the span of weeks you started going out more. Short walks first, occasional stops at small coffee shops. With time you felt better and better. The nightmares still haunted you but with Ben by your side everything was easier.

september 21, 24

#ben shelton x reader #ben shelton imagine #ben shelton fanfic

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kira-akira · 4 months ago

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Bernie Sanders Introduces Long COVID Moonshot Legislation

This legislation "provides $1 billion in mandatory funding per year for 10 years to the National Institutes of Health (NIH) to support Long COVID research, the urgent pursuit of treatments, and the expansion of care for patients across the country." Announcement on Sander's twitter and the Long COVID Moonshot website.

This announcement references the number 22 million for adults affected by Long COVID in the US but that number is certainly much higher; in 2022 the CDC reported that 7.5% of US adults have Long COVID and that number can only have increased.

Here is an article published today on PBS if you need a primer or a refresher on what Long COVID is and why everyone needs to care about it. From the article:

"Long COVID is a complex chronic condition that can result in more than 200 health effects across multiple body systems. These include:

Heart disease

Neurologic problems such as cognitive impairment, strokes and dysautonomia. This is a category of disorders that affect the body’s autonomic nervous system – nerves that regulate most of the body’s vital mechanisms such as blood pressure, heart rate and temperature.

Post-exertional malaise, a state of severe exhaustion that may happen after even minor activity — often leaving the patient unable to function for hours, days or weeks

Gastrointestinal disorders

Kidney disease

Metabolic disorders such as diabetes and hyperlipidemia, or a rise in bad cholesterol

Immune dysfunction"

I know it's easy to give into despair but THERE IS HOPE for the future! For decreasing transmission of COVID-19, for developing preventatives against Long COVID, and for treating Long COVID. To highlight just a few of the possible pathways to prevention and treatment being currently researched:

The possibility of using antivirals to treat not just Long COVID but any autoimmune disease

The development of N95 masks that can sense SARS-CoV-2 in exhaled breath using a printed immunosensor

A nasal vaccine that halts transmission of SARS-CoV-2 (though does not stop the user from developing COVID-19)

A Japanese research team is looking to treat COVID-19 by using embryonic stem cells to target the virus

The possibility of using already-developed arthritis drugs to treat Long COVID respiratory symptoms

Researchers just identified a possible protein to target in treating Long COVID fatigue

This is an incredibly small collection of studies researching potential treatments but they themselves and the decades of research they are built on had to be funded. In fact, since the pandemic began, more than 24,000 scientific publications about COVID-19 have been published, making it the most researched health condition in any four years of recorded human history.

So there is hope! But all this research needs money. Money that Long COVID Moonshot will provide. And while we wait for research to bear fruit, that $1 billion per year will also be crucial in caring for those suffering from Long COVID in the meantime.

So What Can You Do?

Keep masking - We've just hit 900,000 new COVID cases per day in the US and this wave is not even at its peak yet (For reference, Fauci stated back in 2021 that getting under 10,000 cases per day would allow for mask mandates and safety measures to relax...)

Go on the Long COVID Moonshot website and write to your legislators in support (You can use their script, it only takes 1 minute!)

Keep yourselves and others informed - On the Moonshot website they also offer handy graphics and facts sheets that you can post wherever you can. Spread the word!

And if you or someone you know has Long COVID, you can write in to the Long COVID Moonshot website about your experience

And remember, no one is safe from Long COVID; your chances of developing Long COVID increase with every reinfection. Until research like what Long COVID Moonshot will fund discovers viable preventatives and treatments, the only way to not get Long COVID is to not get COVID-19 in the first place.

Stay safe, stay hopeful, support Long COVID Moonshot, and mask up!

#covid #covid 19 #long covid #covid isn't over #long covid moonshot #bernie sanders #us politics #pandemic

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mesetacadre · 4 months ago

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The type of person who tends to complain about others making everything political, or analyzing the political aspect of things that are hegemonically considered non-political, often does it on the grounds that the person doing the politics is refusing to enjoy it or letting others enjoy it. And the vast majority of times this perspective on politics as something that makes anything unenjoyable or boring comes from a place of privilege*, the privilege of being able to ignore the political in favor of "purer" persoectives. The position that something can be non-political necessarily means implicitly accepting the legitimacy of the status-quo as the natural order of things, it's a loss of both historical and social perspectives.

