#so sorry mr puzzles enjoyers

[midnight1nk]

EPISODE CONCEPT #8

What if… SMG3 had to make the hardest choice?

[more under cut]

For context, this is the third and final part of the dubbed "goop!4" arc (my version at least)!!! As I do for all requests, I gotta tag: @bowlolol here's the part 3 that you asked for! :) [Part 1 here, Part 2 here] Enter into my mind palace, oooohhhh very scaryyyyy~! It's also available on Wattpad and AO3. Now, without further ado...

CW/TW for blood/violence/gore/murder

What happened to you?

Pixels. Just a bunch of tiny colorful squares.

It's unnoticeable at first, until you look at them up close. There they are. If you stare at that screen for too long, its glow blinds you. A vision left to blur, like TV static.

Once, there was a horrible idea. A horrible, twisted idea.

The control fell upon his grasp, and a part of him took it. A part that he had sealed away for years. Gone were the chains that held him back, he snapped. Pleads of mercy have filled the room, his mind didn't catch up. There was still so much left to do, so much to prove. If only that man would just shut up for once and listen to him. Shut up. Shut up.

Before he knew it, it all went quiet. No fits of rage, no crying pain. Just silence. The grip on his father's fragile neck loosen, his hands and breathing shaking. Reality started to settle in as he stumbled back, looking at the chaos he caused.

His father laid limp against the couch chair, still. He was pale, the light in his eyes long gone. Empty. The marks along his neck were sure to turn purple.

Winston looked down at his hands, stunned. The world began to sway under his feet and he stumbled once more down a hallway, heading toward the bathroom. The single lightbulb hanging overhead flickered occasionally as he lifted his heavy head to the mirror, the sink being the only support of this upsetting balance. Forgetting what he did the garage half an hour ago, Winston expected his face. His human face, that is. Instead, there was a glitching TV screen staring back, imitating the facial expression he would've made.

He touched it out of disbelief, perhaps a hint of curiosity. There was still a staggering trail of blood rolling down his neck. Did... did he really did this? Glancing from the mirror and hallway, one thing became clear:

He just killed his father.

His hands balled into fists, blood boiling. He just killed him. That damn creative vision, he was close to proving he had it to his father. So close, and his old father had to die. He punched the mirror, his knuckles soon bleeding from the cracks. There was naturally rage and desperation inside him, and yet there was a ghost of a smile. His father is dead, the thought sang in his mind. For the first time ever, he... felt free, from torment and suffocating paranoia. Awaken. He lets out a maniacal laugh, descending to a spiraling madness. After all, patience was a virtue and good things come for those who wait.

Two people died that day, a father and his son named Winston. And, out of the gasoline-fueled flames of the burning house, emerged Mr Puzzles.

A new evolution indeed.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

There is no such thing as an end—except for something absolute to stop it.

Military-grade trucks circled the Pit, forming a secure base of operations. Volunteers in heavy gear moved like ants, carrying weapons, crates of supplies, and tools for whatever task lay ahead. Near the edge of the Pit stood SMG3, glaring down into the living abyss. The void stared back, pulsing and grumbling with a low, guttural sound. Its rim was lined with jagged, uneven teeth, and the disgusting blend of flesh and stone that bordered it twitched unnaturally. A mutation within itself.

He hated this place. No—he loathed it.

He never thought he'd find himself back here, not after the first time when they came searching for the Power Star. That ordeal was supposed to have been left in the past. But last week changed everything. Learning that the inky goo from the 'perfect' incident had returned. Learning that SMG4 had died because of it—and because of Mr. Puzzles.

Three closed his eyes. A breeze swept past, brushing against his face and hair. For a fleeting moment, he swore he could hear Four's voice, his laugh—an echo of a memory, faint and bittersweet.

He opened his eyes and steadied his breathing. In his hands, he held the "Ultimate Virus," its weight both literal and metaphorical. His USB key was already slotted in, ready for use. Four's USB dangled around his wrist, catching the first light of dawn as it glinted off the metal casing.

Nothing lasts forever.

"We're in position," a voice crackled over his radio.

Meggy approached from behind. She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, her expression firm but compassionate as she handed him a parachute pack.

"SMG3, you ready?"

He exhaled slowly, nodding as he took the pack from her. "Let's finish this." Adjusting the weapon against his side, he secured the chute and moved toward the edge.

Unbeknownst to them, Mario lurked nearby, watching from the shadows. He had slipped into gear, determined not to be left behind. Three would kill him if he found out—but hell, Mario wasn't about to let them go through this.

Three had locked him inside the Castle, claiming it was for his safety. But Mario didn't need to be a genius to figure out the truth. The tone in Three's voice had given it away—fear, not for Mario's safety, but something deeper. Something personal. Thankfully, Three seemed to have forgotten one important fact: Mario could phase through walls.

Now, with Meggy and Three already leaping into the Pit, Mario seized his chance. Grabbing a shield from the weapon crate and strapping on a parachute pack, he dashed toward the edge before anyone could stop him.

The descent was suffocating. The Pit grew darker and colder with every passing second. Three's heart pounded as he caught sight of the red, monstrous form around them. Its rocky foundation fused with countless staring eyes, it almost seemed like it was greeting them.

And yet, as a former villain, Three understood why Horus would be here of all places. This was where everything had started.

Four might never have admitted it, but Three could feel it—his partner carried guilt from the 'perfect' incident. He could sense it from the cosmic link they shared. The Pit wasn't just a place of nightmares; it was a reflection of failures, of pain buried too deep to surface. And when the team had tracked the trail of Horus—the goo splatters leading straight to the Pit—Three's suspicions were confirmed.

This was where it all began. And now, it would be where it all ended.

Project Horus, also known on the Dark Web as "Failed Subject #18," began as a government experiment in 2022 aimed at exploring the Great Beyond. Inspired by the SMGs' unscathed return to their universe, researchers sought to create an organism that could merge seamlessly with technology and act as a symbiotic host, attuned by raw emotions.

The project quickly spiraled out of control. Every volunteer left the testing chamber gravely injured, and the experiment seemed doomed. Then, during a security breach, Horus escaped. While the federal facility lost track of it, Three didn't.

Word of Horus spread rapidly across the Dark Web, and criminals captured it, taking it to an underground lab for unethical experiments. Pushed beyond its limits, Horus was tortured into becoming nearly indestructible, controllable by a simple keyboard command. Enraged by its mistreatment, it lashed out, killing every test subject it encountered. Mysteriously, the lab exploded, leaving no trace of the experiments.

Three believed Horus had escaped again, only to fall into the hands of the black market and eventually into the possession of Winston—well, Mr. Puzzles. But this was where the trail ended.

Horus wasn't the government's only creation. Its twin, Ra (Subject #28) was a red tentacled monster with large eyes. Unlike Horus, Ra succeeded, seamlessly bonding with hosts, albeit reluctantly. Both creatures, along with the keyboard, ended up in Puzzles' possession. It was Ra—completely loyal in both body and mind—who became his perfect companion.

The scientists, criminals, and Puzzles—all of them wanted to play god.

As they neared the bottom of the Pit, Three and Meggy deployed their parachutes, guiding themselves down toward the fleshy, rocky walls. With practiced precision, they latched onto the surface using grappling hooks, securing themselves to the side as they prepared to climb downward.

But they weren't alone.

"Mario?!" Three's voice erupted in frustration as he spotted the red-capped figure joining them. "What are you doing here?"

"You can't stop me!" Mario started climbing downward, ahead of them.

With a groan, Three activated his radio. "Team 1 to 5, initiate phase one," he ordered before focusing his full attention on Mario. "You're still my Avatar, and the universe collapses if you die. That's why I told you to stay at the castle!"

"Bullshit," Mario said without breaking stride. "We both know SMG4's alive. You just don't want to see it."

"He's dead, Mario! And Horus isn't going to hesitate to kill any of us! Me, in denial? You must've gone crazy again."

"No, you're the one who's crazy!" Mario shot back. "Revenge this, revenge that. He's alive but no one believes me. Not even Meggy!"

Meggy remained silent, her gaze focused ahead, her expression unreadable.

Mario threw out his hands in exasperation. "See?" His voice softened. "I get it. You're hurt, and yeah, maybe it's a long shot. But for once in your life, could you just trust me?"

Three paused, a flicker of something—hope, doubt—surfacing in his eyes before he forced it back down. He shook his head, steeling himself. "This needs to end. I don't care if I'm seen as a hero or a villain. I have to set this right. It's what he would've wanted. I was his guardian partner."

"And I'm his best friend," Mario replied, sounding more like a plea, as he reached the bottom of the Pit. Unhooking his climbing rope, he turned to face them as they followed. Once both had landed, Mario pulled a small, folded piece of paper from his pocket. It was 'Best Friend Award' drawing he made for Four from MAR10 Day.

"SMG4 is my best friend, I'm not leaving him like this," he said, holding the paper out.

Three stared at it, the memories rushing back like a sudden flood. For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, with a heavy sigh, he looked back at Mario.

"Fine," Three relented, his voice quieter now. "But you follow my rules. Stay close and don't get in my way. Got it?"

Mario nodded reluctantly, carefully folded the paper and tucked it back into his pocket. Reaching for the shield he had brought, he held it up like a promise.

That was all Three needed.

At the bottom of the Pit, they remained hidden by the jagged walls, weapons gripped tightly in their hands. It was a far cry from the last time they were here. After securing the Power Star, they had sealed off the tunnel leading to the cavern. Now, only Horus could be lurking in the smaller tunnels and cracks.

"Never knew you had a death wish, SMG3. You should've told me sooner."

Three's grip on the rifle tightened. The voice, familiar yet twisted, sent a chill through him. A creeping tension filled the air, his heart pounding in his chest.

"And you got a new toy. How flashy." The voice sneered. "I don't see the point, though. What, pretending to be a hero? Please. You were the one who tried to kill us when you had the YouTube Remote. Then again, you do love rubbing your ego in everyone's faces."

Shadows danced across the walls, fueled by the rising fear of the trio, their eyes darting to track every movement. Three raised a hand, signaling them to move to one of the nearby corners.

"Well, let's have some fun, shall we? Go on, stop me. Because, no matter what I do, I'm too stubborn to die."

They moved into a shallow alcove, readying themselves. Three exhaled slowly, steadying his nerves. He whispered to himself, "I'm ready."

"...Are you?"

A low growl resonated behind them. Before they could react, Horus emerged from the shadows of the hole and lunged at Three. Surprised but quick, Three managed to roll out of the way, just as Horus crashed into the Pit, landing with a resounding thud.

Meggy immediately stepped forward, distracting the goo creature, while Three radioed in: "Release the canisters."

From the jagged edges of the cave, dozens of metal canisters were launched, each one bursting open upon impact with the ground, releasing a thick, suffocating gas that filled the air in seconds. The trio quickly slapped on their gas masks as the toxic fumes spread.

Struggling to breathe, Horus rose, its gooey form expanding, but was immediately met with a hail of bullets and explosives. The creature recoiled, its attention now drawn to the hidden crew members and operation volunteers positioned along the edges of the Pit. Enraged, Horus charged toward one of the shooters.

"Now!

In an instant, the team activated the noisemakers. A high-pitched, bone-rattling frequency pierced the air, causing Horus to writhe in pain. Its body twisted violently, the goo bursting outward like jagged spikes and writhing tendrils. Several operatives were struck, thrown into the air by the force of the impact. Though fortunately, none were killed.

Unable to endure the pain any longer, Horus plunged back into the gas, desperately digging through the closed-off tunnel to escape into the cavern beyond. It slipped through the gap, but the trio was quick to follow, knowing they were one step closer to cornering the monster. All according to plan.

Three radioed in. "All teams, bring up the injured. The rest, guard the tunnel entrance. We're going in."

In the depths of the cavern, they squeezed through the cracks Horus had created, making their way toward the ruins of Peach's castle. The air was thick with tension as they carefully entered, each watching the other's back. But Horus was faster. With lightning speed, it snatched Mario from the shadows of the ceiling. Mario struggled, squirming to break free, his gaze locked with the creature's single glowing eye.

For a moment, Horus hesitated. It lingered, as if something was holding it back. Something... human. But before the moment could last, Three and Meggy opened fire, the bullets tearing into the creature's form. Horus dropped Mario with a howl, sending him crashing to the ground.

Mario gasped, struggling to push himself up as he locked eyes with the creature. "He's in there," he whispered, breathless.

Meggy rushed to Mario's side, helping him to his feet, while Three engaged Horus in a brutal one-on-one fight.

"Red, are you okay?" she asked, but Mario barely heard her, his attention consumed by the creature.

"SMG3, don't hurt him!" Mario pleaded, his voice desperate.

But it was no use, vengeance have clouded their minds. Three threw a bomb directly at Horus, a clean hit. The explosion rocked the cavern, but Horus quickly regenerated from its injuries, its goo reforming in seconds. In retaliation, the creature slammed Three into the ruins, sending a shockwave of pain through his body. Despite the agony, Three shook off the blow and activated his personal noisemaker, sending a high-pitched noise that made Horus recoil in torment.

The goo spread across the cavern like a living tide, quickly consuming the space around them. Horus tackled Three to the ground, its limbs acting like bars of a cage. Three fought back, pushing with every ounce of strength, but Horus ripped the gas mask off his face, leaving a deep, bleeding scratch across his brow.

Seeing this, Meggy fired, drawing Horus's attention away from Three. "Go help SMG3!"

"No, hold on," Mario shouts. But Meggy was already running, the monster hot on her heels. Mario rushed to Three's side, grabbing him by the arm to help him up. "SMG3, listen to me," he said, his voice urgent. "It's him! SMG4—he's still alive."

Three struggled to catch his breath, his voice rough. "He's dead."

"No, he's not!" Mario insisted.

They heard Meggy cry out from across the cavern, backed into a corner by Horus. She desperately slammed her gun against her hand, trying to unjam the barrel. But the creature was already closing in, ready to strike. Without thinking, Mario dashed forward, stepping between Horus and Meggy, using his shield.

Horus froze, its glowing eye fixing on Mario. For a brief moment, it didn't move. The creature's form trembled, a guttural roar rumbling in its throat. It clutched its head, as if fighting something buried deep inside it.

Meggy's eyes widened as the pieces fell into place. Mario had been right.

The ground shook, and a new figure emerged from the ruins. To their surprise, it was corrupted Peach, recognizing her from their last adventure. Without hesitation, she launched herself at Horus, tackling it with raw, primal force. The two monsters collided in a violent, savage clash, claws and teeth tearing into each other.

Mario turned back to Three, who had managed to regain some composure. He was inserting Four's USB key into the rifle, and the device hummed to life, its red lights casting an ominous glow.

"SMG3!" Mario called out, his voice louder now, filled with urgency. "He's in there! You have to believe me!"

Three glanced back at Mario, then at Meggy. Both of their faces were etched with desperation, their silent plea hanging in the air. Horus swiped at Peach, sending her crashing into the ruins, knocking her out completely. Three turned his attention back to Horus, raised the rifle, and aimed.

Three never lost sight of Horus through the scope. And yet, there was a spark in his mind, unlocking a bottled hope. As he inhaled, he closes his eyes, the seconds becoming minutes. Time plays in his hands.

His blood boiled by the mere sight of Horus throughout this whole operation, as if that monster was mocking him. Horus killed Four. He was admittedly tired of this game of pretend, Three could simply not let Horus stain Four's memory anymore. A steady finger hovered over the trigger. All it takes is one move for the Ultimate Virus to pierce through Horus.

Let it all end. Just... end it.

Then, there was the promise he made. As much as he was told to deny it, deep down, he held on to that hope that Four was still in there. That Four was alive. What he wouldn't do to see those blue eyes again. If he shoots, it'll be Four's blood in his hands. Four would truly be gone, along with everything associated to the man. Their guardianship, the Showgrounds, Beeg4. All of it, gone. Forgotten.

He opened his eyes, seeing Horus charging at him. The choice he'll make, it'll be a risk regardless. If he pulls the trigger, he'll unknowingly lose Four to a second death—from soul to mere existence. If he doesn't, that goo will forever be burned in his memory. One bullet, one choice. It all falls on him.

"SMG4, if you're still in there somehow, show me a sign."

Three exhaled, a sense of calmness settling over. Minutes returned as seconds, the ground shook by Horus' charge. His choice was made. Slowly, he lowered his rifle and let it slip from his hands, a light thud.

"And I won't shoot, I promise."

Steeling himself, Three dared to face Horus, who pounced through the gas towards him. Eye to eye, this was the same old song-and-dance, only their roles were reversed. Who knew it would come to this? A low rumble of Horus' growl rhymed with the accelerating beat of Three's heart, played like a drum. Not of fear, it never was. Gentleness crossed over Three. I promise.

"Four!"

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Four's eyes shot open, adjusting to the soft glow of the stars scattered above him. A few blinks sharpened his senses, though his thoughts remained hazy. He could've sworn he heard someone call his name—a voice laced with familiarity. As he sat up with a groan, the scene around him became clearer. He was in their secret spot: the field of white lilies he and Three shared.

Memories slowly poured in; the card reading, Mr Puzzles, the pain. As the details solidified, so did the emotions: frustration, anger, and hurt swirling together like a storm.

He growled under his breath, clenching his fists. "When I get my hands on that damn TV..."

"You aren't the only one with grudge against him."

The voice startled Four, his head whipping toward the source. A figure stood at the cliff's edge, silhouetted against the shimmering stars. It looked just like him, yet its form was entirely composed of black, inky slime. The goo shifted, its voice mirroring his own but it sounded sympathetic. Almost... guilty.

Four narrowed his eyes, cautious yet curious. "Who are you?"

"Horus. That's what they called me anyway."

"They?"

Horus lowered their gaze, defeated. "You deserve an explanation," they said. "Do you remember when you and your friends went to defeat Zero? Well, the government grew curious about the Great Beyond. They wanted something capable of surviving its dangers to a living host. So, they created me. An organism fused with technology."

"Like an astronaut suit," Four said.

Horus blinked, clearly not expecting that metaphor, then gave a small nod. "Something like that. They ran experiment after experiment, trying to make me 'perfect.' When I escaped, I thought I'd left that torture behind. But then some Dark Web scientists found me. They were worse—obsessed with immortality, desperate to make me their key to invincibility."

Horus's frame shuddered, memories flashing like scars on their being. Drowning in chemicals. Endless needles. Surges of electricity. The pain of those moments, the crackling laughter of their tormentors, echoed in their voice.

Four's stance softened. He could feel the pain radiating from Horus, could sense it through the connection between symbiotic creature and host. Slowly, he stood, though his guard remained partially raised. "Mr. Puzzles said you were his creation."

"Since when anything he did was original?"

"...Fair enough."

"No idea from anybody is original, SMG4."

"Ok then. What I don't get is, if you wanted to be free, why choose me?"

The question made Horus visibly flinch. The goo rippled, their form trembling as if wrestling with the answer. Finally, they calmed down.

"Mr Puzzles was the one who bought me after the lab explosion. I was a new prosthetic to him but I instead gave him... a warning of sorts, like I did to those selfish rats. They were all the same. Then, I met you," Horus's voice cracked, trying to hold back tears and finally facing Four. Their face was nothing but a pair of pink glowing eyes. "Your dreams in bringing happiness to others, ideas bursting in creativity. They were... beautiful. You were the first host I wanted to protect, to live.

"You were hurting, holding it all in. I just wanted to let you express yourself, to release your inner thoughts. But he had to come in, saw I failed to kill you, and..." Horus looked down at the faded scars that peek in between Four's left glove and sleeve. They looked away. "I should've done more."

Four followed their gaze, tracing a finger over the scarred lines on his wrist. Cracked like a porcelain doll. He wasn't ashamed of how his scars looked, he never was. Rather, they were a secret because it was a constant reminder of what he had done in the 'perfect' incident, how he hurt his friends back them. Despite being consistently reminded that he was under a possessive state, he carried the blame like a thorned crown. Full of empathy, Four walked over to their side.

"It wasn't just the incident," Horus continued, their voice cracking. "When I saw him again at the carnival, everything came rushing back—the experiments, the pain. I wanted to destroy him, but I was so blinded by my anger that I ended up hurting you instead."

Four's thoughts clicked into place. He recalled the burning sensation in his scars and how Horus, in their goo form, had surged over him—not to harm, but to rescue him. "So, that's why..."

"I lost control," Horus admitted. "I pushed too far, and all I've ever done is make things worse. How can I be anything if I'm not perfect?"

Four reached out and put a hand on Horus' shoulder, gentle enough to not startle them. "Before you came into my life, I thought people only cared about me because of my videos—because I was 'SMG4.' I thought if my content wasn't good enough, I wasn't good enough. You're not the one who hurt me, Horus. Mr. Puzzles did that. And even if I didn't see it at the time, I know now—you were trying to save me and my friends. I wouldn't be here without you. So... I forgive you."

Horus blinked, their glowing eyes wide with disbelief. "After everything I've done? Why?"

"Because perfection isn't possible, and that's okay."

Without hesitation, Four pulled Horus into a hug. For the first time in their existence, Horus felt something unfamiliar—comfort. No needles, no pain, just warmth. Pink tears streaked down their face, glowing faintly in the starlight.

"You have good friends," Horus whispered.

Four closed his eyes, memories flooding back: meeting Mario, the Crew's wild adventures, the chaos and laughter. And then, Three—his partner—sitting with him under the stars. Nothing could ever compare to the love they built in their friendships, of the family they chose.

"We do," Four agreed. "We really do."

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

"SMG3?"

Mario clutched on Meggy's hand as they pushed through the dense and swirling gas, his words swallowed by the eerie silence. His eyes darted around, straining to find any sign—of Three, of Four, of anything. His heart pounded in his chest as he recalled where he last saw Three. He had to be here. They had to be.