Apoliticism, the eschewing of a political perspective, is not legitimate only when it is mutated from an individual instance of favoring other perspectives over the political into a systematic rejection of anything political. Nobody is saying that in every single instance of engagement with anything everyone should drop every other perspective in favor of the political one, but rather that the repudiation of the possibility of anything having a political backdrop and interpretation is the attitude that's illegitimate and which springs from privilege.

Taking tumblr as an example, the "hey man how's it going" and other memes in that vein (what are you smoking, is everything ok op?, let people enjoy things...) that some people like to condescendingly parade around whenever they encounter somebody applying political thought to the subject at hand, is only possible to the person writing these responses, if they have already internalized the position that politics is an isolated aspect of some elements within society and thought, that the status-quo is the natural order of things from which everything else sprouts, and since that status-quo is apolitical, adding politics into it is both a deliberate and optional choice.

If we're talking about media, which is the case in most of these situations, politics of course has permeated the logical pathways of the author, their implicit beliefs, and the context in which that piece of media is created and in which it evolves. Therefore there is an undeniable political dimension to both the textual and the metatextual, no matter how apparently innocent that piece of media may appear, or however strongly the author tried to bury the political under layers of innocence.

And the belief that "politicizing" something makes it less enjoyable or interesting also comes from the perception of politics as something reserved for the professionally political spheres, for the politicians, statesmen, and stuffy theorists. The truth is that politics are much more personal and relevant to the individual "average" citizen than what the liberal hegemony pretends. The chain of supply that brought your polyester clothing to your back, the development of the land on which your house (or lack thereof) stands, the way your education was administered, the text of the last book you read, the production of the ink with which it is printed, your relationship with your family, your overwhelming chance of having experienced some form of sexual assault if you're a woman, your "apoliticism" and existence itself, it is all saturated with politics. Acknowledging this and sometimes even exploring what that means is necessary for you as a social animal.

"Politicizing" something does not mean forcibly applying a political lens to it, it actually is picking a universal perspective and exploring how the subject interacts with the context in which it exists.

*privilege here meaning the material conditions that allow a person to ignore politics, and not necessarily the specific set of axis of privilege that may affect an individual, although these two things are not exclusive in the context of this post

#seriousposting #if this breaks like 500 notes watch the very type of person I'm talking about materialize in the notes

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ilylovelyz · 1 year ago

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⍣ ೋ Doughnut

˚ · . sakusa x afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ mutual pining to confession, a lil angst with happy ending, mentions of neglectful parents, first kisses, hand holding, non descriptive casual making out, prt 1.

the longer the wait, the sweeter the kiss.

sakusa sighed with anticipation as his eyes focused on the familiar park ahead of him. did he get the time right? he asked himself nervously, stopping ahead of the staircase he's stepped down many times. 11:11. he refers back to the time you wanted to meet up at the park, around 11.

whilst it is extremely late, it's not uncommon for this time of year. it's new year's eve, many are awake, either at home cozy with their heaters and TV, waiting for the new year's countdown, or they are out and about at lively food stalls and centers with the best sighting for fireworks.

what sakusa is doing is the opposite idea of a new year's eve activity. while he certainly wasn't opposed to the idea of staying inside with his blanket and heater, and he definitely did oppose the many swarming crowds. instead, he was meeting up with you at a near abandoned park.

as he finally stepped down the walking steps, his eyebrow furrowed at the sight of a few dozen people standing around for fireworks. seems like this place isn't as forgotten after all. he kept his black gloved hands in his pockets, nose occasionally snuffling due to the cold.

what once felt like a short five minute walk turned into what felt like was an eternity of walking. maybe it's because it's almost pitch black dark, nothing illuminating except the full moon that the pathway to the usual meeting spot looks longer. who knows.

but what he does know was that when he saw you, standing there in your pink yukata in the snow, was he will either be leaving with his heart either broken or fulfilled.

he stops a little five feet away from you, which felt a little unusual considering all the work the two of you had put in just to make him feel comfortable sitting on the bench with you. you're not sitting on the bench either, which just made him feel even more uneasy about the whole thing.

with your somber expression, you looked up at him, "happy new years kiyoomi." he silently nodded at that. his cheeks flushed at his awkwardness, it's like day one all over again. "h-happy new years to you too, y/n." he muttered out, eyes slightly furrowed at the notice of you using his full name.

it was still between the two of you again until your eyes perked up at the sudden snowfall. "it's snowing! how pretty.." you cooed, eyes glinting as you smiled softly, a small hand of yours reaching out for a snowflake. there's thousands of things that sakusa considers pretty right now but he can't find the urge to say how pretty one is in front of him.

his eyes travel down to study your yukata, which has the base color of a baby pink with floral prints. once again, you never fail to amaze him with your seemingly perfect photogenic aura, you look as if you belong in one of those raunchy love animes that he could never sit through without facepalming at the cheesy love cliche.

your attention shifts over back to sakusa, hand reaching out for what he can only guess is his. "walk with me, kiyoomi." silently, he allows you to take his hand within your own, guiding him wherever you want to go. he doesn't know where, but he wants to trust you do. his forehead stresses at the thought of you potentially leading him to who knows where, you never had a good sense of direction.

albeit, he swallows the lump in his throat down, he thinks theres a 60/40 chance of you getting the two of you stranded somewhere, not a single cell in your brain actually working. luckily, you just seem to be guiding him little ways away from the park, towards the nearby abandoned play-ground.

"a play-ground? what are you planning y/n?" he bluntly says, following you towards the sand and snow filled play-ground, watching you with a confused face "i think this is a better spot. i used to come here after you would leave during the earlier days." you say, careful to set your wooden geta shoes on the cement framings of the play-ground.

he followed you around mindlessly around the actual play-grounds equipment, careful to duck under the jungle gym and slide. then suddenly you were speeding up. okay, he sped up too. despite your much smaller frame, you did walk considerably faster than him. without knowing, he walked into your trap; a game of tag.

without realizing, he was almost chasing you around the play-ground equipment. almost eating shit twice, his legs slid amongst the sand/snow combined ground as he chased you. climbing up the jungle gym, lungs used to this heavy exercise, he chased you until you reached the slide and slid down, giggling and snickering at his dumbfounded face.

as he hurriedly stepped down the jungle gym's steps, it was like a lightning strike had hit him. "tag?!" he yelled out, "y/n?! you're not serious." he said, eyes crinkled with annoyance. this is the angriest he's been at you in a while, it's a bit of a surprise. you only chuckle in amusement at his annoyed pout, not fazed at all by the much larger man.

you deemed enough wad enough, walking towards the old swings on the side of the play-ground. not minding the way your yukata climbed up your bare legs, you pointed to the swing next to yours as you hopped into one. "sit." you said, bare legs swinging back in forth with excitement.

he couldn't only sigh with defeat as he begrudgingly set himself onto the swing next to yours, cringing at the way the rusted metal struggled under his athlete height. it was once again silent between the two of you, his ears growing deaf at the sound of metal scraping against metal. was i brought back to the times of hell again?

"i used to come here all the time. y'know, when you would leave much earlier than you do now back in the 'early days.'" you said so matter-of-factly. sakusa whipped out his phone to check the time. 11:46PM. "hey it's rude to be on your phone when somebody is talkin' to you!" you yapped, legs kicking back in forth with feigned anger.

he lightly scoffed at your comment before putting his phone away per your request. his legs mindlessly swung softly, finding a weird comfort in the way the swing softly moved back in forth. "..why didn't you just go home?" he asked, the question being one that he's been wondering since the moment he met you.

his practice ends much later than your club gathering does, almost an hour later, so it really made no sense as to why you stayed for so long, it really didn't seem as coincidental. he quickly connected the dots that the answer was maybe a little more than what he expected when you were taking a little longer to respond.