He tried again, his voice cracking into fear, "SMG3?" The echo that answered was faint and hollow, offering no comfort. A knot tightened in his chest. To whatever god happened to be listening, Mario pleaded that he hadn't sent a friend to their death.

Through the haze, something shifted. Shadows, blurred and vague, just ahead. Mario's heart leap, instinctively taking a step forward, but Meggy stopped him with a firm tug. Her wary look said it all, it might not be Three.

Mario hesitated, giving her a small nod. Together, they proceeded, every step mixed with precaution and hope. The gas began to thin, slipping away through unseen cracks in the cavern walls, and the shape began to sharpen.

Then, they saw it.

Against the jagged wall, Three knelt, cradling Four in his arms as if he were made of glass. Four's body, though seemingly intact, glitched faintly with tiny digital squares of pink and cyan, flickering around like fireflies. Glitching pixels. Despite being unconscious, his face was almost peaceful.

Three raised his head, his expression serene. His free hand reached out toward them, palm open as if to reassure.

"You're right," Three said to Mario. "You really are his best friend."

Those words were all it took to break the dam. Tears welled in their eyes before spilling uncontrollably—quiet or loud, they didn't care. Mario and Meggy rushed forward, collapsing into an embrace around the meme guardians. While mindful of Four's fragile state, their collective joy was barely contained.

Their friend was alive. Alive. That was all that mattered.

Eventually, Mario and Meggy pulled away, giving Three the space he needed to examine Four's condition. He pressed two fingers to Four's wrist, counting softly under his breath.

"His pulse..." Three said at last, his voice steady despite his fatigue. "It's weaker than it should be, but he'll pull through. He always does."

He brushed a stray strand of hair from Four's face, his expression softened. His fingers curling gently around his partner's hand, squeezing it as if willing him to respond.

If Four could just open his eyes, even for a moment, it would be enough to relieve Three's quiet plea for him to come back.

"What a heartwarming reunion, such a shame it has to end so soon!"

The red creature that slumbered between the cavern cracks began to stir, slithering away towards the remnants of the old castle. A moment of tense silence hung in the air before an oversized, gloved hand suddenly emerged, gripping a fallen wall. Then another. The sound of mucky flesh and cracked bones filled the cavern as Mr Puzzles made a grotesque entrance, towering over the group.

But it wasn't his voice or size that sent chills down their spines.

Mario, Meggy, and Three narrowed their eyes, vengeance fueling their resolve.

His legs were missing, torn away to leave exposed wires tangled with red monstrous tentacles. What was left of his old self was the twisted, multicolored grin fixed at the corners of his screen.

"Ah, I see you have found my new friend," he said in regards to the unconscious Four, his voice crackled in madness.

"New friend, my ass." Without hesitation, Three quickly let go of Four, rose to his feet, and fired the "Ultimate Virus" directly at Mr. Puzzles. The "bullet" burst with energy as it sailed through the air.

But before it could hit, as if he were catching a child's toy, Mr. Puzzles caught it in his massive hand, unfazed. Shocked expressions flickered across their faces as he laughed. "Aw, did you really think this would work on me?"

He crushed the "bullet" in his palm like it was nothing. Their last hope was gone. Mr. Puzzles's face twisted into a bloody red mask, with realistic eyes and a gaping mouth—more corpse than machine or human. His body swelled, limbs and neck contorting in horrifying ways as if they were being torn apart and hastily stitched back together.

"The new evolution to perfection," Mr. Puzzles sneered, his voice resonating with the maddening certainty of his own destiny. "Body and memory, I am infinite. I cannot be denied!"

Nor would he give them the chance. A red tentacle shot from his body, lunging at the group with claws and teeth bared, as if desperate for prey. Unstoppable, there was no time to run. Mario and Meggy instinctively huddled together, protecting each other with their arms. Three shielded his partner, while Four's hand twitched. Just as all seemed lost, they closed their eyes and braced for the attack.

Except, it never came.

Confused, they looked up to see a protective barrier of inky goo pushing against the monstrous tentacle. Their gazes followed the source back to Four's outstretched arm, shaking but resolute. His open hand clenched into a fist, the goo mimicking him, grabbing the tentacle and tearing it away from Mr. Puzzles' body. The TV screeched in pain, its distorted image flickering. The ink slipped back into Four's body as he slowly moved to his knees.

"Four," Three breathed, relieved despite the lingering worry.

"I guess I was right about one thing," Four winced, his body glitching but shined in confidence. "I am too stubborn to die."

The realization hit Puzzles like a lightning bolt. Horus. Anger boiled within him, sending him into a rage. "After everything I've done for you... you ungrateful little brat!"

The cave shuddered with his outrage, giant rocks crumbling like hail around them. One, particularly large and dangerously close, threatened to hit the group.

"We need to get out of here," Three shouted over the chaos. He pulled out the USB keys from his rifle, fastening one around his neck and the other around Four's wrist. Wielding the rifle in one hand, he swung Four's arm over his shoulder, supporting his partner who was too weak to walk on his own. "Four, don't push yourself. I got you."

With that, the group sprinted as fast as they could toward the only exit. Meggy spoke urgently over her walkie-talkie. "All teams, evacuate immediately! It's Mr Puzzles!"

Hearing the sound of Puzzles' maniacal laughter echoed off the stone, Mario asked, "What about him?"

"The Virus failed," Three said grimly. "We don't have anything stronger that could defeat him."

Four stumbled to keep up, his legs still adjusting to running. From his hypersensitive senses, he picked up every tremor in the cave walls, every shift of the rocks overhead.

They're not going to make it in time.

Four cursed to himself, knowing that it was true. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glint of golden light—a small one from a nearby rock. And he knew exactly what it was. There was a chance after all.

Four looked at Three with bittersweetness, there was no turning back now. "Three, I hope you can forgive me."

"What?"

Before Three could do anything else, Four yanked the USB key from around Three's neck and grabbed the rifle. Freeing himself, he bolted back towards the chaos. Mr. Puzzles, sensing what he was planning, lashed out with the tentacles in a desperate attempt to stop him. If only he had known better.

Two can play that game.

Four dodged the attacks effortlessly with his quickstep, using the goo as a shield when needed. He moved with incredible precision, staying just ahead of danger as pink light from his eyes traced his path like a shooting star. Leaping from falling boulder to boulder, he snatched up what he was looking for: the perfect video, still sealed in its USB package. In one fluid motion, he loaded it into the rifle's barrel like a bullet.

The perfect bullet.

Three's eyes widened in horror—he knew exactly what Four planned to do. He spun around to save that idiot, but Mario and Meggy held him back. "No! I'm not losing him again!" But the Crew couldn't bear to lose another friend.

Four charged forward toward Mr Puzzles with pure determination. During the 'perfect' incident, when the video was upload to the USB, it created a lock—only its creators could open it. Well, except if you happened to be lucky. With steady hands, he slotted both keys into the rifle—Three's and his own.

"Four!" Three cried out as Mario and Meggy dragged him toward the tunnel.

Heartbroken, they knew there was nothing they could do. The rifle crackled to life as Four reached the final platform, coming face-to-face with Mr Puzzles. Standing this close, Four could see every pixel on the screen. Despite the danger surrounding them, the sight was mesmerizing.

"You and I, we're entertainers."

Four raised the rifle and channeled all the goo's power into it. Both he and Horus knew they needed to go all out. The bullet reacted wildly to the surge of power, rattling with excited anticipation, ready at Four's command. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear Three calling his name—but the anguish in that voice tore at his heart. He silently apologized. Despite the thousand painful glitches wracking his body, Four pushed through and looked through the scope. His eyes flashed pink for a few seconds.

"And the world awaits."

He took a breath, waiting for what this so-called destiny had for him, and pulls the trigger. The world flashed to white.

And nothing will ever be the same again.

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Silence. Just silence.

The dust and chaos had settled, the red monster withering into lifeless lumps. Three's eyes fluttered open, his foggy mind clearing up with each blink. A low groan escaped his lips as he struggled to sit up, fighting against the nausea and headache. Gradually, the world came into focus. The sound of shifting rubble nearby drew his gaze—Meggy was helping Mario to his feet.

It all came rushing back; the red monster, the perfect video...

"Four? Where's Four?"

Mario and Meggy watched as Three scrambled to his feet, a frantic energy overtaking him. He stumbled through the wreckage, pushing fallen rocks and the remains of the monster. None of it mattered. He had to find his partner. He had to.

But as the seconds dragged on, the silence was starting to pull on his heartstrings.

"Four!" Three's voice cracked, his voice slipping in fear.

No response. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe. No. No. He couldn't do this again. He couldn't grieve for Four—not this time. The real thing, the final loss, would shatter him completely.

Then, a sound.

Three's head snapped toward it, hope igniting like a spark in his chest. From across the rubble, a familiar figure emerged. Four, pulling a severed tentacle from his back, stumbled forward from beneath the fallen debris. Bruised, battered, but unmistakably alive. He turned toward Three, his eyes meeting his partner's.

"Three?"

"Four!"

Without hesitation, Three bolted toward him as Four limped forward to meet him, weary smiles spreading across their faces. When his foot caught on a loose brick, Three was there in an instant, catching him before he could fall. The two clung to each other in a desperate embrace, afraid that some sick illusion would rip them apart. Four's head rested against Three's shoulder, and Three's hand combed through his partner's hair, knocking the blue cap to the ground.

He's okay, they nearly wept in relief.

The rest of the Crew rush in from the tunnel and seeing the sight, relief merged into triumphant cheers. Hugs and victorious high-fives were exchanged, while Meggy and Tari shared a longing kiss in the background.

But their moment was cut short as a harmless Princess Peach, half-human and half-monster, rose from the wreckage alongside Puzzles, dizzy and now reduced to a Leggy-like state: just a TV head on two tiny feet. They all quickly went over to deal with that.

Three and Four, still clinging to each other, broke apart reluctantly. But as Three stepped back, he froze, his ruby eyes widening—not with fear, but with awe. Almost admiration.

"What?" Four asked.

The Crew went over to join them and seemed to notice what Three was seeing, more of confusion than anything else. Mario scratched his head as his mustache grew comically. "Woah, what happened to you."

"Okay, now you guys are starting to freak me out."

Three picked up a shard of shattered glass and handed it to Four. "See for yourself."

Hesitant, Four took the makeshift mirror and peered into it. What he saw made his breath hitch. His right eye was its familiar blue, but his left... was a vivid magenta.

"Oh god, did I turned into a damaged OC now?!"

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Four pushed passed the bushes, the buzz of cicadas played along with him humming the Super Mario theme song. Knowing the route like the back of his hand, he took a sharp right at a familiar pine tree, the goo around his feet slithering forward to clear fallen branches from his way.

Ever since what happened, Four and Horus had come to a deal: Four would keep his glitch-like abilities, and in exchange, Horus would be free to roam from time to time. Just as it's doing right now, Horus didn't want Four to go through the whole puking-my-guts-out ordeal again. Four was okay with this arrangement. In fact, he often joked that Horus was his version of "Venom". Though Horus corrected him with "symbiote", he at least gets it.

This wasn't the only resolve Four went through. He made amends with Princess Peach, apologizing extensively for what she had endured. While they didn't see eye-to-eye on everything, he felt guilty all the same. To his surprise, she forgave him. Although half her body remained in its monstrous form, she saw it as an opportunity for personal change while receiving treatment from SMG1 and SMG2's meme powers. Besides, she'd already gotten her revenge with that punch earlier—and it felt so satisfying.

Then there was Mr Puzzles. The "perfect video" had stripped away his creative control powers and the red tentacle monster that slithered within his wires, leaving him practically harmless. As much as Four and Horus wanted to punch through his screen, vengeance can't be mistaken for justice. The Crew settled on imprisonment with occasional therapy sessions. According to Horus, there was a child caged in his mind, wishing for closure. Whether Puzzles chooses to change was up to him. Forgiveness, if it ever came, would take time.

The trees thinned as Four entered a familiar clearing, the stars welcoming him. There, sitting within the field of white lilies, was Three staring out at the horizon. His purple cap laid nearby.

Without needing to look back, Three shook his head. "You should be resting, Four."

"And miss this view? Not a chance." Four approached, settling beside him. "So, what's on your mind?"

Three sighed, leaning into the shoulder Four offered. "It's been bothering me since that day. Had a nightmare... one where I made the wrong choice."

Before pulling the trigger, Three has seen a vision—a glimpse into a where he'd gone through with it. Where Four died. Three would've felt their cosmic link sever, the universe losing a Meme Guardian and he would know too late he made the worst mistake. Four's body would've vanished, along with every memory their friends had of him.

Three would've forgotten everything too—their adventures, their friendship. He would've waken up in his old design, alone in the Internet Graveyard, starting over as a Meme Guardian with a new partner.

And what about the Crew? Without Four, Mario might've lost his goofy charm. The friendships they'd built wouldn't have existed. Everything about Four, gone by a single shot. Three would've lost everything and nothing at the same time because, how could you lose something if you didn't it existed?

He shuddered. "I was this close to killing you, and..."

"But you didn't," Four interrupted gently, taking Three's hand and runs his thumb over the tense knuckles. "You kept your promise."

"It literally happened a week ago."

"Three, look at me."

He obeyed, ruby meeting the mismated blue and magenta. Four smiled. "Am I here?"

"...yes."

"Do you still remember me? Our friends? Your café? The kids?"

"Yes."

"Then remember us just as we are now. And here." Four pressed a tender kiss to Three's temple. "If anything, I feel bad for hurting you guys."

"You shouldn't," Three countered.

"See my point?"

Three opened his mouth to argue but faltered. His shoulders relaxed, a weight lifted at last.

"Don't blame yourself," Four continued, playing with the white ribbon tying back Three's hair. "You saved me... again."

Three smiled faintly, bringing Four's hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to it. "Always. But seriously, how many times have we done the whole 'willing my sacrifice my life for you' thing? By all the memes, I've lost count." He earned a laugh from Four. "Still not used to the new look, though," Three pointed out.

"Oh, come on! We match now!" Four gestured to his outfit. His overalls now sported a glitch-like pattern stitched at the hems—cyan on one leg, magenta on the other. The black-cuffed gloves bore the numeral "4" on the back of each palm. And of course, his star earrings. "You can't be the only one looking cool."

"Still not as handsome as me though."

"Hey, you're the one who said I looked pretty with my new eyes."

"I-I said you looked nice," Three stuttered, a blush creeping up his face. Looking away, he mumbled, "What else you wanted me to say, you baka?"

"That you love me just as much as I love you."

Three turned to him with a deadpan expression and blinked. "Okay, one, that was cheesy. And two, what I said felt completely appropriate."

"So, you do love me," Four teased again, leaning closer. Three rolled his eyes and pushed him back playfully. They didn't need to say it; they both knew. "I still remember your clip."

Four pulled out his phone and played the postcard video the Crew made, how fun it must've been. Their joy lit through the tiny screen. For the man dressed in blue and his wish to bring happiness, this was all he could ask for. At the very end of the video, there was Three's voice—the most earnest he has ever been.

"Hey, scrub. You must've seen what the others had done while you were gone. I don't really know what to..."

He paused, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Um, y'know our spot? Out there, with the lilies? While you were gone, I went there one night—and no, it wasn't a nightmare this time. Don't make that face, I can already tell. I'm okay, the kids were with me. I've been thinking about us... about you. I never realized how much you mean to me. And I guess I'm wondering what you think. Four, we've been beating around the bush for years, it's getting ridiculous at this point, so I'm gonna risk it all."

Another pause. His past self gulped, mustering up whatever courage he had at the time.

"When you get back, I'll be waiting for you at that field. There's... something I have to tell you. Just... whatever happens between us, I'll still be your partner. Always."

[END OF PART 3 || Part 1 here, Part 2 here]

[hp-lonesome-actual-art]

Erhm sorry about the poor lighting quality on this batch. Kinda spur of the moment conjured them up, but the downside is no natural sunlight available due to it being night hours so everything is very yellow tinted. But depending how you look at it this might help enhance the retro old fashioned feel lol

Also gotta include the online photo inspiration for this Leggy & Mr. Puzzles one. Kinda a strange idea but figured it would be comedic enough concept to warrant some art…and perhaps I think it’s just a little bit cute too. In general I just wish they had more bonding screen time together :3

[ominus-potato]

Need a universe where your MarWare fankid grows into a Tumblr sexy man like his tv dad.

Dunno about Tumblr sexyman but he’s pretty darn cute!

He grew into his eyes a bit although they’re a little red. He still has his noodle legs too but he can actually walk with them now! Just has a little bit of a limp. Head is still dented too. It’s not as obvious but the dents are still there. Also I changed his screen from green to red to get a bit more of Mario in there.

This is just my interpretation of how he’d look. I know a few people already have their own designs and headcanons for him so feel free to keep adding your own interpretation of this character. This is just how I imagine he’d look when he’s older.

Lore:

With the combination of Mario’s wackiness and Mr Puzzles creativity, SpagheTV managed to become a successful director at a big studio! Bigger than Mr Puzzles ever was. He mostly specialises in horror movies and he spent years away from home as he was building his career.

He didn’t see his parents for about 5 years as he was working abroad but then he finally saw them again at an event where he was accepting an award for his work. He was definitely nervous to see them. Part of him was worried that Mr Puzzles would be a little upset that his son had managed to out-do him in the movie industry but nope!

As soon as Mario spotted him, he ran over to him and gave him a big hug, crying about how much he missed him. Puzzles did the same, trying not to cry as much, and both are extremely proud of SpagheTV.

Sorry angst enjoyers! Everyone is a big happy family here!

(Again, feel free to interpret SpagheTV in your own way! If you wanna make him a crazy angst ridden broken child then go nuts!)

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

Morning, Mon

I'm thinking about after Hotch was in the bombing in Mayhem and lost some of his hearing, with reader who would be careful to always be on the side of his 'good' ear, or always really enunciate their words and try to speak with their mouth clearly in front of him since he has to rely on lipreading a bit more these days. Plus! they would totally show Jack to do the same since he loves to babble happily to his dad, but he sometimes misses what's being said. Being hotch though he's always too embarrassed to admit when he needs help or can't hear.

Have a blessed day, Beautiful

A Helping Hand

Warnings: Hearing loss, brief mention of the bombing, Hotch being too proud to ask for help (but eventually does), fluff.

Word count: 806

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!reader

A/n: Oh yes yes!! This is one of the more recent ones I've seen when rewatching some of CM. It might be less of a fic?? Idk. BUT I'm posting it as one anyway 😌. Sorry if this isn't exactly what you wanted </3. I hope it's still enjoyable though :) This one was also not proofread so I apologise if there are any mistakes.

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @criminalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssamorganhotchner (let me know if you want to be added🫶)

After the bombing and Aaron losing some of his hearing in one ear you've tried to be considerate of his new situation and how he lives now. You know he doesn't always catch everything that's being said to or around him but you also know he hates asking for people to speak louder and more clearly because of his hearing.

You've taken it upon yourself to do whatever you can to help him. And if everyone thought you liked being around him before, they should see you now. You're by his side almost constantly when you're on cases. It started when you noticed Aaron furrowing his brows even more and trying to lean in and turn his head so he could hear the officer more clearly, whether he realised he was doing it or not. When he still looked puzzled as to what was said you had walked over to him and made sure you repeated the officer's words into Hotch's good ear. He thanked you, though he did seem a bit embarrassed that you'd had to do that for him.

Hotch needs some extra care and consideration right now and though you know he hates needing extra help, or any help for that matter, he does need it. And you're happy to help him however you can. You're stuck to his side often. Even outside of work.

When everything happened and Aaron was spending time at home more, you visited every day if there wasn't a case. The first couple times you were there, you noticed Jack rambling about everything that popped into his head but Aaron was clearly not catching most of what was being said. He was trying to see the boy's face which was directed downwards as he played with his toys. Aaron would hum and nod even though he wasn't getting most of it.

When Aaron stood up to get you all a snack, you explained in a very nice and simple way to Jack that his dad can't hear very well right now. That it will help Aaron if he can see his mouth when he speaks and that it's best to speak as clearly as he can. "You understand what I'm saying, bug?" He nodded and said everything back to you so you knew he understood what you meant. For such a young child he was very intelligent and very understanding. He made sure to do just what you'd explained and you could see the look on Aaron's face when he was able to hear so much more of what the boy said to him.

Aaron didn't know you'd said this to his son. But if he knew, he'd have been very grateful regardless of the embarrassment he'd have felt. Because knowing what his son loves and wants to tell him all about is far more important to him than anything else.

Whenever Aaron was on the plane you always sat next to him, making sure to be on the side of his good ear. He noticed this after the first few times. He never mentioned it, though you knew he'd figured it out quickly.

He appreciated it. You always made sure he was fully informed and aware of what was happening. If someone threw an idea into the open and he looked a little lost, you would repeat it in his good ear. Or if you hadn't realised he missed something he would look to you and if you made eye contact he leaned in a little closer to you and you'd tell him then. Or if you hadn't been looking at him he would give you a slight nudge to get your attention. He was starting to get more comfortable asking for help, but only with you. He still wouldn't ask anyone else.

Everyone tried to be mindful and considerate. But they didn't go to the extent that you did.

Aaron's new situation was frustrating and irritating to him. It caused him more stress than he already had, which you knew was quite a bit. Sometimes it would overwhelm him and you were always there to pull him back down and comfort him. You were always there for him to lean on for support. He knew you didn't do all of this out of pity, but rather out of love and care and understanding for him.

There were a couple of times that he came to you in need of a shoulder to cry on. Both times it was mostly about him being afraid he'd never hear the same and that he would miss things he had taken for granted when he could hear them. He wasn't embarrassed around you anymore, especially not about this. He knew he could always come to you for support and he was always thanking you for how much you've helped him.