"well.. it's lonely at my house, mama and papa work a lot, so it's really just me. i would come to the park 'n just hang around because just seeing people made me happy." you confessed, swing slowing down to a stop. "and then i met you.. and it made me wanna come around to to the park more, even if i had to wait awhile for you 'cuz it meant i wouldn't have to go home to a empty house."

sakusa looked up at the starry night, feeling a little guilty at your reasoning. while he did know of your parents absence to a certain extent, he didn't know you were totally alone enough that you would just sit outside on a bench waiting for someone to talk to.

you seem to cringe at your own words, hands coming up to touch the warmness of your own cheeks. "it's a little stupid, i just felt lonely really.." sakusa finds himself sympathizing with you, "no, it's not. i understand. err..," he stammers. "i'm actually closer to motoya more than my own siblings."

you seem to relax at that, feet finally finding the energy to swing again. "...and when i met you.. i just felt less lonely."

its silent between the two of you while sakusa took in the words you said. felt less lonely, huh?

he looked back at you, eyes watching your face closely for any sort of reaction or explanation. you still looked as serious as ever though, making sakusa feel like there was a little more to your reasoning. but there is.

his eyes travel down to the bare parts of your skin, yukata sliding lazily exposing your shoulders, riding up to your knees. before he realizes, he's already climbing off his swing while sliding his coat off his shoulders and setting his thick coat onto your own shoulders.

you finally smile at the sweet gesture, hand coming up to touch at the thick material while looking up at him with crinkled eyes.

you looked cold, his eyes silently say.

before he can pull away his hands from your shoulders, you're already holding onto one of them. you sit stilly in your swing, fumbling around with his heavy hand, exploring the deep crevices and scars from what is years of volleyball.

his dedication and commitment is something you adore, you always love enjoying hearing his little volleyball stories and matches. "you're so cool kiyoomi." you coo, thumbs pressing on the side of his palm. you look back up at him, it makes his heart begin beating faster at the sight of your dilated pupils, so full of an emotion that he's come to fear, yet also come to feel.

you then jump down from your swing, standing closely to his chest. you're hugging him, for the first time ever. it's a one-sided hug at first, your hands barely wrapping around his chest and setting on his back, feeling the broad bones. he stands there dumbfounded, not knowing what to do, arms remaining at his side.

you breathe in his clean mint scent, eyes fluttering shut at his warmth, "you're so warm 'omi.."

during that everlasting hug, sakusa thought of what he was feeling. he thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest, almost frightened at the way this situation is going.

but he then asks himself, is it really that bad? if it's bad, then why does it feel so right?

it's much to his own astonishment when he finds the balls to embrace your hug, though still stiff, his arms rest around your neck, as he couldn't wrap them around your waist because you're too short.

but you've seen to have predicted him afterall, as you show no signs of surprise at all, only somehow pushing yourself closer to him. it has him stumbling backwards a few inches, face blushing intensely at the awkward contact.

you're then pulling away from him to look up at him, lips pursed into a fine line and taking his hand inbetween yours once more, as if to plead with him.

"kiyoomi, i know it's really early to say, and i know that this is really confusing and hard for you. i know you're not privy to romance, and i already know you've never even experienced it before," his face insultingly frowns at the last detail, "but please just give it a chance, give me a chance."

you press his hands against your chest, heartbeat strong against them. "kiyoomi, i really i like you, maybe a little bit more than like, so please, just give me a chance to show you how great it is."

his wide eyes look down at yours, lips slightly agape as he takes in your confession. he can't help but praise you for your bravery, it must've taken a lot for you to do this, and yet you did it anyway, something he definitely couldn't see himself doing.

he sighs deeply, looking away so as to avoid contact with your pleading eyes. your figure seems to slouch at that, head dropping towards the ground with defeat.