[yullalightk]

Mario teaches parenting🐾👨‍👨‍👦

Okay, today's review post will be similar to my older stuff with words and only a small amount of pictures.

I did download all of the screen shots but, It didn't make it to my computer and my phone has a system where it doesn't work after 9PM.

Anyways- I really did love this new episode, it was heartwarming and glad to see more episodes focusing on the rest of the smg4 casts.

So, let's start with the review!

I just wanted to say Karen is such a relatable and enjoyable character. And by "relatable" I mean, I relate to how she's busy with work and trying hard to provide for her kids but neglecting them in the process.

I kinda do something similar:

Busy with school work

Being busy that I ignore my family members and always spend most of my time by myself.

And, I was surprised how Mario did know the way of parenting!

At least, in his own "Spaghetti Jesus" way😂🍝 Which makes me think: Since Mario knows some bases of parenting, maybe if he and Puzzles EVER dated, Mario could be the funny and less seriously parent while Puzzles being the serious and overthinking parent👨‍👨‍👦

Anyhow, I'm getting distracted, overall I appreciated Karen trying her best to spend time with her kids and seeing her realize how talented and wonderfully creative her kids are just made me tear up a little.

I think we need more episodes focusing on side characters a lot more 'cause we have soo many episodes with the smg4 main casts being the main focus and the side characters being added in, and not having a lot of episodes surrounding them, I think it's a nice change of pace for the channel. And I hope it'll stay that way for the long run.

And here's the screenshot of my favorite scene:

I enjoyed making Karen in gl2 since It made me explore some parts of character design in this game!

I also tweaked her design a bit 'cause I mean who doesn't love a turtleneck!

And I also wanted to say something:

I'm not making smg4 episode reviews

I'm not kidding. This is probably disappointing to some of you all since the majority of you guys follow me and stayed because of it.

I mean, I understand but it's just something I don't really enjoy making anymore.. I'll make a few? but won't necessary be "Review episodes" just me talking abt what I liked and there will mostly be some theories.

I'll make other Mr. Puzzles AUs I'm working on so don't lose hope in that yet! I just think it's a good idea to cut the cord of connecting myself onto something I don't find any fun in making like I used to.

Still, I am very sorry for doing this but hope some of you all understand. And I don't mind the followers lowering because of this choice.

I'm still excited for the new episode though, don't get me wrong!

But, I want to make other stuff from other fandoms 'cause I made so many insert ocs of mine and want to show them to you all✨

[completelyjae]

The second step — Jeong Jaehyun x Kim Jihye (oc)

ʚ genre: series (part two of ?), slow burn, angst, fluff word count: 1094 warnings: none

▸ summary: Jaehyun grows closer to Taeyong at work and meets his secretary, Jihye. A brief exchange between Jaehyun and Jihye leaves both intrigued by each other.

read part 1 (The first step)

🧾 click HERE for this series' navi

taglist open, just dm if you want to be added!

Since Jaehyun discovered that Taeyong worked in the same building as him, the two started spending more and more time together, from having casual chats about work to exchanging philosophical thoughts at 2 a.m., perhaps over a good glass of wine.

Days started to feel brighter, and the burden on his shoulders grew a little lighter. Every time he got home, he wouldn’t sit staring at his wall in silence, overwhelmed by loneliness. Waking up felt easier, and work almost enjoyable, knowing there was someone waiting for him, eager to talk about their day. He didn’t mind the quiet hum of his apartment as much anymore. These days, his phone lit up with messages from Taeyong, asking about dinner or sharing random thoughts. It felt… lighter. Maybe, he thought, he was finally on the right path.

Before settling into his office, Jaehyun decided to stop by Taeyong’s to greet him and maybe offer him coffee — not that Taeyong ever declined anyway. After knocking on the door, Jaehyun was met by an oddly familiar figure who opened it for him — a woman, to be precise. She lightly cleared her throat and avoided his gaze before offering him to step inside.

“Mr. Lee isn’t here at the moment, but if you wish, you can wait here. He won’t take long,” she said.

Jaehyun slightly shook his head. “Don’t worry, really. I might pass by later, though. Can I ask for your name?”

“I’m Kim Jihye, Mr. Jung. I’m Mr. Lee’s secretary,” she muttered with slightly furrowed brows. Why did he feel so familiar? Was she imagining it? Surely, she would remember someone with a presence like his.

Noticing their close proximity, she instinctively stepped back, her hands settling the freshly printed papers on her desk. Jaehyun, on the other hand, stayed firmly in place, his piercing gaze following her every move. Determined to quiet his doubts, he finally spoke.

“Have we met before?”

Taken aback by the sudden question, she averted her gaze, suddenly feeling unsettled. She felt Jaehyun’s gaze on her, steady and probing, and her pulse quickened. The room suddenly felt warmer.

“Met? No—I mean… I don’t think so. Not that I recall,” she stammered, her voice quieter than intended. Despite not knowing this man outside of work — aside from the occasional stolen glances when he was chatting with Taeyong — she couldn’t help but feel mortified, which only added to the palpable awkwardness in the room.

Her hands smoothed the papers again — anything to keep busy. Don’t look at him, she thought, but her eyes betrayed her, darting up just enough to catch the weight of his stare. It was unnerving, as if he were piecing together a puzzle she wasn’t aware existed.

She let out a sigh of relief when Taeyong entered his office, allowing her to return to her own work.

“JaeJae! How are you? I’m sorry I came in late — there was a lot of traffic coming here,” Taeyong greeted Jihye with more energy than usual before turning his attention to chatting with his ‘mate’ — as he liked to call Jaehyun.

When Taeyong urged Jaehyun to his meeting, Jihye slumped in her chair, already drained by the day.

“You’ve already met him before, right?” Taeyong spoke, his tone delicate as he addressed her.

“Yeah, he seems nice, though I haven’t had the chance to interact with him outside work.”

A tranquil atmosphere surrounded them as they chatted about anything, even things unrelated to work. She liked working for Taeyong — or better, with him — mainly for this reason. No tension or awkwardness, just working while sharing some giggles to ease the burden that came with their positions in the company.

Of course, he had to stand his ground sometimes, but that happened rarely with her. Jihye was his ‘best work buddy’ — he liked nicknames — and he could never bring himself to scold her anyway.

“Can you bring this folder to Jaehyun when you’re on your lunch break? I would do it myself, but I have to stay here,” Taeyong sighed, eyes glued to his computer as he spoke, failing to notice her surprised expression and fidgeting fingers.

She stood up to retrieve the files sitting on his desk and replied, “Y-yeah, of course. Do I have to bring lunch for you? You shouldn’t work on an empty stomach.”

Taeyong dismissed her with a small shake of his head, stating he would be fine.

As she walked to Jaehyun’s office, Jihye couldn’t help but feel nervous. Was it the intensity of his gaze, the kind that felt like it could unearth her deepest thoughts? Or was it the strange sense of familiarity, like a song she couldn’t quite remember the words to, that unsettled her?

Only the click of her heels and the loud thud of her heartbeat echoed on the cold, empty floor. Wrapping the folder tightly to her chest, she took a deep breath and knocked twice on the glass door separating him from the rest of the workers.

She flinched at the sight of Jaehyun standing directly in front of her, motioning for her to come in as he stepped away from the doorway.

She sighed inaudibly in anticipation and softly placed the papers on his desk, muttering, “From Mr. Lee.”

As she turned to leave, Jaehyun was quick to stop her, anticipation evident in both of their eyes.

“Do you sing?” was all he asked, his demeanor as stern as ever.

A soft smile grew on her face, though her eyes avoided his. Her breath hitched as she fumbled for an answer, but there was something in his question that felt like a dare. Rather than backing down, she straightened her posture, a flicker of boldness igniting within her.

“Do you play piano, Mr. Jung?”

Taken aback by her sudden change of persona, he smirked slightly and slowly nodded his head.

“You should hear me play sometime. I’m sure we could make a great duo, anyway,” he chuckled, amused by her confused expression.

He turned on his heels and leaned against his desk, hands resting in his perfectly tailored pants as his gaze seemed to strip her bare. Did he know something she didn’t?

Giving him one last glance, she brushed aside the unsettling sensation and opted to leave — but not before muttering, “I’d love to.”

PREVIOUS 〡 NEXT

ଓ feedback is appreciated! ♡︎

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

So does that mean you enjoyed Pokemon Violet? And do you play those games often or this was a one-off?

Did I Enjoy Pokemon Violet?

If we're going on a yes/no decision here: no. I enjoyed it enough to finish the game, and it's more or less what I'd expect out of a pokemon game, but it was thoroughly alright.

It somehow feels even easier than the last gen (which is impressive) both in how to gain experience as well as the puzzles throughout the game, the storyline was more memorable than some but ultimately lulzy, and while the open world was neat and the scenery was nice I'm not really an open world game person and it was a little buggy (not as much as before all the patches but it was noticeable from time to time).

As it is, the open world thing in Scarlet and Violet sort of worked but also kind of didn't. To make the gyms make sense, you still pretty much had expected places to go where you'd get scared off by either obstacles you can't get past without beating a titan or pokemon that can kill you. So, you almost had 'routes' anyway and certainly an expected order to things. Not being attacked by rattatata all the time was nice, but at the same time, you had pokemon running at you when all you wanted to do was stand there. Having the three storylines simultaneously (the gyms, the big mystery of the game, the Team Rocket thing) sort of worked but also to me made each of them kind of flatter so as to accommodate them not being connected in any way.

Not sure why Nemona wants to battle you all the time, guess she has issues with her parents. Sure, I guess someone should beat up those Team Star nerds so they actually go back to school, but doesn't really feel all that important and shouldn't this be your job Mr. Principal? Sorry about your dog, Arvan.

I also wasn't really a fan of the gimmick of the game: the raid battles or terralyzing (whatever it's called). Now, it's less dumb than some of the other gimmicks we've seen, but I wasn't even a fan of mega evolution so in general I don't love the trend of having a new gimmick every game and going "it's different! You love it!" when I don't.

That said, the pokemon games aren't made for me, they're made for eight-year-olds where this is one of their first serious games (where they're expected to be able to read/problem solve/etc.) and they enjoy a nice story about uh friendship. While I enjoy the harder earlier gen games more (which also had slightly more edge in their stories) this clearly is the direction they want the game to go where it's much more accessible.

It was better than some of the other recent releases (I didn't finish Sword/Shield because I got bored, and Sun/Moon I didn't even get as far as that) but to me it's still far below the quality of Gen 1-3 (where for me it's all been downhill since then).

I do find the story though in this one (from your task of beating up bullied children to Arvan's dead robot dad being the worst) hilarious. But I'm not sure if that makes a good game, it just made me laugh.

Am I a Regular

Yup, started Pokemon Yellow, somehow been here ever since. That said, each time a new one comes out I ask myself if I'm really going to get it since my enjoyment has gone progressively downhill each game, but so far I've kept doing it.

[nickyroethemarinebiologist]

This chapter really dragged me through the mud but hey-ho. It's here!! Sincerely hoping it will be more enjoyable to read than it was to write :)

Chapter VIII

Linsey was taking breakfast the next morning; a pleasantly simple meal of boiled eggs and slices of pork, freshly cut; when Mr. Dowset informed him gently of another fellow there to see him. He looked about with interest, thinking it was Captain Riley, or perhaps Lieutenant Gardner, though indeed he certainly favoured the former; then he halted in alarm, for it was Captain Elliot who stepped inside, bearing her aviator’s coat and neckcloth well-pressed, and smiling warmly as she stopped to speak with Mr. Dowset.

‘Captain Linsey?’ she said, coming over. Linsey blinked stupidly at her for a moment, before he righted himself and frowned, folding his hands over in his lap lest they begin to fidget in his unease. He was uncomfortably aware of the dull ache at his shoulder, made only more so when Elliott paused to look him over, inspecting the padding of bandages with a troubling amount of concern.

‘I wonder at your coming here, Captain: if you mean to humiliate me, you’ve a queer way of going about it.’ Linsey said sharply, disinclined to be polite in his displeasure.

Elliott looked up and blinked at him; her brow furrowed minutely. ‘Oh, no, that is not it at all; you were hurt,’ she said, slowly, ‘I only came up to see whether you were alright.’

Now Linsey paused, faintly puzzled; he stopped his first response short, feeling it unfair to condemn her, when this was a gesture so clearly made only in kindness. ‘I am well enough,’ he said instead, amending his tone, though he was afraid he sounded unnaturally stiff.

Elliot smiled, genuinely and with such warmth that Linsey did not quite know what to do with himself. ‘Then I am glad, and I am only sorry we could not be out there with you; Fancy was needed over in Port Royal, but dear old Riley has relayed it all: you fought very bravely, very bravely indeed.’

Linsey halted. ‘Oh.’

Elliot laughed, softly. ‘Oh, poor fellow, I supposed you will be used to our rotten manners by now.’ She said, ‘You must forgive us; there are good men here, they are only misunderstanding.’

‘And I suppose I am to give them my sympathy,’ Linsey said quietly, bitterly; Elliot blinked, somewhat puzzled.

‘No; but if you are so hell-bent on making yourself miserable, you might at least be a little kinder about it.’

Her tone was gentle, and softly spoken, as was her habit, but there was a firm quality that brought to it the weight of a command, or at the very least a reproval; Linsey was quiet, considering this, then he said, ‘No; of course.’ The words were stiff and frustratingly stilted in his mouth; he cursed himself silently and asked, by way of reparation, ‘How is Timor?’

‘He is missing you,’ Elliot said kindly, evidently marking the unconcealed worry in his tone. ‘I have spoken to him, and Malcolm too; he spent all of yesterday sleeping, or near enough.’ She frowned a little, ‘Dear Fancy has tried to keep him company, though he tells me Timor refuses to speak with him.’

‘Ah.’ Linsey said, ‘Yes, I may take fault for that.’

Elliott looked at him with amusement. ‘Oh, maybe not,’ she said, ‘He is only young, and has very strong opinions. It is a wonder you ever harnessed him at all.’

Linsey smiled at this faint sympathy, before he caught himself and drew his lips to a thin line: he found himself longing for the same easy company he had seen shared about the covert, between captains and their officers alike, in such a way that reminded him sharply of the men of his crew. But he could not share his loyalties—he cursed the very notion harshly, and may damnation seize his soul if he ever stooped to let such treacherous ideas slip his mouth in company so unpleasant—so frowned and turned deliberately from Elliott’s expression of sympathy, looking instead at his own hands, clasped together and twitching faintly in discomfort.

Elliott was silent for a long while, such that Linsey began to wonder if she had slipped away; then she hummed, a quiet, dispirited sound, and said, ‘I understand you are unhappy, and perhaps I wish we might set you at liberty, if only for sake of Timor.’ She paused, as in uncertainty, and then added only, ‘But you cannot expect to find respite in making yourself so miserable, and all those about you.’

She paused; the quiet afterwards was wholly discomforting, Linsey frowned and focused instead on the faint throbbings in his shoulder, if only to distract himself from his own displeasure.

Elliot sighed a little, apparently disheartened. ‘Well then; keep well, Captain,’ she said, and then she was gone.

By the end of the week Linsey was beginning to feel restless, and pulled at the bandages around his shoulder until the surgeons sighed and looked him over: the wound was healing nicely, to his great relief, and so Mr. Dowset gave the grudging approval for his release, and called up Commander Davis to discuss how best they might work him back into training. He was given a cautionary word to stay to simpler manoeuvres for another week, and to keep from sharp motions until they could be sure the wound would not reopen; Linsey was not a little discomforted by this notion, but could not ignore a sudden and foolish pride at his bearing a fresh scar, like a sailor fresh out of boyhood, taking his first scrape upon the sea.

He was putting on the fresh linens left folded at his bedside, and working the coat carefully over his shoulder, when a servant came running in, calling for him; he was young, and a little frantic, and Linsey set at once to considering what misfortune might have befallen Timor in his absence, such that by the time they set out walking he was all but overcome with dread.

They came up to the courtyard to a scene of wild disorder: Timor was at the centre, thankfully unharmed, and snapping at the men crowded about him, his ruff quivering in outrage. Linsey spotted Riley stood before him and waving frantically, shouting something indistinct; his lieutenant Powell was backed up against the fence to avoid the lashing tail, and looking helplessly at Davis, who stood with his hands clasped firmly at his back, looking on in apparent disapproval.

‘Damn you all! What have you done with Linsey?’ Timor was saying, his head bent low and snarling. If you have taken him away, then I will go after him, and if he is hurt, I will kill you all.’

‘I am here, Timor,’ Linsey called, crossing swiftly. Timor turned about to look at him, crooning softly as he rubbed the side of his head against Linsey’s face and shoulder; Linsey stepped gratefully into the encircling forelegs, putting his arms about Timor’s neck and stroking the smooth hide gently.

‘Oh, Linsey,’ Timor said, so very softly, ‘Linsey, please do not leave me again; they would not let me see you, I was worried you had gone away.’

Linsey shook his head. ‘No, Timor, I will never,’ he said, ‘I am alright, I promise you.’

‘By God, Captain, you ought to have him under control—we cannot be expected to manage these outbursts for you.’ Davis snapped, coming over; he could not speak directly to Linsey without stepping over the great scaled forelegs, so stood just before them, halting a little when Timor growled, very low in his throat.

‘You ought to keep your mouth shut, Commander,’ Linsey spat, whirling on him, ‘He is not mine to control, nor yours, and I damn well think you had better give him the liberty he deserves.’

Davis stared at him, going a little red at the cheeks. ‘Quiet, Captain, I had hoped you were past such impudence,’ he said, in a voice just short of shouting, ‘Or perhaps we will have to reconsider your liberties—come out of there, damn it, I won’t have you acting a fool.’

Linsey would hardly have liked to oblige him, except to strike him down, which indeed he was sorely tempted toward—but Timor growled before he could react either way, and curled his talons about him; his wings rose, mantling, and the long spines clattered frighteningly along his back.

‘I will not let you take him again,’ he snarled, the long tail lashing, and his dark eyes narrowed to slits. Quietly Linsey laid a hand upon his scales to placate him, taking hold of the harness straps that looped around his neck.

Davis was going nearly purple now, his face made only the more unpleasant by the deep lines drawn in outrage across his brow and under his small eyes. ‘You will damn well have to, unless you are wanting your dear captain to be put to the gallows, and to take a new fellow as your handler—or you might rot in the grounds, but by God I will not tolerate your insolence any longer—’

Timor was aloft before he could finish, his golden wings beating in great, sweeping thrusts and driving them out over the cliffs; Linsey was still clinging to the side of the harness, his legs swinging out beneath him, with only the rolling grey swell of the sea below to receive him if he should fall.

They were going at a great speed, racing over the waves with the wind beating hard upon his face; Linsey made a wordless sound of alarm, inaudible over the rush of air all about them. He reached up with his free hand to grasp at the straps over Timor’s back; his shoulder burned as he hauled himself upwards, and he set his teeth to still a gasp of pain. His hands fumbled over the straps, working his fingers into the metal rings and trembling with the strain. There was little below to offer up a foothold, but he found purchase on Timor’s side, pushing out and upwards; then he was at the reins and crouched low, and the wind pulled at his hair and face and set his hands shaking.

His heart was beating very fast with the familiar thrill of flying, and he found it a struggle to restrain the boyish laughter that kept threatening to rise from his throat; he composed himself only with difficulty and a quiet whoop, and set a hand on Timor’s neck to assure him that he was unharmed; the tight muscles unwound slightly, and Timor turned his head back to look at him, the amber eyes shining with relief.

The crack of gunfire sounded behind them, followed by a tremendous roar; Linsey turned about as Timor shook his head uncomfortably at the noise, the small ears flickering: Tolerans was sweeping out in pursuit, with Riley and maybe half a dozen officers upon his back, still hastily clipping themselves into the harness.

‘Timor!’ Linsey called, needlessly: the muscles under the golden hide were already tightening in preparation; Linsey took the reins tight in one hand to steady himself and put the other over his shoulder, steeling himself for the inevitable strain.

Timor tucked his wings in close to his side, spiralling out and upwards—then they snapped open abruptly, stretched wide at his either side like a great sail, and catching on the wind. Tolerans could not stop quite so gracefully, and went driving past them, turning to swoop out ahead; Timor snapped his wings shut and stooped, sweeping out and under him, trilling a little in barely restrained delight.

Linsey found himself grinning, though the expression was strained, he held his hand firm against his shoulder until the ache began to ease a little; then he took up the reins and pulled sharply westwards, setting them in a wide arc and drawing swiftly over Tolerans. The other dragon halted a little as they swept past, and Riley shouted something inaudible from his back; Linsey could not resist: he laughed aloud, and Timor rumbled happily in response.

This pleasure was short lived: Tolerans swept out in an arc to drive them again eastwards, in such a way that reminded Linsey uncomfortably of a working dog set to herding flocks of sheep; from upon his back Riley’s crew hailed a second warning, sending up gun-smoke, and Linsey thought faintly of his first flight alongside Timor, having encountered much the same trouble in face of their Navy captors.

The realisation sank like a stone in his breast. There was little else to be done but to repeat that same misfortune, and trail meekly back to the covert with head hung in shame; likely Linsey would be put to the gallows, and Timor made to take another captain, and they would not ever see the other again. But he could not risk Timor’s life where he would risk his own, and bargain on the slight chance that the aviators would not fire upon them; so he swallowed his misgivings and raised his hand, very slowly, in signal of holding, though it felt in the moment more similar to a sign of surrender.

But as Riley received this and sent up a call in return, Timor made an odd sound—guttural and desperate, from deep in his throat—and then he was stooping low, his wings tucked tight, dropping like a stone and sweeping back up just short of the waves. Linsey looked up in horror as they spiralled upwards, the long talons outstretched and reaching, aimed for Tolly’s exposed belly.