"o-okay fine, i l-like you too or whatever."

your head shoots up at his declaration, he's almost surprised at how happy you look, swearing he's never seen you so gleaming. you squeal out at that, reaching your arms up to wrap around his neck and attempt to hoist yourself up against him out of pure happiness.

you laugh and squeal, he wants to say it hurts his ears, but he can't hold back the way his eyes are fluttering shut out of embarrassment when he chuckles lightly at your celebration.

he doesn't know if what he felt was fireworks, or if it was the vibration from the actual fireworks exploding when the clock hit 12:00, but something within him set off when you suddenly pressed your lips against his own.

you clumsily push against his much taller frame, the only support you have is the arms wrapped around the base of his neck and the tippy toes you weakly stand on.

before he can even react, you're already pulling away, hiding your face within his chest while he looks up at the bright fireworks up ahead, head dizzy from all the feelings he's experiencing in just a couple of minutes.

this isn't so bad after all.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

the seasons quickly came and went, and so did the end of the school year. it was now spring, so bright and colorful.

his last year of highschool was an eventful one, he came to appreciate and meet so many new things and people.

he was happy that the school year was ending on a good note, with good people, and with a good future ahead.

he pulls away from you, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you.

it's almost comedic to him, how just earlier in the year he was spitefully condemning those who he thought were silly for falling in love. it's almost ironic.

he lays underneath the heaviness of his duvet cover, hidden away from the bright sunbeams that shine through his window. his fingers play with your soft hair, body laying on top of yours, low black eyes looking down at you with quiet adoration. "i love you 'omi," you purr, impatiently pulling him back in to continue your intimate kissing session.

"i love you too," he softly mumbles against your lips, long eyelashes fluttering shut at the feel of your warm soft lips against his own.

haha what a ending i was struggling with this 😭 please like and repost

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 1 year ago

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Teeth

Part 15

Masterlist

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, implied torture, kidnapping of a minor, very intense predator vibes, angst.

Billy could feel the sweat rolling down his back.

Though the midnight air of the forest was cool, the gear wrapped around his body trapped the heat, and didn’t make it easy for Billy to be comfortable, especially with the additional adrenaline running through his system.

He ignored it, years of marine training meant that he could bury his body’s signals of discomfort, he remained focused on the task at hand.

He was hunting.

Frank’s youngest had been missing for five hours.

Billy had hit the ground running, setting up monitoring stations at every entry and exit point in the state. It wasn't perfect, but it was all he had for right now.

If this was who Billy and Frank suspected they were, they wouldn't be using any official pathways anyway.

Billy finds the spot Frank Jr. was last seen and starts there, he follows the scent, the footsteps on the forest floor, a boy happily running through the woods he's grown up in.

He'd been chasing fireflies, Frank had told him, wanted a jar of them to come home with. It had taken around an hour for them to notice something was wrong, searched for another hour before beginning to panic. Frank had found the spot where the boy’s tracks had interacted with two larger adult footprints in the dark of the night, and had immediately hiked out of the forest and to a phone.

Billy had gotten here as fast as he could, starting his search, knowing he only had a few hours left before kidnappers would make it to whichever edge of the forest they were going to and get out.

Billy had to be faster.

He would be. Panthers were arguably better trackers than bears, quieter too. Frank had made a good choice to call him when he did.

Even if it had pulled Billy away from you.

He shakes his head, can't afford to get distracted by you right now.

He adjusts the rifle in his hand, taking a deep breath of the forest air to clear his head. If he focused, he could still smell the scent of you on his skin.

It gave him peace, made his body burn even hotter at the reminder of you, of why his hands smelled the way they did. He didn’t even get a chance to write a proper note, only a hasty one of apology placed on the pillow next to you. He’d left his phone at his place to avoid it being traced here. He knew he would have to do a lot of apologising when he got back.

He loses the trail at the river.

Large volumes of water rushing past him and heading into the far off ocean, Billy pauses and thinks. He hears the crunching of dirt under Frank's boot as he approaches.

"I lost the scent here." Frank says.

Billy nods, moving closer to the river, eyes scanning the embankment, searching for scuffs in the rocks, anything to show him where they would have crossed.

At one spot, he finds the dirt has been disturbed.

"He fought back here." Billy points out, "Must have realised that crossing water meant you wouldn't be able to find him."

Frank's breathing is laboured.

They find a shallow spot to cross. The water is frigid, biting, and he knows that he's running out of time to find them.

On the other side, he notes that one boot print has gotten deeper.

"They picked him up… here, probably knocked him unconscious." Billy voice is calm, calculated.

He hears the air leave Frank.

When he finds that the footprints have split off into two groups, he makes a split second decision, pulling his gun off and tossing it in Frank's direction, his gear follows next.

"I'm shifting." Billy says with finality, “Follow those prints,” Billy points to the lighter steps, “They probably take you out of the way for a little, but they have to reunite with these,” he points to the heavier ones, “at some point.”

Frank doesn’t argue.

The predator comes to him easily, ready to protect his family. Billy grunts quietly as he shifts, feels his bones dislocate and realign. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he’s looking through the eyes of the panther.

The panther can see so much more, a wider field of vision, better darkness adaptability than his human eyes can. He takes off running in the dark forest, doesn’t stop, his paws barely making a sound as he leans away from the controls and allows the panther to guide his movements, letting instinct take over and make split second decisions.

Nearsighted in his panther form, his brain can hyperfocus on the little things, able to observe the smallest indications of the kidnapper’s presence and direction. Half footprints, the pattern of disturbed grass, the size and depth of his gait giving an indication of their size, Billy finds that he learns more about the mysterious people as he hunts them.

He’s temporarily disoriented when the scent he was following is drowned out by something overpowering. Lavender oil dumped hastily to deter anyone with sensitive noses from following. Billy huffs angrily, circling in the dark of the forest to relocate the scent lost.

It’s not there, and when he looks around, he notes two sets of tracks, one of which has most likely been faked to throw him off. The panther huffs angrily, moving between the tracks, trying to look for any sign that one is fake.

It takes him a moment, before he sees it, a button, pulled from the sleeve of the younger Frank’s shirt dropped and half buried in the dark foliage of the forest, a sign that the young boy was coming back to consciousness, showing Billy the path to him.

He takes off running again, adrenaline coursing through his veins, telling him to move faster, to protect his pack, to bring young Frank home safe to his father.

The hunters most likely wanted a young shifter they could train, brainwash into killing their own, fighting fire with fire, was most likely their reasoning for such a dangerous excursion in the first place. If they couldn’t train him to kill for them, they’d experiment on him, testing weapons on him that they could use to hunt the rest of his kind. It made Billy run faster, the knowledge that a little boy like Frank was in that much danger.

The panther huffs again, trying to keep Billy focused so that he doesn’t think about his own misshapen past. Remembering his own unique traumas would not help here.

When he reaches the cliffside, he realises the plan of escape. The kidnappers intend to escape with a boat, making it harder for Billy to track them.

He won’t let them get that far ahead.

He stays in the tree line, looking for signs of human life when he finally catches what his eyes have been searching for- movement.

Two men, busy uncovering a small boat, dressed in very detailed, forest camouflage.

Billy watches them for a long moment, analysing both figures in the dark of the night. The men wear night vision goggles, and hearing aids to raise the sensitivity of their human sight and hearing. The problem with these technologies was that there was an inability to filter out too much stimuli, which made it difficult to focus on one sound. Billy knew that one good flash grenade would take both men out.

Still, he had yet to find Frank Jr.

They had probably taken great care in hiding him, the most valuable thing to them now. The panther knew, just like Billy did, that the hunters would rather kill the young shifter, than let him slip from their grasp.

So he had to pick the right moment to strike.

Billy moves quietly, paws padding on the forest floor so softly that no trace of his movements can be heard, not the brush of the leaves on his fur, not the scrape of his claws on rocks as he’s forced to climb down from his vantage point.

The only time he freezes, is when an owl hoots somewhere behind him, and one of the hunters turn to look.

The figure doesn’t speak, they know better, know a single word would be heard for miles. They were trained for this, seasoned and experienced.

And yet still, they wouldn't expect him.

He finally senses the young boy when he’s closer, covered under a shroud that’s been designed to look like foliage. Billy can hear his heartbeat, the soft breathing of an unconscious boy. He feels the anger of the predator inside of him sharpen.

He stalks closer.