‘Timor—away, damn you!’ Linsey roared over the wind, throwing his weight backwards against the reins, ignoring the burning set at once into his shoulder.

Riley gave a shout of alarm from above, and set Tolerans quickly stooping, sweeping out just short of Timor’s reaching claws; Timor pulled away, very reluctant, and nearly turned about for a second strike before Linsey put a hand upon his neck to soothe him; even then he went up slowly, his head drooping a little in sulking as they drew beside Tolerans, who looked over them with an almost doleful expression of betrayal.

Linsey kept his hand on Timor’s neck as they swept back towards the cliffs, hoping at least to quiet a little of his anxiety; his heart hung heavy with the weight of defeat, and the humiliation of surrender, and though he longed terribly to cast his duty off and take their liberty by force, his usual defiance would not come: he felt a cold, deep-set misery, as though he were making his final walk, hung in chains, to hang before the gallows.

A small party was waiting for them in the courtyard; they scattered below them as Timor landed, then took up their swords and called Linsey down sharply. He was taken roughly by the arms almost before he had dismounted in full, and was given not even a moment to speak with Timor before he was hauled aside, his shoulder complaining sharply at every motion.

He was brought before Davis in a small tent of brown canvas, set nearly at the very edge of the covert, where the cobble roads drawn up from the harbour were laid out near overcome with soil and brushwood, and crowded on either side with smaller tents, seemingly abandoned, or set aside for later occupants.

‘Captain.’ Davis said, waving him to his seat; the tent was assembled a little like an office, with Davis taking post behind a bench of polished dark wood, and a second chair set out before it. Davis had his arms propped at the elbows and both of his hands clasped over the other, presenting a comfortable height to rest his chin upon; he tilted his head slightly forward to look Linsey over, examining his windswept hair and the fresh clothes already rumpled with unhidden distaste.

‘Commander,’ Linsey returned, matching his expression of disdain.

‘I have a good mind to call up your Admiral Chauncey; he will happily see you off the gallows, of that I am certain.’ Davis went on, ignoring this small indignity, though his brow twitched momentarily into a furrow of displeasure. ‘Though that will bring us again to the same issue: the beast you have under your command is remarkable enough, despite whatever unpleasant ideals you seem to have been putting in his head,’ he raised a hand sharply to silence Linsey’s rising protest, ‘We cannot spare him, His Majesty’s Aerial Fleet is weak enough as it is: the Spinewing is our most valuable dragon, and with your Timor—a Goldcrest, I hear?—I expect they will make quite the formidable asset.’

Linsey frowned in hearing this; he ought to have been pleased he would not yet be put to the gallows, and that Timor would not be made to take on another fellow as his captain, but the expression upon Davis’s face was much too self-satisfied to bear such kind news, and Linsey could not ignore a faint simmering unease.

His anxieties were quickly confirmed when Davis leaned back in his chair, laying his hands folded over upon the table before him. ‘But your treachery certainly cannot go unpunished,’ he said, smiling a little, ‘You are to be put out of service for the next week; Mr. Malcolm will take care of Timor in your absence, and you may take the quarters set aside for you in the captain’s round—I trust you have your holdings there already.’

Linsey stared at him, suddenly very short of breath. The very notion of being so long away from Timor was sickening, but he could not in the moment summon the strength enough for a protest: he was tired, so very tired, and had no heart at all to argue.

He walked out in silence, and found Gardner there waiting for him; Riley was stood just beside, with a surprising amount of sympathy on the scarred face, evidently aware of the toll a man would take when separated from his beast. Gardner took Linsey sharply by the arm, and paid no attention to his noise of protest at the stinging ache set into his shoulder; Riley frowned at him but said nothing, falling silently into step just behind.

Gardner released him at last when they reached the courtyard, though even then would not take his leave; Linsey turned from his frowning expression to look instead over the cliffs a little ways upwards, finding some deep sorrow in imagining Timor curled about himself in their small clearing, alone but for the pairs of gulls wheeling about overhead, joining occasionally with the small flocks of Slights and sweeping out wide over the deep blue-green surges of the sea.

‘I am very sorry, Linsey, I cannot help but feel I ought not to have done it,’ Riley said, coming to stand with him, and then laughed a little; a soft, comfortable sound. ‘Though of course that would have me put out of service—I suppose you would not have me as your lieutenant?’

Linsey blinked at him. ‘No, I would not.’ He said, and felt a strange disappointment in seeing the shine of amusement go out of Riley’s eye.

‘A shame; I might have liked to be a pirate.’ Riley said, ‘It is a curious thing, to risk putting your neck in a noose, for little more than what I might understand as—oh, I cannot say that lightly, but it is only greed, is it not?’

‘Certainly for some,’ Linsey said, the growing dark and his own quiet misery making him speak more freely than he meant to. ‘Not so much for me, or for my fellows. It is not only wanderlust, either, though I would not be so sorely tempted by such work apart from the sea.’ Here he paused; Riley was quiet, listening with all patience, and Linsey found himself warmed somewhat by the easy company; he took a deep breath and said, ‘In an honest service there is thin commons, and hard labour; in this, plenty and satiety, pleasure and ease, and all the liberty a man might ask for; I cannot imagine how your fellows find themselves so displeased by our manner, when all the hazard that is run for it, at worst, is only a sour look or two at choking. No; a merry life and a short one, shall be my word.’

Riley had been watching with bemusement, then a quiet wonder; now he hummed a moment in thought, and Linsey turned to find him looking out upon the ocean, somewhat solemn. ‘You are quite the poet, Captain,’ he said at last, turning to Linsey with his eyes shining.

Linsey found himself smiling a little, and could not now bring himself to hide it, when it offered the warmth he so desperately longed for in Timor’s absence. Riley smiled in turn and patted him lightly upon his uninjured shoulder, and let his hand rest there for a moment: a comforting gesture, of gratitude and consolation both.

‘Lord, I do not think I am quite a fool as that—though please, if you find me mistaken, you may put me to ground for the week.’ Riley said, earning him a short concession of laughter from the other captains; he had invited Linsey for a late supper in the mess hall, to relieve him of eating alone. Linsey was quietly grateful, but with the aviators largely turning to talk of aerial strategy and tactics, or friendly repartee between themselves, he found he could not insinuate himself into the conversation quite so easily as he would among his own men, so remained quiet and put his head down a little as he ate.

‘Mind, Captain, you won’t like to give our dear commander the excuse—you’ll be put off with poor Linsey,’ said Clemet, a young man with a sharp nose and cheerful look, and Gishni’s captain—that was the little Dipper, snoring quietly in the quivering lantern light just outside. His tone was not at all scornful, rather sympathetic, though regrettably unconscious of the resultant sorrow brought on by his words.

Elliott was sat on Riley’s other side, and gave the younger captain a meaningful look, which served to quiet him only a moment before he burst out, ‘Oh, but it is a damned shame! I’d think it dreadful, to be away from Gishni for so long, and I can’t imagine I would take it quite so mildly.’ He smiled, not at all disapproving. ‘Do not fret so, Linsey, it will not be forever.’

Linsey blinked and glanced up at his being addressed, pausing a moment in considering the faces looking back at him; the obvious sympathy was kind enough, yet still he found himself somewhat uneasy, and discomforted by their pity. He made a wordless murmur of agreement and shovelled greens into his mouth to conceal his displeasure.

Riley hummed in noticing this, but thankfully said nothing, only patted him lightly upon the shoulder and said, to Elliott, ‘Why, Mary, you have scarcely spoken to us; how is it in Port Royal?’

With this easy enquiry all three lapsed back into conversation, laughing lightly and making good humour between them; Linsey was again excluded, and so watched them for a moment, feeling at odds even in their company, and wishing impractically for the familiar fellowship aboard the Delight, and for his quiet nightly conversations with Timor.

‘Here; the fleet in Spain is well enough, if you mean to say we’ll take second to their Navy also, I’ll have you put out of service.’ Clemet said; the tone held something of a challenge, but his face was bright and shining as ever.

Riley gave a shout of laughter; a couple of the aviators taking supper gave him a curious look, much to his blithe disregard. ‘Lord, I sincerely hope not; their dragons are a damned nuisance, but ours will have their vessels in a bother right enough. It is the pirates you ought to worry for,’ he said, ‘Though I dare say Tolly thinks of it as play—he’ll wreck a fleet and come away capering.’

‘Oh?’ Clemet said, raising his brow in surprise. ‘You are certainly far more fortunate than I, Captain: I have been seven times to the Caribbean now, and not a single one, though I might like to take a crack at them. Oh, but I mean no indignity to you,’ he added quickly, glancing at Linsey.

‘So you say,’ Linsey said, so bitterly he surprised himself; there was quiet, and he glanced up to find the aviators staring at him, with some palpable uncertainty. He blinked at them and said, slowly, ‘You may count yourself lucky, man; those sorts are hardly more honourable than dogs, and they won’t take to you kindly.’

Clemet smiled, relaxing visibly. ‘Oh, a man like you must have quite the account; I take it you find far better tales in piracy than our service,’ he said, ‘Here; it is no good of you to keep so quiet there.’

He spoke with too much eagerness for Linsey to take offence; as the sentiments were repeated by the other captains, he made a tentative endeavour towards a tale told to him by his first quartermaster, though he was inclined to embellish it somewhat, that young man having been rather lax in any thrill in regards to his telling. This being received with great enthusiasm, Linsey found himself becoming bold; he could not resist, and so set to detailing one of his more impressive triumphs: a week long pursuit of the smaller naval frigate Greyhound, in precedence to a valiant attempt from her crew to come aboard and capture the Delight, which devolved quickly to a grim struggle, all throughout a gale in full wind.

‘Why, I suppose it is no wonder why Timor took to you so fiercely,’ Clemet said, ‘You have the right sort of spirit, no doubt.’

‘Spirit indeed,’ Elliott said, ‘Oh, he is a marvellous beast, Linsey, you are certainly fortunate. I cannot lie to say I know of any dragon as magnificent as my dear Fancy, but I have never seen a hide so golden—oh!’ she laughed lightly, ‘You pirates certainly have a fine eye for treasure.’

Her sentiments bordered perhaps on mockery, but Linsey took no offence, warmed somewhat by the clear admiration in her tone.

‘Thank you, Captain.’ He said, and meant it genuinely. ‘I suppose I am lucky to have him at all: I did not take him from the egg, and by all sense he was a stowaway aboard my ship.’ Here he halted, frowning at the sudden misery brought on by this memory: how he longed for the ocean, and the simplicity of command, with his dear Timor all the while beside. He thought briefly of Timor, likely curled about himself and sleeping, or perhaps he had his head turned to look over the sea, listening to the swell with the same such longing that Linsey felt now.

Linsey lingered a moment on this notion, before he blinked and set his focus forcibly elsewhere, all but overcome with a deep and aching sense of sorrow.

‘Captain,’ Riley said, very gently, ‘We are for bed; you might come up with Tolly and I, he will not mind the extra passenger.’

It was a tempting suggestion, but Linsey barely paused a moment in thought before he shook his head: to go aloft with another man’s dragon felt uncomfortably like a betrayal, he would more easily be damned than stoop to such disloyalty.

‘No; I should think I will manage.’ He said shortly, and nodded stiffly to Elliott and Clemet, as tentative gratitude. Then he took up his coat, folded over his lap while he was taking supper, and quietly took his leave.

It was scarcely coming twilight when he came up to the captain’s round: for he had been some several months now in the covert, a notion which troubled him greatly, and so found little difficulty in finding his way. He went to his quarters, rather more drab in appearance than those around, and far less well-kept, though this was likely through fault of his own neglect, and of the dull look of the canvas, where the others were adorned carefully with stitching in varying colours, or illuminated pleasantly by the warm glow of the lanterns set out at every entrance.

Linsey came into his quarters and paused, feeling some immediate displeasure—to a man adjusted to the confines of a ship, the room was spacious, if a little compact, but without the familiar warmth of Timor’s scales, or the deep regular sound of his breathing, Linsey found it terribly cold. His heart grew only heavier in realising this; he had grown used to Timor’s presence always beside, in the several months they had spent with only the other as company, and now felt a great sorrow in his absence; he stared miserably about and drew his lips to a thin, frowning line.

The entrance flaps behind him opened; Malcolm stepped inside and looked about in apparent dissatisfaction. He made as though to speak, then abruptly he paused, staring as in disbelief. ‘Good Lord, man, what is the matter with you?’ he said, sharply, and Linsey started in horror; for his face was wet, and hastily he wiped his eyes with the back of one hand.

‘Malcolm,’ he said, concealing his shame. Malcolm frowned and tucked his hands under either arm, as was his habit.

‘Forgive me, Captain; I suppose I am intruding,’ he said, though made no motion to dismiss himself, and glanced over Linsey with his brow furrowed a little in displeasure, or perhaps disapproval. Neither spoke; Linsey stood with bearing uncomfortably stiff, clasping his hands tightly behind his back, lest their fidgeting risk him further humiliation.

Then Malcolm sighed. ‘Timor is well,’ he said, a little rigidly, as though he were uncertain.

‘I am glad,’ Linsey said, very softly. ‘Thank you.’

Malcolm marked this with a frown. ‘You needn’t thank me,’ he said, rather harshly, before his tone softened. ‘He will do quite nicely, I should think; I am not so certain for you.’

Linsey frowned; this was not at all the sort of sympathy he had anticipated—least of all from Malcolm, who had bothered him all the while for their first months of fellowship—and he was put momentarily at odds before he said, slowly, ‘I am well enough.’

‘Oh?’ Malcolm said, ‘Then I must tell you again; your hair is out of tie, and you have your coat in rumples.’

‘Oh.’ Linsey paused and looked down at himself, finding a faint dissatisfaction in the bedraggled state of his dress—yet strangely, Malcolm’s words gave him no outrage, only gladness at the change in conversation. He neglected to condemn the lieutenant as such, for this small kindness warmed him somewhat, and served at least to dismiss a little of the misery settled heavy in his breast; instead he found himself smiling as he said, ‘Thank you, Malcolm.’

Malcolm smiled in turn; only faintly, a small twitching at the corners of his mouth, but with a sort of warmth that Linsey found wholly pleasant, despite the sullen lines still drawn across his forehead and brow.

He took his hair again into its tie after Malcolm had taken his leave, finding himself in better spirits, despite that same bone-deep, aching misery that set him still to sorrow. He did not turn immediately for bed; instead he lifted the cloths thrown over his holdings, stooping a little to pass a hand over Timor’s old harness, the leather somewhat stiff from its weeks of disuse, and the buckles still odd and substitute as they were. For a moment he paused, finding a faint comfort in the feel of the leather beneath his callused palms; then he straightened up abruptly and went outside.

The air was somewhat cool with the coming of night, and Linsey was at once grateful for his coat and neckcloth, which served despite their continued discomforts to offer him some warmth. He glanced over the other tents in brief unrest, and found some great relief in the absence of any company; with a quiet satisfaction he walked up to the edge of the round, where the brushwood grew thick upon the gentle rise of a slope. This he climbed, rather ungracefully, and stood looking over the sea, dull and grey in the shallows, and fading dimly to the deep rolling blue of the ocean, so very distant. The wind was in the southwest, thrown in from the Atlantic, and casting a faint sea spray, caught up from the cliffs, into his hair and his unshaven face; his breath quivered a little in longing, and he stood with his face lifted to the wind and the briny sea air, flung about him like an embrace.

[dannibals]

This is gonna an excuse for me to write out a messy rusty lake vent post sorry. Also from someone whos vanderboomed pilled dude you are so right. Past within is really cool with the mechanics and art but albert coming back was......a choice. Willaim afton vibes. Albert is a pervert lil creep what the fuck is he gonna do for the plot??? Rusty lake's masterminds should only be the furries get him out of here!!! Bro thinks he's a part of the team. He was a pawn (or knight lol) for crow's plan to revive his brother. that makes albert and the vanderbooms so tragic to me personally. How albert was destined to be the plague of the family and once he filled his purpose it was time for him to die. bro wasn't even the king he was the horse. Him becoming triumphant at the end is >:( let him rot. I swear to god if albert plays a bigger role in the story. Im guessing once the day of the lake is over it'll shift to whatever the fuck rose and albert are planning which I'm not as excited for. I do enjoy the prequel/side stories like white door I feel like rusty lake the company is just polishing its skills to make the most important game the series has been leading to dale arriving to the hotel. But god waiting like 5+ years is roughhhhhh. At least we know now that's the next game.

Rusty lake should stop expanding on the vanderbooms and go into asura society like they clearly have one with the posters on the hotel rooms walls. Why is there 2 rabbits. What the fuck does mr rabbit's letter mean??? substance???? what does this mean for the other eilanders. My underground blossom rant as a laura enjoyer. I kinda wish it never happened? Which is weird because its like paradox....but so much weaker. Both are about the exploration of our main characters about their trauma, the fixation of a missing lady, the traveling of past, present, and future, and their messed up childhoods, nothing really gets added to the plot except us learning that they have great importance to the lake and they shall take over it. Both even have a line about how they're too fucked up to be fixed. Yet I love paradox so much more. UB is just so lack luster from the puzzles and even as an exploration. We get almost actual glimpses of her life and its just ok. Whats so special about her time at school? why did the train travel there? Bob and laura first becoming a couple is important but I feel like it just doesn't pack a punch felt unneeded. Like without it we could just assume they became one after the white door flashback. Paradox just feels so haunting from the past brain to that other brain birthday piece puzzle with Mr rabbit being a secret east egg that pops out at you. Makes Dale's trauma feel so much lack of a better word scary? Laura's one of rose leaving her I just cant feel as connected. Maybe its because laura didnt have a separate game about child lane in cube escape about rose but it just bothers me. Laura for the entire game is like I miss my mother......where did she go.....and it feels like the game is just overcompensating how they never gave laura a reason why shes so depressed until now. Like laura has always been sad about her mother's disappearance. Us not knowing why laura is so ill works better for me. UB is just confusing too I wish they didnt make harvey the guy we play as. Harvey is supposed to stay a bird why is he in his anthro form. Theres the explanation that nothing in UB is real and its sorta like a play. With how we know laura wasn't wearing her cube dress when she broke up with bob. But there's also parts of the game where it feels like it did happen in a train station and AUHHHHH. Perhaps its too much to ask for clarity from this game. I wish they went all out with UB. Wish they touched on being what the reincarnation of your great great uncle is like. One reference of willaim please that isn't in the secret ending. Wish they did lane about laura's paranoia era or show a better progression of laura's mental health. Anyways seasons is a much better game about laura. ALso you're doing god's work of doing david and dale explorations the devs are too scared to make smh /j Fr tho you make me miss the dale storyline

Oh... I saw a post on Reddit about some fans feeling like Rusty Lake is losing its plot with the last few games and it hurt to read cuz it made me realize... Yeah... Kinda. At first I thought "I just didn't care much about the last 2 games cuz they're about the Vanderbooms who I don't really give much of a crap about." But resurrecting characters like Albert out of nowhere and shit is like... Ugh. We didn't need him to come back his story ended fine in Roots. There are other characters who deserved more lore exploration. I'm biased clearly but literally been waiting so long for Mr. rabbit lore that sometimes feels is never gonna come and I'll forever be wondering why he did what he did. How he got there. And what happened to him or where he is now. And the whole two rabbits mystery yada yada yada. Literally one of the most mysterious characters. Seemed to have a plan and his own story happening in the background of Hotel and Birthday..... And then he's just never brought up again except in Dale's memories.

I miss the story being revolved around Dale and his journey to the lake... He's been stuck in that fucking elevator for ages now and I want the story to progress past that. I know they probably are trying to tie loose ends before they progress to that point but sometimes in efforts to do that, they're just muddying an already complicated plot more than it should be.

Like brotha I went on hiatus from the games for a couple of years and came back AND HES STILL IN THE FUCKING ELEVATOR AND LIKE 3 OTHER GAMES CAME OUT AT THAT TIME. The white door was pretty cool I liked the focus on Bob who had little lore before

The past within tho it has a cool concept is when things just started falling apart

I'm stuck hyperfixating on the games up to paradox cuz thats the golden age for the games for me. Everything after Paradox was just... Meh

People might disagree and that's fine. But something is starting to feel different and wrong about the games and I hope I HOPE the next game puts things back on track.

[itsallyscorner]

For Tom x

Pairing: Tom Holland x singer!reader

Summary: You have a surprise for Tom:)

Warnings: none, just pure teeth rotting Fluff:)

A/n: Hello my loves! This is literally a rewrite because I accidentally deleted the original version of this story on Tumblr RIGHT before I was gonna post it😭 Anyway here it is, I hope you all like it! Ally x

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

look at my sunshine🥺

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Your giggles filled the hallway as you lead Tom into your makeshift studio. Since you were quarantining with him and his mates in their shared home in London, you were miles away from your crew and studio. Which, yes, made it difficult to record an entire album on your own—but it did give you the creative freedom to do whatever you pleased for the album.

The boys had their own creative outlets; for example putting together a puzzle or having a movie marathon. While you found those activities enjoyable, the inner singer in you couldn’t stop thinking of beats or coming up with lyrics in your head. You needed the studio—you needed to bring those beats and lyrics to life before you could forget them. So with the help of the houses’ tech lord himself, Harry made it possible for you to have your own little studio in the spare guest room of the house. There, you spent endless days writing and recording things like harmonies and building melodies. Little did you know that this would lead to the creation of your sixth album. Now a couple months later, your latest album is currently in its final stages and would soon be released to the world.

Tom adoringly watched your figure, which was drowned in one of his oversized jumpers, excitedly skip towards the guest room. As soon as you were both inside, you rushed to close the door and eagerly pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“What have you been up to, lovey?” He teasingly asks you. He knew you were up to something, he just didn’t know if it were bad or good.