He’s hidden right beside them now, the very items used as strategic cover now works against them, allowing Billy to get very close.

These hunters were only anticipating bears, they would never see the panther coming.

When Frank finally gets to them, Billy shifts back into human form. He takes the shirt and pants hastily tossed his way, and watches Frank kneel beside the shroud covering his son.

Billy looks over, pausing as he puts on his shirt to assess the boy, same as Frank.

Breathing, unconscious still, a red bruise on his cheek where someone might have slapped him aggressively. It makes Billy angrier, wishing he’d made the hunters suffer longer. He’d torn them apart too fast for his liking.

Frank scoops up his son, trying his best not to wake him, most likely to avoid him witnessing the carnage left behind by the predator, sprays of blood and body parts scattered- it had been surprisingly silent throughout- no screams because Billy had torn out their vocal cords first.

“Thank you, Bill.” Frank murmurs, his arms full of his son.

Billy only nods, glad to have been able to help keep his family safe.

They only make it a few steps, before Billy hears the sound of branches snapping.

He only has a second to act, lunging at Frank and knocking both bodies out of the way as someone opens fire.

The sound echoes through the forest, as Billy and Frank take cover behind a rock. It only takes a moment to figure out where the sound is coming from, before Frank turns, placing his son into Billy’s arms.

“I want this one alive.” Is the last thing Frank says, before grunting loudly, his clothes tearing as he shifts.

And then he disappears.

Billy wants to help his friend, but he also understands that Frank Jr’s safety holds much more priority.

In any case, he knew who would be winning this fight anyway.

He’s holding Frank’s son in one hand, and dragging the unconscious hunter by the ankle along the forest floor when Maria finally spots him.

She runs up to him, he can smell the salty flavour of her despair in the forest air.

“He’s alright.” Billy reassures as she makes her way to him, “Just asleep.”

She takes the sleeping boy from his arms, cradling him closely, a little sob slipping from her lips. He drops the hunter’s foot and pulls them both into his arms.

He breathes in her flowery smell, presses his cheek into her hair.

They were safe.

“Where’s Frank?” She asks after a moment, looking up at Billy.

“He’s behind, making sure the forest is clear.” Billy explains, “You got a place to put this bastard?” He follows up with, inclining his head to the unconscious man beside him.

Maria nods, turning to show him the way.

Billy waits outside the little backyard shed for Frank to step out. He’s spent the last few minutes listening to Frank beat the man bloody. Frank doesn’t even ask any questions- just getting all of his residual anger out.

Billy’s not surprised to see the state of Frank’s hands when he steps out, covered in blood with splashes on his shirt.

“Have at it.” Frank says in a very rough voice, the anger too potent inside of him to get any further words out. Billy watches him grab a rag from his back pocket and begin wiping at his hands. He knows the darkness raging inside of the man, can almost taste it in the air. More than anything, Frank needs his family now to get back into a more stable headspace.

Billy doesn’t speak, only nodding, before opening the wooden shed door to do a little bit of interrogation.

The smell of blood and sweat is heavy in the air. The predator perks up at the atmosphere, scratching at the edges of Billy’s mind to give this pathetic man exactly what he deserves.

“Can you talk?” Billy says calmly, tilting his head at the man, watching the blood drip from his mouth.

The man doesn’t respond, simply eyeing Billy warily from his spot tied to the wooden chair.

“Would you like some water?” Billy follows up, grabbing a clean cup from one of the little shelves and filling it with water from the tap. He moves to stand in front of the man, his boots thumping on the wooden floor, tilting the cup toward him with eyebrows raised.

The man only gives him a bloody smile, his face illuminated by the lone incandescent bulb hanging above them.

“What is this?” the man rasps, “Bad cop- good cop? You think you’re gonna get anything out of me?”

Billy grins, laughing along with the man for a moment, before angling the cup upwards and dumping the cup of water on his head.

The man doesn’t flinch, though he knows that the water stings at the open cuts and scratches on his face.

He tosses the cup aside, walking to the far wall of the shed and examining the tools on the table carefully.

“I’m just making sure you can talk because I want some answers.” Billy responds, tracing his fingers along the hunting knife on the tabletop- deciding against it because it was too sharp.

He pauses on the wireless drill for a second, before deciding that cleaning that up would be too much of a pain.

“I’m not saying shit. So you might as well kill me.” The man responds.

It makes Billy laugh again, fingers pausing on the pliers. He tilts his head, deep in thought before reaching for them.

“I am going to kill you,” Billy clarifies, walking back around to him, “How quickly is up to you.”

He raises the pair of pliers in his hands, clicking it open and closed twice for emphasis.

“Now why don’t we start with who exactly sent you?”

“Fuck you.” The man spits.

Billy grins.

Like Frank, Billy is wound up and agitated when he finally steps out of the shed a few hours later. Having surrendered to the whims of the predator for too long, it’s not easy regaining control.

Frank’s waiting for him outside, eyeing him steadily.

Billy nods at Frank, silently telling him that even though he’s not at his best, he’ll get there.

“Hungry?” Frank asks, and the absurdity of the question is not lost on either of them. Truth is, they’ve both been desensitised to violence, the wars they’ve been through, the things they’ve seen makes this small event easier to handle.

“Starving.” Billy answers, watching Frank’s mouth pull up in amusement.

Frank might not be blood related to Billy, but they were brothers, in every way that mattered.

When Billy finally gets back to New York, it's almost 9am. He only has enough time to shower and change and get to work, a small pile of concerns having been built up in the three days he's been gone.

He can't wait to see you, to apologise for his absence, to make amends for such a hastily scribbled note left behind on the pillow beside your head and a soft kiss to your cheek. His heart is beating so fast in his chest that it might as well as be a vibration at this point.

Except he doesn't get a chance to see much of you at all. He only catches a solitary peek of you when you're heading to the elevators during your lunch break while he's standing at Katerina's desk deep in conversation.

"You should go get something to eat." Kat says, interrupting his long stare at the elevators.

"What?" He asks, not even paying attention.

"It's lunch time, and I think the cafeteria might have something you like."

He blinks, turns to look at her. She's giving him an expression of complete understanding.

He takes a slow breath.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" He asks softly.

She nods.

"I don't want you to starve."

Why he was trusting Katerina, was a question beyond his scope of thinking at the moment. Maybe he wasn't trusting her at all, maybe she had just given him the nudge he was looking for.

He heads toward the elevators, and presses the down button.

He waits.

He torments himself. Why was he doing this? He didn't need to- he could just send you a message to ask to talk to you like a normal person, instead of whatever he would subject himself to in the cafeteria.

He turns away, officially changing his mind.

The elevator doors pull open.

"Hello, Mister Russo." You say behind him.

His heart stops.

He turns.

He's held in place by how stunning you look, the way your hair falls and the gloss swiped onto your soft lips.

Lips that he kissed.

His stomach knots as he says your name in greeting.

If you have any indication of how frozen he is, you don't show it, barely meeting his eyes before looking away.

"Enjoy your lunch." Is all you say before you turn and walk away, never even sparing him a proper glance.

When he replays the little interaction in his head, it's only then that he realises that you addressed him by his last name.

He was no longer Billy, and had once again, become only your boss.

He swallows, a sour feeling in his stomach, acid swelling inside of him until it devours everything.

He doesn’t know what to do, so he turns, and walks back to his office.

“I’m not all that hungry.” He says to Katerina when he notices her studying him, doesn’t like how small he feels in that moment, wants to hide, and not be seen again, maybe take Frank up on his offer to live with him in the woods.

He lets his office door close behind him, before he’s taking a deep breath in an attempt to soothe his emotions.

The panther is hurt too, your indifference is like a sharp knife to his sternum, where he’d been craving heat, he only gets frostbite.

He sits in his chair, moves on autopilot, and doesn't focus on anything for the better part of an hour. He tries to reason with himself, tries to figure out how to fix this gaping wound that has opened up.

Worse yet, he’s afraid to go talk to you. Afraid of your rejection of him, that you’ve looked at him, and decided that you do not want him.

He hides instead.

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