Your figure was bent over the desk where your laptop was located. Turning over your shoulder you tell him, “It’s nothing bad, I promise!” You’re met with an amused grin on his blush pink lips.

Gathering your laptop into your arms, you move to sit beside Tom on the bed. He curiously leans forward, trying to get a glance at what’s on your screen.

“Nuh uh, it’s a surprise, Thomas.” You playfully scold him and gently push his face away from your laptop. He responds with a pout against your palm before pressing a kiss onto your skin. You continue to click around on your laptop, looking through your documents for the specific file.

Meanwhile, Tom shuffles further up the bed, getting comfortable. He notices the new distance between you and him and decides that he’s unsatisfied with the additional inches. He choses to snake his arms around your waist and lifts you up, happily placing you on the empty and lonely space on his lap. Laying down on his back, he takes a moment to admire the way you look in his jumper. It was a few sizes bigger than you and stopped right above your knees. The jumper may have looked good on him, but it looked absolutely perfect on you.

“You look so cute in my jumper.” He hums, hands lazily rubbing up and down your thighs. Your nose scrunches up as you lightly slap his chest; your silent way of saying “shut up” whenever Tom would say something that made you blush.

You finally find the file you were looking for and place your laptop on your lap. You nervously glance at your screen, biting down on your lip out of habit.

“Ok, so I did something.” You started. Tom squints his eyes at you, “That sounds like the beginning of a really bad something.”

You huff, “I just told you it wasn’t anything bad! Do you want your surprise or not?”

Tom chuckles and grasps onto your thighs, “Yes—yes, sorry, keep going.”

“So you know how I’ve already finished my album?” You question him. Tom nods, staring up at you while you sit on his thighs.

“Well, I wrote a few more songs that were supposed to be on the album. But I don’t know, I felt a bit greedy and decided to keep them for myself.” You explain. Tom raises a brow at you, “Baby, you don’t have to feel guilty about keeping songs to yourself. If you don’t want to share them, you don’t have to.”

“No, it’s just that, they’re about you.” You pause, staring down at your fingers that fiddled together. “Like I wrote them specifically for you to listen to. I wanted to include them on the album, but it just didn’t feel right to share something that was meant only for you.”

You place your laptop on the bed and turn it so the screen is facing Tom.

“So...as a solution, I made you your own album.” You were too busy avoiding his stare, that you missed the twinkle in Tom’s coffee colored orbs. He carefully sits up, his arms around you getting tighter, as he pulls you closer into his chest. Tom ducks his head down to yours, nudging your nose with his to get you to look at him. When your eyes finally meet, the lopsided grin on his features grows wider.

“You made me my own album?”

“Yeah.” You shyly answer. Tom softly coos at you, cupping your face and pressing a chaste kiss onto both of your cheeks.

“You are the most precious thing in the world, sunshine, I swear.” He squishes your cheeks together and began to cover your face with butterfly like kisses. Sweet laughs erupt from you, the sounds making Tom’s heart swell.

You stuff your face in the space between his neck and shoulder, using it as a place to hide from his lips. Instead, Tom opts to lay his kisses along the side of your face, your neck, and your shoulder.

“Lemme kiss you!” He whines. You chuckle at him, finally moving away from his neck. His attention darts towards your lips more than once, prompting you to lean forward and connect them with his. Tom’s lips were soft against yours, like clouds or cushiony pillows. The kiss was short and sweet; though it didn’t prevent you from feeling the adoration and passion he felt for you in that moment. In fact, he felt it all the time, but right now, his love for you was coursing through his veins.

He finally pulls away, leaving the taste of him linger in your mouth. “Can I have a listen?” He motions his head towards your laptop beside him.

“Go ahead.” Tom’s arms unravel from your waist, the area they once occupied left cold and yearning for his warmth. He uses one of his elbows to hold himself up and the other to control the touchpad. His eyes scan the file.

For Tom x

someone like u

test drive

worst behavior

main thing

He glances at you, “I start with ‘someone like u’, right?” You reply with a quiet “mhm”.

Tom clicks on the link. The opening notes of ‘someone like u’ begin to play followed by your angelic voice. You hear him release a content sigh, making a small smile to form on your lips. His arms make their way around you again, this time holding you closer against him. He rests his head on your chest and sneakily presses a kiss onto your neck. You fondly run a hand through his curly hair and rest your chin on the top of his head, listening to the songs you’ve made for him.

The two of you listen through the album in one go with no stops. You found joy in Tom’s reactions towards every song. Sometimes he would make little comments or sounds of shock whenever he heard you hit a certain note. He nodded along to the beats of ‘test drive’ and ‘worst behavior’, dancing around in his seat and making you join him. This time, you didn’t miss the twinkle in his eyes when he listened closely to the lyrics. ‘Main thing’ got him the most, leaving him with a goofy-lovesick grin plastered onto his face.

When ‘main thing’ came to a close, the room became silent, leaving Tom enough time to process the four songs you wrote about him and the meanings behind them.

You were the first to speak, “So did you like it?” You scan his face looking for any signs of dislike.

Tom’s eyes widen, “Are you kidding me? That was bloody fantastic—that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard! I’m obsessed with it, oh my god!” He expressed, arms moving around as he spoke.

His face was radiating with happiness, “You are the most talented and loving woman in the world. And I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve you or your love—but I just love you so fucking much.”

“I love you so fucking much too, you dork.” You laugh, pecking his lips.

“No, but seriously, thank you so much. I know you’re used to writing songs, but the fact that you actually took the time to write songs about me means a lot. They’re just a bunch of songs, but they mean the world to me and I cherish each and every one of them.” He admits, taking one of your hands and placing it onto his heart. Your palm feels the faint rhythm of his heart beating against his chest.

You tilt your head at him, mirroring the smile on his face, “I’ll always write songs about you. You somehow manage to inspire them anyway.”

Tom smirks, “Well I am Tom Holland.” You snort and roll your eyes at his humble brag.

“You’re still a dork, Tommy.” You comment.

Tom shrugs, “I’m a special dork because I’m your dork. Therefore making me superior to the other existing dorks—there’s a difference, darling.”

“And where did you come up with this hypothesis, Mr. Holland?” You question him, playing along with his antics.

“It’s Tom’s Theory.” He answers with feign seriousness. You burst out laughing, “Oh is it?”

Tom leans down to your laptop and restarts his album. “Yes, and now Tom’s Theory, believes that we should listen to the album again until I learn all the lyrics to every single song.” He proclaims.

“Babe, you don’t have to—” Tom stops you, “I’m dead serious.”

It was going to be a long night.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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[princeneito]

be seventeen, get a slushie- robby. k

genre: fluff-ish/slice of life, pining with a happy ending. w.c: 1k words warnings: minor cursing, loose spoilers for heathers. a/n: this is so purely self-indulgent, long overdue, and i’m sorry in advance.

synopsis: the school musical. where seniors find slushies, 7/11 dates, and a date to the prom.

“Heathers? You mean that movie from the 80′s or something?”

She laughs, holding up the homemade, school-issued showbill. It’s emblazoned with the illustrated girls in red, green, and yellow, croquet mallets propped high on their shoulder-padded blazers.

“No, stupid. Heathers the musical. What, did you live under a rock for the past ten years?” 

Robby just rolls his eyes, scoffing. “Well, whatever. What about it?”

Her pace is practically a sprint as she heads towards the door of the drama room, dragging him along through the lunchtime hallways rush. They push past the rest of the students, moving in the opposite direction, and Robby can’t help but notice the way they move aside, the way the crowd parts around her, heads bowing down at the sheer way her commands herself. 

Black sneakers skid to a halt at the corkboard, the papers pinned to it flying up into the air at the wind.

“Look!”

He blinks. They’re pointing to a well-worn page tacked there, a list of names. Her finger is hovering just under her own, which is written next to a hyphen and the words: as Jason “JD” Dean.

“JD... that’s the guy, right?” he asks, trying to remember anything about the movie at all. 

“Yep. The cast list came out ages ago, but I wanted to break the news closer to the day of. The show’s this Friday. You’re coming, right?” her eyes are blinking up at him, shining with that genuine passion that’s so rare to see.

Robby falters, eyes flicking from the showbill still clutched in her hand to her face, staring expectantly. He is not their boyfriend, something he has to remind himself rather firmly. She’s like this with everyone, as he’s seen all the time. And yet...

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll come. Want me to ask Mr. LaRusso and Sam to come, too?”

They just chuckle. “I already invited Sammy. She and I have English together.”

His heart makes an odd plummet in his chest. It’s sort of weird, seeing Sam and her in the same world, as if the Sun and the Moon somehow crashed into each other. 

“Oh. Yeah, yeah. Cool.”

Their face flickers, broad smirk falling into a subtle frown. “Hey, Keene. You good?”

“Hm? Yeah, ‘m fine.”

The night of the show, Robby put on his best clothes. Which really just meant he layered a leather jacket over black-and-white flannel, found some jeans he could cuff, and subtly did his hair.

Mr. LaRusso drove him over to the school, Sam sitting in the backseat with him. Her hair was pulled back into a curly, bouncy ponytail, and she’d even applied eyeliner. Mrs. LaRusso came too, but Anthony stayed home, under the reasoning that “school plays are for nerds, dad.”

“You excited?” Sam asked as they settled into their seats. “I know I am.”

“I watched Heathers with your mother when it first came out, you know.” Mr.LaRusso informed Sam. 

The lights dimmed, the curtains rose, and with a single hush, the entire auditorium seemed to be sucked of all sound. So this was a school play. At least, a good one. 

He watched the girls in 80′s style jackets and color-coded plaid dance around poor “Veronica” while singing about candy. Confusing, but enjoyable. He couldn’t see her until the next moment of dialogue, where she stood, black jacket swooshing around their legs. 

He watched her throw staged punches at the jock boys playing Kurt and Ram. And while Robby knew there wasn’t any real contact, he couldn’t help but notice how her feet slid into position so naturally, how their hands formed perfect fists, the tightness in their shoulders and the clench of their jaw. He just wasn’t sure if it was her general training, or work for the role.

And then came the window song.

“Veronica?” they asked, puzzled. “What are you doing in my room?”

He knew it was a role. It was all part of the play. But it still make his blood rush to his ears when he watched “Veronica” walk in through the window, make his cheeks redden when they threw off their shirt and grabbed the other girl’s waist.

“Psst. Robby. You good?”

He glanced over at Mrs. LaRusso, seated a seat down. She was leaning over her husband and staring at him worriedly. 

“Huh? Uh. Yeah. Sorry.” he blinked. 

His eyes returned to the stage, where, thankfully, the song was over. He instead got to listen to the illusion... dream sequence version of the red Heather tell “Veronica” how much of a slut she was for sleeping with the trenchcoat kid.

“Keene, Sammy! Over here!”

They’re waving, out of costume, standing outside the doors to the stage. There’s still black eyeliner smudged around their eyes, and they’re grinning like an idiot.

“Mr. and Mrs. LaRusso! It’s a surprise to see you here.” She notes, giving them both a nod of the head.

“Well, Heathers was one of my favourite movies as a kid.” Mrs. LaRusso smiles. “And Sammy here says you’re quite talented.”

“Oh, does she now?” They laugh, wiggling their eyebrows at a grinning, sheepish Sam. 

Robby smiles. “Ahem. Uh. You did good up there.”

“Awh, thanks~ I saw you in the seats, you know.” She notes, smiling. 

Are his ears red, or is it just her, leaning in and grinning at him with all the mischief and glee of a fox that’s just trapped its prey.

He rubs the back of his neck before opening his mouth. “Uh. I’ve been meaning to ask--”

She cuts him off. “You’re about to ask me out, aren’t you?”

“... How’d you guess?” Robby asks, fully ready for a rejection.

“Because I’ve been meaning to do the same thing, stupid. So. Robby Keene, wanna go grab some slushies?”

He laughs, because only they would ask him out with a reference to a musical they just starred in. 

“Yeah. Let’s.”

She leans in, and his head tilts, eyes fluttering shut as their faces grow closer and closer--

“A-hem.”  They jump apart, blinking at Mr. LaRusso. His wife nudges him in the ribs, while Sam laughs. 

“Whoops.” She says, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Meet you at the car?”

“Nah. I’ll go with now. Thanks for the ride, Mr. and Mrs. LaRusso.” 

And with that, he slid his arm around her waist, and they took off to the nearest 7/11. 

[theshamsandherzahraat]

(untitled frank castle ff) II

word count: ~1.7k

warnings: still nothing i guess???!?

part I

note: i have no idea how long i can stick to the reader insertion structure of this piece of fiction but for now i can only try my best and write from a perspective i am more comfortable with despite the effort of staying neutral. the point is: i can’t just simply create the experience out of thin air; i have to have some sort of relation to it visa vi the following (three) characteristics you will stumble upon in the course of this chapter. nevertheless, i hope you will enjoy reading it. at this point i don’t even know how long this whole story is going to be. y’all. this could be like my next jam for the break alongside watching mob city. (yes, another fellow hole for mr. bernthal here. bye.)

(p/s: oh, and that john mulaney reference...i don’t know, man. as i was trying to relocate my story in the timeline of the series that came out in 2017, i remembered his netflix specials and some of his genius jokes from back then. take away whatever you want from that reference, i sincerely don’t care.)

@bunnywritesmarvel – i will always appreciate your occasional visit to my humble fort of writing <3

–

“Man, I love New York!” Your enthusiasm was echoing into the night. “Fastest delivery ever!” Wondering about what else could make this occasion more enjoyable, aside from the freshly baked apple pie, you were scanning your surroundings for some scented candles.

“And not just for food!” You heard Amy remark whilst she was getting the door.

“…?” A puzzled look on your face as you turned your head around.

“I honestly don't know why I said that. Sorry...” She sheepishly grinned in an attempt to threw you off with the arrived box in her hands.

“You sure?”

“Yes, ma'am...”

“Oh, c'mon, girl,” you tried to land a pillow on her face and ruin some of her effortlessly perfect locks falling down her shoulders “I'm still in my twenties, okay?! I am a bit of an old soul here, I know, but you don't have to do me like that.”

“Frank calls you ma'am as well.” She said as she dodged your pathetic throw with a chuckle.

“Exactly! Frank does!” you pointed a finger at her to emphasize your point “'Cuz I approve of his respect...And also because I like to call him sir…But that's not- ANYWAYS!” your patience was reaching its limit by now which wasn't optimal in terms of initiating a process that basically required all the patience you could possibly internalize. “Go get us some forks, Rapunzel.”

“You were maaaade for each other...” Another remark you didn't know how to digest. Made for each other? You and Frank? How?

“Nah, what do you know...” You mumbled in helpless frustration. Apparently you were heard.

“NOTHING!...” The young girl was shouting across the apartment, soon rejoining you on the couch. “Which is why I am all ears now.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah...” Before you could focus on Amy's fully charged presence, you snapped your fingers whilst pointing at the candles you spot under a top shelf of the lowboard furniture next to the wall. Pleading internally, you were hoping for a good scent. Come on, Madani… Lavender – Yes!

“So, tell me. He was going by the name Pete way back then?” She inquired as the small flame of the lighter in her hand met with the black wick.

“Indeed, he was.” You held out your hand in a gesture to take the candle, so you could place it in a desirable position on the coffee table, right between your hot cups of tea. “Though I must say there was definitely a Pete in him that peaked through every now and then for a chance at having a peaceful life. But as you already witnessed, that never played out well for him...” You started to slightly fork the slice of apple pie on your plate seated right across your tugged in left leg. Checking for the gooeyness – you simply couldn't pass by that.

“When did you first see him?” Amy was solely fixated on you and didn't seem to care much about the delightful dessert, having barely touched anything except her own sleeves. It was obviously going to take some time for her to feel somewhat at ease and relax in the lame coziness. Nevertheless, she was already immersed in the story you were about to tell.

“It was around mid-term season, where I adequately felt settled as a literature graduate from overseas. I had like this assignment due and I found the greatest spot in the city which was an old diner, you know – ‘authentic American experience’ and stuff. Pffh...”

“Oh. My. God...I just realize that I don't even know anything about you to begin with understanding your relationship with Frank. YOU STUDY LITERATURE AND YOU'RE NOT FROM HERE?!???” The exhilarating shock was plastered all over her face which was partly illuminated by a hue of yellow. Right. How could that have become any content for conversation between fired bullets, blood, some more fired bullets, and some more blood? No way at all.

“Yupp. Pretty much everything you need to know to understand the rest so I won't go down that rabbit hole, alright? Also, I don't know anything real about you either, so no further questions.”

“Uhrrrm...Okay??”

“So. I was spending hours at that diner and the staff grew a liking towards my presence. Really lovely folks. After a few days I started looking for inspiration in my surroundings at that time – customers, overheard conversations, food, nothing out of the ordinary, just life basically. That's when I first noticed Pete. He wasn't a real regular but you don't forget that face once you've locked your 'literary' energy on it, if you know what I mean…However that was just it. If I wouldn't have known better, I'd have labeled him as a strange hipster hunk and moved on.”

“Hipster?” Amy looked a little bit thrown off track due to a lack of imagination as you supposed.

“Yeah...At least that's what everybody else called him. For me,” you paused and tried to think of a more eloquent way to continue your narrative train “that beard wasn't a sign of groomed trendiness. That was a real man who went through some real shit and the beard was a simple byproduct of that because…” By now you were staring holes into the air and feeling an emptiness sweep over you with a little ache. “It was the eyes that exposed him, really. And he was avoiding meeting other eyes at all cost. A barricaded man, desperate for light to be shed on him.”

“Enter you!”

You shook your head in disagreement.

“No, not really… At least I didn't seek it. It just sort of happened.” Taking your first bite, you couldn't help but desperately wish for that void to be magically filled by it.

“Come on! That's what they all say!” She didn't seem to be convinced and shot you a doubtful stare, most likely having troubles with trusting you.

“Believe me or not, I don't think I would have had anything to do with him if it wasn't for the couple of dickheads who were at the diner that day.”

“Dang. Always a couple of dickheads… I wonder if Frank's a magnet for that kind of breed.”

With a gay sigh you simply said “We shall never wonder…” And Amy was noticeably agreeing with a knowing smile.

“Right. So, you two are at the diner and a bunch of assholes start harassing you?”

“Not exactly.” You were chewing on your next forkful of pie and covered your mouth with a hand. “They turned into assholes the moment I kindly told them that I had to concentrate on my work.”

“Oooooh, you had a normal conversation and then they decided to make everyone's day miserable?”

“Sort of. It was around six or seven in the evening. I got there around early sunset and Pete half an hour later I guess. And when those guys came along I was right in the middle of taking a break. I had my refill of coffee and some salted cookies from back home. My sketchbook was out on the table as I watched a few of John Mulaney's stand-up clips on YouTube. All nice and chill, right.” You were briefly checking for confirmation in her voiceless expressions. “I didn't even notice their sitting in the booth between mine and Pete's. Sometime later they asked if I was one of the exchange students. I guess the sticker on my laptop gave me away or whatever. We had a pretty nice talk, I was lowkey psyched that I got to meet new people outside of classes that weren't necessarily serving me an unhealthy intake of caffeine. But as soon as I made it clear that I was looking for nothing other than lighthearted human connection, they got pissed. Like completely offended. Couple of minutes later, well, ... Yeah, I was about to break that one dude's fucking fingers but I met Frank's amusingly disturbed gaze and decided to return to my assignment.” That last bit came off a little too nonchalant than you intended it to be. The last thing you wanted Amy to take away from this is your being pretentious.

“More like disturbingly amused.” Though she seemed to focus on something else, looking past you into the distance, while she grabbed her warm mug from the table.

“Possible.” You noted, not knowing how exactly to interpret her current exposure.

“And afterwards they just let you be?”

“Pretty much, yeah… I don't know. Maybe they saw Frank glaring at them or something.” You decided to take a sip of your tea as well. “But I could only make out a faint smile and raised eyebrows when I looked over at him a second time.” You faintly giggled into your mug in reminiscence.

“And?! Did you two get to talk then?” You felt Amy's hand on your right leg and endured the unwittingly inflicted pain of the contact by weaving in a whimper to your next words.

“Eventually, yes, we did. But not until past midnight.”

“No way you were working THAT long on a stupid assignment...” Her exclamation of secondhand distress slightly rubbed you the wrong way.

“It wasn't a stupid assignment and, no, I wasn't working THAT long…” Now you wanted to throw her off course again and chose your following sentence carefully (or not so carefully). “I was laying on his bed when we first talked.”

“What the fuck… Are you serious?… Like – you guys hit it right off? No words exchanged whatsoever?!??”

“Man, the power I now hold…” Your jaunty savagery was unhinged at this point. “I could totally leave you on a cliffhanger there. HA-HA-HA-HAAAA!!!!” A little goofiness wouldn't hurt anyone after a couple of rough days and gloomy nights.

“SHUT UP! Urrrgh…” She was laughing almost angrily  – however that sounds – and you felt relieved that she took her hand off your stretched leg a minute ago. “No! Don't shut up! Keep telling! I just… I can't picture it…”

“WELL!” You sipped a little more from your tea before concluding your teasing behavior with “I definitely don't want you picturing stuff that didn't really happen…”

“… Yes?” All you wanted to do was to hug her in that moment of silence and preserve the lightheartedness as long and eagerly as possible.

*

“Don't worry, sweetheart, those bastards won't bother you again.”

“…”

“These are for you. Dry and warm. I'll be right outside, okay?”

“… Okay.”

“Good…”

“Wait… Thanks, …?”

“Urrh, Pete. And nah, you're all good.”

“Thank you, Pete.”

“… You're welcome.”

[accirax]

I'm impressed by a lot of your takes, and also some predictions completely blindsided me by either how good or how off they are lol (/positive).

Yeah, this is about what I expected. Hey, wait, that means some of them are right, though! Hooray, I'm not a total idiot! (Well, on this count, at least... we'll get to that).

First, it is a really fun idea! Though it's not fully mine. The original idea actually came from this post by sunlit-haru. Like your comment in that one post where I messed up Hope's Peak for UA, that's what really primed me to think this up. So yeah!

Ah, yeah, I figured that was probably the case. But, I should credit sunlit-haru too for being the original inspiration behind this series. Thank you for having such a big brain idea, haru!

I think most if not all are at least more ambiguous than Yuno "did she even do anything wrong" Kashiki, which is my way of saying "I'm not sure if this is very complicated but Milgram allowed the other thing so fuck it we ball." My justification for some of the more out-there murders/'murders' is "well Shidou's there", as in, if Milgram gets away with having an organ stealing doctor who's killed dozens of people, I get away with having a few sillier cases.

Totally valid. I didn't mean to make you at all insecure about any of the murders you planned with regard to complexity or realism. I just also didn't want to assume that you weren't keeping those things in mind at all, and say something really simplistic/crazy as a result. I can try to keep these trains of thought out of any future theorizing on this AU that I may or may not do, but... you've seen some of my DRDT theories. I have a really hard time keeping meta analysis out of my theories for some reason. Call it a writer's folly. Or really an edgic enjoyer's folly, lol.

>I saw in the notes you couldn't find the code for the runes, so here it is if you want to translate the thing on Es' band! It's not too important, it's just a DRDT thing I really like and I think fits Es (or maybe I'm lying? Who knows)

Yeah, why not? I've got work to procrastinate (/lh).

...what.

No, wait, I think Milgram likes to put text into Latin sometimes! Let's check the translator.

...uh oh.

I don't know if this is meant to be some sort of code or if I just messed up the translations horrifically. I did try to double check my results this time, I swear! But they turned out the same. Or, at least the first line did, which is already confusing if true. I'm not very good at ciphers, so maybe I'll continue to leave this one to someone else. Sorry if I messed up your puzzle :(

>Arturo: Uh... the description of the kill-shot does mention one of Es' shoes being off, doesn't it? :]

Goddammit. I'm starting to think that me writing, "I also summarized things using my own interpretations of the evidence we have instead of being fully objective [...] know that the information presented is not always 100% literal" was me subconsciously trying to tell myself that I missed something.

UPDATED PRISONER 02: Arturo Giles

Trial 1 Song Title: Wilted Crime Location: Bathroom Special Image: Arturo appears to be messily packing a suitcase, considering a white turtleneck shirt Murder Method: Arturo kneels facing away from Es, who is on the ground in an uncomfortable position with one of their shoes off Voice Reveal: "Arturo Giles. Ugh, do I really have to be judged by someone this ugly? I'll have you know, I've never murdered anyone. I mean, there is... no, no, that wasn't my fault... How was I meant to know?! Even if she's dead because of what I did, it's not my fault!"

Well, that makes things a lot simpler. Sorry to Mr. and Mrs. (?) Giles for the accidental slander... kind of. I mean, they likely did still contribute to the environment that led to Felicity's suicide, but at least they probably didn't straight up kill their daughter. Instead, it's probably the same as the canonical secret, and Felicity did choose to kill herself after Arturo left.

>David: Same with Arturo, his- wait. Oh. Oops. Uh... yeah that was supposed to mention a shoe being off, which uh... I forgot to add.

UPDATED PRISONER 03: David Chiem

Trial 1 Song Title: Star in the Night Crime Location: Bedroom Special Image: David performs, possibly for someone important, on an otherwise empty stage, lights all shining on him Murder Method: David yells at Es, who is missing one of their shoes, with the 正 (tally) symbol in his eyes Voice Reveal: "My name is David Chiem. It seems there's been a mistake. But, don't worry! I won't hold it against you. Mistakes can be corrected. It's not difficult to change, as long as you're willing to! I try to be as positive as I can, since I know there're a lot of people that don't get the privilege. ...AGH! CAN YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT, YOU HUMAN PIECE OF GARBAGE?!"

Haha, I kind of thought something like that might have been the case. You can tell because I never tried to pin down what David's actual murder method would have been in the original post. I mean, the murder method is yelling. What could he have done, rupture their eardrums? How is that supposed to lead to a death in a manner other than suicide?

...*Fuuta flashbacks*

Anyways, nothing really changes here. I'd still say that David broke his speaker's facade in front of his special listener, and the despair that his words caused them led to their death.

See, the "2 . 13" is meant to be "2 times 13". If I had wanted to write a decimal, I would put the numbers together: "2.13" Not to mention I use commas for decimals (2,13), but that might be a cultural thing. Thankfully I don't have to feel too bad because you messed up the equation anyways lol. You're supposed to add on both sides. When you use the cubic root on both sides you get "x = 3". I wonder if that number means anything.

...Well, it's time to leave tumblr forever. Goodbye, everybody! It's been fun, but I don't think I'm coming back from this one. (/j)

See, this is why I'm an artist and not a mathematician. Classic American school system L that I can remember how to solve natural logarithms and that (e^0) = 1 off the top of my head, but I forgot basic algebra. Speaking of American, yeah, I should've remembered that some other countries use commas in place periods in that spot.

In my defense(?), I thought that the numbers being apart was for... dramatic effect? Like when you write text L I K E T H I S to make it look more imposing. Yet another reason why I'm better suited for the visual arts than STEM :,( Thinking over it again, though, it makes sense that you'd make an equation that you don't need a calculator to solve.

UPDATED PRISONER 13: Min Jeung

Trial 1 Song Title: 100% Perfection (couldn't be me /j) Crime Location: Untidy bedroom Special Image: Min is slumped over a desk, at which she had been writing the chemical formula for tetrodoxotin (thank you reverse image search) Murder Method: Es lies on the floor clutching at their neck as Min yells into a phone, "ln(x³ - 2 ⋅ 13) = 0" written on her arm Voice Reveal: "Min Jeung. This is ludicrous. How are we meant to expect a fair judgment when your "justice" is determined by one person's whims and biases? When an institution is non-functional, it is highly illogical to indiscriminately tear it down. Improving the basis already in place is by far the most constructive way to conduct process. There is no country in the world in which I would be judged a murderer. To say one person has the authority to decide that I am is a flagrant display of vanity. ...The condition has been met. There is no need for further intervention."

So, as you said, the answer is x=3. If you say it out loud, it's "three," which means, "three." (omg, 3 collab? /ref) This number is certainly a lot easier to work with, if it does mean anything. The easiest interpretation is that there were three victims of the poisoning. However, it could also indicate that Min's family has three people in it, and that they're the variable she's solving problems for. Min's name also has three letters in it. Illuminati confirmed.

This equation also makes me wonder more why Min would need to write it on her arm, which I at least related to a method of cheating on a test. Like, Min is a genius; she shouldn't need to write down a formula that takes five-ish steps to solve and doesn't require a calculator. Not to mention, unless this unsolved equation is an actual test answer, I don't really see how it would help her to cheat in any capacity.

Well then, it's probably just that what's written on her arm isn't actually her cheating, especially because it may not be physical at all. I don't have the same assumptions of David's tally, Eden's VI, or Teruko's question mark being real ink, so the same should remain true of Min. It could also just imply metaphorical cheating, AKA how Min is cheating on the tests by eliminating the competition. And, even if it is supposed to be straight up her cheating by writing this answer down in an academic exam, it's a definite possibility that the equation isn't that difficult simply because it's intended for us, the casual DRDT/Milgram viewer, to be able to solve. We already saw how I did on a question of this caliber, so it's probably good that it wasn't any more complicated :,)

The poisoning part stays the same. The crime would have been committed for Min's sake, and Min may have even directed them to carry out the attack over the phone.

Anyways I hope the math wasn't too painful, because Min's MV is probably going to be the nerdiest thing you'll see in your life hehehe. :]

No, wait! I can't be expected to do even more math; I couldn't even find my high school math notes in my room when I was trying to solve this equation! Oh god, are we going to have to graph anything? My graphing calculator is... actually still on my desk, hilariously, but it's long out of battery and I don't know where the charger is!

If I'm the last line of defense between this AU and math, we're going to vote everyone incorrectly for sure (/lh).

DRDT + Milgram AU: Undercover (Introduction)

Finally succumbed to the Urges and came up with ideas for a full Danganronpa Despair Time - Milgram AU, and now I feel like sharing. This means giving each character a MV + VD concept (not a full VD though I ain’t writing that much dialogue, and not a full MV because who do you think I am), plus this Undercover post! I’m not sure if I’ll commit to this for a full three trials, or I’ll just drop it after just one, but I can guarantee I’ll do this trial in full. Feel free to make analysis posts (no pressure obvs), but also obvs don't expect this to be that good, I'm doing this for fun.

And if you come from the Milgram side, uh... have fun? I am curious about what people with no prior conceptions of these characters would think, but I do recommend DRDT if you haven't watched it (the overlap between the fandoms is non-trivial, I imagine you'll like it). If not, you should probably look up the character designs at least, but be wary that there will be DRDT spoilers.

As an obvious disclaimer just in case, I am not affiliated with either DRDT or Milgram in any way, this is just a fanmade AU done entirely for fun.

Basic Concept

Pretty simple. What if the 16 students of DRDT were prisoners in Milgram? This means they're all "murderers" by some loose definition of the word, implying most of their backstories must be changed to acommodate for that. For the prisoner pairs, I just paired them based on the Chapter 1 recap. The rest is pretty self-explanatory provided you know how Milgram works; three trials, vote Forgiven/Unforgiven, etc. I won't repeat it all here. You can go to the official Milgram YT channel for more information if you're not familiar.

Meet Es

Although they are of unspecified adult age, this universe’s Es is very similar to canon Es from the main series, at least in appearance. The only differences are red highlights in their hair, as well as sharp yellow eyes and taller height. They also wear arm sleeves on both their arms, being particularly adverse to people touching the left one, and their voice is slightly higher pitch. As for their personality… well, you’ll have to wait for the VDs, right? But as a heads up, they’re quite a bit nicer than canon Es, though they can still get pretty strict with the prisoners. 

(Can you tell who they’re connected to yet?)

Their uniform is the same as canon, including the band thing which in Milgram runes reads “reciffO eciloP”. The only difference is that their other band thing is longer and has the following runes:

(As a heads up, since there's no rune for 'q' I just used the rune for 'c/k' in its place. You probably don't need to translate it all to know what this says if you're familiar with DRDT lore)

Jackalope is replaced by DRDT canon MonoTV, no big changes to its personality. It still breaks the fourth wall and talks to an audience,which is odd for the prisoners (and Es) seeing as there is no audience in-universe (at least, that's what it claims). 

*Es’ VD is mostly the same, besides changes in dialogue caused by the difference in personalities. The only real difference is that there is no ‘extra cell.’

*Cover is still Hibana. 

Alright, let's get to the fun stuff.

Undercover

(It is highly recommended you know what the canon Undercover looks like before reading this, since a lot of it is pretty similar)

The opening is still the same minus Es' different appearance and MonoTV replacing Jackalope, and only starts changing when the prisoners begin showing up.

(Don’t- Don’t expect this to actually work as a song btw. I’m not insane enough to make that work)

UNDER Split in between decisions, my conscious is made up of torn stitches

Levi (01) holds a mostly neutral expression as he holds up his prisoner card, which displays his face alongside an image of an alleyway. His pose keeps changing slightly in smash cuts. Levi’s face darkens right before there’s a switch to the next prisoner.

(Note: I won’t mention the pose switching and the face on the card all the time, since that’s part of canon Undercover. Just assume it always repeats)

UNDER The beauty in simplicity, wilting with rising complexities

Arturo (02) has his chin up arrogantly at first, showing a prisoner card with a picture of a bathroom. He scoffs and turns around before the switch. 

UNDER A liar? No, that’s wrong! My honesty shines like a star in the night

David (03) (speaker persona) smiles nervously, rubbing at his cheek with a finger. His card shows a bedroom. He covers his face with his free hand, sighing before the switch.

UNDER A sinner? No, you’re kidding! I’m innocent as can be, just don’t mind the gaps

Whit (04) throws a cheeky grin to the camera, doing a finger gun with his free hand. His card shows a park. He nervously rubs the back of his neck before the switch.

(Note: Yes I gave him 04 because of the tetraphobia thing sue me-)

UNDER With a fury and a passion, unstoppable, show them your fangs

Ace (05) snarls at the camera. His card shows a city street. He throws it to the floor angrily before the switch. 

(Note: Sometimes I wasn't quite able to tie their talent to their murder, so it's either tangential to their story or has been replaced with something similar. I am mentioning this with Ace for... no reason in particular, sure, you'll believe that)

UNDER Your fears and anxieties, Respond to the stress, show me fight or flight

Nico (06) hides under the part of their cloak which looks like a scarf, peeking out nervously. Their card shows a locker room. They take a step back as the scene switches.

INSERT CHORUS HERE

UNDER Each existence is like no other, Lucky, unlucky, showtime reaches all

J (07) holds up her card with an unsatisfied expression. It shows a bridge surrounded by camera equipment. She rolls her eyes as the scene switches.

UNDER And yet, it’s all the same In the end, this wretched still life goes on

Rose (08) yawns as she holds up her card lazily. It shows a large dining room. The card slips from her hand as she falls asleep.

UNDER It’s too much, too much, I’m high strung, please forgive my sins

Hu (09) looks nervous, glancing around as if to find a place to hide. Her card shows a zither in a non-descript room. She drops her card, and closes her eyes with a pained expression, a hand on her chest. 

UNDER Please do condemn me, Bloodletting, the horror inside us is what makes me feel.

Veronika (10) spins and gives the camera a bright smile as she pulls out her card. It shows a rooftop. She throws the card in the air dramatically, laughing as it spins around and falls beside her. Her eyes fall back on the camera, and she smirks menacingly. 

UNDER  Unopposable, incontestable Merry kings, life’s queens, for me they bow down.

Arei (11) is sticking out her tongue and looking to the side dismissively. Her card shows a bowling alley. She laughs into her hand before the scene switch.

UNDER My weakness haunts me, Alarm bells are ringing, there's no going back.

Eden (12) fidgets with her hands, shaking nervously. She hides her face behind her card as she shows it, but her teary eyes are still visible over it. The card shows a bedroom full of clocks. She cries into her hands before the switch. 

INSERT CHORUS HERE

[The music winds down, a bridge of sorts. As it plays, a few scenes are shown, where only the characters’ silhouettes are visible, white noise covering them]

[01: A steaming kettle covers most of the foreground. In the background, Levi is seen sitting at a table, head slumped forward. Most of the table is visible, but no one else is in the frame]

[02: Arturo is seen to the left, holding a white turtle neck shirt in his hands. Behind him, an open suitcase sits on a bed, clothes splayed haphazardly around it]

[03: David stands alone on an empty stage, arms wide out. The spotlights are all on him. The entire stage and some of the front row seats are visible, with David’s silhouette only covering a small part in the center of the frame]

[04: A computer monitor covers almost the entire frame. There are countless photos and words, but they’re all too blurry to see, with the exception of a small message on top which reads “Analyzing profiles…” Whit is reflected on the screen, resting his head on one of his fists]

[05: Ace sits on a motorcycle, looking up and admiring the night sky which takes up most of the frame]

[06: Nico is crouched beside a cat, holding out a pink mouse toy for it to play with. Only their legs are visible, but there is a puddle of water under Nico]

[07: J has her palm spread out all over the screen, as if blocking the camera. There are flashes of light behind her, but the source is impossible to see]

[08: Rose sits slumped in a chair, hands on her face. All around her, dozens of canvases can be seen, painted entirely in black. Small bits of color poke out at the bottom, but no full paintings are visible]

[09: The camera is entirely focused on the top of a zither. Hu’s hand is visible, touching the strings with her plectra]

[10: Only Veronika’s footwear is visible over a dark floor. The rest of the scene is filled entirely by blood]

[11: Arei stands in front of a bathroom mirror. She’s holding the right side of her hair, the only part that’s visible. It looks very unevenly cut]

[12: Eden is holding her head in her hands, slumped over a work desk full of small machinery. Behind her are a multitude of analog clocks of various designs, all showing the same time; 6:00]

[13: Min is sitting on a chair, slumped forward and apparently collapsed over a notebook. A pen sits just beside her right hand. A bit of the writing can be seen, showing this:]

[The brown part being Min's hair. Don't make fun of me I'm using Paint and have zero art skills]

[14: Xander, the focus of the shot, stands in front of a crowd, standing on a simple chair. His fist is in the air, and so are the fists of everyone in the crowd]

[15: Charles is kneeling over a grave, the name on it hidden behind the silhouette. Charles is pulling at his hair with his hands. Other graves are visible around him, but the edges of the screen are darkened and it’s impossible to see them well]

[16: Teruko’s hand is reaching out to a black figure, this one without white noise. The figure is completely non-descript, more a simple shadow than a proper silhouette. Blinding white light surrounds this figure] 

UNDER No mistakes, no corrections, 100% Perfection, results shall not vary. 

Min (13) wears a neutral expression, and she holds her card perfectly upright. Her pose changes only to match the exact angles actual mugshots use. Her card shows an untidy bedroom. Before the switch, she lowers her hand, and looks briefly to the side, before turning back to the camera. When she does, her left eye flashes magenta behind her hair. 

UNDER Fighting for true justice, Stand strong, a reflection of the will of the many

Xander (14) is glaring at the camera, moving his card around flippantly. Said card shows a window overlooking an entire city. Xander throws the card away before throwing a punch at the screen.

UNDER Leave no room to hide, No hesitation, a chain reaction of truth unfolds

Charles (15) looks serious, if a bit annoyed as he holds up his card. It shows a laboratory table with several test tubes. He turns his back to the camera, adjusting his goggles, but gives one last, softer look behind him as the scene switches. 

UNDER Or shall the secrets remain? What lies beyond the lies, armageddon untold

Teruko (16) looks at the camera with cold eyes, but a hint of a frown on her lips. Her pose never changes; unlike everyone else, her segment is one continuous shot. It starts with her holding her card at an angle such that only her face is visible on it. She closes her eyes solemnly, before finally flipping her card around so only the backside is shown. It has the Milgram logo combined with the DRDT logo. She never shows the rest of the front of the card, as the scene switches moments after. 

[Pre-chorus, as the prisoners hold their hands to their mouths before a scene of them smiling plays. At the end, for a few frames, a white camellia blooms, before there’s a sudden shift in scenery as we hit the final chorus. All the prisoners’ silhouettes have a still shot each with Es, with a blood splatter always under the latter. The scene starts to focus on each individually]

[Levi’s punching Es in the face, Es thrown to the floor from the impact. Brass knuckles are barely visible on his hand. Levi’s shouting, as are all the other prisoners]

[Arturo is kneeling, facing away from Es. The latter is laying on the floor behind him in what would be a pretty uncomfortable position. Arturo is holding his head in his hands, his mouth visible from the side and open in a shout. One of Es’ shoes is off]

[David is holding Es by the neck of their shirt, shouting at their face (from now on I’ll stop clarifying that they’re shouting). The following symbol appears over where his eyes would be, glowing yellow: 正]

[Whit is pointing what looks to be a gun at Es, who is recoiling as if they’ve been shot in the heart]

[Ace is seen running, Es’ body falling to the ground beside him and twisting as if they’d been bumped into]

[Nico sits on top of Es’ back. With one of their hands, they’re grabbing onto Es’ hair and apparently pushing it forward. With the other they’re holding two ends of a wire firmly planted on Es’ neck]

[J stands normally, pointing what seems to be a remote control at Es. The latter is face-up on the floor, their limbs contorted in unnatural angles]

[Rose is standing, facing away from Es, who is kneeling and grabbing at their throat. A small jar sits beside them, the cap taken off]

[While standing, Hu is grabbing Es by the throat with both hands, blood coming from the Warden’s throat]

[Veronika is kneeling besides Es’ face-up body. Her hands are on her chest, and there is blood under her as well as the Warden. Meanwhile, Es’ limbs are contorted in unnatural ways, and one of their shoes is off]

[Arei is violently swinging a bowling ball at Es’ head, causing their body to twist around as it falls]

[Eden is standing, covering her eyes. Her right hand has a Ⅵ symbol glowing bright yellow. Es is uncomfortably laying face-up on the floor]

[Min is standing with her back turned to Es, who is kneeling on the floor and grasping at their neck. Min is shouting into a landline phone. Along her arm, an equation glows bright yellow:

ln(x³ - 2 . 13) = 0]

[Xander is grabbing Es’ shoulder, plunging a knife into their stomach]

[Es is standing neutrally, but there is still blood on the floor. A glowing yellow question mark floats above them. Charles is nowhere to be seen]

[Teruko is kneeling calmly besides Es, who is lying face-up with their hands crossed over their chest as if in a coffin. A question mark glows on Teruko's left hand. Teruko is the only prisoner besides Charles who is not screaming]

[The song winds down while a sped up and translucent version of the video plays in the background. A shadow begins growing in the middle, and for just a moment, two sharp yellow eyes stare at the camera from the center of the screen. The finale simply has Es exiting to the left as they do in canon Undercover]

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

And there's Undercover! How we feeling? Hope you enjoyed! Take care!

[personasintro]

My Tiny Secret | 20; First Steps

𝑴𝒚 𝑻𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆 | 20; First Steps 

⏤𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; Pretty face doesn’t make it up for an ugly personality. And Kim Seokjin is the perfect proof of that.

⏤𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: seokjin x reader

⏤𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: angst, smut, fluff, mistress au, unexpected pregnancy au

⏤𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: strong language, mature content 

⏤> 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒙

The birds' chirping creates a calm melody, outstanding the sounds of kids laughing and crying that reach your ears. Even the blanket underneath your legs feels soft, softer than usual and you wonder if it's made from one of those expensive materials. Surprisingly, Seokjin was the one who packed everything and you left him to it.

It's nice to see him doing such a normal stuff, especially if it's related to you and your son.

“It seems busier than last week.” His voice resounds, your eyes snapping to him as his legs are spread out with arms holding him in a relaxed position. Those black locks that got longer are thrown back, making his forehead on full display along with his thick brows.

He looks so relaxed, wearing a white casual shirt with jean shorts, something you should've got used to by now, but you still find yourself occasionally stare at him.

You're not even sure how, but your Saturdays have been spent in a park nearby your apartment building for the last couple of weeks. You often went alone, making sure you're not stuck in your apartment all day, sometimes Hoseok tagged along with you as well. Surprisingly, Seokjin comes every Saturday without even making any official plans with you, knowing he's about to spend the whole day with you. Well, with Yoojin.

It became a silent routine.

“It does,” you hum, eyes trailed on Yoojin who crawls up to the tree you're sitting underneath. It creates a perfect shadow in this warm weather. “He's so active these days.” you say as you already panic when he starts to standing up, holding the tree with his small hands.

He can stand for a long time now, but he's too careful to hold onto something and not let go. Yoojin's puckered lips stretch into a huge smile, proudly showing himself to his parents as you clap in praise, not holding a smile back. He grew up so fast, you can't believe how many things have changed since he was born.

Seokjin comes to visit more often, he even sleeps on the couch sometimes since the guest room is slowly renovating to Yoojin's new bedroom. You both went shopping together and bought him a new crib, along with a few different decorations and furniture. The memory of the two of you walking with Yoojin in his stroller seems weird, but nice and comfortable. For the first time, it felt like you're a real family, spending some time together.

He's an intelligent man managing a successful company on his own, with no help whatsoever, however building a crib isn't his strong suit. Stubbornly, he insisted on being the one who makes Yoojin's bedroom for him. You've never seen him being so passionate about something, so you let him. Even if it took him a month, but you silently enjoyed every day he came after work struggling in that room, ending sleeping on the couch.

It feels nice to have him there. He's more open, casually talking with you about your day, but mainly has his focus on Yoojin.

You've met his friend – Kim Namjoon. As you've learned, he accidentally found out about his best friend having a child, thinking it's all gossip. But when he burst into Seokjin's office with a single question if he has a kid and his friend didn't deny it, he knew those gossips were true.

According to Seokjin's words, he bugged him about wanting to meet Yoojin for a whole week, until he had no choice but to say 'yes'. Before Namjoon came to your apartment, Seokjin made sure you're okay with the visit of his friend, the same thing he did when his father came to visit for the first time.

You didn't have any reason to say no, Yoojin is his son as well. A part of you wanted to meet his friend anyway, which happened to be a very polite and kind man. It made you shocked that he has such a nice friend, you were expecting someone similar to his personality. The visit was far more enjoyable than that time when Mr. Kim visited. You even saw Seokjin to crack a few smiles and chuckles, not the dark ones you're used to, but honest and happy ones.

“He's Kim,” he points out proudly, smiling at Yoojin who grins back at his father, still holding to the tree. “He has your smile.” he comments, your head snapping to him before you look at Yoojin.

“Really?” you cock your head to the side, trying to find your similarity in your son.

He's a mixture of you both, although he definitely takes after Seokjin's side more. You're not mad at it, his father is handsome, there's no lie in that.

“Yeah,” he hums, his phone vibrating inside of his pocket as he pulls it out.

You see his wife's name on the display, but he just locks the phone and ignores the call.

“You can speak to her, y'know...” you mumble, watching your son instead as he squats down to admire dandelions.

“I know,” he assures you lightly, “I don't want to.” he admits and you don't let a surprise to be known on your face.

The conversation dies there, both of you watching your son as a way to distract yourselves, that's until Seokjin opens his mouth again.

“I'll divorce her,” he informs you, his tone firm as his hardening features. “For Yoojin.” he adds, glancing at your son that touches the top of dandelion and giggles when it bounces.

“That's nice of you,” you tell him softly, heart warming at the progress he's made. “But, are you sure? Is that what you want?”

You don't mean to doubt his decision, nor you feel some kind of triumph that he wants to divorce his wife. It was never a competition for you and you feel sorry for the woman, whether she's a bad person or not. You're not the one to talk, nor is Seokjin. All of you made mistakes along the way that got you where you are right now.

“I thought about what my father said,” he confesses, your mind drifting to that time he told you what he and his father talked about. It took his some time to open up, but when he finally did, you couldn't be more proud of him. “I think he's right. Besides, I don't see any future with her.”

“If that's what you really want, I'm on your side.”

Seokjin catches the smile you give him, eyes glinting with honesty and his heart does a weird twist at seeing you like that. You're wearing a yellow sundress, youth and happiness radiating from you and he wonders what's the reason behind your happiness. Is he a part of it too? Is someone else behind it?

“Thank you,” he says, tone sounding almost unsure of what to say, and you giggle when you see the puzzled look. “I don't know how she will take it, knowing her she'll throw a fuss. She seems to be furious whenever I come back to the house. I think I'll leave the house to her, maybe she'll be less furious when I break the news to her.”

It seems like he's thinking out loud more to himself, than telling you all this stuff, but you appreciate it nevertheless. It's weird hearing him saying house instead of home.

“I can still pay for the rent, I've got my maternity leave every month,” you suggest, ignoring the raise of his brow. “I don't need your money, Seokjin.”

“Debatable.” he mutters, causing your brows to twitch in irritation.

“No, I don't need it. I'm thankful for everything you're doing for us, but I don't need your money.”

Sighing, he scratches his chin as he looks at you. “I'm sorry,” he apologizes, your mouth falling open but you stay quiet. “Let me do this for you. And Yoojin.”

“I am, but I don't want you to think I need your money. Yes, you make our lives easier but I'm not your wife. I thought you knew that.” Your voice fades away, but the disappointment in it stays as Seokjin groans underneath his breath.

“Shit, I know that,” he curses, voice thick with regret. “I'm not good with words. I've never done this before and I've never met someone who didn't try to fuck me over. It's hard for me to trust someone and you're the first person-- I'm sorry. I know you don't need my money, you made that clear from the day one.”

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you let it go before you give him a soft smile. Confusion is clear on his face, probably thinking you were about to curse at him but he's just met with your smile.

“What?”

“Hm, nothing,” you hum, causing him to roll his eyes in annoyance. Well, some things haven't changed. “I just.. thank you for being so open, I think. It makes me understand you better.” you tell him honestly, seeing him look away as he plays with the grass next to him.

Is he blushing?

When he looks back at you, his eyes trail somewhere behind you before his eyes widen. You follow his vision, eyes mimicking Seokjin's expression as you see your son standing, without holding himself. He giggles and stumbles, but still doesn't reach for the tree next to him.

“Oh my god, he's standing!” you chant, clapping like a crazy woman which makes your son giggle.

“Where's my phone?” you hear Seokjin mutter, before he's snapping a few pictures of your son.

“Come here, pumpkin. You can do it, come here!” you call to him, arms outstretching as you silently call him to your embrace.

He frowns, complementing on what to do but when you clap again and call for him, he smiles. He takes a step forward, and you push the squeal that wants to rip out of your throat away, not wanting to scare him as he slowly starts walking towards you. He's wobbling, his chubby legs barely holding his balance, but he doesn't fall this time. From the corner of your eyes, you see Seokjin pointing his phone to Yoojin, recording this moment with a huge smile plastered on his lips.

“Come to mommy!” you call for him, giggling when he's almost in your embrace, loosing his balance but you're quick to catch him, causing him to giggle. “Good job!” you praise him, kissing his cheeks as you hug him closer to you.

You've never felt so proud, like this very moment. Seokjin's eyes are filled with a rare emotion, something you've never seen on his face and you wish you could snap a picture of him right now. He reaches towards you, caressing Yoojin's back as he gives him a set of praise words.

“Go to daddy,” you tell him, making sure your son is standing as he stares at his father.

He moves away, crossing his legs as he outstretches his arms the same way you did. He's smiling, eyes glistening as he wonders if his son will walk into his arms like he did to you.

“Yoojin-ah, come on. Come here.” he calls out to him, your eyes watering when he starts taking a few steps to his father, grinning at him as Seokjin starts to scream in encouragement causing you to laugh.

You've never heard him being so loud, full of joy and you pull out your phone, taking a lot of pictures as he picks up your son, bouncing him in his arms as he starts kissing his face repeatedly. It makes your son erupt into a fit of laughter, his bubbly laugh outstanding from other children's ones while you're wiping your tears, too stubborn to look away, savoring this moment.

[9:23pm] hobi: wait... he looks... happy???

The message makes you giggle, covering your mouth with the blanket before your fingers work their way onto the screen. You've sent him the video of Yoojin walking, along with the pictures you managed to snap of Seokjin kissing him.

[9:24pm] he does, i've never seen him look so happy

[9:24pm] hobi: that's good, right? is he treating you okay?

He never fails to ask the same question every time the two of you talk, but you know he's just looking out for you. And besides, today was nothing but great.

[9:25pm] yeah, he's really trying hobi

He sends you a couple of emojis of confetti, clapping hands and fireworks which makes you snort. Your giggling is interrupted with a soft knock on your bedroom door. Knowing it's Seokjin, you call out a gentle 'come in' before he opens the door. His head is the first thing that appears, as he cutely looks around noticing Yoojin's crib where he's sleeping.

He was supposed to sleep in his new crib, but he somehow didn't want to let go of you, even though he fell asleep almost immediately.

“Can I come in?” he asks you, cautiously staring at you and catching a glimpse of your exposed legs.

Slowly, you sit up and nod in response. He tries to be quiet, making his way towards the crib to check on Yoojin before he sits next to you. The fresh scent of his shower gel that he brought one day to your home lingers on his skin, his hair slightly dampened after he took a shower. He's wearing a loose shirt and some sweatpants, to stay decent. You know he likes to sleep naked most of the time, or at least that's what you always thought after he fell asleep a few times in your bed – back in the time when you messed around. He always made sure to leave after you both had sex, but there were times when he had a couple of drinks and stayed the night. But you never felt the warmth of him the next morning, no sight of him.

“He fell asleep right away. I think we tired him out.” you whisper, pointing at your son's crib as he chuckles.

“He had an eventful day.” he comments, his voice gentle and quiet not to wake him up.

He's right. After you both packed your stuff and put it into the truck of Seokjin's car, you went to eat ice cream and walked around for a few minutes, before it was time to go back home. Seokjin took a bath with Yoojin, playing with him in the water and you left them there, and cooked dinner.

“Can't sleep?” you ask quietly, making out his features thanks to the moon and opened blinds.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Can you? I heard you giggling.”

“Oh, it was just something Hobi sent me,” you wave your hand, silently watching him in the darkness.

Luckily, Hoseok visited you more often, even when Seokjin was present and even though the atmosphere is awkward most of the time, at least they don't want to rip each other heads anymore.

“Thank you for taking us out today, Yoojin was so happy.” You feel the need to tell him that.

He's not a kid who needs to get praised at every single good thing he does, yet you want to show him your gratitude. He's been involved in Yoojin's and your life more with each passing month. Maybe it's weird but you feel like a family. You raise him together, even though Seokjin officially doesn't live with you, but he's spending most of his time with you. This actually works nicely, way better than you've ever imagined.

And the littlest smile that ghosts his lips whenever you show him your gratitude doesn't go unnoticed, even though he tries to hide it. It's the same one that's hidden by the darkness in your bedroom.

“Were you?” he asks, head tilting towards you, although you can't see his eyes clearly.

“Huh?

“Happy,” he whispers, “Were you happy?”

You're taken back by his question. Does he really care about your happiness? You can't believe your own ears. You knew he's not such a bad guy as he makes himself out to be – hence all the gestures he's done for you, like sending you money and making sure you live in a nice place. There are a lot of things he's done, nice things that made you even more confused by him. But he's never been so straight forward. Until these recent days.

“Yes,” you answer him, “Were you happy?” you ask him back, watching his broad shoulders as he stays quiet for a moment.

“Yes.” he whispers, turning to you and you automatically smile at him, not even sure if he can properly see you.

“I'm glad, I don't think I've ever seen you happy.” you admit, wondering if you're pushing his buttons too much.

“I don't really show emotions but I don't think I've ever been happy. I kind of just... lived.”

The lamp that slowly creates in your throat makes you painfully swallow, your heart shivering of sadness from hearing those words. He says it lightly, although the meaning behind it is sad. You put your hand on his back, caressing his tensed muscles as you scoot closer to him. He's warm, inviting almost and you hate yourself for craving his touch.

“Are you happy now?” you hesitate to ask, but relax when he doesn't seem too tensed from your question.

Slowly, he turns around, your hand falling off his back as he stares at you. It's hard to see his eyes, but you know he's looking at you. He reaches towards your face, caressing your soft skin as his thumb swipes across your lips. Your breath hitches but you don't dare to look away or flinch, it feels too good to do that.

“I'd like to think that I am.” he answers.

It's something about the tone and the way he says it, making it sound painful yet smooth and joyful. He's a one big mystery you were always trying to solve, but if he's not the one opening himself to you, it's pointless. But you see it now. So many things have changed and you get to know a new side of him, each layer he has, almost every day.

You don't know who moves the first, maybe the both of you at the same time, as your lips crashes together in a soft and slow manner. It's been so long since you've felt those lips against your own, enjoying how perfect they feel. As expected, he takes over the kiss, leading you the entire time as you adjust to his pace. It should be embarrassing how quick he has you squirming in your spot and groaning into the kiss, whenever he pulls onto your bottom lip. He cups your face for the better measure, while the other one holds your neck and fuck, how amazing it feels.

Even when your back meets the softness of your mattress, and your neck Seokjin's lips, you know you're utterly fucked. He hovers over you, kissing every sensitive spot which makes you giddy over the fact, he still remembers what makes you moan and clench around nothing.

His thigh is settled between your legs, and when he lightly nibbles onto your weak spot with his teeth, you automatically grind against him. He shushes your moans with his mouth, leaving your mouths connected before has to pull away after a couple of seconds.

“Jin,” you plead, arms hooked around his neck as you pull him closer.

The chuckle that leaves his mouth is shushed, but very audible to your ears as he nudges your nose with his own. “What do you want?”

Of course, he knows what you want from him. He just likes you to say it, even beg for it.

“You,” you whisper, arms traveling down his broad shoulders making its way to his defined chest and abs. “I want you.”

“Is that so?” he hums, nudging your cheekbone with his nose this time. “Are you sure?” he asks when he receives a few set of nods in response.

Your hand trails down, cupping him through his sweatpants, surprised when it's the only clothing separating his length and your hand. What shocks you the most, is the obvious erection poking underneath the thin material and how just the feel of it makes you aroused.

“Naughty,” he comments, pushing away the groan that wants to escape past his lips, clenching his jaw when you stroke him. He sits back on his knees, motioning for you to sit up and you obey, letting him taking off your loose shirt.

Now that you think about it, it seems like it's one of Seokjin's shirts he forgot here. If he noticed such a little detail, he doesn't comment it and softly lays you back down. You bite onto your lips, feeling his palm against your breast, groping the soft flesh.

“So big,” he hums, noticing how bigger they seem and feel ever since you got pregnant. Surprisingly, he leans against your chest, sucking on your nipple as he licks it a few times.

Your palm slaps against your mouth, silencing all those moans and soft groans. He does the same thing to the other breast, coating it with his saliva as he trails down onto your stomach, kissing and licking your skin.

You haven't thought about having sex for a long time, there was never a proper time to think about such thing. You've spent all your time taking care of Yoojin, that the thought of another man and your intimate life was the least of your worries. There were times your hormones would act up, and you craved for someone else's touch. Your mind often drifted to the man that's enveloping your body with his mouth, no matter how many times you've reminded yourself that he's not right for you.

You were so busy trying to be the best mother you could be, that you never really thought about having sex after nine months you gave birth. You got in shape, although your body is not what it used to be. Your breasts got bigger and you still got some fat on your stomach and thighs. And for this very time, you're lucky there's a darkness in the room and Seokjin can't tell all the stretchmarks that failed to disappear.

His hand disappears between your thighs, chuckling when he notes you've no underwear. “Naughty girl.” he chuckles, circling your opening teasingly as you bite onto your lower lip.

It hurts, but you've to keep your mouth shut if you don't want to wake up your son.

“Can you...” he trails off, your mind clouded with lust before you realize what he's asking.

“Yeah.” you answer, giving him the green light as he slowly pushes a one finger inside of you.

It feels weird, almost as if it's the first time you ever experienced this particular touch. Although, it doesn't take you too long to get used to it, hips bucking into his hand as you plead him for more. Surprisingly, he doesn't insist on begging, listening to you as he watches your body squirm in pleasure. He pumps his fingers inside and out, grazing your walls before he scissors them, penetrating you.

“Fuck, you got so tight.” he groans, pumping his fingers before he kisses you.

He barely used to do that. He barely kissed you during sex, and if he did, it was always harsh and rushed. This seems to be slow, but intense at the same time.

You've heard so much stuff of women getting even tighter after they gave birth. You weren't sure if that's true but if Seokjin can tell a difference and he's telling the truth, you guess all those articles were right. Woman's body is something amazing. It goes to its original state even after bringing a human into the world.

He adds another, silently shushing you when you whimper.

“I know, gotta stretch you out,” he whispers, pushing onto your clit with his thumb while his fingers continue to fill you up. “Have you had sex after you gave birth?”

There's a possibility he feels unsure, but he doesn't stop and continues with his movements as if he's not asking you such an intimate question.

Would he be angry if you said yes?

Would he become possessive all over again?

“No,” you whisper, clutching the sheets between your fingers. “You're my first.” you tell him, and you wish you could see his reaction more clearly. This way it seems he barely reacted, although he goes down to bite onto your collarbone which leaves you gasping.

You clutch his shoulders, frowning when he's still fully clothed. “And you?”

“You mean, if I had sex after giving birth?” he snorts, causing you to roll your eyes at him before you groan both in annoyance and pleasure.

“You know what I mean.”

“Then the answer is no,” he tells you, mouth pressed against your ear, so you can hear him clearly. “I haven't had sex with anyone else.”

“That's hard to believe.” you choke out, when he adds his fourth fingers making you breathe through it with a scrunched face.

He gives you the time to adjust, halting his movements. “I didn't. Believe it or not, I've found it hard to find someone else. Not that I was really looking for someone.”

It's the honesty that makes you pause, your heart hammering even faster and you wonder if he can feel it too with his chest pressed against your own. Before you can question him, your curiosity getting the best of you, he's already pumping his fingers again. Deciding you want to feel him, you hook your fingers underneath the hem of his sweatpants, hand disappearing into them as you finally grab him. He groans, surprised by your bolt move, as you slowly pump him.

You were right. He's not wearing any underwear, making it easier for you to access him. He feels just as thick as you remember him, the weight in your palm causing you to clench around his fingers.

“I need you.” you whisper, clearly enough for him to hear because you see him pulling away, staring at you.

“Don't you wanna cum? It'll be easier for me to--”

“I'm sure,” you interrupt him, pulling your hand out of his sweatpants. “Take your clothes off.” you tell him softly, surprised when he actually listens to you without any side remarks.

The loud thud of his clothes makes you both freeze, waiting for Yoojin to wake up but you barely hear the soft puffs leaving from the crib, before he goes back to you. You sit up, pushing him to lay down as he stares at you in confusion. There's not much place or time to actually speak, you're both aware you have to be quiet. Maybe you should just move it to the living room, but there's something thrilling about having sex knowing you've to keep your mouth shut.

“I wanna ride you.” you whisper, already sitting down onto his abdomen, his hardened length poking you into your ass.

“Holy fuck.” he grunts, hands gripping your hips before you lift yourself up, enough to grab his length and make yourself more comfortable.

His head pokes your entrance, your walls clenching just from the thought of feeling him stretching you, as you slide him up and down. Your other hand is outstretched onto his defined abs, feeling how tense they're. You know you're teasing him, but he doesn't say anything and simply lets you take the lead.

Maybe it's the understatement, knowing you're about to have sex for the first time since Yoojin was born. Or maybe he just got a lot more understanding, appreciating current situation. You'd never have thought it'd come to this again, even though your dreams have been wild these couple of months.

Slowly and cautiously, you slide down onto him, your mouth opening at the sudden stretch and burn that his fingers couldn't do. This way, he reaches you even deeper and he's not even halfway in. He's groaning, doing an awful job to contain the pleasure, while you whimper with each inch that you take him.

This has to be difficult for him too. If he's really telling the truth, which you believe him, he haven't had sex for a long time.

Oh, if you just knew he's minutes from spilling himself like some teenager.

Maybe it's just that exact reason, him not having sex for a long time. Or it's you and the way you feel around his length, making him throb inside of you as he twitches when you finally take all of him. A few seconds of adjusting yourself to his huge length, and you're already bouncing on him. Your arms failing you, your body falling onto Seokjin's chest as he holds your body even closer, meeting your thrusts with his hips. He's fucking into you, taking the control even though you're the one on top. He envelopes you in his arms, making you feel closer to him than ever.

You can't describe it, but this time it's different. It's not just sex full of lust and pleasure, there's something else there. You know you don't love each other, but there is a certain kind of chemistry going between you two. Instead of fucking you so hard trying to chase his own pleasure, his movements are quick but still soft. It might sound stupid or ridiculous, but it feels lot more closer. Like there's an actual connection between you two, and it's not just from the fact he's inside of you.

“Fuck, Jin, I can't--” you whimper into his neck, silencing your moans as he starts to fasten up.

“Come on, cum for me. Let me feel you.” he grunts into your hair, digging his fingers into your back and hips as he urges you to cum.

With a few more thrusts, you're cumming around him as your whole body shakes, but he's there to hold you through it.

”Shhh, you did so great. You were amazing.” he shushes you, his length twitching inside of you, reminding you of its presence and need.

You slide off him, settling yourself between his legs before you take him into your mouth, hand gripping the rest that you can't take. Bobbing your head and stroking him with your hand, you feel his fingers grabbing your hair. Swiping your tongue and repeating the same process couple of times, causes him to let out a low growl as he's spilling himself into your mouth. He twitches in your mouth, emptying himself and when he's done, he sighs.

You let him go with a pop sound, swallowing all of his cum as you sit down onto your knees, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“That was... fucking amazing.” he breathes out, his rigid breathing filling the bedroom.

The sex itself wasn't the longest you both had, but it was intense and probably the best one. Something's telling you he thinks the same thing as he seems to be far more affected than ever.

“Yeah,” you chuckle, agreeing with him as you stand up.

“Where are you going?” he asks immediately, already leaning against his elbows as he watches you in the darkness.

“To take a shower,” you answer, stating the obvious while a surprised 'oh' leaves his mouth. “Can you please watch Yoojin?”

He coughs, nodding his head remembering that you can't probably see him that well. “Sure.”

You go take a shower, smiling giddily for the whole time the water splashes onto your body, ignoring the little jumps your heart does every time you replay what has just happened. When you're done, Seokjin takes his turn to take a shower while you can't fall asleep. Staring at the ceiling, you're surprised when the bedroom door are pushed open. You don't move, nor close your eyes as you feel him getting into your bed. You don't comment it, nor does he. You're not even sure if he knows you're still awake and you wonder what's been going on in his head again.

What made him to come here and sleep next to you?

Nevertheless of your raging thoughts, you find yourself relaxing when you feel a warm body next to you. Small part of you wishes he'd pull you closer, letting you feel his warmth properly.

But even without that, you manage to fall asleep in a minute, enjoying his proximity and warmth while it lasts. And for the first time, you wake up next to him peacefully dreaming and sleeping in your bed.

[spideysneighbor]

My opinion/review on Hello Neighbor Hide Seek is it good is it bad in my opinion

So this isn’t my first time doing this I did this with the animated series which I think people forgot but I forgot as well I was kinda working on editing some of my posts cause you seen how horrible my camera is...

yeah no one has to lie about the camera I know it horrible and I’m sorry for it I’m trying to do better with it but still I was browsing around my posts and I found this and I remember how much I enjoy putting my opinion out on it and for some weird reason I decided to go a headed and start another one so yea today we are talking about a game that I know very well hello neighbor hide and seek

 so yea were talking about this game and I want make it clear that this is my opinion and that it okay to disagree or even agree and make your own opinion on this game but I hope you enjoy it so what do I have to say about it.

  Hello Neighbor Hide Seek is.....

IS A DISAPPOINTMENT REPETITIVE EXPERIENCE:

( help me )

I pretty sure people thought that I would give it a good review hahaha 

no

and yea I love Hello Neighbor mainly the lore and set up and characters but it was never the games I mean Hello Neighbor was something I wanted to get my hand on but when I played it unfortunately it was um well...

yea ( hello neighbor 2 not included it actually good maybe ) but I can tell you how much worse this game is and I’m telling you it is. If anything this game is a sad excused for a game if it is a game I can’t even tell you how much I HATE THIS TORTURE OF A GAME I mean it I can go on and just keep complain on how much I hate this game and how I want to stomp on it with my custom made baby sea leather boots but you know what I won’t instead let me explain on why I HATE this game sorry there no a escape.

1 gameplay

THE GAMEPLAY IS BANTHA DODODO I mean it to give you a example here

( this is also what I decided to do instead of playing or was it crying while banging my head against my wall or..........was it both )  

but yea the game play is god awful you think they would take a hint on why people didn’t like their first game I mean it this is just sad so the gameplay actual sounds fun basically what you to do is you have to search this big map to find hidden stuff that you need to collect so you can progress and go to the next level but you have to watch out for your evil brother who is a zombie if he ate his own farts instead of brains. 

Got all that good cause it awful so from my gameplay you have to run around this waste land and find all of them while doing puzzles but the problem is the everything basic the whole game is you trying to run around this clutter mess of a place with no idea where the things are or where to start for a an example.

There is a brick that you need to a escape this game by knocking yourself out with it or putting something in your brother egg shell of a head your choice but yea you must get it the only problem is that it could be anywhere so you know what you have to do what you have to do is search high and low but it impossible the brick can usually be in a unreachable place or block by something or you have some puzzles that annoy you the whole time the puzzles in this game are clever and creative but their not enjoyable at all but I will give them this there are creative and some can actually be enjoyable but for the most part their not their mostly frustrating and more of a pain in the neighbor’s chin but yea you have to keep running around this giant landscape like crazy and yea that is the gameplay but it could of done better but no instead you have to run around while wasting hours of your life ( including installing the game ) looking for something that ether on a tall place or a bottom place it can be anywhere and you are given nothing on what you have to do and yea in hello neighbor they do the same thing except your are running in Mr Peabody and Sherman time low budget mansion and I must adress that there are hints that you can use but here the problem all they do is show you where it is not even show you on how to get there and why is it even a hint it showing you where it is it like not even caring it just like “ well you can’t find it it up on that mountain of Mr.Peterson fire works that he has because he barely in this game good for him but still it dumb that that you have to search everwhere and have to search high and low for this brick and when are given a “hint” you have no idea on how to get there.

2 AI or in this case your dog who is barfing because he had too much disappointment chips 

do I need to even explain   

HIS FART FOR BRAINS IS HORRIBLE I CAN’T EVEN TELL YOU  all he does is run around the place........that it he doesn’t do anything else other then try to catch you which is again useless cause you can easily out run him and hide and that it and if you hide in front of him don’t worry he won’t catch you cause you hid in a bush that it like why he doesn’t do anything he doesn’t set traps he doesn’t throw anything at you nope all he does is run after you like that is the dumbest thing you can do for the antagonist of the story. You remember hello neighbor yea I’m going to say it the neighbor glue jar fart brain is better then this and I mean it at least he tries to trap you I mean it he actually a challenge unlike patrick star over here. I mean it can’t get any worse

wrong so if he catch you too much well then he steals one of the bricks yep all those bricks that you worked so hard to find is placed in some random place yes ALL THAT HARD WORK FOR NOTHING NOTHING LIKE YOU SEE WHY I HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THIS GAME IT BECAUSE THE BORING LAZY NO CLUE GAME PLAY THE NERF TO THE GROUND AI AND THE ONE THING I HATE MORE THEN THAT IS......

3 THE STUPID CHICKEN

  does anyone want roast chicken wings or maybe KFC well then LET KILL THIS ANNOYING BASTARD AND KILL IT KIDS TOO OR I WILL 

 4 the story

okay the story um it actually good no joke it actually a good story and I mean it the story start off happy then it works it way to being depressing in the first cutscene you see the whole house being all nice and beautiful just looking at it you can see how happy the Peterson family are the tone is amazing you can just see the emotion of the character and even the rooms tell you the tones of how every body is feeling here I’ll show you 

happy

sad

you see there clearly effort put in here but only for the story and tone not the gameplay and now that I think about I’m more disappointed because the story is really good and the tone is perfect but the gameplay the al the goal is all so awful it really sad because this game has a great idea and story but it care was put in the story and tone and I’m not saying that you should mainly focus on the gameplay but you should at least give the gameplay care and make it fun so people can not only enjoy a good story but a good game so overall after every thing all I have to say is that this game is so bad in my opinion it is easily the worse hello neighbor game to play if you want to see the story just look up all cut scene that all you need to do but if your looking for some fun well your not going to get it here instead play the first game hello neighbor 1 because you know what it can actually be fun sometimes at least not act 3 but still what I am saying is that this game is awful now if you excuse me I’m going to watch shark tale just to see will smith fish face just to make me cry and good day.

[jenivi7]

First Lines Tagging Meme

I'M SO HAPPY TO BE TAGGED IN THIS TWICE!  Thank you @ink-flavored and @clyde-side !! (I almost just did this on my own too because I love babbling about my own fics...)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

Now pinned and under a cut because it became a really long, really good introduction to me and my stories! 

Hello!

Unnecessary and overly wordy introduction/personal musings: I love opening lines so much. When I worked at a bookstore, I used to open books and hardcore judge them on their first lines. I had barely any free time to read at that point so if it didn’t grab me in the first line or two, I put it back. The first Harry Potter book is actually in my pile of really good openers. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” (Subtle alliteration, HELLO??) So I'm super excited to see if my own first lines come even close to the standards that I apply to other people lol. MY OWN MONEY IS ON NO. I have the feeling that I'm so frantic trying to get the story down on paper before the good words disappear from my head that I'm not actually paying attention to the first line. BUT LET'S SEE, SHALL WE.

So just straight up going backwards, I've written and posted TWO BRAND NEW THINGS after being away from fandom almost entirely for 10+ years! They're drabble length but they're shiny and new! <3 (All available fics are linked!)

1. Tango:

She teaches them to dance so that they can dance with her but when Atem gets that mischievous smirk on his face and pulls Yugi into his arms, their bodies spark and the dance floor smolders at their heels.

(The fic is so short that this is a full 1/5 of it but actually, I think I crammed all the good stuff right into that first line. This already might be my favorite. Like it says there in the line itself, Puzzleshipping.)

2. No Betting:

Anzu sat at the kitchen table writing carefully calculated answers onto sticky notes before attaching them to a fourth-grade math worksheet.

(Peachshipping! This one doesn't pop off until about line five so here's the rest of that bit:)

She had the same arrangement with her spouse as most parents had. When the kids were good they were hers. When they were bad, they were his. And when they were winning at games because they picked up rules with uncanny speed and read their opponents with more insight than ought to be available to a child, they were definitely, definitely his.

3. If you wanted honesty that's all you had to say (working title):

When he realized that the figure sitting under the game shop display window and smoking wasn’t Ryou, the physical body response was as though it had discovered a coiled snake not two feet away.

(This one! It's a NEW half finished(?) WIP. I actually started this one before the drabbles but wanted to finish before posting it. Then it got out of hand, then work got out of hand, then I started a couple more projects and well. I keep putting words on it though and eventually there will be a Kleptoshipper that turns into Puzzle and Tender for your reading enjoyment. Also, fair warning - don't use song lyrics as a working title. Every time I look at the document I get the song stuck in my head.)

Now we have polished up reposts of old stories for their move to AO3, where I'll basically keep my master archive. Not full re-writes but I fixed a bunch of typos and awkward sentences and they're much stronger for it. Most of these are from a pairings contest way back when so LOTS of different pairings and lots of AUs!

4. Human:

It was like a bad noir, the thought crossed both of their minds.

(Scifi AU, Rivalshipping. That one's not bad for a first line. Actually no link at the time of writing cause the re-edit is going up in like, a half hour? an hour? a half day? It's my next project after finishing this, finishing up the edit and posting it on AO3. Now with link!)

5. Blood:

Fingers through midnight black hair, whispers in his ear, touches that sizzled along the skin, awakening nerves and senses. 

(Dungeonshipping, Pegasus x Otogi, vampires AU. Oh that’s a nice first line! <3)

6. Crazy for You:

The keys are too large and too heavy for the doctor more used to more modern facilities but she doesn't say anything, just follows the orderly as he pulls the large door open.

(Manipulashipping, Anzu x Marik, Psychward AU. Still one of my favorites from that era. Big bold warning though, THIS ONE CONTAINS NON-CON)

7. Finality:

“What are you doing here?”

“Saying goodbye.” Bakura’s translucent arms swept across the graveyard. “Is this not an appropriate place for it?”

(First two or so bits of dialogue as the first first is a generic question. You can tell this is one of the really old ones just by that but it's a sweet, sad little Tendershipper that still has a special place in my heart.)

8. Pieces of You:

Glitter caught the light, leaving shimmering trails in the air as it got everywhere.

(Glittershipping, Anzu x Kisara. Another one that's special to me. Kisara is my girl and my first writing muse. <3)

9. Cambodia:

“It was summer of fifty three...”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, it can't have been fifty three. You might be that ancient but I'm not. It must have been sixty three.”

(Jiishipping. Yes. Sugoroku x Arthur. HEY, IT CAME UP IN THE RANDOM DRAW FOR THE SHIPPING CONTEST OK. And my writer's brain hasn't backed down from a challenge yet... Another one that takes 4 lines to pop off but it's a good start. Actually, here's the rest of the bit just because I cannot get enough of these two bickering:)

“What do you mean it must have been sixty three? You don't even know what story I'm trying to tell.”

“Am I in it?”

“What?”

“So you're deaf now as well as daft? AM I IN IT?”

“Of course you're in it, y'old coot. Don't know why I'd tell a story without you in it when both grandkids are sitting here.”

10. Coffee and Cigarettes:

"Cigarettes and coffee? That's not a very healthy lunch." 

Mana crossed her legs and took a refined sip of her own coffee even as her company was not. 

(Mischiefshipping, Mana x Thief King Bakura. Oh this one I'm actually sad that it doesn't immediately sparkle in the first line cause it's one of my absolute favorites of everything I've written. And I think it's the only time I've ever written Mana but I LOVED IT AND HER. Oh no! I lied, I've written her at least one other time though I don't think that one quite captures her sheer chaos energy like this one does.)

11. A Million Missed Chances:

Somewhere along the line, someone made a choice.

(This one. THIS ONE. I think this is by far the most epic idea I've tackled. I still don't know if the sheer scale of the thing came across in the actual fic but in my head it was massive and I remember pounding away at my teeny tiny laptop late at night because the whole thing hit me maybe a day or so before the story was due for the pairings contest. We only had a week to write each fic and my really good ideas never came to me before the very last minute. T.T Conquestshipping, Mai x Valon.)

12. A Fear of Falling:

She drove.

Like she always did when something bothered her.

(Oh the first chapter on this is also one of the really ancient ones. Like one of the very first things I wrote. That first chapter really shows its age and is a little shaky but the others are better and the last one is what fits into the chorological order here. Polarshipping, Jou x Mai. One of my very first ships. Probably THE first actually <3)

13. What Our Creators Make Us:

"Well, well." The match flared, scattering dark shadows until it was blown out and the only light that remained was the red glow from the cigarette end. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

(Psychoshipping, Marik x Spirit of the Ring Bakura. With a bit of Bronze, Angst and Tender in the follow up. Old but I'm ridiculously proud of it, hence it's place in the master archive. Ahaha you can tell how old it is though by how clever I think I am. I thought it was funny to make my audience figure out who was talking and not reveal the characters for a good fourth to third of the fic. Ahhhhhhh. Sorry about past me.)

14. A Revolution of the Spirit:

It wasn't fair.  It just wasn't.

That they were close was understandable (you don't get much closer than sharing headspace) but that even now, after deals were made with gods, endless arguments, compromises and the ultimate guilt trip that he had only been a teenager when he willingly sacrificed himself for all of humanity, things she had only half seen and only partly understood even though they had all been there to witness, that even now Atem continued to invade Yugi's personal space as though he belonged there got on her nerves.

(Woah Nelly! That third sentence should probably be three, four and five. Even if I just split it in half we'd continue the pattern of things popping off in the fourth line. I think that's one pattern that's emerging! A really good bit takes me about four lines to set up and deliver! Oh, the challenge was Revolutionshipping, Anzu x Atem, but the fic is actually Spiritshipping, Anzu x Yugi x Atem.)

So confession time, I haven't been out of fandom completely, I just hadn't written my own standalone stories in a very long time. There are a few (ok ok more than a few) long-running rps that @miss-moberg and I have been adding to on and off over the years. I can't resist throwing in a couple of these.

15. Cafe!

The door shut behind them with the soft click of the latch and the exhale of a breath long held.

(This opening line was from December of 2020 when we rebooted a very old Prideshipper and that is a damn good opening line if I do say so myself. I can definitely see the difference now between the newer works and the older ones. I've gotten better, she's matched me pace for pace and eventually something will be finished, I'll work up the courage to ask permission to post it and the whole internet will get to see how brilliant the two of us are together.)

16. Treasure Hunt!

"Ryou, I think you're going to regret letting me tag along on your adventuring this time."  Yugi didn't bother turning away from the airplane's tiny window to see if his seatmate was paying attention.  He was more thinking out loud with his friend playing the role of a convenient sounding board.  "Because I think this trip is the only thing I'm going to talk about ever again."

(One more from RP because it's got that fun, four line punch that we've discovered is a pattern for me! Opening entry is from 2017.)

Also, in truth, my count is a little off when I say I'd been out of fandom 10+ years. I've been away from YGO for that long but I did spend a brief stint in Homestuck where I read a ton of fanfic, flirted with a couple group RPs and even wrote a tiny bit. 9 years without writing a new fic isn't as impressive as saying ‘over a decade’ but it is a little more accurate.

17. What You Will:

In the land of fair Illyria, along a small, sandy stretch of its rocky shore, a ship has come to ruin and one lone woman lies still as death among broken wood.

(The beginning of a Homestuck/Twelfth Night crossover that I'm still determined to work more on someday. It's only got a single chapter but it's magic though now I'm concerned about not being able to recapture that. Not a bad first line though. The style is so different it took me reading it a couple times before going, oh yeeeeeah, that's pretty good!)

18. Relentless:

You pull him to the deck and then across it by the remains of his shirt. Let him say one last goodbye. His ship pillaged, his crew murdered, his hands bound behind his back and at your mercy.

Funny word, that. Mercy.

(The first line is pretty decent but there's that four line combo again! Five but I could basically fix that with a comma. Featuring the troll ancestors Mindfang and Dualscar because every time Hussey introduced new characters they were instantly my favorite.) 

19. Black:

There is dark and there is dark and there is dark and then there is black. She is black. Licorice and coal. She is hate and resentment and everything that tastes bitter, the kind of black that coats the tongue like oil, drips down the back of the throat and keeps going.

(Oh wow. Am I allowed to say that about my own work? A Terezi/Vriska drabble that I'm putting as much here as I think I can get away with because it's so good that it fucks me up a little going back and reading it.)

And here it gets tricky because I think the more recent of the old, old fics are in the Drabbles and Shorts collection on ff.net and I can't see a post date. So I'll just pick a good one to end on.

20. Two Princes:

It was inevitable as the rising of Ra's chariot after a long night, as the flooding of the river banks every spring, and Atem always knew that Yugi's kiss would be as warm and gentle as the evening breeze in the summer that brought relief from the scorching day. It was.

(How about the final honor going to more Puzzle/Blind? This probably has the strongest first line of its era. Actually I'm not sure when it was written. It was just hanging out in my writing folder and, thinking about it, I probably wrote it when I was fading from fandom the first time around but still trying to hang in there. No wait! That’s too sad, we can’t end on that! Lets add one more to the list for the sake of personal narrative!)

21. Linger:

The world doesn't need him anymore. It doesn't need his sword and it doesn't need his pen.

(A tiny Princess Tutu afterward that I wrote for myself. Nice one-two punch in the opener. Also it rounds out the personal story that accidentally developed here with a line later in the fic, "Words, however, never stray far from a good writer..." Like, wait, stop. Past me, how did you know T.T)

Did that take a sudden emotional turn for anyone else or was that just me. Can I offset that a little with an honorable mention? Let’s do that while I collect myself. Here’s one more.

Honorable mention: Ryou and the Thief

There was a storm gathering and too much magic in the air. Much more than occurred naturally and magic at this level was never a good thing.

(I can’t have a list of things I’ve written without having Ryou and the Thief on it. If you click on this one though, BEWARE, it’s old, it’s silly and it has a ton of explicit gay sex that… would be written very differently if we were handling it today I’m sure! This is the first RP @miss-moberg and I ever did together and our excuse to Gemship and Puzzleship turned into us running the boys through a whole adventure based on the Osiris myth. It’s the longest thing I’ve ever completed and I’d still consider it kind of my legacy.)

And that’s the last 21(+1!) stories that I’ve written! 

The clear winner of best first line for me is 15. Cafe! It’s short, elegant and manages to contain a whole mood even without the context of what’s going on and who’s involved. (Spoilers: It’s Seto and Mokuba making an AU escape from Gozoboro.) Close second is Tango, the most recent story. It’s neat to see just how much better I’ve gotten and also really cool to see that even if the first line itself doesn’t contain a punch, it’s usually because there’s a nice, strong idea being set up and delivered in the first four lines (or so). What a pleasant surprise!

AND WOW, this whole tag thing didn't need to be so long! Or personal! Seriously, if you get this tag from me the challenge is only to list the first lines to 20 stories and maybe try to draw one or two conclusions from them. You all thought I was joking when I said I loved talking about my own writing! But actually, I guess it’s fine like this as I ended up using it as a way to re-introduce myself. Like, "Hey, I used to live here a long time ago and oh my god I love what you've done with the place!" Rather than being someone who's just popped up out of nowhere a few weeks ago to creepily bother all your best of the best creators so....

^///^ Hello!

Thanks for letting me ramble!

Tags! I think I've seen most of the authors I follow do this already but on the off chance you haven't been tagged yet: @elexica (checked your blog to see if you'd already done the tag and saw that you're another person returning to writing fanfiction after 10+ years. Same! Hello!!), @danieco, @draconicmaw, @nedjemetsenen (has someone tagged you already?) and two shots in the dark, @miss-moberg and @edmondia (I'm so sorry you two. T.T Please feel free to block me forever.) And please, anyone else who wants to babble about their own writing! Do this, it was so much fun. <3